<div align="center"><em>Voldemort</em></div><br/><hr/><br/>Voldemort was glad to see how quickly many of his loyal servants responded to his call. Those that were late would find that ignoring his call could be painful. The longer one waited to answer a call through his Mark would find the scar opening and bleeding till they showed up. A simple punishment for disobedience. Let's face it, he could do much worse to them than a little bleeding.<br/><br/>The sight of the dark clouds descending in streaks into the graveyard brought a cold smile to his face. First Rosier, the son of one of his oldest Death Eaters. Then the Gallimean pair, oh he loved when a pure-blood couple could work together so well for a good cause. Crouch Jr. was the next to arrive, the one whom could provide him with the most inside information from the Ministry and also one of the youngest among the group. Next was dear Lucius Malfoy, probably the most refined of the group and the only one with connections to nearly everyone. Lastly Bellatrix, probably his most loyal and the most loyal to the cause. These were some of his finest.<br/><br/>Each came before him, bowing in respect, and most asking if he'd been victorious. The best part was the way they ignored each other. Their eyes solely on him.<br/><br/>"<em>The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. … Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies … </em>" he repeated what Severus Snape had told him almost two years ago. The Dark Wizard stood from the Angel of Death's arms and held his arms out wide, "I alone conquered the prophecy," sure there were likely other things that went into him actually finding the Potters, but he saw no reason to delve into that, "The<em>Child</em>has been silenced. The child born from the womb of a filthy Mudblood. The child who's parents denied our great cause now lay dead in their crumbling home...There is nothing left to stand in our way," he thought very highly of himself at the moment. Knowing there was a prophecy out there that had detailed his downfall and yet he still managed to rise above was an delightful feeling.<br/><br/>Looking along the line of his Death Eaters, he gave them each a cold smile, "Soon, very soon, Muggles will bow at your feet as you walk by. Magic will be torn from the hands of the filth that it has fallen into. Mudbloods and all like them will be given no mercy," he refused to see that humans and Wizards were of the same species. They were better and strong than simple humans, "The world will see us for what we are. Gods," he took a deep breath, "And I will be King of the Gods. Soon there will be no one left to challenge us. Soon we will tear down the very institution that dared to<em>teach</em>this filth that they are as good as us. We'll tear it down stone by stone if we must."<br/><br/>"<em>But!</em>for now, my most loyal, we will celebrate. Celebrate the power of magic and blood," raising his wand, he pointed it to a headstone not far from the one he stood on now. It was labeled<em>Thomas Riddle and Mary Riddle</em>, his grandparents. The stone blasted into thousands of pieces and a green fire burned on the bare ground.<br/><br/>With that, he called out to his not-so trusted Death Eaters. Sending them the mental message that they were being called to the celebration. They weren't as useful to him, but they still deserved to celebrate, "Now, my Death Eaters...this is Little Hangleton. Show this little village that Magic is Might! Remember. No mercy," as for himself, he walked back over to the Angel of Death statue and settled back onto it's arms, "Magic is Might," he repeated softly to himself.