POP! In place of a large, fluffly golden-white kernal of popcorn stood Voldemort, looking bewildered. The last thing he remembered was waiting on word from his Death Eaters about Malfoy's mission, and if the miserable little git really died during his task or not. He was really looking foward to the news-- either Dumbledore or Draco was out of his
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His good mood was also restored by the relief that Primavera wasn't mad at him. He had just received an owl from her, and is said explicitly that she didn't hate him! Of course, it also invited him to move in with her and Gogo, and he had no idea how to deal with that!
Ron saw Voldemort.
Still whistling, Ron ever so slowly, as casually as he could, turned around and walked back towards the way he came from.
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Reaching out a hand, Voldemort attempted to tap Ron on the back of his shoulder.
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Play it cool, Ron. He can't hurt you here!
"Y-you-know-who, right?" If asked, Ron would not admit to the squeak his voice made on the last syllable.
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"You are correct," the Dark Lord replied, reaching out a hand to place on Ron's shoulders. Just in case he decided he was going to run. Voldemort wore a smile, but with his features it was hard to discern it from a grimace. "Ah, a Weasley, correct? And your siblings are well-settled here? Last I heard, your sister was playing with something that belonged to me. I hope she is still doing well."
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