Omnividence

Chapter Four - The Plot Congeals

"A fake fortuneteller can be tolerated. But an authentic soothsayer should be shot on sight. Cassandra did not get half the kicking around she deserved." - Robert Heinlein

***

Hugin and Munin were bathing themselves in a puddle on the grounds. They were unwelcome in the Owlery, a parliament of owls being a rather snooty bunch. Besides, ravens frequently eat eggs and chicks of all kinds when they can, making them unpopular with other birds in general. The ravens accepted the owls' opprobrium with natural corvine insouciance. Being psychic and capable of human speech allowed them to return the owls' scorn. Hugin and Munin took such great pleasure in contriving tricks to play on the stuffy Owlery residents that Aliset had been forced to forbid them from having anything to do with the owls at all.

Hugin dipped his beak in the puddle and drank with a meditative gleam in his eye. "Something dark is coming."

"Yes. Night. Happens in the evening," said Munin absently. A steely glare from his partner made him relent. Munin cocked his head to the side, as though listening to something in the far distance. "You're right!" he exclaimed, looking back at Hugin in sudden alarm. "And Aliset hasn't picked up on it yet."

"Well... she is awfully young for a human. And clairvoyance is so much more confusing for these pink monkeys than it is for us."

They were both silent for a moment. Something bad was coming soon. Later, they would have to find some place quiet and remote to examine it more closely.

Munin's head came up. "That Potter boy is on his way over here," he remarked casually.

"He wants to talk to Aliset," answered Hugin.

"Hm... I suppose I can see why," Munin's beak dropped open in a smile. "When is he going to develop his clairvoyant talents, do you think?"

"Better be soon. A shit-storm of biblical proportions is brewing," said Hugin sourly.

***

Harry decided he needed to get out in the fresh air after sharing a corridor with Malfoy. Poncy git, he thought, vastly annoyed by the whole episode. This year was rapidly shaping up to be more of the usual mystery-and-mayhem that he was so used to. I'm now officially the Boy-Who's-Pissed. Was a normal life too much to ask?

Once outside, he noticed two ravens making the most of the puddles left from the morning rain. One turned its head towards him and gave him an appraising look. He rather thought it was Aliset's pair, but couldn't be sure, as ravens all look pretty much alike.

"What are you staring at, Four-Eyes?" snapped one of the black birds.

"You started it," Harry replied peevishly. Definitely Aliset's ravens. First Malfoy, now this.

"Shut up, both of you," said the slightly larger of the two birds. Hugin glanced up at Harry. "You wanted to talk to Aliset?"

"Um. Yeah," said Harry, somewhat nonplussed.

"Well, she's sleeping," said Hugin. "She's had a rough day. However, I believe my colleague and I can help you." His beak opened in what Harry was beginning to recognize as their version of a smile. "You see, ravens are clairvoyant, too," Hugin said.

"And so are you," added Munin slyly.

Harry sat down abruptly. "I'm what?" he gasped weakly.

"To be totally accurate, you're mostly clairvoyant only where Voldemort's concerned," said Hugin sympathetically as he hopped into Harry's lap. When the boy recoiled slightly, Hugin ruffled his feathers in annoyance. "I am house-trained, you know," he muttered irritably.

"Sorry," stammered Harry. "What do you mean 'clairvoyant'? Do you mean seeing the future?"

Hugin shook out his feathers once more and settled down comfortably. "There's clairvoyance, and then there's clairvoyance. It's not all seeing the future. You lived with Muggles - you've heard of ESP?" Harry nodded and Hugin continued. "It's a bit like being equipped with an antenna or a satellite dish. How much you see depends on how much power you have."

"And it can be tuned to something specific," interjected Munin. "Like Voldemort, in your case."

Hugin clacked his beak in agreement. "Indeed. Following so far?" he asked Harry.

Harry nodded again, a little dumbstruck, but finding it to make quite a bit of sense.

"Now, clairvoyants come in all ranges and can see all kinds of things. Take Professor Trelawney, for example. Very weak and, frankly, I'm astonished she's a professor." Hugin shook his head in disbelief. "To extend the antenna analogy, look at it like this: Professor Trelawney has the psychic equivalent of a wire retainer picking up the occasional snatch of the local radio. Aliset, on the other hand, is so powerful she receives, 24/7, everything from Radio Tokyo to 'Good Morning, Brazil'." Hugin fixed Harry with one beady little eye. "Still with me?"

