The children who lived, Fought, and Loved

Chapter fifty six

THE DEATH EATERS

(A/N: There will not be a lot of reaction in this chapter due to the fact that I am suffering a little bit of writer's block but I just want to get fourth year done and I will add more later on.)

Voldemort looked away from Harry and Primrose and began examining his own body. His hands were like large, pale spiders; his long white fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; the red eyes, whose pupils were slits, like a cat's, gleamed still more brightly through the darkness. His expression was rapt and exultant. He took not the slightest notice of Wormtail, who lay twitching and bleeding on the ground,

Regulus burst into laughter, "He has no nose!"

A few people looked at him as if he had lost it.

"Oh come on, it's hilarious."

Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against the headstone where Harry and Primrose were tied; he fell to the foot of it, and lay there, crumpled up and crying.

Voldemort turned his scarlet eyes upon Harry, laughing a high, cold, mirthless laugh.

Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.

"My Lord..." he choked, "my Lord...you promised...you did promise..."

"Pathetic" Scoffed Barty

Peter would have taken offense to that if he hadn't agreed.

"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.

"Oh, Master...thank you, Master..."

He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed again.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please...please."

Voldemort bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, where a skull like tattoo with a snake protruding from its mouth was,

Evan looked like he was going to be sick.

Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it and now, we shall see... now we shall know."

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm. The scar on the twins' forehead seared with a sharp pain again, and Wormtail let out a fresh howl; Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's mark,

With a look of cruel satisfaction on his face, Voldemort straightened up, threw back his head, and stared around at the dark graveyard.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"