Marauders' Godson Book 4: The Goblet of Fire

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Edward was too numb to respond, but the part of him that could still think was snarling, I'm no son of yours!

Voldemort had turned away dismissively, and was now striding over to Wormtail and Harry, who was staring at Edward in concern and horror. He pulled out a wand that was clearly well-cared for. He caressed it lovingly, then pointed it at Wormtail.

His sobbing servant was thrown against the tombstone and dropped mercilessly to the ground. Wormtail looked pathetic, curled up and crying.

"My Lord..." Wormtail pleaded, "my Lord... you promised... you did promise..."

"Hold out your arm," Voldemort said dismissively, running his fingers up and down his wand.

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

Voldemort laughed. "The other arm, Wormtail."

Wormtail blanched. "Master, please... please..."

The Dark Lord reached down and yanked Wormtail's right arm out of his sleeve, revealing the traitor's Dark Mark. It was a vivid red now.

"It is back," Voldemort said quietly. "They will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see... now we shall know..." He pressed his finger to the mark on Wormtail's arm.

Harry and Wormtail screamed in unison, and the Dark Mark turned jet black.

Voldemort straightened and looked around with a sneer of glee. "How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it? And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

Edward was slowly coming out of his shock. He glanced at Harry, then the Portkey and Gabby's body, then his wand, gaging the distance between the them, wondering if he could-

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," said Voldemort softly, a dangerous, crooked smile on his lips. Edward flinched -- it was almost exactly like his own. "A Muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death...." Voldemort laughed, and began pacing in front of Harry.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was.... He didn't like magic, my father...

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage... but I vowed to find him... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name... Tom Riddle...."

Voldemort paused, then chuckled mirthlessly. "Listen to me, reliving family history.... why, I am growing quite sentimental.... But look, Harry, Edward! My true family returns..."

Soft cracks indicated that several wizards had just Apparated into the clearing. They were all wearing the same uniform -- long black cloaks, faceless silver masks. There were about thirty of them, standing in a semi-circle around Voldemort, Harry, the cauldron, and the still-sniveling Wormtail.

Voldemort waved his wand lazily, and Edward floated over the group of Death Eaters, landing in front of the gravestone.

"Master..." breathed one of the Death Eaters.

One by one, the wizards approached their Dark Lord, knelt, and kissed his robes. When they'd all returned to their spots -- leaving gaps, probably for the Death Eaters in Azkaban, Karkaroff, and Severus -- Voldemort spoke.

"Welcome, Death Eaters. Thirteen years... thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday.... We are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?" He sniffed the air. "I smell guilt. There is a stench of guilt upon the air."