Feeling like a puppet in an especially surreal children's show, Harry bobbed his head again.

"Good. You're a bright boy," clucked Hugin approvingly. "So, at the low end of the spectrum, we have Professor Trelawney. What she has is by far the most common form of clairvoyance. Even though it's sporadic and unreliable, people with this little bit have made successful careers in Astrology and the Psychic-Hotline business. Even become professors," Hugin sounded as though he held these careers in a very dim light. Munin looked sidelong at Harry and winked.

Hugin went on. "At the high end, there is Aliset. She picks up an awful lot. So much so, that she's inundated in big, ancient public places like Hogwarts," he shifted slightly on Harry's knees. "Humans with visions this strong usually end up as hermits or go mad. Sometimes both."

"Is that what the hermits were, then?" asked Harry, opening his mouth somewhat stiffly. "They were all clairvoyants?"

"Well, some of them just hated other people and soap," said Munin with a shrug. "Fair amount of clairvoyants in Bedlam, though, and the other asylums."

"So, where do I fall on the spectrum of clairvoyance?" Harry asked curiously.

"Far below Aliset, but miles above Trelawney, if that's any consolation," Hugin stretched his wings and fluttered to the ground. "It's true that you're pretty much tuned to Voldemort, but that can definitely be used to your advantage."

"Does he have it?" asked Harry, suddenly worried. "If it's based on a shared connection..."

"Don't worry about it. If he could, he would have tracked you down ages ago, right?" Munin said reassuringly. "You, however, have a terrific weapon in your arsenal. Strengthen your psychic abilities and you can track down Voldemort." The raven yawned. "Harry, we've got to split. Need to grab a bite to eat before it gets dark. There's a woodchuck going to be run-over in about five minutes, and we'd like to get there before all the other scavengers. You'll see Aliset after dinner."

With that, the two ravens took off, leaving Harry to absorb all that they had said.

***

Harry walked into the Great Hall for dinner, understandably preoccupied. So much so that Ron was forced to grab him by the arm to keep him from wandering right past the Gryffindor table. "What's wrong?" Ron hissed as he dragged Harry down to sit beside him.

"Mm?" Harry slowly focused on Ron. "Oh, I'll tell you later." He looked at his hands, then at the ceiling. "Everything happens to me, doesn't it?"

Ron shrugged, used to all this by now. "What is it this time? Another lunatic trying to kill you? An unflattering spread in Witch Weekly? Stubborn spots on your back that won't go away however much medication you put on them?"

Harry spared Ron a glare. "No. No. And definitely not. I said I'll tell you after dinner." He glanced at Hermione, who was sitting across the table engrossed in a book. "Hey, 'Mione. Can you put that down a sec?"

Hermione looked up, startled. There was an edge to Harry's voice she hadn't heard in a long time. Since their first year, in fact. "Sure. What is it, Harry?"

"Two things, actually," he leaned across his plate and lowered his voice. "Why did you follow me after Charms today? Why have you been acting so strangely?" he tried not to sound as frustrated as he felt.

"I'm not acting strangely. And you just hared off with Ron after class without waiting for me. What was I supposed to do?" she replied testily.

"Didn't it occur to you that I needed to do something and that it wasn't any of your business?" he asked, more harshly than he intended.

Hermione gaped at him. "What?" she exclaimed. "Excuse me if I consider myself one of your best friends, Harry. If it was so bloody private, why did Ron go with you?"

"Because Ron doesn't automatically follow me around like a toy on a string," Harry said, his voice raised so that the other Gryffindors paused in their chewing to stare down the table at them.

"-" Hermione gasped. "How dare you..." she spluttered and broke off. "Fine, Harry Potter. Forgive me for caring about you." She rose from the table, books in hand. "You can be assured it won't happen again." She turned and stalked out of the hall, the rest of the students gawking at her, then at Harry.

Harry fell silent. He looked at Ron, whose mouth was hanging open in pure astonishment. "That didn't go at all how I thought." He glared around the room. "Oh, go back to eating," he snapped, and began furiously stuffing himself with food.

***

Aliset woke to a tapping noise. She struggled out of bed to find the dorm room empty. The window rattled as the tapping started up again. It was Munin. She flung open the window and the bird hopped onto the sill.

