I'm reborn as Harry Potter

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It took about ten seconds for the panic to pass. It took me just as long to decide what to do next. If at first it seemed that I was in a real trap, then it became clear - I had a great chance to get back into the game, having learnt the plans of a gang of fans of eating what can not be eaten. I didn't bother trying to escape - an ill-considered apparatchik with the help of one of the local elves could have led to more serious problems. In fact, it wasn't so bad - the Eaters didn't know I was here. Moreover, it was far from certain that the Lord himself would honour them with a visit today. After all, he's hardly the punctual and responsible master that he'd want to see his subjects at the same time every day.

A quick questioning of Dinka revealed the following: the number of guests can vary greatly, for sometimes only three or four people come, and sometimes a full drawing-room is filled with the leader. The duration of such gatherings also directly depends on the number of people and the intensity of their conversations. Sometimes the pure-blooded snobs scatter around the house and don't leave until late at night.

My excitement was involuntarily transmitted to Dinky, who became even more twitchy. He was now glancing at his watch every five seconds, just like me. I tried to reassure him, imploring him to do as he always did, but I'm not sure he understood me. The fact that Dobby still hadn't turned up also added to the worry. I hope Fleur's doing well.

Exactly forty seconds before seven o'clock, I realised that I shouldn't burden Dinky with more requests - he was barely on his feet as it was. As a result, I called out to Mitty, asking him to hide me so that I could hear and see everything that was going on in the room. The housekeeper quickly orientated himself and led me into a small den, which had a discreet door leading into it from the living room. Judging by the décor, one of the housekeepers was sleeping here. Most likely Dinky himself. Mitty waved his hands a few times, and then I was invisible and undetectable to standard search spells. If I looked closely, I could see the silhouettes of my hands, but in the dark chamber that was more than enough. Seriously, why don't wizards pay enough attention to elven magic? If these guys wanted to, they could stage a rebellion bigger than all the goblins put together.

The local healer pointed me to the usual keyhole in the door, through which I could keep an eye on events, and left to greet the guests, whose arrival was signalled by loud clapping somewhere off to the side of the main hall. A glance at my watch told me that some of the Eaters were incredibly punctual sons of bitches.

As I made myself comfortable, I prayed to all the gods that this time I'd be able to do what I'd planned and not end up being captured, tortured, and killed again. As ambiguous as it sounded, I wouldn't survive another time.

The quick footsteps made me freeze and turn to stone, so that no rustle would betray my presence. Three men in black robes entered the room. They weren't wearing the same masks I'd seen during the Lord's rebirth at the end of fourth year, so I was able to see their faces. Two of the men looked like Crabbe and Goyle, but I didn't recognise the third. Maybe it was an Eater I hadn't seen before.

- Why do we keep gathering here? As I recall, the peacock lover called this the small drawing room. Small, you know? I mean, there's also a big living room, which I think the Dark Lord would have liked a lot better.

- Come on, Avery, don't start that again. We've talked about this before-- my lord likes it here. He finds the great drawing room extremely tasteless. - It was either Crabbe or Goyle. Which meant the third was Avery, another Eater from the old guard who'd been at the graveyard.

- You know, you're right, Goyle, it's none of my business. If my lord says we should gather somewhere in the gutter next time, I'll be there first thing in the morning.

- And I appreciate that, my loyal friend. - A whistling whisper echoed through the room, and I involuntarily raised my hand to touch the scar, and then shivered. The scar was no longer more than a cut on my skin, but you couldn't get rid of reflexes that easily. - Don't worry, I would never demand something so disgusting from my supporters. Our good friend Lucius has graciously given us full possession of his house and disappeared. Let us not upset him with our refusal.

Someone I didn't want to see for as long as possible entered the room. My forehead was covered in sweat and my heart seemed to be pounding so loudly that someone was bound to turn around and look at the small, unremarkable door. However, that wasn't happening. Tom Riddle floated down the hall, leaving a plume of black smoke behind him, and the Eaters bowed servilely, greeting their master. I tried to look at my enemy in great detail at the same time, and at the same time to make sure he didn't feel my gaze on him.

I had hoped that the destruction of the Horcruxes would somehow weaken him, make him more vulnerable, but he looked even better than he had since his rebirth. His skin was no longer so grey, and his stature and gait gave off the appearance of a confident man. If you didn't look closely, you'd think he was just a bald wizard who had nothing to do with a snake.

