Potion's Master Nephew ( Discontinued)

Chap.02

Chapter Two

~ In which a lot of trouble is caused by a broom ~

Although the sun was bright in the sky, there was hardly any light in the small, musty clearing. The trees grew so close together, towering over the slowly appearing shadowy figures, that it looked to be dusk.

Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley appeared suddenly in the centre of the clearing, thrown to the ground with terrific force. Disorientated and thrashing wildly, Draco struggled to get up.

“Ge…get-off-me!” he yelled angrily.

“You get off me!” Ginny yelled back, thrashing just as wildly but still stubbornly clutching the broomstick. With her free hand she flicked her wand at the Firebolt, binding its handle against her leather belt. With an exclamation of triumph, she looked up but saw Malfoy stagger backwards, an expression of horror rising in his pale face.

“What is the meaning of this?” said a voice full of cold anger.

Ginny nearly stumbled backwards herself, her eyes suddenly accustomed to the gloom as she stared around in horror. “N-no…” she mumbled faintly.

She was surrounded by dozens of hooded figures, but one in particular one drew her gaze. Taller than the rest he stood before her, silent and powerful. A purple hood masked his face in shadow, and a white, skeletal hand directed its black, slender wand straight at her heart.

Ginny clutched the broomstick instinctively, stumbling back into a shaking Malfoy. “Wait!” she cried desperately, the only Voldemort-related information she could think of bubbling to the surface of her mind. “Tom Riddle! You’re Tom Riddle!”

There was a low murmuring amidst the Death Eaters, silenced almost immediately by a raised hand from their master. He stepped forward, pulling back the purple hood from his head. Livid, red eyes fixed on the shivering girl before him.

“You know me,” he whispered. “But I do not know you.” He paused while he considered her. “Ginny Weasley, isn’t it?”

Ginny’s breaths were sharp in her chest. Perhaps she could deny it, how would he know?

But Voldemort’s voice was like poison in her veins; she was barely capable of speech, let alone lies. All she could do was stand there, frozen, and try not to throw up.

“Ginny Weasley, for speaking that disgusting, Muggle name,” said the Dark Lord softly, “you shall feel pain you cannot even begin to imagine.” He smiled. “And then you shall die.”

Voldemort’s eyes fell on Draco. “And your friend,” he said, raising his wand. “He will share your fate.”

Malfoy’s face filled with horror and he shoved Ginny aside.

“No!” he cried.

“Crucio!”

Ginny stifled an ear-piercing scream as Malfoy fell to the ground. His eyes were clenched shut as he clawed at his head, awful noises of pain convulsing from his throat. Voldemort’s eyes narrowed even further as he looked down at the writhing boy, a flame kindling in them as he watched Draco’s contorted face. Then the pain stopped and Draco lay on the ground, quivering in the wake of his agony.