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After reacquainting himself with the feeling of having his wand in hand, Voldemort turned his gaze to the weak and cowardly man kneeling before him, his face tearful and pained.
"Your arm, Wormtail."
"Th-thank you, my Lord. Thank you so much!" Pettigrew said excitedly, extending his arm to his master and showing the bloody stump wrapped in cloth.
He was extremely happy and ecstatic, thinking that his magnificent and powerful master would do something to ease the pain from having cut off his hand to complete the ritual—perhaps even restoring the limb to him.
But Voldemort's next words shattered his joy, almost sending him into despair.
"The other arm!" the Dark Lord said irritably, narrowing his cruel, red eyes.
"Y-yes, m-my Lord! I-I made a mistake!" Pettigrew stammered hastily, not daring to show disappointment or dissatisfaction at the dark wizard's disregard.
He then extended his other arm, the one still intact. Voldemort pushed the sleeve of the robe up to the elbow, revealing a tattoo that covered Pettigrew's forearm and wrist, pulsing a bright red as if it were burning.
The tattoo was a dark, macabre skull with an open mouth, from which emerged a black and terrifying snake with hints of emerald green, slithering across Pettigrew's arm and wrist as if it were alive.
This magical and dark tattoo, exuding a raw and evil energy, was clearly the Dark Mark, the brand given to all dark wizards in Voldemort's inner circle, connecting them to the Dark Lord.
After seeing Pettigrew's outstretched arm, Voldemort grabbed it with his cold, skeletal hand before bringing his wand closer to the Dark Mark.
As soon as the tip of the wand touched the tattoo, it pulsed with a faint green glow, and the snake began to move more frantically.
Feeling a burning sensation in his arm, Pettigrew silently grunted in pain, but didn't try to pull away out of fear that Voldemort might see it as defiance.
"Urgh!" I heard Harry suppress a cry, feeling his scar hurt even more.
'Looks like my suspicions were correct… The Dark Mark isn't just a symbol or a way for Voldemort to summon his followers,' I analyzed, looking between Harry's scar and the Dark Mark on Pettigrew's arm.
Looking at the marks on the two wizards' bodies, I realized that the magic in the mark somewhat resembled that of Horcruxes.
Obviously, there were no soul fragments in the marks, but there was a bit of Voldemort's essence and magic in them—something that caused a similar connection effect.
'Hmm, I think the Dark Mark is something I should research and study in the future,' I thought.
Some time passed since Voldemort sent the signal to all his servants, and during that time, he walked around this part of the graveyard, getting used to his new body while waiting patiently.
A silence then fell over the area, the only sounds being Voldemort's robes dragging on the ground, Pettigrew's whimpering, and Harry's pained grunts.
But after a few seconds, the silence was broken by Voldemort himself, who turned to Harry and me for the first time since his resurrection.
"You know, Potter, I didn't choose this place to regain my body and power by chance," he began to say in a casual conversational tone, as if he weren't standing before his mortal enemy.
"This graveyard actually holds a great and unfortunate significance for me and for the ritual that brought me back."
"Here in this graveyard lies my late Muggle father, and his bones—along with those of my other… Muggle relatives—are buried in the grave beneath your feet."
When Voldemort began to speak of his father and non-magical relatives, his voice became more hissing and cold. His emotions were full of hatred and disgust, showing how much he despised his paternal origins.
"My father was a foolish and pretentious man, much like your mother, Potter… But in the end, both still had their use…"
"Your mother died trying to protect you when you were a child, and I killed my father—and now after he died he proved his useful, bringing me back…" he let out a laugh, full of cruelty and rage.
Voldemort then pointed to the large house at the top of the hill, "Do you see that house there, Potter? That was where my father lived."
"My mother was a witch who lived in this village and ended up falling in love with him, but when she told him what she was… a witch… he abandoned her… He hated and feared magic."
"After that, he returned to his Muggle family, leaving her alone… and pregnant."
"She died giving birth to me, Potter, and I was then sent to be raised in a Muggle orphanage, far from my legacy…" he clenched his fists, narrowing his snake-like eyes.
"But I swore that one day I would find him, avenge myself… Kill that fool who gave me his name… Tom Riddle."
"And that's what I did. I killed him, rediscovered my magical heritage, and then became a new person… A more powerful and pure person… I became Lord Voldemort!"
As he spoke these words, Voldemort had an excited and almost manic expression on his face, smiling to himself wickedly and arrogantly.
"!?"
As soon as Harry heard all these shocking revelations come from Voldemort's mouth, his eyes widened in shock.
"Your father… Your father was a Muggle!? You're not a pureblood?!" Harry asked, stunned, focusing especially on that fact.
His mind was working overtime, trying to process this information that could shake the entire wizarding world.
It was no surprise that Harry was shocked by this information.
Because I had interfered with the events of our second year, Harry didn't have to go through the traumatic events of the Chamber of Secrets, nor did he face the young soul of Voldemort in the diary.
And because of that, he never discovered the other dark and infamous identity of the Dark Lord.
The identity he so despised and tried to hide… Tom Riddle, a half-blood orphan, son of a Muggle and a Squib.
"Huh?" Voldemort raised an eyebrow at Harry's shocked question, "You didn't know?" he asked slowly.
And seeing that Harry hadn't replied—too stunned as he stared at his parents' killer—a scornful look appeared on his face, "It seems that old fool didn't tell you about that…" he said, somewhat mockingly.
His gaze then fell on me, noticing that even after discovering his true bloodline heritage, I hadn't shown any expression of surprise or confusion.
I, who already knew all this and didn't bother to hide it, simply continued staring at him calmly—but with a fierce, fearless posture.
"Heh." A chilling smile appeared on his pale, snake-like face.
And I could see a satisfied and greedy gleam flash quickly in his threatening red eyes.
'If before I only thought he was interested in me, now I'm certain!' I thought, frowning as I felt his intentions through his emotions.
Voldemort seemed to be preparing to say something more, but suddenly he fell silent, turning and looking back.
Noticing his actions, I also looked in that direction, and it was at this moment that something caught my attention.
Looking at the ground and the gravestones around me, I noticed some runes on them beginning to glow faintly.
I could also feel a shift in the surrounding magic, and narrowing my eyes attentively, I saw several distortions in space appearing behind Voldemort.
'The inner circle Death Eaters are here,' I thought, recognizing this phenomenon as the magical reaction caused by Apparition.
And just as I expected, from these spatial distortions—seen only by someone with eyes like mine—several wizards emerged, dressed in black robes from head to toe and wearing skull-like masks.
With the arrival of these dark wizards, the air in the graveyard grew heavier and more ominous, and I knew that this was the moment I had been waiting for… the moment to begin my plan.
End.
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