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“Potter, are you sure I should be involving any of the other Death Eaters in this little farce of a plan you’re dreaming up?” Lucius asked uncertainly as he
stood near the floo, powder in hand. “I mean, most of them know about my Muggle-born bride by now. How do I know I won’t be an easy target?”
“Mr. Malfoy, they all think you’re dead,” Harry pointed out yet again. “If they don’t see you in the flesh they’re not going to believe you’re the one who
sent them a message. In person is the only way they’ll be listening to anything you have to say. Besides, you can tell them you only married her just to keep
your job. Remember, the Dark Lord wants you to maintain a presence within the Ministry, right?”
Lucius sighed heavily. “It’s a good thing I don’t wish to bring him back, isn’t it?” he pointed out. “You know far too much about his plans.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Harry with a smirk. “Now go and do what you do best, you manipulative bastard.”
“No need to be crude, Potter,” he said stoically. “I’m not above sending a nice stinging hex at you on the way out.”
Egremon and Harry chuckled as the man stepped in and threw his powder, though Harry did make sure to watch for any sign that he intended to make good on
his threat. Once Lucius was gone, Harry turned a speculative eye on his companion.
“So, what should we do while we wait?” Egremon inquired.
“I acquired a list of ingredients and artifacts from Malfoy before he left,” said Harry. “It’s a good thing Tom Riddle senior still has another leg bone. Let’s
go grave robbing, shall we?”
“I was afraid you were going to say that,” he grumbled, and they both Apparated away.
Hermione opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling of the cave she’d recently escaped from. She gave an exasperated sigh, and a raspy voice spoke beside her.
“Ah, I see you are finally awake, Mudblood,” croaked a smallish man who was seated nearby.
“Who are you?” she asked as she sat up and noticed she was on the same bedding she’d been placed on before. “What happened to the demons?”
“They are all about my work, my dear,” the creature commented. “You see, the truth is I can only maintain the image of being a demon for a small amount of
time. What you see before you now is my current form. You see, my dear, I had heard that Lucius had no interest in seeing me returned to my former glory.”
“You’re Voldemort?” she asked as she looked him over. “The most powerful wizard ever reduced to this puny prune body? How fitting.”
“Do not speak so freely, my dear,” he said with an attempt at a stern tone. “It is only a matter of time before I am a man again, and then you’ll change your
tune.”
“Ha!” she scoffed. “I was there, remember? I saw your body flake away, and you have no more horcruxes to sustain you. What are you supposed to do for a body
this time?”
“Did you really think I did not plan for the destruction of my horcruxes one day, girl?” he sneered. “Of course I knew what would happen. But you see, over
the years I’ve learned a few more useful tricks on my way to immortality. My own body may be gone, but there are many others I could choose from.”
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, though she was certain she knew what the answer would be.
“I can now become anybody I wish,” he told her with a smirk. “I could even be you, if I so chose. No, don’t worry, I have no wish to become a member of the
weaker sex, much less a Muggle-born. You need not fear me on that account.”
Hermione had cowered away, crossing her arms over her chest, but now she sat forward again intently. “Then who exactly is it you intend to become?” she
wanted to know.
“Well, my dear,” he said as he closed the distance between then and used a bony hand to grasp her face. “I have always fancied I’d look good as a blond.”
Hermione’s eyes went wide as she flung the hideous creature aside and got to her feet. “You stay away from him, you filthy little beast.”
“That’s no way to speak to your future Lord and husband, my dear,” he said, his voice now strengthened by emotion. “You will learn proper respect or I will
beat it into you.”
“You disgust me,” she spat angrily as she started looking for a way out. “I’d rather die than have anything to do with you.”
“Even if I was in your husband’s body?” he asked evilly.
“I’d kill you as you slept, you filth,” she answered. “What good is his body if he’s not in it?”
“Who said I was going to take it over completely?” Voldemort smirked. “I think it would be most enjoyable to hold him hostage. You’d not wish to kill him
then, in the hopes of getting him back again. I’m right—I can see it in your eyes.”
“Stop trying to get into my mind, you slimy little freak,” said Hermione as she tossed him aside yet again.
“I need to know what they are planning,” he said more insistently as he sprang up into her face again, holding on tighter this time.
“How should I know?” she asked smugly. “Your demon took me away too soon.”
“You are so blind, my dear girl,” he said with a laugh. “Did you really believe that load of rubbish about the demons? That was no demon, it was a werewolf
in disguise. Every one of those so-called demons is a Death Eater. And the one who bit you just happens to be one that you know.”
“That’s not possible,” Hermione said. “If you’re telling me that was Fenrir, how can it be? He was killed in the Battle at Hogwarts.”
“No, Mudblood, not killed,” Voldemort said as he let go of her and dropped to the floor. “The last battle was all one big ruse, you see. The whole army
consisted of only a few Death Eaters, and the bulk of it was controlled by me. They were all under a massive Imperious curse.”
“No,” Hermione insisted. “Even you could not be that powerful.”
“Alone, no,” he agreed. “But with the help of a trusted few, anything is possible. You would be wise if you submitted to me now, and got it over with.”
“I would never submit to you,” she insisted. “You’ll have to kill me.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me how?” he demanded. “Don’t you want to know about me, personally? How I came to be here, and not dead at the hands of your friend
Potter? It’s really quite brilliant, you know.”
“Fine, I’ll stroke your ego if you wish,” she said boredly as she stopped searching the walls for an opening. “How come you’re here instead of dead?”
“The man Potter killed was not me,” he chortled with glee. “He was just a decoy.”
“What?” Hermione gasped. “Then how did you get all pruned up and shrunken?”
“My dear girl, the Voldemort that you’ve known and loved for the last few years was just a horcrux,” he explained. “I knew that while the Potter boy lived
I was in danger of being killed. The trouble is, only I can kill him because of our bond. I wanted him to think I was dead until I could come back whole and
ready. I wanted him to think he was safe.”
Hermione could not continue to sound bored as she stared at him now. Her bile rose into her throat as she asked, “And did Lucius know about this?”
“Of course not, my dear,” he chuckled. “Why would I tell him, when his body is the one I want for myself? That would be foolish indeed. Why else do you think
I rid him of his family? I didn’t want him to be tied down in any way.”
“But he is tied down to me,” Hermione pointed out.
“Yes, so young and beautiful,” he agreed as he looked her over appreciatively. “You’ll make an excellent vessel for my offspring.”
“Why would you want a Muggle-born for that?”
“I find the irony would be appealing,” he smirked. “But I’ve wasted enough time in here for now. I must rest up in preparation for the big event. Someone
will come for you when the time approaches. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on all the entertainment.”
“Thanks,” she said as she watched him vaporize before her eyes. “And I’ve seen that trick before!”
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