Four Years

A hooded man steps along a long stone pathway with much dignity and triumph in his step. A smile appears on his face, one only visible to himself and those up above, as his followers lead behind him, always sure not to stare at any part of him for too long.

There is fear, there is regret, and there is pride amongst the group of followers so aptly named The Death Eaters. They have done their job, but most of them did so mistakenly. More than half of the group was under the mind-controlling Imperious Curse, losing their own actions to the most evil power of all time. Their choices are still controlled, though their minds are aware of what they have done and they regret it.

The sky is dark, though it is not night and those still alive believe that it is going to stay that way for awhile. The dementors created the fog, but the darkness was fully formed by the leader of the group, and he is going to want to keep the darkness for awhile. It is to show his dominance and to show his rule. No one will step out of line because of it. No one will step out of line anyways, but Voldemort is not one to prove points in a minimal way. He will force the point through.

"It is over," he whispers, and a crowd of cheers forms, many out of force, rather than sheer joy, though he still has his loyal supporters. "We have won."

The cheer continues, but Voldemort does not join in. He keeps his back turned to his group of allies. This moment he wants to himself because it is only because of his own power that this moment has come. His supporters helped, but he is the one that formed them in the first place. To be such a man of power has been his aim since a little boy and now the time has finally come. He has defeated the Wizarding World. The entire world is at his hands now, or at least it would be soon.

"Snape, is the old man surely dead?" Voldemort turns around swiftly, focusing his attention on the proud man.

Snape is caught off guard for a moment, taking a moment to answer, but eventually answers, "Yes, sir."

"I don't want any mistakes now. Are you sure?" Voldemort is not going to make the same mistake twice. Dumbledore has to be dead. He is the only man capable of defeating him. Even if the rest of the Wizarding World were dead, Dumbledore would be a threat.

"I am sure," Snape says confidently. He has done a thorough job this time. He would not make the same mistake as his wife, Narcissa, made. "His final remains have been destroyed."

Voldemort breaths a sigh of relief. He knows Snape is the one he could trust to do the job well, however he will still take another look at the memory of Dumbledore's destruction. He can never be too sure about something. He will study his enemy, for now he has time. Time to plan before taking over the rest of the world.

"You have proven yourself to be worthy," Voldemort says, forcing out as much as a compliment as he can.

"Thank you sir." Snape bows as he speaks. "I assure you that I will continue to serve you well, master."

"I have no doubts that you will," Voldemort answers a bit distracted. He has no need for friends and he wishes to get rid of them at that point. He wants the world for himself. As soon as the movement to rid the world of muggles is over, he will have that. The world is his, and he can feel it at the tip of his fingers. It is almost time.

And there is no one alive that can stop him.