Voldemort waved his hand, dismissing his servants.
He needed rest.
Basilisk venom, resurrection, and the loss of his hand—these had inflicted indescribable damage upon him.
Lucius withdrew, and the Death Eaters returned to their respective rooms.
The Malfoys lived on the first floor, having vacated the master bedroom, which had long been unoccupied. It now belonged to their great Lord.
As for them—the true owners of this manor—they now resided in the furthest corner of the house, in the storage room that once belonged to Dobby, their forr house-elf. It had beco their new ho.
The cramped yet warm space.
"Draco, he..." Narcissa clutched her husband's collar nervously.
"That useless brat has his own ideas now," Lucius still wore an expression of fury, gritting his teeth as if he wanted to skin his son alive. "He refused to choose the Dark Lord. He's hiding in Hogwarts, living like a rat. That damned fool—he's probably already clinging to Dumbledore's robes while we weren't watching!"
His voice dripped with disappointnt and rage.
Narcissa understood her husband's aning, but so things were best left unsaid in tis like these.
Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater. He could only speak from a Death Eater's perspective.
But Draco was safe. He would not be involved in any of this.
Narcissa nodded silently, tears welling up in her eyes.
Her son had grown.
Nothing could make a mother prouder—or more heartbroken.
That night's events had no real impact on Hogwarts.
Aside from Gryffindor, no one even noticed Harry was gone. And those who did weren't particularly concerned. After all, if Harry was missing, so was Hermione. On a peaceful night like this, wasn't it common for young wizards to sneak out for a rendezvous? As for Ron and Neville—well, who knew? Maybe they were out together too.
The four of them were always mysterious, frequently disappearing without explanation. Gryffindors had long grown accustod to it.
It wasn't until the next morning—
That The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler began circulating within the castle.
Only then did news of the Gringotts incident spread.
The Daily Prophet ntioned it only briefly, dedicating a small column to the event. The summary was simple and concise—Death Eaters attacked Gringotts, the goblins were powerless to stop them, and in the end, the Ministry of Magic, along with Harry Potter, intervened to resolve the situation. Several Death Eaters were executed. Other than the long-abandoned Lestrange family vault, no other wizard's wealth was affected.
It seed that under Minister Thicknesse, the Ministry had made significant progress—at least they had done sothing.
Even if they had relied on outside help.
At least they were handling serious matters now.
Yet, despite the change in leadership, The Quibbler remained at odds with The Daily Prophet. The sa event, but two vastly different reports.
Rita Skeeter truly was a remarkable woman.
She hadn't been there that night, nor had she interviewed Harry—but in her article, she made it seem as though she had witnessed everything firsthand. Every detail was perfectly clear.
Which Death Eaters had infiltrated Gringotts, and when. Their target from the very beginning had been the Lestrange family vault.
They hadn't, as The Daily Prophet suggested, attacked Gringotts rely to flaunt their presence.
They had a far more sinister objective.
At the scene, besides the Death Eaters, there had been corpses—Muggles, wizards, and magical creatures alike.
n, won, and children. Veela, centaurs, goblins.
All of them had died in the sa horrific manner—their bodies completely drained of blood, reduced to withered husks.
Even so, Rita Skeeter didn't spell out the truth. She never wrote the words, Voldemort has returned.
Instead, she rely hinted at it over and over again.
The Death Eaters had been carrying out an unimaginably evil resurrection ritual—one that had succeeded.
Who could they possibly have been reviving?
The answer was obvious.
And what did their success an?
That, too, was beyond question.
In the Gryffindor common room, George and Fred Weasley frowned as they read the two reports. They debated whether they should adjust their sales strategy.
Given the current climate, selling self-defense gadgets seed far more profitable than prank items.
Neville sat in silence, flipping through The Quibbler, while the Daily Prophet—which he had bought for five Knuts—was tossed into the fireplace.
Hermione sat beside Harry, both of them buried in books.
Ron, anwhile, was writing a paper—a summary of the battle from the night before.
Professor Potter hadn't assigned it yet, but as a diligent student, Ron was always prepared.
The other Gryffindors ca down from their dormitories, laughing—only to see their housemates already deep in study on the very first day of break. They imdiately quieted down, tiptoeing out of the common room with a faint sense of guilt.
Of course, as soon as they stepped outside, they shrugged it off and resud their fun.
By the afternoon—
Ron finished his paper and handed it to Professor Potter for review.
Then, Fawkes flew in through the window, carrying a note.
It was an invitation from Dumbledore.
Harry imdiately got up and headed for the Headmaster's office.
There weren't many people inside. Just Dumbledore and Snape.
"Harry, you're here," Dumbledore greeted, flicking his wand to pour a glass of whiskey. "Thanks to you, Voldemort wasn't able to cause too much trouble last night—"
Harry stared at him coldly. "Why didn't Rita just say Voldemort was resurrected? Why all the cryptic hints?"
"I told her to do it that way," Dumbledore said softly. "Voldemort is back—but he's not as dangerous as before. You can handle him. We shouldn't give people unnecessary fear."
"Thicknesse is right to be cautious."
"We're not yet at the point where the entire wizarding world needs to rally against him."
Harry said nothing. He simply shook his head.
Dumbledore waved a hand. "But there is good news—Severus has finally reestablished contact with the Death Eaters."
Harry turned to look at Snape.
Snape's face was unreadable. "Lucius Malfoy contacted anonymously this morning. He used an old code we developed back in school. He said the Dark Lord needs —that I should et him at Malfoy Manor."
"So the basilisk venom did do significant damage?" Harry mused. "That disappoints even more. That was his own pet, after all."
"What's the plan?" Snape asked. "He's at Malfoy Manor."
"Should we just go there and kill him?"
Harry shook his head, lifting his glass. His voice was indifferent.
"We can kill him anyti. But the key isn't killing him—it's destroying him completely."
"There are still four Horcruxes missing."
"Professor Snape, what we need to know is where they are hidden."
Snape looked to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore nodded. "Harry and I agree on this."
"You want to continue playing the Dark Lord's dog?" Snape's expression was emotionless. "Fine. I understand."
He gripped his wand tightly, staring at the table.
That man had killed Lily.
Even if he was dead now—his past still lived.
"Severus, this is all to end him," Dumbledore said, sensing his emotions.
Snape sneered. "Albus, I'm not that fragile. I know that."
Then, turning to Harry, he said dryly, "Potter, make sure to use whatever you know against Albus. Let him feel how painful it is."
Dumbledore sighed with a wry smile. "Severus, Harry needs no encouragent—he's quite skilled at that already."
Snape scoffed. "For once, Potter, you've done sothing I approve of."
Harry t his gaze coolly. "I thought you'd say that about killing the man who murdered my mother."
Snape's expression darkened. He turned, swept out of the office, and disappeared.
Snape appeared outside Malfoy Manor that evening.
He rembered the location, rembered what the Malfoy estate looked like.
But now, standing here, he could see nothing.
The Fidelius Charm.
A spell once used to hide from the Dark Lord—was now being used by the Dark Lord himself.
Raising his wand, Snape followed the instructions in the letter, firing a Dark Mark into the sky.
The skull lood overhead, a serpent slithering through its mouth.
Monts later—
A spell shot at him from behind.
"Expelliarmus!"
A silent incantation, only the rush of magic in the air giving it away.
Snape reacted instantly. The mont he sensed the attack, he flicked his wand—"Protego."
The Shield Charm enveloped him.
"Even with a severed arm, you can still react like that?" A sharp, grating voice ca from behind him.
Snape turned.
And sneered.
"Bellatrix. You're still alive? What a surprise."
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