A betrayal of a different type

Chapter 23

'It is not science who has destroyed the world, despite all the gloomy forebodings of the earlier prophet. It is man who has destroyed man'. Harry did not exactly remember where he had heard the muggle quote. Maybe it was one of his primary school teachers. Or perhaps a book he had chanced upon. Maybe he distantly recalled Hermione quoting it once. He did not even know why he mulled it over in his head, turning it upside down. Maybe not, as he knew what had triggered it, unsure if it were wise enough to tell his friends. They had proved they were to be trusted but association with himself had already put so much on their shoulders. Feeling guilty, would not be logical to an outsider, but it was human and human he was and unless he were to forsake that, feel human he shall remain. 

' " M-My L-Lord, " he began, crouching low on the floor. His robes embraced the dirt as he kissed the royal robes that bear before him. His voice trembled and syllables ran over each other in an attempt to drown the other. His bowed head offered the view of  matted hair that was well on its way to being no more. One of his quaking hands glinted. 

It seemed no matter what, that one sight alone could offer him more pleasure. The sounds of those quivering beneath him in fear, the stench of fear that came from those mere plebeians. But he, Lord Voldemort had a task to do and indulging in such whims would have to, momentarily wait. 

''Speak, Wormtail. What have the spies to report." 

On any other occasion he would not wait for his servants to respond, flinging the cruciatus at them like rocks but this was something he needed to hear. That would require a full report, including the smallest of details. So, he waited. He examined the room, for the third time wondering what made him think so that someone was listening. Yet who would dare cross him? Dumbledore would not be foolish enough to risk a life like that. Such weaknesses made for strengths for Lord Voldemort and he could not deny the usefulness of that situation. The Potter boy? The only way would be to enter his mind but he knew the boy would dare not enter by choice and he, Lord Voldemort would have certainly felt it against his shields. So once again he studied the barely furnished room. Light barely penetrated the room, windows sheltered by the drapery. The few mahogany desks were spotless and bare. The floor, coated in a layer of dust to remind his servants of their place when they kneel before him. Only Himself, this throne and door remain besides these. His wards prevented any eavesdropping spells or charmed objects inside. 

"Crucio!" 

He idly wondered, as he heard the familiar sounds of screaming, whether magical power had any effect of shielding the pain of the curses.

"Lord Voldemort was merciful, giving you time to gather the information in your brain, Wormtail but any longer and Lord Voldemort shall be merciful no longer" he spoke in a cold, detached voice. 

" O-Of C-couse, My L-Lord. The spies at H-Hogwarts report that P-Potter has gone for a n-new look and nobody could r-recognise him. H-he has developed a closer kinship with the L-Longbottom boy, W-Weasley girl and a m-muddled R-ravenclaw brat. They are the same as a-alwayd but more d-detached and seem a-alinged from D-Dumbledore. He s-still has not come into H-headship of the P-potter house and is p-politically ignorant. H-his p-performance in classes has remained t-the same with a bit m-more marks in p-potions."

" Yes, with Severus not teaching him anymore, I'd expect that." He mumbled.

" F-from rumours it s-semms that they say H-Harry P-potter has come a-across you six times. They say the second e-encounter involved a small diary that was d-d-d-destroyed,"