Chapter Text
CHAPTER 36:
There was a letter for him.
Another bloody letter.
Draco Malfoy, only child of Narcissa Malfoy née Black and Lucius Malfoy. The only son who is currently staring at a letter that was brought by a long-eared owl that he had known as Masha. The owl was elegant in its own way, but he was more concerned by the letter it carried. Currently, Masha was lounging with his own eagle-owl, but that still didn't diminish his own concerns.
Had anyone told his past self that he managed to befriend Nikolai Markov of all people, he'd never believe it after he saw Potter so close with the other boy. But here he was now… being a regular pen-pal to him. The familiar maroon wax crest sealing the paper was visible on the envelope, as he carefully took a letter opener and removed the wax seal. The moment it was out, he placed it in the jar of other wax seals he had collected.
So Draco read:
Dear Draco,
Forgive me for the late reply! Mother insisted that I study more for our coming exams, I haven't left my room in a while. It's been quite stressful really.
But anyways, how have you been? Thank you for the concern, I appreciated them. And thank you for the gift, I never knew that the English thought of runes in such a way.
Draco smiled softly. The last letter he had sent had been accompanied by a book on Runes, specifically a book of his country's views on Runes.
I'm rather sad that I can't visit Britain this time. Mother and I have been rather busy. But Hades came to visit a few days ago! Did you know he received his lordships? It's amazing really, but I feel bad for him. He's been burdened by responsibility at such a young age. Mother's been lecturing him about being a lord and has frequently sent him letters with advice.
Is Britain okay? Mother wanted me to ask.
He blinked, rubbing his eyes before abruptly standing up and gaped at the letter. Potter went to Russia?! Potter was already a lord?! When did this happen? Why was he not informed? Were his parents aware that Potter had taken up his lordships already? His mind moved faster than he expected, thoughts speeding over his head until he slumped back on his chair and stared at the letter.
"Potter again?!"
Anyways, Hades said that he'll find some time to bring me to Britain. He told me that if he could, he'd bring me there so we could talk again. Do you not have many friends? Hades somewhat implied that. If you don't, just remember that I'm your friend! I'm sure Hades will also be your friend.
Good luck in your exams and I hope you are safe.
Well wishes, Nikolai Markov.
Draco sighed, pursing his lips as he read the letter again. A fraction of the letter kept mentioning Potter, whom Draco hadn't seen since the end of the year. Aside from the drama of the trial, there was nothing else on Potter that he found out. Aside from an oddly attractive photo taken by a reporter that Pansy had shoved in his face a few days ago.
Still, he felt somewhat bitter. He thought of Nikolai as a friend and yet Nikolai was also Potter's friend. To be fair, it was okay, but he still felt bitter. Potter had met Nikolai first and Potter was essentially the reason why the two had met. He didn't know whether to be frustrated or thankful for Potter that he had met Nikolai in the first place. Why is it that a lot of his life kept circling back to Potter?
"Don't think about it… just write…write a response to Nikolai and be on your way." He murmured, grabbing some parchment and quills as he started to write.
Dear Nikolai,
I'm glad you appreciated the book. I had found it while strolling through Diagon Alley and thought of you. You're very well known for your genius in Ancient Runes. Do not stress yourself with the exams, I think you are smart enough to get perfect Grades on the subjects you desire.
For your question, I've been well. It's been rather dull here, more than anyone thinks.
I did not know that Potter was already a Lord. Mother said that he was heir to her house but I didn't expect he had already become a lord, but I do not think that House Black is included in those lordships.
And no, I do indeed have many friends. I have absolutely no idea why Potter implies that I am not social. Truth be told, it used to be him who had so little friends so it is great to see him befriend so many nowadays. Good luck to you too, and I hope that you receive the adequate grades you wish for.
From, Draco Malfoy.
He carefully placed the letter into an envelope and melted some navy blue wax. He stamped his family's sigil onto the wax and sighed.
Exiting his room, Draco searched for the long-eared owl that had sent the letter in the first place. He hopes that the elves have treated it properly. His worries were diminished when he saw Masha quietly hooting, twisting it's neck once it saw him. He shuddered, finding the owl rather unnerving. He's only seen one other owl that acted so creepily, and that was Potter's beloved Hedwig.
