Harry walked along the carpet realising that he’d never walked on anything that expensive and comfortable before. He savoured that feeling. The walls were decorated by pale-faced portraits; each of them following the small crowd curiously.

 As they came closer to the large drawing room Harry could feel Snape’s arm tighten around his chest, his wand digging a little further into his neck. Only the slight tremble reminded Harry that Snape really was on his side.

 Lucius opened the door and luckily there were not many people: Nott, Narcissa Malfoy, Bellatrix Lestrange,  Antonin Dolohov and of course- Voldemort.

 “My Lord,” Snape started, his voice sounded firm and superior. “I have brought you the boy.”

 Voldemort stood up and came closer. Harry’s scar now burnt, his whole head wanted to explode again.

 “I am very pleased, Severus. Sit down. You may want to watch,” Voldemort hissed .

 “You are very gracious, my Lord,” replied Snape as he bowed.

 Voldemort’s wand was pointed directly at Harry’s chest but Harry didn’t move.

 “Why aren’t you defending yourself, Harry?” Voldemort inquired curiously and tilted his head in an unnatural angle.

 “Snape broke my wand,” he seethed and tried to calm himself and his poor head. He was actually looking forward to dying now if it meant that this pain  would stop.

 “Is that so, Severus?” the snake man asked, never taking his eyes off the boy.

 “Yes, my Lord.” Snape pulled out the broken remains and showed them to his Lord.

 “Such a faithful servant. I just wish there was more of your kind.” Voldemort looked at Lucius, who flinched a little and at Bellatrix, who seemed devastated not to be the highest in his favour.

 Harry lifted his hands slowly, closed his eyes and thought about his giggling mum and Sirius hugging him. The deadly curse came towards him, he could feel it and then…

  There was nothing.