Milk_Is_My_Drug
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Chapter 67: A Troubling Summer
🕑 Added 2025-04-10 15:56:33 +0000 UTCThe school year had ended, and the students of Hogwarts had returned to their homes for the summer holiday. But this summer was unlike any other. The wizarding world was on edge.
Dumbledore, defying the will of the Minister of Magic, had shared the troubling news of Voldemort’s return. He had urged the students to be cautious and to warn their parents. But alongside this official announcement, another rumor had spread like wildfire—one that implicated Dante Malfoy.
Harry Potter had claimed that Dante had helped revive the Dark Lord, not out of loyalty, but to torture him. According to Harry, Dante had succeeded in his goal, leaving Voldemort screaming in pain and slowly dying. Most students dismissed the rumors, calling Harry a liar.
In the grand halls of Malfoy Manor, the family of four gathered in the sitting room. Narcissa and Draco wore expressions of deep worry, while Lucius sat stiffly in his chair. Dante, as always, seemed calm and composed.
Narcissa was the first to break the silence. “The Dark Lord has returned,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “We must be prepared. Lucius, what are we going to do? Are we going to serve him again?”
Draco glanced at Dante, his face pale but a glint of curiosity in his eyes. He had heard the rumors at school, and while he hadn’t believed them at first, he couldn’t help but wonder if they were true. “Dante, So… Was Harry lying?” Draco asked, his voice low and hesitant. “Did you help revive the Dark Lord and then torture him?”
Dante nodded casually, as if discussing the weather. “Voldemort is no threat,” he said, his tone dismissive. “I’ve already met the idiot. Let’s just say he won’t live for long.”
Narcissa’s eyes widened in shock. “Dante Malfoy!” she exclaimed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “What are you saying? What did you do this time?”
Lucius cleared his throat, stepping into the conversation. “Dante delivered Harry Potter to the Dark Lord,” he explained, his voice calm but tinged with unease. “After the Dark Lord summoned us, Dante arrived. He… humiliated and tortured the Dark Lord. I must admit, I felt a little pity for him when I heard his screams.”
Narcissa’s face went pale, then twisted into anger. She turned to Dante, her voice rising. “That was too reckless of you, Dante! That is the Dark Lord! Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
Her gaze then shifted to Lucius, her eyes blazing. “And you!” she snapped. “What kind of father are you? You didn’t tell me anything, and it looks like you helped Dante with this madness!”
Lucius coughed awkwardly, his eyes darting to Dante as if silently pleading for assistance. Dante, however, lowered his head slightly, his expression one of mild amusement, as if to say, This has nothing to do with me.
Narcissa wasn’t having it. She crossed her arms, her voice icy. “I want answers. Now.”
Dante sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Mother, there’s no need to worry. Voldemort won’t dare to come after us. I’ve ensured that he will fear me more than anything else in this world. As for what I did… let’s just say I showed him who is better when it comes to the dark arts.”
Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. “And what about the rest of us? Do you think the Death Eaters will simply sit back and let this slide? Do you think the Dark Lord won’t seek revenge?”
Dante’s smile was cold. “The Death Eaters are cowards. They saw what I did to their master, and they ran. As for Voldemort… he’s cursed. He’ll spend the rest of his short life in agony. He’s not coming after anyone. But if it makes you feel safe, I will put a mark on you like father, you can summon me to deal with anyone that annoys you”
Draco looked between his parents and his brother, his face a mixture of awe and fear. “But… why?” he asked. “Why did you suddenly decide to pick on him?”
Dante’s expression softened slightly as he looked at Draco. “Because he was a fool who thought he could tarnish the work and legacy of others for his stupid goals. And because he dared to ruin the peace of an old friend of mine. I couldn’t let that stand.”
Narcissa’s anger faltered, replaced by a look of deep concern. “Dante, you’ve put us all in danger. The Dark Lord may be weakened, but his followers are still out there. And now they know what you’ve done.”
Lucius finally spoke up, his voice calm but firm. “Narcissa, Dante has handled the situation. The Dark Lord is no longer a threat, and his followers are too afraid to act. We’re safe. And you heard Dante, with his mark, he can appear next to anyone of us in an instant”
Narcissa looked at her husband, her eyes filled with doubt. “And what if you’re wrong?”
