Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures

Chapter 702: Voldemort's Story

Chapter 702: Voldemort's Story

There was silence, and then Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, his trembling voice spoke from under his mask.

“Master, all-powerful Master, we crave to know… we beg you to tell us… how you have achieved this… this miracle… how you managed to return to us…” he said respectfully, glancing at the vampire named Durand beside him.

Voldemort had just mentioned the vampire’s help, and all Death Eaters were curious about it.

What role did the vampires play in it, and what was their agreement with Voldemort?!!

In addition, who was the Death Eater who had been lurking in Hogwarts to help Voldemort successfully resurrect? They all wanted to know.

Not surprisingly, he would be the most trusted and relied on by Voldemort, the one they needed to bow to.

Past experience told them that it was not realistic to please Voldemort directly, and there was hope for those who got his attention.

Like Lucius Malfoy, Death Eaters had their own calculations.

“It’s a long story, Lucius!” said Voldemort with a cruel smile. “And it begins; and… ends, with my young friend here.”

He walked lazily over to stand next to Harry, so that the eyes of the whole circle were upon the two of them. The snake continued to circle, and it was as though it wanted to eat Evan first.

Looking closely, Evan could now see clearly what Voldemort was like.

His skin was paler than a skeleton, but not smooth, very rough, like a snake covered with albino scales, especially on his hairless head, whose skin was dark, red, with disgusting complex lines.

The most striking and frightening thing about the flat snake face was the eyes.

Voldemort’s eyes flashed with blood-red light, making Evan suddenly think of the raven’s eyes he’d seen inside the Merperson statue not long ago.

There were no emotions in those empty eyes, only bloodthirsty, crazy and cruel.

His pupils were two slits, like a cat’s, and it was uncomfortable to look at them. And his flat nose was just two thin slits, as though there were no nostrils…

Evan was a little confused. Did Voldemort become like that because of his transformation with those Dark magic? Or was it the aftermath of the resurrection? Or both?

“You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?” Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. “You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him… and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen… I could not touch the boy.”

Voldemort touched Harry’s skin with the cold tip of one of his long white fingers, and Harry thought his head would burst with the pain.

Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued to speak to the Death Eaters.

“I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman’s foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself.” Voldemort smacked his lips and closed his eyes, “Aaah… pain beyond pain; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body; I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost…”

“Yes, I was still alive, but what I was, even I do not know …” Voldemort opened his terrible eyes again, “I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal… to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked… for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself… for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand…”

“I remember only the days and nights I was sleepless, forcing myself, endlessly, second by second, to exist. I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, waiting for my faithful Death Eaters to find me…” said Voldemort, looking around. “I used to believe that surely one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body… but I waited in vain… for thirteen years…”

The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters. Voldemort let the silence spiral horribly before continuing.

“Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. They knew I was in that forest, and Dumbledore had not given up on his intention to eliminate me completely,” said Voldemort slowly. “I sometimes inhabited animals, snakes, of course, being my preference… but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic… and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long…”

“Then, four years ago, there seemed to be hope for my return. A wizard, young, foolish and gullible, wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of… for he was a teacher at Dumbledore’s school…” said Voldemort.

Both Evan and Harry knew that he was referring to Quirrell, Harry’s first year professor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts.

“He was easy to bend to my will… he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer’s Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted… thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter…”

Silence once more; nothing was stirring, even the leaves were still. The Death Eaters were quite motionless, the glittering eyes in their masks fixed upon Voldemort, and upon Harry.

“That servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been,” Voldemort continued. “I returned to my hiding place far away, and I will not pretend to you that I didn’t then fear that I might never regain my powers. … Yes, that was perhaps my darkest hour … I could not hope that I would be sent another wizard to possess … and I had given up hope, now, that any of my Death Eaters cared what had become of me. …” 

One or two of the masked wizards in the circle moved uncomfortably, but Voldemort took no notice.

“And then, not even a year ago, when I had almost abandoned hope, it happened at last…” Voldemort paused before continuing, “I encountered new allies… a group of vampires with the same great ancestor as me!”

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