He looked around the room. "Oh good. None of that 'suddenly there came a tapping as of someone gently rapping/ rapping at my chamber door' nonsense. It's not easy, being a raven, you know," he remarked bitterly. The enormous bird clacked its beak thoughtfully. "I thought I'd better wake you up, as dinner is almost over and you haven't eaten much today." He cocked an eye at her. "You're far too thin. Unless you want to be mistaken for a warning against anorexia, you need to start taking better care of yourself."

"I suppose," she replied, without enthusiasm. She hated the Great Hall, at least when it was full of students.

"You could probably convince the House-Elves to give you meals in your room," suggested the raven. "Dead helpful, they are. They'll probably be delighted by the extra work."

"It's an idea," she agreed. Actually, it would be great. And it would work, too. The possibilities were pretty narrow in this instance.

"Meanwhile, you need to have a chat with that Potter boy," Munin said gently. "He really needs to talk with you." Another beady look. "So does that bushy-haired girl. The two of them really need some pointers." He shook his head sadly. "Ah, young love," he sighed.

Her eyes grew unfocused. A girl with loads of brown hair sobbing into her pillow. Hermione. Despite the embarrassment the girl had caused her, Aliset felt a little sorry for her. Aliset frowned, then pulled on a sweater. No point in putting off the inevitable. She couldn't stay in the dorm forever. Better talk to Harry. "I guess I'll go down to dinner... Can you two keep an eye out for me? This is likely to get confusing."

"Sure," agreed Munin amicably. "And before you ask, Hugin is not tormenting the owls. I promise."

"Now I know you're lying," she muttered darkly. "Get on with you. And get Hugin away from the owls. One of these days, they're going to gang up on the two of you and you'll next turn up as a pile of bones in black owl goo."

"Ah, we can see them coming a mile off," said Munin, with the airiness of one with total assurance, and took off into the night.

***

Harry was still sitting morosely at the table long after everyone had left. Ron had only gone reluctantly to the common room when Harry reassured him repeatedly that he felt fine. "Just need to think a bit," he had muttered. "Take care of Hermione, will you? I shouldn't have said all that."

"Well, so long as you know that," Ron had replied, and then obliged Harry by leaving him alone.

When Aliset came in, she had some trouble spotting him in the dimly lit Hall. She nervously approached Harry and tapped him on the shoulder with one gloved hand. "Um. Harry?"

His head jerked up in alarm. Then he relaxed when he saw who it was. "Oh, hi," he said tonelessly, his voice utterly devoid of enthusiasm. "I'm glad you're here."

"You don't sound it," she understated neutrally. "Munin said you needed to see me."

"Yeah," he gazed off into space. "Why weren't you in Charms today?"

She blushed. "I, um, had a little accident. In the first floor girls' room."

He looked at her a bit oddly and it was a moment before she realized how her previous statement sounded.

She went on hurriedly. "I touched the last tap. The one with the etching." She looked at him and waited.

It took him a second to realize why it was significant. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed. "That must have been a shock."

"You might say that," she said awkwardly. "You and your friend were awfully brave to go down there. Who was the blond git in the fancy robes?"

He waved his hand, dismissing the entire episode. "Just some poncy prat. Was a professor here, briefly." He looked hard at her. "I guess," he said, "I shouldn't be surprised that you know all about it?" A nod from her confirmed it. "Well, I have something important I need to talk to you about," he gestured at the bench. "You might want to sit down, this might take awhile."

Obediently, she sat and waited for him to begin.

First, Harry explained how during his fourth year he had witnessed the murder of Frank Bryce, the Riddles' gardener, by Voldemort, even though he, Harry, had been several hundred miles away. He looked at Aliset, as though beseeching her to believe him. She merely nodded. He continued.

"I had a dream last night..." he said hesitantly. "Only it was real, I think." Then he recounted what he had seen of Voldemort, Karkaroff, and Wormtail. "They talked about you. That Karkaroff forced you to use your visions to help him avoid Voldemort. Is it true?" he asked. He did not mention what he had heard about Karkaroff possibly having murdered her parents.

"Yes." Aliset twined her fingers together. She looked at him curiously. "Are you a seer, too?"

"Yes. No. Um, sort of. It's the scar." Harry pulled back his fringe to reveal the famous lightening bolt. "It connects me to Voldemort." He let his hair fall back on his forehead. "Now. Can you tell me about Karkaroff?"