- Forgive me, my lord," Crabbe said, "but there are rumours that Lucius has not disappeared, but has gone to Azkaban, because you were unhappy with him.

- Crucio," the Dark Lord threw his wand lazily, and my former classmate's father immediately collapsed to the floor. - Don't you dare accuse me based on some rumour, Crabbe," he said, lifting the spell. - That's everybody's business. If you think Malfoy is in Azkaban, we'll get him out soon enough.

Avery and Goyle helped Crabbe up with precise, practised movements. It was immediately clear that each of them was regularly exposed to the second Unforgivable, for the Eater didn't even cry out, only discreetly healed his bitten lip and cleaned up the blood.

- Yes, my lord, forgive my impertinence," he said, bowing his head low.

But they were distracted from the subject by new guests. Seven more Eaters entered the drawing room, wearing the same black robes.

- You're late, gentlemen," Riddle said, playing with his wand in his hand, "do you want to keep your master waiting?

They only bowed their heads in response, mumbling nonstop apologies. I was beginning to feel more and more like I was attending some kind of cheap performance. If I could understand the Lord boasting about his successes and cursing the servants who had let him down, because he was enjoying his newfound body, what was the point of all this now? According to the housekeepers, they see each other almost every day, surely all the Eaters know exactly what they can be cursed for, so why are they testing their master's patience on purpose?

On the other hand, I'm just exaggerating. To me, the Dark Lord throwing Crucio in all directions is the most natural cliché, even if it is his standard behaviour. I don't understand why all those pureblood lords crawl on their knees and put up with everything, but that's none of my business. Perhaps they, just like Lucius, have long since become disillusioned with the one they once called master, or perhaps they just like being subordinate.

Shaking my head, I tried to push the last thought out of it. I didn't want to start imagining it. Okay, I need to think about Fleur right away. Here's Fleur in the Ransom Room, and here's Fleur in the same nightie, right, and here's Fleur... Now that's much better.

While I was bringing harmony and order back into my thoughts, the Eaters were seated around the table, talking quietly about something. Riddle sat at the head of the table, looking at his subjects, not rushing to join the conversation. Maybe he was just listening, or maybe he was using mental influence to find out what they were really thinking. Glancing round at everyone, he shrugged, ending all conversation and drawing everyone's attention. He'd be a great trainer, that was for sure. Look at the way he trained those animals.

- Gentlemen. It's time to report on our progress in furthering our cause. How many of you would like to begin? - When there were no volunteers, Riddle grimaced. - 'Well, then, let's start with you, Parkinson. In Lucius's absence, and after Nott's death, it was you on whom I placed my hopes of handling the Minister and other higher-ups. Tell us what you've been able to achieve, everyone will be interested to hear.

Pansy's father shuddered visibly at this mocking tone. Looking at him, I realised that his progress was not as good as his master had hoped. Riddle, too, seems to be aware of this, and wants to give him a spanking. Well, if I continue to be tortured in front of me, I won't be upset at all.

- My Lord," Parkinson began, not daring to look his lord in the eye, "despite the Daily Prophet article we spoke of earlier, Fudge still doubts your resurrection. You masterfully manage to remain in the shadows while I convince him that the memories demonstrated by this Skitter are nothing more than a fabrication. If you'd let me, I'd get rid of the journalist who dares to defame your name.

- No, Parkinson," Riddle said in the same unhurried manner. - I appreciate your eagerness, but if anything happens to her, it will arouse more suspicion. Take your time, the girl will soon pay for her insolence. Go on.

- Yes, my Lord. Besides, I managed to convince the Minister that this is all a plan of old Dumbledore, who wants to scare the people of Britain with your resurrection in order to remove Fudge from his position. - He continued in a much quieter voice: "Unfortunately, I have not yet been able to prove that Potter is guilty of killing that boy. Those memories came so suddenly that even that empty-headed cretin Fudge believed them, clearing the young man of all charges. It would take a lot of work to dissuade him of that. - I tensed when I heard my own name. The number of events that had happened disturbed my sense of time, and it had only been half a month since I'd sent my memories to Skitter and Bones.

- Let it go. It's not worth the gamble. Fudge will never admit to the public that he was wrong unless it can be blamed on someone else. And he personally granted Potter a pardon. So he can't say the puppy was guilty all along. Let the wizards think what they want, but I know the little boy isn't a holy martyr who died in vain. He's alive and hiding somewhere. Severus," he turned to the potions master, whom I hadn't noticed at first. - What have you heard about this? You should know Potter's whereabouts best.

