The Rendezvous

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, the Great Dark Lord, the most feared Dark Sorcerer in our time, sits quietly at his family's mansion. He sighs, and hisses for his pet snake. Out of the gloomy corner slithered an amethyst scaled serpent. The Dark Lord watched as his pet curled at his feet.

[Ssssooooon, I wilh gethhhh my revenge on thhhat silly boyy...]

The snake looked up, silently displayed its forked tongue as if to say: 'you do not know what you are getting into my lord.' Voldemort smirked, the lines of his incomplete face contorted by the little light of the room.

[Thhaat isss whathh you think? My plan isss ssset...]

Indeed, his plan was set. The Boy Who Lived and that muggle loving fool cannot possibly fathom the scale of his strategy. Even with limited Death Eaters he could still find a way. Yes, the resourcefulness of Slytherin's heir can be proudly seen.

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I have a rendezvous with Death

At some disputed barricade

When Spring comes round with rustling shade

And apple blossoms fill the air.

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The time came and soon, the Dark Lord's plans will be initiated. My Death Eaters have been enhanced with ancient Dark magic, from the book of Slytherin himself. I will not fail my destiny.

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I have a rendezvous with Death

When Spring brings back blue days and fair.

It may be he shall take my hand

And lead me into his dark land

And close my eyes and quench my breath;

It may be I shall pass him still.

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The plan was foiled! This cannot be! I can't believe this, my servants, all, all---

Destroyed.

The Dark Lord knows no weakness. He knows no bounds. A mere miscalculation such as this can be blamed on...his absent minions. Lord Voldemort cursed under his breath which shook the ceiling and sent his pet slithering away from him.

[You ffffaail me thooo...]

And he bowed his head as he slumped to a chair. I will face him myself.

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I have a rendezvous with Death

On some scarred slope of battered hill,

When Spring comes round again this year

And the first meadow flowers appear.

God knows ‘twere better to be deep

Pillowed in silk and scented down,

Where love throbs out in blissful sleep,

Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath,

Where hushed awakenings are dear …

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I will strike when they least expect it...when they are wallowing in happiness and delight...

Lord Voldemort moved according to his plan. Harry Potter was waiting for him. Dumbledore set the forest around them on fire. The Dark Lord was taken aback, as he stared at the Boy of the prophecy. The boy looked like a soulless killer...He went on into the center, his robes billowing against the firey rage.

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But I’ve a rendezvous with Death

At midnight in some flaming town,

When Spring trips north again this year,

And I to my pledged word am true,

I shall not fail that rendezvous.

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The flaming circle was engulfed in light.