Voldemort looked at the unconscious Harry on the floor before he and Lucius climbed the steep stairs, leaving the dimly lit cellar behind. Upon exiting, the dark Lord did not forget to put some protection spells at the entrance, preventing anyone from entering.
He has understood his lesson with the new memories, not to put his faith blindly in his servants.
Lucius guided Voldemort back to the drawing room, and this time it was void of any humans.
It seemed that both Narcissa and Draco had gone away after their encounter with the dark Lord. Voldemort was sure that Narcissa must be talking to her son, telling him how the path of the Death Eaters was a dangerous one, and she did not wish for Draco to follow in his parents ' footsteps. But it did not matter. Right now, Draco was just a foolish teenager. How could such a boy, who had been searching for fame for all his life, let such an opportunity pass?
The drawing room was a widely proportioned room. Probably the grandest room of the house. It had ceilings of thirty feet high, two chandeliers, and a pipe organ at one end. It had a handsome, ornate marble mantelpiece fireplace with a long mirror on top. All around were several pieces of furniture. At its center, there was a long, ornate table.
With a wave of his hand, Voldemort pushed all the furniture carelessly up against the wall, leaving only the table. Voldemort pulled a chair and sat, and Lucius followed.
"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.
Lucius immediately understood the task, and he did not just hold out his left arm, but he also pulled his sleeve up past his elbow, revealing his death mark. Voldemort pressed his long, white forefinger to the brand on Lucius's mark.
When Voldemort removed his fingers from the mark, the skull with a snake protruding from its mouth mark had turned from a vivid red tattoo into jet black.
Now Voldemort had to wait.
"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon Lucius. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"
----
At the very same time.
The group that had previously confronted Voldemort and his Death Eaters has gathered once again against the rising threat.
In the dimly lit headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, Dumbledore sat at the head of a round table, with the members of the Order sitting around. Upon hearing about the incident of the Triwizard Tournament, they knew it was just a question of when the wise wizard would gather them.
"I'm afraid the situation is dire," Dumbledore began, his voice carrying the weight of the troubling news. "It has been four days since Harry went missing, and there still isn't a single clue about his whereabouts. The Ministry's accusations against him regarding Cedric's death only complicate matters further."
"Kingsley, still no news from your side?" asks Dumbledore, trying to get as reliable a source as possible.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but still no one from the Ministry of Magic has found any lead on Harry Potter. And the wizards are doing their best as Cornelius Fudge is pressuring them to arrest him at all costs." Kingsley Shacklebolt was a member of the Ministry of Magic, and recently, Dumbledore convinced him about the return of Voldemort, and Kingsley decided to become part of the Order of Phoenix.
Lupin, barely concealing his disdain for the Ministry, sneered, "It's preposterous. Blaming Potter for the death of Cedric is beyond absurd. Even though he had this supposed proof, it does not mean that the boy is the killer."
Several members of the Order muttered in agreement, their frustration palpable. Dumbledore continued, "We must focus on locating Harry. I fear that his disappearance is connected to the rising threat of Voldemort. There's a dark force at play, and we need to unravel it before it's too late."
Among the members present, there was one who felt totally at a loss. The discussion around the table felt like a far buzzing noise to him. The person was Harry Potter's godfather, Sirius Black. During the last four days, he had spent them restlessly in search of every corner he could possibly think of. For him, these days were much more painful than the whole time he spent at the prison of Azkaban.
The worst dilemma that he and the other members of the Order of Phoenix had was that even when Albus Dumbledore went to search for either Harry or proof that Voldemort was really back, the headmaster came back without any clue. The only thing that they were sure of was that Alastor Moody was currently missing.
According to Albus, someone must have impersonated him and gotten into Hogwarts. And that person must be the reason behind Harry's participation in the Triwizard Tournament.
But just like all the other things, they had no proof of such a thing, and their whole faith was in the absolute mastermind, Albus Dumbledore.
As the discussion intensified, Snape's eyes darted around the room, his thoughts momentarily disrupted by a faint prickling sensation on his forearm. Snape got up from his seat abruptly and lifted his sleeve. The Dark Mark was burning, signalling a summons from the dark lord himself.
There was complete silence in the room as everyone stared at Snape's hand.
"He is really back," Sirius's eyes stared coldly at the mark on Snape's hand.
"Snape, I think you should be attending. Right when we were all lost in search of a clue, something like this presented itself in front of all of us. You are our only chance at knowing for sure if the dark Lord is truly back and will know exactly what happened the night Cedric and Harry touched the Triwizard Cup." As Dumbledore spoke to Snape, every one of the Order of Phoenix looked at Snape with their eyes filled with hope.
Snape fixed his clothes and straightened his back. "Then, I will be going."