As he tied the letter to Masha's leg, Draco vividly remembers a day where some in their third year, when some idiot in fifth year thought it was a good idea to touch the snowy white owl without permission. For how docile Hedwig seemed, no one had expected it to promptly bite the students hand and nearly rip their fingers off. Potter had been so nonchalant when he found out his owl had attacked someone, simply stating that only an idiot would touch an animal that wasn't familiar with them. Well, it had been logical reasoning, and the teachers couldn't really blame him, considering it hadn't been Potter who did something stupid.
Draco stared at the long-eared owl for a moment, sighing to himself as he slowly reached forward. He gulped, closing his eyes and desperately praying that it wouldn't bite him. But Masha didn't bite, it moved forward and nuzzled into his hand, hooting in content. Draco's eyes shined with delight, grinning as the owl tilted its head before turning away and flapping its wings. The owl flew out the window, leaving Draco satisfied with his own accomplishment.
He leaves the room, bored out of his mind. He had nothing to do. They had already bought his school supplies days ago. Pansy, Theo, and Blaise were busy with their vacation; Pansy running off to Malaysia, Blaise going back to Italy, and to his absolute envy, Theo was in Russia. Russia! Where Nikolai was.
Perhaps he should ask his parents if they could visit Russia for the next few days.
The door to his father's study was closed, readying himself to knock but he froze. He heard voices, specifically four voices.
"My lord, I did not—" that was his father's voice.
"Hush Lucius! Do not be so loud—" then his mother, sounding frantic and paranoid.
Draco blinked, unable to discern the rest of the conversation with how muffled it was.
"You've returned—"
"Of course he's returned, Malfoy—" this one was a stranger, "Bloody…"
"Enough, the three of you—"
Draco shuddered, taking a step back. The fourth voice was yet another voice he could not recognize. But there was power to it. He felt it creep into his bones as he stared at the door in bewilderment, staying a little longer to listen.
"I require to be introduced to the Wizengamot as…"
Something came over him and Draco forced himself to knock. His gut was telling him to knock, to stop eavesdropping. It felt dangerous to continue to listen, and he gulped as his voice quietened. Rushed footsteps were heard and the door swung open, just enough for his mother to poke her head out.
"Draco! What have you come here for?" His mother smiled at him, slipping out of the room and shutting the door behind her.
Draco wanted to ask who they were talking to, but his instincts said otherwise. He pursed his lips, shaking his head before asking, "Do we have time to visit Russia?"
"Russia? Why would you ever want to go there?"
"My…friend." The word rolled off his tongue naturally, a perfect representation of who Nikolai currently was. His friend.
His mother blinked in surprise, smiling even brighter at him as she cupped his face and placed a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so proud of you," she said, "It's that Markov boy, isn't it? Unfortunately, we cannot go to Russia, my dear. Your father and I are far too busy and… and there are matters we must deal with…"
Her voice lowered, as if afraid that someone may hear them. Draco stared at his mother, concerned by the subtle flash of paranoia in her silver eyes. He sighed, nodding as he accepted his mother's answer.
"Thank you mother…perhaps next time."
"Of course, of course." His mother murmured, a smile returning to her face as she planted a kiss to his cheek. Draco groaned, frowning at the grin on his mother. "Be sure to study for your OWL's."
"I don't think I'll be passing History of Magic any time soon."
His mother pursed her lips, grimacing as she shook her head. No one was going to ace History of Magic with Binns as the teacher. They really should get rid of the blasted ghost and hire a suitable teacher to discuss for them. Bloody maniac, Dumbledore couldn't even get rid of a ghost that's been working for a century.
"Have faith…" she whispered and sent him on his way.
That bad feeling lingered as he locked himself in his room. Whoever his parents were speaking to was someone with power, someone that caused his father's voice to tremble, and the paranoia of the Blacks to return to his mother's eyes. He lies on his bed, focusing on who exactly was the man in his father's study. Yet his thoughts were interrupted with the sound of knocking on his window, causing him to sit up straight. Cautiously, he approached his window and froze.
The snowy owl's black eyes pierced through his soul as it tilted his head in a way that made his skin crawl. "Hedwig," he whispered and slowly opened the window. Hedwig didn't move an inch, then stuck its leg out to present him with a letter. There was no seal, nor any indication of who sent it. The only thing that made Draco know who had sent the letter was the demonic snowy owl that looked ready to bite him if he does not accept the letter.
