Chapter 2 : Chapter 2
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Voldemort opened his eyes. The sharp light pierced his pupils but he continued to look ahead. He was waiting. He was waiting for Ginny.
The tall trees sheltered him from all possible weathers, wet, cold, sunny and rainy. It was ok now. He would be able to gain his full strength back. He would be able to rein once more. He would be able to become the most feared wizard on the planet once more. He would be able to do anything. However the long, winding road seemed endless and it felt like Ginny would never come; never help him. But she did.
He glowing red hair could be seen in the distance as she approached Voldemort. He sat up straight and gave a high pitched, cold laugh. But it wasn’t a happy laugh. Oh no. It was a laugh of victory. A laugh of power. A laugh of glory. He peered at his long, white fingers and his sliver finger nails. He peered at the wrinkles that had been maturing ever since his rein was over. Ginny was coming. It was ok now, he reassured himself. He heard her soft footsteps crunch in the gravel and looked up.
“Ginevra Potter,” he whispered quietly.
Ginny bowed her head low.
“Yes my Lord,” she answered nervously.
“And you have brought what I asked for?”
Voldemort gave a groan.
“Bring it here,” he croaked.
Ginny held it out to him timidly. Her mind urged forwards but her body was pulling her back. Was Voldemort to be trusted? Should she help him? After all, he was the most feared wizard on the planet. Her long, slim arms reached forwards and she handed Voldemort the box. Voldemort took it, his hands shaking. He slowly lifted the flimsy lid to see what was inside. Ginny stood silently, staring at a speck of dust on her shoe.
“You want me to go now?” she asked quietly.
Voldemort nodded his pale head, still not looking up to face Ginny. She turned away and slowly walked down the dusty path. Her mind was spinning. Was this the right option? Had she done the right thing? She stuffed her hands in her jeans pocket and felt some paper crackling in her trembling fingers. She gently pulled it out and smoothed out the creases. It was the note that Hermione had given her to dispose of.
Meet me in the same place tonight,
Ginny read it in disgust. She hated the fact that her brother was being fooled by some idiot know it all. Then again, it was her who was fooling Harry. She closed her eyes and wished. She wished that she had never had the dream. She wished that Voldemort was actually dead. But magic couldn’t cure these things. It was just life. That was what happened. She sighed and carried on walking. It was like Voldemort was permanently trapped in his mind, locked to her thoughts and feelings. Why was this happening to her?
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