Dante stood, his presence commanding the room. “They won’t,” he said simply. “I’ve made sure of that. But if they’re foolish enough to try, they’ll regret it.”
The room fell silent, the weight of Dante’s words hanging in the air. Narcissa sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. “I just hope you know what you’re doing, Dante.”
Dante’s smile returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I always do, Mother.”
___________
The summer had taken a dark turn. News of the Azkaban breakout spread like wildfire, sending shockwaves through the wizarding world. The escape of the Death Eaters added credibility to Dumbledore’s claims of Voldemort’s return, and fear gripped the hearts of witches and wizards across Britain. For weeks, there was no sign of the escaped prisoners, leading many to believe they were recovering from their time in Azkaban. But Severus Snape knew better.
Snape found himself standing at the entrance of a dimly lit hall, the air thick with tension. A long table stretched before him, surrounded by hooded figures whose faces were obscured by shadow. At the head of the table sat the Dark Lord himself, Voldemort. Snape’s sharp eyes immediately noted the changes in his master’s appearance. Gone was the snake-like visage—Voldemort now had hair, a nose, and skin that, while pale, looked almost human.
[It must be the threat of Dante], Snape thought to himself, his mind racing. [The boy left a much bigger impression than any of us realized.]
As Snape approached the table, he couldn’t help but notice how sickly Voldemort looked. The Dark Lord was sweating profusely, his face twisted in pain. Despite his altered appearance, it was clear that he was suffering. Snape bowed deeply, his voice calm and measured.
“My Lord,” he said, “I welcome your return. Your loyal servant has been waiting for you at Hogwarts.”
A few of the Death Eaters who had recently escaped Azkaban snorted in derision. “Coward,” one muttered. “Traitor,” another hissed.
Voldemort raised a hand, silencing them instantly. “Enough,” he said, his voice weak but commanding. “Severus has proven his loyalty. Do not question it.”
Snape straightened, his expression unreadable. Voldemort’s red eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, Snape felt a flicker of unease.
“Severus,” Voldemort began, his voice strained, “I need your help. Brew me potions to reduce this pain. The most potent you can create.”
Snape nodded “Of course, my Lord. I will do my best.”
Voldemort leaned back in his chair, his breathing labored. “There is something else,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you to deliver a message to Dumbledore. Tell him… I wish to meet him in person.”
The room fell silent. Even the most fervent Death Eaters looked shocked. Snape’s eyes widened slightly, though he quickly masked his surprise. “My Lord,” he said carefully, “are you certain of this?”
Voldemort waved a hand dismissively, though the effort seemed to cost him. “Yes,” he said. “Tell Dumbledore that we must meet regarding Dante Malfoy. That… monster is the greatest threat to both of our sides. If Dumbledore still sees any goodness or hope in him, he must be getting old.”
Snape’s mind raced. Voldemort, the self-proclaimed greatest wizard of all time, was openly admitting that Dante Malfoy was a greater threat than himself. It was unthinkable. Yet here they were.
“I will deliver your message, my Lord,” Snape said, bowing once more.
As he turned to leave, he caught a glimpse of Bellatrix Lestrange’s face. She looked furious, her eyes burning with questions. “My Lord,” she said, her voice trembling with barely contained rage, “what did my nephew do?”
Voldemort’s gaze shifted to her, his expression unreadable. “That thing is not your nephew,” he said simply, his tone final.
Snape left the hall, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Voldemort’s words echoed in his head. Dante Malfoy was not just a threat—he was a force that had shaken the Dark Lord to his core.
As he made his way back to Hogwarts, Snape couldn’t help but wonder what Dumbledore’s reaction would be. The headmaster still had a hope that there is a goodness in Dante, but even he couldn’t have predicted this.
Meanwhile, back in the hall, Voldemort sat in silence, his mind consumed by thoughts of Dante. He couldn’t admit it aloud, but he knew the truth. The person who truly deserved the title of Dark Lord was not him—it was Dante Malfoy.
And that realization filled him with a fear he had never known.