Hastily, he removed the letter from its leg. He flinched as Hedwig immediately flew away, leaving him bewildered and confused.
Ripping the letter open, he stared at the intimidating handwriting—he doesn't understand how ink was intimidating.
Malfoy ,
Burn this once you've finished reading.
First of all, your parents are currently involved in business that you must avoid, pertaining to a certain lord. I assume that you've seen or perhaps heard of your parents speaking to a stranger.
Anyways, I have no ill will towards your family or your family's lord, so long as they do not provoke me. I'm simply writing to you that I am not your enemy. Don't attack me when we're in Hogwarts or something.
Also, Kolya says hi and wishes to visit you sometime during Yule.
Burn this, Hades.
Draco stared at the letter, gaping as he rubbed his eyes, thinking it was a hallucination. If Hades was truly who he thought he was, then Potter had a way of knowing what was going on everywhere at any time. He looked around, feeling the paranoia he most certainly inherited from his mother and hurriedly moved towards the candle on his desk. Putting the letter over the flame, he watched as the parchment caught fire and ran to his bathroom. He dropped the burning letter on the tiled floor and watched it then to ash.
"A lord…what lord?" he whispered, narrowing his eyes at the ashes.
His father had called someone my lord, and then promptly followed by expressing surprise that this lord had returned. He racked his brain, trying to figure out what he was talking about. Then it clicked.
"The dark lord is in my house…"
Draco promptly swayed towards his bed and fainted.
Tom glanced at the door, narrowing his eyes when Narcissa had exited to speak with the Malfoy heir. His eyes turned back towards Lucius, pale and flustered by his unexpected visit. A small smile graced his lips, not a friendly one, obviously. A threatening smirk plastered across his face as Lucius gulped, silently cowering under his gaze as he tried to shrink back from him.
Beside Tom, Barty was glaring daggers at Lucius. "My lord… when shall I…introduce you?"
Tom hummed, "Somewhere around September would be adequate. Barty will explain to you my new identity and it would be best that…I maintain a good relationship with your wife… considering that Marvolo Gaunt is the son of Narcissa's aunt, Beatrice. In short, Narcissa shall act the role of a concerned cousin." He instructed, waving him off as Barty took out a file of what is supposed to be his new identity. He took a seat where Lucius would be normally sitting, leaning against the plush chair and nonchalantly observing the office. He remembers that it once belonged to Abaraxas.
Lucius blinked in surprise, gulping again and nodding in understanding. It didn't take long for Narcissa to return, looking quite frazzled that her son was so close to him. She offered a strained smile, still wearing a mask better than her husband was.
"My lord," she said. Narcissa was not one of his death eaters, but she had been loyal to him due to her husband and sister. From what Tom could remember, Narcissa had been their healer, an amazing healer too.
Tom smirked, "I do hope that you play your role well, Narcissa. You and your sister will have the honour of being my cousins." A chuckle escaped his lips as he watched Narcissa's eyes widened for a fraction of a second. It was only a moment, but he saw it. She remained poised, nodding in understanding before she approached her husband, who was being drilled by Barty.
An hour passes and Tom sits there in peace, whilst Barty is aggressively instructing the Malfoy couple on what to do. When the time had finished, Tom dismissed the little meeting and left Malfoy Manor with Barty in tow. They had abandoned little Hangleton for one of his ancestors' manors, Slytherin's manor in Ireland—some land that his Slytherin ancestors had claimed.
The manor was coated in protective wards that wouldn't allow anyone entry. He breathed in the scent of his manor, feeling just at home as he waltzed into the entrance hall. He heard a gasp and turned towards Barty who stopped dead by the door. He was pale, grabbing his throat and gritting his teeth.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I…I don't know my lord… it seems like Potter is— ack…" Barty coughed, sucking in a deep breath. Color returned to his face but he still looked troubled. "My apologies… It seems like a false warning."
Tom nodded, grunting out in frustration. Potter had done this before. Constantly putting fear in Barty by triggering whatever slavery contract that wrapped itself around Barty's neck. It was inconvenient, considering Barty was the one who could follow orders the fastest, at the moment.
§Nagini§ he hissed, expecting his companion to react to his call. But there was nothing, not even the sound of scales against the floor.
