Voldemort sat on his chair, breathing deeply. He had to breathe deeply, to breathe at all. That's how tired he was. It wasn't easy, breaking into Hogwarts. He winced spitefully. Hogwarts. Damned school.

He felt the arm rests of the mahogany chair. He thought of it as his throne, a grand object of Georgian splendour. He smirked, and he slowly looked up, and across the room. Tommy Gallagher was the boy's name, he knew that. He certainly didn't look like Harry Potter, though his eyes were green. Potter's had been bright and alarming, these eyes were dark and clever.

He crossed the room, his wand twirling in his fingers. He stopped abruptly, and suddenly, shouted out "CRUCIO!", and a green flash filled the room.



Tommy stared around himself slowly. He recognised some of the adults, Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and indeed, Voldemort. He had thought- alike the rest of the world, that he was dead. Clearly he wasn't. He watched the strange man cross the room. Tommy held his breath, and fluttered his eyes shut.

And then it happened - the Cruciatus curse hit him hard, square in the chest. He convulsed, jerking in the chair. But he did not scream, he didn't writhe in pain. In fact, the flash left him, and hit the chair where Voldemort had sat, and it burst in to flames. The expensive mahogany split in the coiling flames, and with a grin, Tommy looked slowly back at Voldemort.