The Son of Lord Voldemort

Chapter 143

Viktor hissed in pain when he tried to stand up. His entire body felt as though it were on fire, and his right arm kept twitching. It took him five minutes to stand up, but he lost his balance almost immediately and fell onto his back.

"Get up," hissed Voldemort.

Viktor raised himself onto his knees then crawled to a nearby chair. He was slowly able to stand up, and he used the chair to remain balanced. His eyes spasmed, and he coughed sending blood down his chin.

"I hope our talk here has shown you the error of your ways," Voldemort said lowly. "And I hope you realize that nothing but death awaits those who stand against me. Do you stand against me, Viktor?"

"N-no, My L-lord," Viktor said, his words slurred. "I ap-polo-g-g-ize for my actions, m-my L-lord."

Voldemort's red eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared. He reached out his right hand to pet Nagini, whose tongue flicked in and out at a dizzying pace.

"I will give you one last chance Viktor, because the Weasley girl is in love with you, but know this," Voldemort pointed his wand at Viktor, "if you fail, or deviate from my orders even once, I will kill you and Ginny Weasley. Do you understand?"

Viktor looked at Voldemort, and he swallowed the blood in his mouth. Before this moment he hadn't realized the extent of his feelings for Ginny. He didn't merely have strong feelings for her. He turned to the right where his father was standing, disappointment and disgust written on his face. Anger obliterated his pain. As usual, his father chose the Dark Lord over him. He looked back to Voldemort and bowed his head.

"I d-do, m-my L-lord," Viktor said.

"Good," Voldemort smiled. "Crucio!"

Viktor fell to the ground, pain flooded his body, as he jerked and twisted on the ground. The pain was so intense that it threatened to obliterate all thought. The only thing that penetrated his mind as he lay on the ground writhing and screaming in pain, his throat ripping, was that he had made a grave mistake, and he needed to save Ginny, no matter the cost.

Auror Thomas Davies looked over his shoulder before pulling up the hood of his cloak. Ezekiel Smith following right behind him. They made a sharp right and turned down a dark alley, stepping over puddles and a broken bottle. They walked until they hit a dead end then Thomas pulled out his wand and tapped the tenth brick from the bottom three times in a row. The wall began to bubble, as if the bricks were melting, and a minute later a doorway appeared.

Thomas and Ezekiel walked through the doorway into a small coffee shop, the chairs were up on the tables, and the lights were dimmed. The shop was closed, so there was no one behind the counter. They walked towards the back of the shop and up the narrow staircase that led to a small attic. Thomas pushed open the small door and stepped into a brightly lit room. The change in lighting momentarily blinded him.

"Took you long enough," Moody barked.

"We had to make sure we weren't followed," Thomas said, his blue eyes scanning the dingy room. "I thought you'd understand given you're always going on about constant vigilance and whatnot."

Thomas noticed Ezekiel's grimace and looked down to see that his fellow auror had stepped on a broken bottle.

Moody barked a laugh then turned serious. "It's been three weeks, did it work? Are you in?"

Thomas' lips pursed, and he slowly raised his arm. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a new tattoo. A snake slithering through a skull. Moody looked at Ezekiel who enthusiastically did the same. Moody smiled. They were in.