"Urgh," she gurgled and twisted her hands even more tightly. Well, I should have seen this coming, shouldn't I have? What did I expect? Her face turned brittle. I'm glad to hear that evil bastard got his own back in the end. No more than he deserves. She concentrated on Harry again. "It's kind of a long story."

"That's OK. I'm not going anywhere," he said gently.

Aliset took a deep breath, held it, let it out, and then began. "I was born in Russia. My parents were both magic. When I was eleven years old, my parents wrote to Durmstrang, asking if I would be accepted..."

Harry interrupted. "What? You don't get a letter in the post simply telling you you're admitted and what you need to buy?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, no. You see, Durmstrang is very strict about the students they accept, even if their whole family has been magic for generations." She stuck out her tongue a bit in disgust. "They're the worst bunch of stuck-up idiots you'll ever find. Even Slytherins would be a bit beneath them, because Slytherins belong to Hogwarts." She shook her head and went on. "Anyway, Karkaroff was the headmaster. I met him for the first time at the entry interview." She could see Harry mentally gaping at the notion of entry interviews, but continued. "I didn't like him from the start."

"I don't blame you," Harry murmured. Between the Dursleys and the Slytherins, Harry had learned to spot slimy gits a long ways off and Karkaroff had made him suspicious from the moment of his arrival.

"Well, I got accepted. Mostly, I think, because my father told Karkaroff I was clairvoyant," she paused, looking sadly into her gloved hands. "I was only a child. I couldn't see far at all. Otherwise, there's no way I would have let my parents enroll me at Durmstrang. Before the holidays, my parents were dead." Her breath came out in a long shudder.

Harry ached in empathy. He had never known his own parents, but had always mourned their loss just the same. To have lost your parents at an age where you would remember them... and doubly hard if you thought afterwards that you should have seen it coming... Without realizing it, Harry reached out and enfolded Aliset's hands in his own as she resumed her story.

She didn't notice his grasp. Her eyes had dimmed and saw only the past. Her voice, when she spoke, came from a distance. "Karkaroff suddenly became very different. He had always been oily and..." she fumbled for the word. "Ah... False. You know, pretending that he really cared and did I need anything and so on. Well, the instant my parents were gone, I found myself being constantly yanked out of class and brought to his office. He wanted me to see for him. Mostly, he asked about Voldemort," her eyes cleared and she looked seriously at Harry, as though pleading with him to understand and to forgive. "Sometimes he asked about you." She bit her lip.

Harry just nodded. Made sense, in a creepy sort of way. And he knew that Aliset hadn't been voluntarily supplying information on him.

Aliset paused for such a long time, that Harry spoke. "What's the Condividus Charm?" he asked.

She started, and noticed for the first time his grip on her hands. "It allows the one who performs the charm to share the visions of the seer it's done on," she said quietly.

"How?" Harry asked softly.

"The... incantation... burns..." she faltered. "It burns signs into the seer's hands. They're individual to both seer and charmer. As long as they're there, the charmer can see all the clairvoyant's visions."

Harry looked thoughtfully at Aliset's hands, hidden beneath the gloves. "You tried to stop seeing," he said. "You tried to keep him from using you. And he put you under the Imperious Curse."

"Yes," she admitted, eyes wide in surprise. His dream had been awfully clear then, to tell him that.

"What happened after Voldemort returned?" he asked. "I know Karkaroff ran off. Did he take you with him?"

She nodded. "I was his best protection. He would be able to see Voldemort coming after him. We went to the far north of Russia, where he thought he was safe." She smiled slightly, in private amusement. "What neither I nor Karkaroff knew was that Hugin and Munin were protecting me by blocking some of what I saw."

Harry looked a little surprised, then smiled appreciatively for the ravens' cleverness. "Then what happened? How did you escape before Karkaroff was captured?"

"Again, it was Hugin and Munin. They knew Voldemort had finally tracked Karkaroff down, even though I didn't. Then, when Karkaroff was asleep, they told me," she smiled, only faintly this time. "The Imperious Curse had lost some of its strength by that time, and because I was so terrified of Voldemort, I could throw off the curse." She fell silent again, lost in memory.

"What about the marks on your hands?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't Karkaroff know as soon as you knew?"