A frown placed upon his face, he scoured the Manor for his serpent and found nothing. He could feel her presence, his soul was attached to her after all. Usually, he had the capability to know Nagini's absolute location but something was off today. He spread his magic throughout the Manor, ignoring Barty who looked rather confused with his actions. It only takes a moment for him to locate her… in his study that he surely had checked. She wasn't there yet he felt her magic.
"Stay put." He demands of Barty before hurrying to his study.
His study was where he had felt nagini but other than that, she was nowhere in sight. But like the time in Knockturn alley, there was something hidden somewhere. Focusing on the magic of the room, he guided himself towards the door. It was…odd. The door? If he opened it he would just be led outside. Thus, he exited his study and stared at the dark wooden door.
What was he to do now? Nagini was in his study yet wasn't. For a moment, he couldn't understand what was happening, until his hand grazed on the door knob. He stared at the obsidian details carved into the doorknob, a snake. And he felt like an idiot, an absolute fool not to understand the secrets of this manor, the same secret he had found in Hogwarts. Thus hisses left his lips and he understood.
§Open,§ he hissed, feeling magic shower down the door. He heard a click and looked down at the doorknob. The snake detail now had emerald eyes, causing him to suck in a breath of absolute frustration.
He entered the study, awed by how different it seemed. His desk was now made of dark wood, there was a shelf with completely different books. The curtains were made of black cloth rather than green. The walls didn't look different but they felt different. The magic itself was different and he just stood there, baffled.
Then he hears hissing.
His eyes snap towards what was once his chair and eyes widened even more. As if matching the room, there was a boy with pitch black hair and emerald eyes, petting a snake—Nagini. His magic wrapped around him so tightly that Tom could barely feel it from the door. But he knew that magic, the same magic that had brought him back to life and began to torment him for everything he's done.
"Took you long enough to figure it out."
"What in Circe's name are you doing here?! Better yet, how did you even find the Manor? This place is hidden from everyone who isn't keyed into the wards."
Tom stared at the one who was supposed to be his enemy, an enemy who he made a deal with, unfortunately. Hadrian Potter just sat on the chair, running his hand over Nagini's scales as if she were a scaly cat. He looked nonchalant, bored even as he leaned against the chair. But there was another aspect that was missing on Potter's face, his glasses.
Emerald hues stared right at him, no longer through glasses that reflected the light; no longer creating the illusion of bright and saintly eyes. No. Tom saw deathly hues and froze for a moment, before snarling at the boy who sat in his study as if he owned it. And hid thoughts went back to that fateful night, thinking that the curse he sent towards the babe—now a fifteen-year-old lord who was deadlier than the rest—had been absorbed into his eyes. As if the killing curse was turned into crystals and fate placed them upon Potter's eyes.
"I have complete access to Barty's location, no matter where you hide him. And as for the wards… well I'd rather keep you guessing," he smiled knowingly. An emerald dangled around his neck, faintly glowing. He felt magic from it, familiar and powerful magic. "And Nagini was lonely so I decided to keep her company."
Tom's eye twitched, turning to Nagini to come to him. But his companion seemed to prefer the company of Potter rather than himself. The audacity of her to wrap around him so intimately while she enjoyed scolding him as if he were a child. But with Potter, she seemed more like a housecat than a deadly serpent that has eaten people before.
"Did you know that she's older than you?" Potter asked him, a small grin in his face as Nagini wrapped around him tighter, her head hovering over his shoulder and staring at Tom. "Nagini says she was born around 1914."
"She told you that?" Tom raised a brow, then narrowed his eyes in suspicion.
§Be nice to Tom…§ Nagini hissed, resting her head on Potter's lap.
§No thank you,§ Potter hissed back, smiling at Nagini before smirking right at him.
Tom stared at the boy, a new fascination appearing as he thought long and hard what to do. Hadrian Potter was a parselmouth. Hadrian Potter had his gift. Hadrian Potter could speak a language he could not speak to any other human… Hadrian Potter used to be his horcrux.
§My horcrux,§ Tom whispered and winced as he felt the air go hot. His head snapped up to meet a reflection of the killing curse, almost taking a step back as Potter clicked his tongue and averted his gaze towards the bookshelf.
"Your soul left some complications. Not that I don't like being able to speak parseltongue… it's still a reminder of how much you screwed up." Potter rolled his eyes, leaning back into the chair. Tom slowly approached the boy, standing opposite to the desk that Potter sat behind.