- There has been no change since my last report on the subject, my Lord. - Snape was laconic. I noticed that he had much less servility in his voice than the others who spoke, but Riddle took no notice. - Dumbledore is still holding the boy in an undisclosed location without informing any of his supporters. Nor does he speak of his motives, though I have tried several times to find out.

- Does he still believe that ridiculous joke you told me? Is the boy my reincarnation? - Tom laughed a cold laugh. - Fear, friends, the new Dark Lord who holds all of Britain in fear! - This time the laughter was supported by everyone. - Surely the ability for dark magic had been passed down to him from his dirty-blooded mum. - The laughter grew louder, but Snape did it in a strained way.

- I'll never understand the old man," Riddle continued, amused. - How could anyone in their right mind think that this puppy is my equal? No prophecy could give him the powers and knowledge he needs. What do you think, Severus, how does he explain it?

- Dumbledore used to think Potter was the only one who could defeat you, my Lord. But now I don't know what to think. As far as I can tell, he has the boy in his grasp. The Headmaster is often missing somewhere, and yesterday he came back to Hogwarts in a bad mood and didn't speak to anyone. I'm doing my best to find out Potter's whereabouts and bring him to you, but dean and teaching duties don't give me the amount of time I need.

- Yes, yes, you work hard, Severus, and I appreciate it. But you'd better hurry. I need to know what Dumbledore is up to, because he's the only one who can interfere with my plans. As for Potter... The boy will show up on his own sooner or later. I remember that he's completely out of his head and wants to die as quickly as possible. I'll help him soon enough.

I shivered, realising that the discussion of my humble person had come to an end. For the first time, I was glad that everyone in this world thinks they're so clever. They're so intent on outsmarting each other that they'll soon get tangled up in their own web. Riddle doesn't know what Dumbledore is doing, Albus doesn't know what the Lord is doing, Snape, meanwhile, has to know both in order not to let his masters down, and there are a lot of wizards swirling around all of this, ready to rush into battle at the snap of their fingers.

The devourers continued to report to their master on the work they had done, but I stopped listening so desperately, only taking in the gist. For example, Fenrir reported that all the werewolves were ready to join the war as soon as necessary. McNair reported that the Aurorate was in disarray, with no one preparing for full-scale battles, and Avery presented a plan to infiltrate Azkaban, which was immediately rejected. As I paid closer attention to the matter, I realised that the Eater was proposing a complex, multi-stage combination involving bribery, stealthy infiltration and blackmail. Even I realised that this was not Riddle's style at all, who liked brute force and the way things were done.

It was also clear that the Dark Lord feared infiltrating Azkaban, as it would be direct proof of his resurrection, which he was trying to hide. However, I remembered how in the history I know, even the escape of Riddle's most loyal supporters did not convince the Ministry of my rightness. Well, soon the man at the head of the table would realise how much impunity he could act with, and then he would have no doubts.

A loud clap in the middle of the living room made me tense up. Strange - wizards apparated at the main entrance and only then came here. Even Riddle himself hadn't avoided that route. It turns out there are spells in the manor that forbid such apparitions. But who could have appeared in the drawing room? I looked through the narrow keyhole, and then I froze. In the far corner, not far from the Dark Lord himself, Dobby appeared, oblivious to his surroundings.

- Master G--

- Get away, you bloody elf! - One of the Eaters exclaimed, and only now did I notice how tense they were at the sudden apparition. They all had wands in their hands, aimed at my houseboy. Luckily, Dobby had time to see I was gone before he finished his sentence, disappearing as abruptly as he'd appeared. A crucio from Riddle, narrowing his eyes, hit the wall.

- Whose elf is that? - He asked in a hissing voice. It was noticeable that he was furious. - Didn't I tell you that houseboys shouldn't be brought along? He only managed to say one letter, and I didn't get a good look at the crest on his clothes because you spooked him. Is he yours, Goyle? Crucio!

Another red beam crossed the table and reached the Eater, who didn't even have time to rise from his seat. Goyle was sprawled on the table, writhing in agony, clawing at the tablecloth with his fingernails and scattering the plates of food Dinky had promptly served him. Giving his servant a chance to respond, Riddle drew his wand aside.

