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"Are you fine?" I asked Harry as he stopped beside me, noticing his troubled expression.
"Define 'fine'..." he muttered, grimacing.
There was a hint of distress in his voice, and his eyes, which glanced at me from the corner of his eye, showed hesitation.
And besides this hesitation, his green eyes also showed other feelings, carrying a mixture of caution, strangeness... and a slight trace of fear.
'Well, I expected that,' I sighed, feeling a slight pang of disappointment.
From the beginning, I knew that my brutal actions against Pettigrew would end up making Harry uncomfortable and wary—perhaps even frightened of me.
But even so, as much as I understood his feelings, I couldn't help but feel a slight sadness when I saw that suspicious look in his eyes.
'It doesn't matter... sooner or later he would end up seeing this side of me.' I shook my head, trying to push away the weight of those thoughts.
Even if Harry came to see me as a monster or a cruel murderer, I would not regret my actions.
In fact, if I had more time—and we weren't in the middle of such a dangerous situation—Pettigrew wouldn't have met such a quick death at my hands.
In my opinion, the death I gave to that wretched rat could even be considered an act of mercy.
For someone like him, who threatened the people I love, I wanted to make him suffer something much worse. I wanted him to experience torture so cruel and violent that it would leave even Salazar Slytherin and Herpo the Foul in fear and awe.
And not just him. All of these dark wizards who were here had already committed atrocities and crimes in their lives to deserve a similar fate – a slow and painful death.
Death for them would not be a punishment, but rather a liberation that they would beg to have.
'Sigh... Forget it' I shook my head.
Pettigrew was a sneaky coward who had managed to escape many deadly situations before, so it wouldn't be impossible for some miracle to happen and he could escape again.
So either way, killing him outright was, in the end, the safest choice. At least that way I won't have to worry about him doing anything to those close to me anymore.
Besides, killing him could also be considered my way of apologizing - and redeeming myself, even if minimally - to Sirius, Harry and Amelia. After all, it was because of me that he managed to escape from the Ministry the last time.
Having sorted out my thoughts, I looked back at Harry, noticing that he still looked tense, even though he tried to hide it.
"Hey Harry, don't worry. We'll get out of here," I reassured him, even though I knew that wasn't the real reason for his anxiety.
"Huh? Oh yeah... I know, man," he said, with a feigned calm expression.
Seeing this I sighed, and knowing that insisting would only make him more distressed, I decided to change the subject.
"So... are you ready?" I asked.
"For this situation?" he pursed his lips, "Not entirely."
Hearing this I shrugged my shoulders, "For a fight I think this is enough"
"Maybe... but unlike you, I can't fight empty-handed," he said, feeling somewhat helpless and vulnerable in the face of the current situation.
Listening to his bitter complaint I said nothing and simply snapped my fingers.
Our wands, which were lying on the ground far away from us, were summoned by me, flying and landing gently in my outstretched hand.
"Here. Problem solved," I said, handing the phoenix feather-cored wand to the Gryffindor boy.
Harry – without any hesitation – picked up his wand, holding it tightly. As soon as the magical instrument touched his hands, he felt a familiar magical connection with the item.
It was like reclaiming a part of himself, which brought him a sense of security and power. And for an instant, the tension in his shoulders eased a little.
"Okay... What do we do now?" he asked me, a little more confident.
"Now let's find out what he wants," I replied, nodding slightly in Voldemort's direction.
My answer then made Harry pay attention again to the enemies surrounding us — and only then did he notice something curious: none of the dark wizards had moved to attack us. No spells were cast, no threats… nothing.
This bothered him immediately.
The golden boy knew that when a hostage escaped his bonds and armed himself, the captor usually acted without hesitation—either to recapture the hostage or, failing that, to eliminate him... That was to be expected in this situation.
But Voldemort, standing in the center of the group, watched us with an expression that was too calm. Almost... patient.
There was no hurry on his face, no fury, no sign that he intended to do anything to us.
And seeing this Harry understood at the same time that this was not a show of mercy from him... Voldemort was not giving us a chance to escape.
If he hadn't yet given the order to kill us, it was because he wanted something from us.
And that fact was much more worrying than if he had tried to eliminate us.
"Uh," Harry gripped his wand more tightly, a wary, watchful look on his face.
Voldemort, upon seeing that we had finished our conversation and were now looking at him, took a step forward before he began to speak.
"Well, it seems your little chat has finally come to an end," he said, his red, emotionless eyes fixed on us.
But a second later, his gaze shifted downward, landing on the corpse of his fallen servant.
For the briefest moment, something flickered in his reptilian eyes - an emotion quickly concealed.
However, thanks to my empathic ability, I could easily sense the feelings he failed to suppress.
I felt his anger, disdain, frustration, and malice - and it wasn't hard to figure out the reasons behind them.
The disdain and dissatisfaction he felt was directed at Pettigrew, who died so easily and in such a pathetic way, and it happened because he did not keep quiet while the Dark Lord was making his speech.
And his anger and malice were directed at me, and those were the very emotions he tried to hide.
He was obviously angry that I had killed his servant, especially since it was right after he had rewarded that servant for helping him in his resurrection.
Basically, it felt like I had ignored his authority by doing something so violent to one of his followers in front of the other Death Eaters. This, to Voldemort, was like a slap in his face.
Still, knowing that I could still be of some use to him, he decided not to act impulsively, keeping his emotions im check.
And, of course, part of his lack of action was also due to the fact that he didn't care that much about Pettigrew in the first place.
In his calculating mind, he had already decided that the cowardly rat's death would be worth it if it brought him closer to achieving his ambitious goals.
Turning his gaze away from Pettigrew, Voldemort focused on me.
"You know, Night... I've heard a lot of things said about you," he began, "Some say you're a brilliant and powerful wizard, others say you're reckless and fearless… But one thing they all agree on is that you're the most talented young wizard they've ever seen."
"And now, seeing your actions for myself, I can only say that all of these things are true... You truly are a young man with tremendous potential."
"However, it seems that none of these people truly understood you. No one saw or knew the real you."
"The real you, that was revealed here tonight by brutally murdering Wormtail... the decisive, cruel, and cold Ethan Night."
As he said this, Voldemort's lips curved slightly upwards, and for the first time since he had begun speaking, another expression besides his usual arrogant indifference appeared on his face.
The Dark Lord, looking at me, had a look of satisfaction and excitement - almost as if he was proud of what I had done.
End.
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