§It has its advantages. I broke through your wards with it…. I suppose this Manor is similar to Hogwarts with its mysterious passages that require parseltongue.§ Potter spoke, uncrossing and recrossing his legs. As he tilted his head, his pitch black hair fell to the side with the action. Those emerald hues pierced his soul, well… the very damaged soul he was harbouring. §There are more tunnels here than you think.§
His body went rigid. Potter knew about tunnels in the Manor that he didn't. Potter had known about the secret of his study and had mockingly sat on his chair for it. Potter knew more than him. Him! The dark lord Voldemort who's lived decades more than this insolent child that thinks himself better!
§How have you come to this knowledge?§
Mischief shone through those emerald eyes and Potter simply tilted his head, keeping silent as he watched Nagini whisper something to the demonic lad. Potter smirked, leaning against his chair, uncharacteristically relaxed in the presence of his parents' murderer.
§Do you speak it often?§
§Just when I'm with Amy and when I'm wandering Hogwarts.§
Amy? He narrowed his eyes, Did he name a snake Amy? Absurd.
Tom crossed his arms over his chest, narrowing his eyes at Potter who still didn't look bothered that Nagini's cloud around him was getting tighter. §Have you been to the Chamber of secrets§
Potter rolled his eyes, rubbing Nagini’s head and paying more attention to his serpent than him. §I met your blasted Diary there… had to clean it up though, absolutely disgusting. I mean honestly, do you know how hard it is to get rid of all those bones and rotted flesh?§ He snarled, glaring at Tom as if it were his fault. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. But the fact existed. Potter had regularly gone to the chamber of secrets that he had been cleaning . Cleaning of all things.
“Anyways,” Potter switched back to english. Something about that bothered him, an unexplainable annoyance to hearing Potter speak in a language that wasn’t the one they currently coveted. “You know how to deal with Dumbledore, right?”
Tom raised a brow, “Of course. You were the one to tell the goblins about my need for another identity after all.”
Potter smirked, smug and triumphant. It irritated him to no end, and listening to Nagini endlessly praise the green-eyed devil. That seemed to boost Potter’s ego.
“Regardless of that, they wouldn’t tell me anything about your new identity… shame really…”
“And pray tell… why would you like my new identity?”
Potter shrugged, ignoring him yet again to compliment Nagini’s scales.
For a moment, Tom is forced to watch this all unfold. His prophesied enemy and his companion of decades… snuggled up in his chair praising one another. Nagini had scarcely complimented him as of late, yet here she was… effortlessly spitting out compliments as if it were the venom in her fangs. Your hair looks amazing, your eyes are beautiful, what amazing magic you have! Nagini hissed such things without an ounce of hesitation.
“Have you come to question Dumbledore and my identity? Just that?”
Potter blinked at him, his eyes wide but face blank. Then a grin split across his face and he’s up on his feet. Tom’s body immediately froze as Potter stood inches away from him, that devilish smile refusing to leave his face.
“No… not just that… Just here to warn you.” Potter chuckled, his magic spreading through the room and practically suffocating Tom.
He couldn’t describe it. It was not dark, not light. It was grey yet it felt wrong to call it grey . There was something… forbidden about Potter’s magic that made it intoxicating. It was like being introduced to Dark Magic all over again. He tried to hide his expressions, refusing to allow his breath to hitch as Potter stared at him.
Those emerald hues filled with a mixture of amusement and resentment. A kind of indecisiveness that he never expected. It was as if Potter was trying to figure out whether he should be amused by his actions or hate him for every single wrong he’s done against the demonic boy.
His magic was… irresistible.
§I’m going to kill Igor Karkaroff§
He barely registers the words Potter hisses out. Still too intoxicated by magic that was trying to kill him. The moment he was able to grasp what had been whispered, his eyes widened and stared at the green-eyed devil that watched him carefully.
He grinned, his white teeth looking sharper than he expected.
“A warning… that one of your supposed followers will be dropping dead soon.”
Potter’s hand ghosted his arm before slipping out the room.
Tom, the dark lord, stood there. Frozen in place as he stared at the place where Potter stood. His breath hitched as he turned back to Nagini, who was comfortably coiled in his chair. His serpentine companion just stared at him— did she just roll her eyes at him?