- No, my Lord," Goyle wheezed, coming to his senses, "I do not know this elf. But he seemed familiar, as if I'd seen him before.

- Very interesting. - The lord continued to clutch his wand, causing everyone else at the table to tense up. - So there could be an unknown houseboy in this house at any moment?

I sat still, afraid that someone would remember the elf and what had happened to him. The next thought that came into my head was even more frightening: Snape saw Dobby just a short time ago outside Delacourt Manor! He knows it's my elf! Of course, it had been dark then, and the houseboy had been quite far away, but if the Potions Master now made his suspicions known to one of his masters, it would all be over.

But Snape remained silent. He didn't look around, he didn't become more thoughtful, not a single muscle on his face trembled at all. Either he didn't understand, or he was so good at spying that he had learnt to master himself.

- Lord," Macnair spoke first, "the elf had some kind of note in his hand. Perhaps he just wanted to send a message to one of the Malfoys, but his master didn't know they weren't home?

- Pass on a message? - OWLs sceptically replied Lord, -You could use a fireplace or an owl for that.

- You are right, Lord," continued the Ministerial Executioner, "but this house is disconnected from the fireplace network, and an owl takes time. In any case, I don't think we need to worry about some slave.'' - The others immediately supported that statement with nods of agreement, and I exhaled slowly. Dobby had just been nearly killed because I hadn't warned him of the danger. And what was that note I hadn't paid attention to myself?

- You underestimate House elf too much," Riddle didn't support the general mood. I raised my eyebrows in surprise, realising that this reptile was thinking what I was thinking. - But this time I'll agree with you. If any of you remember whose elf this is, let me know immediately. In the meantime, let's get on with it.

Then we started talking again about further plans, arguments about who to recruit and who to get rid of, and other internal problems. I tried to memorise everything they talked about, thinking it might help me in the future, but I soon gave up. There were too many names and terms I didn't know. For example, a Mr Green, whom some people suggest I should try to get on my side, and others suggest I should eliminate immediately, was of no interest to me. If I took on any more, it would be the last straw that broke the camel's back.

When the meeting was drawing to a close, and the discussion of all the unknown people had bored me enough to make me distracted, Parkinson took the floor again:

- My Lord, there are too many doubters in Britain now. They choose neither side, preferring to remain neutral.

- I don't need people who might try to betray me.

- Of course, lord, you're right, but we could use them anyway, because the more people we have, the more tasks we can do at once. And if there are any doubts about their loyalty, they can be eliminated immediately.

- What do you suggest? - Asked Riddle, who was clearly interested in the subject. More people who can be tortured all the time, of course. Sometimes it seems that a bloodthirsty maniac needs people just for that.

- I think we should do some sort of demonstration. - The other Eaters murmured disapprovingly, and Parkinson hurried on, "Of course, the Overlord doesn't need to be personally involved. If it's just us, then I can convince the fool Fudge that they're just wannabes sent by Dumbledore to prove a point. In the meantime, we'll show people it's time to choose sides. Yes, most people will still always believe the Minister and the official press, but those with brains will realise that the rumours are not unfounded. And we need people with brains. Yes, Crabbe, Goyle?

Those present laughed, seeing the incomprehension on the faces of the said comrades.

- It's stupid, and it's not worth the risk," Snape said in his favourite manner. - Of those who can draw conclusions, not all will come to us. Many will go to bow to Dumbledore, and in doing so we will only increase the number of the old man's supporters.

- It seems to me that everyone who wanted to support Dumbledore is already doing so," Parkinson said.

- He's right, Severus," Riddle interjected, watching his subordinates' argument intently. - Dumbledore's army will grow regardless. It's a good idea, Parkinson, you've done well. A little action will help the doubters and show them that they won't be able to sit on the sidelines like they did fifteen years ago. The best thing to do would be to attack one of the neutral families. Since you suggested it, you're the one who'll make the plan. I want to know the details tomorrow.

The satisfied Eater rose from his seat and bowed, assuring his master that everything would be done in the best possible way. The others only nodded, realising that they would be privy to the details when necessary.

With a wave of his hand, Riddle dismissed all those gathered, with instructions to be here at the same time tomorrow. He himself, however, was in no hurry to leave.

Snape was the last to rise from the table and, like everyone else, bowed to his master, then walked towards the exit. As he left the drawing room, he turned his head and looked at the keyhole through which I was watching. Even though it was impossible to see me, I realised that he knew I was here.