Harry Potter and the Scar of Fate

Chapter 13

Destination Unknown

Lord Voldemort, meanwhile, had been busy plotting. He had been really scared when almost all his Death Eaters were taken. A small part of him felt very proud of Harry's brilliant leadership abilities, but most of him seethed with anger and a desire for revenge.

"If only he would have joined me!" he was heard muttering by his Death Eaters several times.

The Death Eaters were beginning to question their master's power, but dared not say anything to him. They knew that he was far stronger than them, and if they protested, he'd kill them. They had planned to free their fellow Death Eaters from Azkaban, but one look at the Dementors and they'd forgotten all about it.

As their comrades were being picked up one by one, they had been forced to flee. The twenty Death Eaters now lay in the Riddle House, a Muggle house, in a village called Little Hangleton. They'd all fled to Bulgaria, and had returned only a few days back, just as the re building had completed.

Voldemort was not in a good mood. Nagini lay at his feet, hissing softly. She seemed to be annoyed. Voldemort did not notice when Bellatrix came up to him and said softly, "Master?"

Voldemort was jerked out of his reverie.

"Yes, Bella? What unfortunate news have you brought now?"

"Master, there's an owl for you..."

"From?"

"Harry Potter, Master...his owl is here..."

"Hedwig? Let her in."

Bellatrix Lestrange opened the window. Hedwig flew in, dropped a letter in Voldemort's lap and flew out.

The Dark Lord opened the letter, slightly anxious. It ran:

"Dear Lord Voldemort,

Now that you're back in the country, I hope you're ready for the final showdown. The destruction you'd caused was a monstrous action, but what else could be expected from a megalomaniac? I know that you're in Little Hangleton, in the Riddle House. Don't worry, I won't attack immediately. I wish to give your minions one last chance of surrender. The final battle between you and me is inevitable, but your precious Death Eaters can go to Azkaban quietly. You have a week. Next week, same day, same time, I shall be there, alone, if your Death Eaters surrender, or with a group. Your minions need not die, Voldemort. What's the use of futile bloodshed? Only one of us has to die. The choice is yours. I'll know when you take a decision.

Harry Potter.

P.S. If you think you won't tell your Death Eaters about this, you're gravely mistaken. As you read this, they were also informed. A few will stick by you, no doubt, but I think a few will come over."

Voldemort threw the letter in disgust. He sat motionless for a minute, then went over to his Death Eaters.

"You're free to leave," he hissed at them, "but remember, if I kill Harry Potter, I shall kill all the deserters as well. I hate traitors. Now those who wish to leave, GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

Half the Death Eaters scampered away. Voldemort laughed bitterly.

"My loyal servants! Why do you remain behind? Go, go to Potter!"

"No, Master," whispered Bellatrix, "we are your servants, and will remain so till our death." The others nodded in assent. Voldemort laughed again and returned to his room.

"I have taken my decision, Harry. But this will not be the venue of the final battle. Hogwarts was my home, the only one I've ever known. If I die, I would prefer to die there. The final battle, the mortal combat shall take place in the Chamber of Secrets, at the feet of my noble ancestor," he said loudly. Then his voice sunk to a whisper as he muttered, "I wish we had been on better terms, Harry. I wish I could have loved you as a grandfather, provided you with a proper family."

Miles away, Harry Potter sat up in his bed, the words of Lord Voldemort resounding in his head. He buried his face in his hands and wept silently for a long, long time, whispering, "I wish so, too, Grandpa."