He scowls at his companion, who slithers out the room, following Potter. It doesn’t take long for him to exit the study, the moment his feet are out the room, he hears a click and snaps his head back at the door. It was back to the dark wooden door that it once was. He pursed his lips, shaking his head before hurrying after Potter.
He finds the devil speaking to Barty, who looks paler than he ever was.
“At least your magic is still intact.”
Tom narrowed his eyes, “What have you been doing to him?”
Barty was silent, but as Tom watched him carefully, the ravenclaw was trying to rip his mouth open. Another order with that slavery punishment, he grit his teeth.
Potter ignored his question, wrapping his hand around Barty’s neck without a single ounce of hesitation. The dark lord watched in surprise, jaw dropping as the boy-who-lived rested his hand around his followers neck. Potter doesn't even squeeze, doesn’t even try to choke him. He just… held Barty’s neck.
A smirk one again returns to Potter’s face, “The collar’s doing good…” he chuckled, emerald eyes now directed to Tom. “Hope you didn’t mind me keeping him in line. Just wanted to check his obedience from time to time.”
“So you bring him pain?!”
Tom didn't particularly care for Barty. He was his follower and he admits to needing assistance with trivial activities that he didn't have time for. Barty was like an assistant to him.
“Not pain… It doesn't actually hurt, does it, Barty?” The question had Barty nodding slowly, carefully not to provoke Potter into tightening his grip around his neck. “How should I describe it… it's not pain but constriction. The agony of being unable to do as you please, a constant reminder to your own mistakes, correct?”
Potter slowly released Barty, a wicked smile directed to the poor death eater. The colour was drained from Barty's face and a small whine left his lips as Potter let go.
"Well then… Your magic is intact and I've finished my business. Good day, gentlemen."
Potter strides to the door, not hesitating for a moment to apparate away when his feet were outside the Manor.
Tom turned towards Barty, who was trembling so much that he feared that his follower had broken. He fell to his knees, hands pressed against the floor and Tom watched as his sweat dripped down the tiles. He felt Barty's magic shake and sway, and if it had a voice, then it was screaming. But Potter was right. That wasn't pain. That was the agony of being chained, of being caged. Gold glowed around Barty's neck and Tom stared at the magic collar that was surely connected to a leash that Potter held.
I underestimated him, a horrifying realisation. Hadrian Potter was not the golden boy he had perceived him to be. Whatever doubts he had with the wickedness of the current Potter, all of it faded at the sight of Barty trembling and attempting not to vomit. He's much more dangerous than he seems.
"Return to your chambers, Barty. Get some rest," he murmured. His follower shakily stood up, nodding as he moved towards the wall. Barty used the wall as a support, trudging back to his room.
Tom was left alone, once again staring at where Potter stood.
And he whispered what he Potter truly was, not a golden boy, not a saint, not a hero— but something the Matrons of his orphanage once used to instil fear in children.
"The devil."
In mid-August, it was announced that Igor Karkaroff, headmaster of Durmstrang institution, was dead.
The prophet says that the man had killed himself with poison that was found in his drawers. They say that a journal filled with his thoughts, fears, guilt, was found and never published. No one understood why the Headmaster killed himself, only knowing that some were happy for his death. Call it redemption for ridding himself from the world.
But Karkaroff was dead and an investigation was opened into his death.
Whilst the world whispered of the death, a certain devil had returned to Nurmengard. Within the lowest floor of the castle, a pool existed, shrouded in darkness and never to see daylight.
Half of his legs submerged in the water, and a wraith writhing in his arms. Emerald eyes stared at the dark water, and it began to glow green, as if trying to reflect the colour of his eyes. A smile crept up his face as he drowned the soul in the water, closing his eyes and whispering words in an ancient tongue barely anyone spoke now.
Dark veins grew up his arms, power coursing through his veins.
A sacrifice, he thought. His fingers felt like they were on fire as the wraith clung to them desperately. The wraith—the soul thought itself capable of receiving mercy from someone that was called the devil. A delusional sense that almost had him pitying the soul he had mercilessly extracted from its corpse.
" Mortem… take this sacrifice as my thanks, as the trade for half of my enemies soul. May Igor Karkaroff become your everlasting slave. "
And Hadrian Potter sacrificed the soul of Igor Karkaroff as he promised.
Death was fair, yes, but he was not.