She shook her head. "Like I said, he was sleeping. And... I got rid of the marks."

There was a tight note, a warning in her voice against asking, but Harry couldn't help it. "How?" he asked curiously.

Slowly, Aliset peeled off her gloves. Her hands were long and slender. She turned them over to show the palms. The lines meant to show life and fortune were completely gone - her palms were smooth and featureless under a thick layer of flat, shiny scars.

"Hurry up, Aliset! You haven't much time!" Hugin hopped anxiously up and down. "Munin's gone to Dumbledore. He's an enemy of Voldemort's and he'll be able to help you. But he CAN'T help you if you don't hurry up! What if Karkaroff wakes up?"

Aliset stood by the wood stove. Its cast-iron sides radiated heat several inches around. Her hands fluttered nervously. "Are you sure?" she whispered.

"When have I ever lied to you?" Hugin said gently. "It will hurt a lot. Just remember not to scream or you'll wake him."

As a precaution, Aliset stuffed a rag in her mouth. Then, quickly before she lost her nerve, she clapped her hands against the sides of the stove.

It was unbearable! It was worse than when the marks had gone on...She reeled and forced herself not to faint from the agony, otherwise she would collapse face-first on the stove. She pulled her hands away. The skin stayed on the iron, sizzling and smelling obscenely reminiscent of cooked bacon. But the marks were gone.

"Run!" Hugin insisted. "The smell will wake him!" He had reason to be certain. "I'll guide you, but run! NOW!"

She staggered out of the door and into the snow.

By the time she met with Dumbledore, Karkaroff had been bound and taken by Wormtail and the other DeathEaters. He never knew exactly how she had escaped.

"Oh..." Harry looked at her hands and felt ill. It was far from being the worst thing he'd ever seen... but still, he'd never seen anything like that was self-inflicted.

"It's OK. Madame Pomfrey healed them for me when I got here," she looked dispassionately at the scars. "It doesn't really matter what they look like, since I keep my hands gloved all the time anyway." She smiled at Harry. "Really," she insisted, "it's alright." She grew suddenly solemn. "Harry," she said earnestly. "Please believe I never wanted to harm you. I never wanted to spy on you."

"Don't worry," he assured her. "I've met enough Death Eaters to know they'll use any means they can... including innocent people." He shrugged. "Nice to know that my dreams are real and I'm not going mad."

"Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?" she inquired after a pause.

"Um. Your ravens said that, if I could improve whatever psychic abilities I have, I could track down Voldemort myself," Harry said nervously.

Aliset looked thoughtfully into space. "That would be good, wouldn't it?" she said at last. "I'm afraid I don't know how to help you with that, though. Maybe Hugin and Munin can help. They're clairvoyant, and far less confused by it than I am." She looked sternly at Harry. "You're not going to go haring off after him if it works, are you? I can't let you do that."

"Definitely not," he said firmly. "I'd tell Dumbledore." He slapped his forehead. Honestly. "Dumbledore might be able to help!" Harry trusted the Headmaster implicitly and was long past wondering if Dumbledore would try to prevent him from getting involved. They both realized he was already involved and trying to keep him from trouble would only make it find him that much faster. Some advice would be nice for a change.

"Worth a try," she said cheerfully. "Harry, I've got to go." She stood up and drew her gloves back on.

"No problem. Look," he said suddenly, and seized her hands. "Thank you so much for telling me all this. I know it can't have been easy." He opened his mouth to go on, but she spoke first.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, her voice low and sincere. "Thank you for trusting me. For forgiving me, and..." she sighed and shrugged. "It was a relief to finally tell someone my age who understands." Aliset pulled her hands away, waved a little shyly, and started to leave.

"Wait!" Harry called as she reached the door. She paused and turned towards him. "Does this mean you're not going to bolt down the hall whenever you see me?" he asked.

She smiled again, rather enigmatically, waved one last time and left.

***

At the back of the Hall, too far away to hear the soft conversation, Hermione seethed at what she saw.

***

Back in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, Harry told Ron everything, as he had promised. When he was finished, Ron said, "Wow, Harry. Everything does happen to you. Of course, you've been having these dreams for a while now..."

Ron sat back and gazed contemplatively into space. "I think the day You-Know-Who tried to kill you must have been the worst day of his life. I mean, not only didn't he not kill you, the curse back-fires and you end being a Parseltongue and being able to spy on him without him knowing about it." He turned to Harry and grinned. "Cool."

"That's just it. What if Voldemort finds out about this connection? Then he can spy on me, too," Harry said. This possibility haunted him. The ravens simply said Voldemort hadn't, based on the fact he hadn't used it to track down Harry years ago and had had to resort to Death Eaters to bring Harry to him. As far as Harry was concerned, although he had a lot of worst-days to choose from, the day of the third Tri-Wizard task was it.

He shared his worry with Ron. "What if I try to locate Voldemort, and Voldemort realizes what I'm trying to do? I mean, I've been asleep all the other times - I've never done it on purpose before. What if I screw up and give the game away?"

Ron drew his orange eyebrows up and looked very serious. "You should really, really try not to screw up then, Harry."

"That's helpful," Harry muttered.

They each went back to their beds, closed the curtains and turned out the light.

Harry envied Ron's ability to sleep. He kept replaying the brief argument with Hermione at dinner. What if she never talks to me again? He thought wretchedly, What if she wants to stop being friends. She just wanted to walk to dinner together after class, like always, and I nearly bit her head off for it.

He flopped over on his stomach and reached through the curtains to his bedside table. His hand found what he was looking for: A wizard photo from the summer hols, showing Sirius, Harry and his two best friends at the beach in Brighton. He had suggested to Sirius they go - after all, they didn't have to do magic stuff all the time. Hermione had actually given him the idea. She had said she loved to swim, that her parents had taken her to Brighton Beach once when she was small. Harry and Ron had never been, though Sirius had gone with James and Lily in the old days. Everyone had agreed that going swimming was a brilliant idea.

Neither Harry nor Ron were particularly good swimmers. Ron wasn't, because his family had little more than a scummy pond nearby and trips to the shore were expensive. Harry wasn't, obviously, because the Dursley's would rather have had un-anesthetized oral surgery than take Harry to the beach when they went. While Dudley went sea-bathing (or at least, put his buoyancy to good use) Harry had spent endless boring hours at Mrs. Figgs house and breathing stuffy, cat-hair-laden air.

They had had a terrific time. Sirius had received loads of admiring looks from ladies of all ages, and Harry could have sworn he saw one woman tuck her phone number under Sirius's towel. Harry's over-sized swimming-trunks had caused no end of teasing until he pointed out to Ron that his, Ron's, trunks were transparent when wet. Ron spent most of the day in the ocean up to his waist, even odds whether he was blushing or burning under the sun.

Hermione, though. Hermione had worn a modest blue bikini, the first time he had seen her in anything so revealing. And she was a terrific swimmer. Harry smiled fondly, both at the photo of the four of them in their swimming-things, and at the memory of watching her cut effortlessly through the water. It had been the best holiday of his life, shared with the people closest to him.

What if we never do this again? Harry thought, stricken by the very idea. What if I screwed up so badly...I never... He drifted off to sleep, the day's events chasing him into restless dreams.

***

"My Lord," said Wormtail, bowing low. "I have found the girl," he chewed his lip anxiously - his master was not going to be pleased. "She's at Hogwarts. Dumbledore took her in." He closed his eyes tightly and waited.

Voldemort sat motionless in his chair. And sat. Cringing with anticipated agony, Wormtail was little more than a misshapen lump before the fireplace. Voldemort paid him no attention.

Finally, after a tapestry depicting one of the Goblin War battles burst into flame, ash sifting slowly to the stone floor, Voldemort spoke. His voice was surprisingly even. "It was to be expected."

Wormtail opened one eye a fraction, and was mildly relieved. Smelling smoke in Voldemort's presence was always ominous. "M-my Lord?" he stuttered.

"We merely have to contrive a way to get her out of his clutches," Voldemort said, with a hint of grinding teeth in his voice. If Wormtail noticed his master did not speak Dumbledore's name, he pretended that he hadn't.

"Go. Send out word to my loyal Death Eaters. Some of them have children at Hogwarts. Perhaps they can be of use," he said. It would be about time, he thought acidly.

Wormtail bowed obsequiously, if jerkily, once more, and left.

Hatred and fury burned into each syllable, Voldemort grated the name 'Dumbledore' into the empty room. So leaden was his voice, no echo returned from the dark corners of the chamber.