ATTENTION! This fic was adopted from 94. Credit for the inception of this fic, and the first two chapters, go to her.

"Robe me" Tom ordered stepping forward from the cauldron. He had done it. He had succeeded where so many before him had failed. He had beaten Death and come back to life. He began examining his own body. His hands were large and elegant, his long pianist fingers caressed his own chest, his arms, his face; he looked no older than twenty... he had gotten his body back exactly like it had been before, well except for his eyes. His eyes were blood red, the colour of expensive wine and at the moment they were bright and shining with triumph. Overall Tom looked better than ever. He had always been a dark beauty, but he knew that now his appearance coupled with his Dark magic rolling around him made him practically irresistible.

Tom turned smirking towards his captive to see how she was taking his new appearance, however the sight that met him surprised him. Violetta Potter was leaning back against the headstone looking as if she didn't have a care in the world. She actually looked extremely bored and Tom thought that if her hands hadn't been tied she would have probably had them crossed. He was even more surprised when she met his gaze head on, not a trace of fear in her expression. Tom's curiosity was piked but he ignored it for the moment taking his beloved wand in hand and caressing it softly. Oh how he had missed being able to hold it properly.

He flicked it toward the whimpering mess that was Warmtail, lifting him off the ground and throwing him against the headstone that Violetta was tied to; he fell to the foot of it and lay there, crumpled up and crying. Tom turned his eyes on Violetta again and he thought that he saw amusement in her green eyes, but it was gone too quickly for him to make sure.

"My Lord . . ." Tom turned back to Wormtail who was crawling towards him, "my Lord . . . you promised . . . you did promise ..." Wormtail's robes were shining with blood now; he had wrapped the stump of his arm in them.

Tom tapped his wand thoughtfully against his thigh before waving it over his head and transforming into his Voldemort persona. He then turned back to Wormtail, but before he could do anything else he was interrupted by a musical voice.

"You know... you looked better before" Violetta drawled.

Tom raised a now hairless eyebrow and she just shrugged. He was actually surprised when the white hot fury he had been expecting didn't come. He was actually amused by her antics. That was... unusual. He had to admit that his mind now felt clearer than it had in a long time. Violetta's blood must have been very powerful for it to have this effect. He chose to ignore her taunt for the time being and turned back to Wormtail instead.

"Hold out your arm" he said lazily.

"Oh Master . . . thank you, Master ..." Wormtail extended the bleeding stump, but Tom shook his head.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master, please . . .please ..."

Tom got tired bent down and pulled out Wormtail's left arm; he forced the sleeve of Wormtail's robes up past his elbow, baring the Dark Mark that was tattooed there. Tom examined it and stroked it almost lovingly.

"It is back" he said softly, "they will all have noticed it... and now, we shall see ... now we shall know ..."

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm. His eyes flashed in triumph again when it turned jet black and he removed his finger. He straightened back up and laughed victoriously. He then turned to stare around the graveyard expectantly.

"How many will be brave enough to return when they feel it?" he whispered, his gleaming red eyes fixed upon the stars. "And how many will be foolish enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down impatiently. He had never been one for patience. His eyes swept across the graveyard before landing on Violetta and a cruel smile twisted his now snakelike face.

"You stand, Violetta Potter, upon the remains of my late father" he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool. . . very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child . . . and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death. ..." he laughed again.

"Except they were nothing like each other... you see my mother was a witch, muggleborn, but still a witch... whereas your father, well your father was nothing more than a muggle... a muggle that abandoned you..." Violetta said in that same uninterested drawl as before.

Tom's eyes flashed dangerously as he surveyed Violettas face. He felt red hot anger curse through his veins and pointed his wand at her.

"Crucio" he hissed darkly. Violetta closed her eyes, but that was the only indication that the curse had taken effect, that her slightly trembling limbs and the lip she was biting down on. Tom released the curse and Violetta took a couple of deep breaths before opening her eyes which were now glowing the same colour as the Avada Kedavra curse. He couldn't help but be impressed by her composure.

"That wasn't very nice" she murmured with a slight mocking pout.

Tom narrowed his eyes but she spoke again before he could do anything.

"Where have you brought me anyway?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Tom studied her expression before turning to point at his filthy muggle father's manor.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was. ... He didn't like magic, my father . . ." he trailed off remembering when he had first found out where his muggle relatives lived. The hope that had risen within him, no matter how hard he had tried to suppress it, the hope for an actual family even if it was muggles...

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born. Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage . . . but I vowed to find him ... I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name . . . Tom Riddle. . . ." he saw the slight flicker of interest in Violetta's eyes and smirked.

"Listen to me, reliving family history . . ." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental. . . . But look, Violetta! My true family returns. . . ."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks. Between graves, behind the yew tree, in every shadowy space, wizards were Apparating. All of them were hooded and masked. And one by one they moved forward . . . slowly, cautiously, as though they could hardly believe their eyes. Tom stood in silence, waiting for them. He didn't let on the pleasure that he felt when he saw that they were still devoted to him. His face was impassive, cold and cruel. They had returned, but they would have to be punished for ever thinking him so weak as to be defeated by a one year old. They had to be punished for deserting him in his moment of need.

Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Tom and kissed the hem of his black robes.

"Master . . . Master" he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Tom on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle's grave, Violetta, Tom, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail.

"I don't know how you can stand them dirtying your robes with their filthy slobber" came Violetta's voice from behind him. "Personally I would be disgusted" Tom saw some of his Death Eaters sneer at her, but chose to ignore her for now. Once everyone was in their rightful place he started speaking.

"Welcome, Death Eaters" said Tom quietly. He never raised his voice because his Death Eaters had to strain to hear him. They should find it a privilege to hear him speak, he should never have to raise his voice to be heard because everyone else should value his words too much not to stop whatever they were doing in order to listen. "Thirteen years. . . thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening. Tom admitted if only to himself that he had a flair for dramatics. "I smell guilt" he said. "There is a stench or guilt upon the air."

"You know I think you might be right" came a sarcastic voice from behind him. Tom saw Violetta make a show of sniffing the air before shaking her head. "No actually I think it might just be blood" when she saw that no one was moving she raised her eyebrows impatiently. "Well carry on" she practically ordered.

Tom snarled. "Be quiet you silly girl" before he turned around again and taking a deep breath. He would deal with her later.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact - such prompt appearances! and I ask myself . . . why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?" Tom enjoyed the fear that he instilled in his followers, how they trembled but refrained from speaking. Refrained from even moving for fear of attracting his anger.

"And I answer myself" Tom continued after tracing his eyes around the circle, "they must have believed me broken, they thought I was gone. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance, and bewitchment. . . .

"And then I ask myself, but how could they have believed I would not rise again? They, who knew the steps I took, long ago, to guard myself against mortal death? They, who had seen proofs of the immensity of my power in the times when I was mightier than any wizard living?

"And I answer myself, perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort. . . perhaps they now pay allegiance to another . . . perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

At the mention of Dumbledore's name, the members of the circle stirred, and some muttered and shook their heads. Tom ignored them.

"You shouldn't call them Mudbloods" Violetta chastised mockingly.

"Crucio" Tom was angry now. It was enough with the disrespect. Again Violetta didn't scream but her body shook considerately more and it looked like there was blood from where she had bitten her lip. Tom turned back to his followers.

"It is a disappointment to me ... I confess myself disappointed. . . ."

Suddenly Avery flung himself forward and crawled at Tom's feet.

"Master!" he shrieked, "Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!" Tom began to laugh but before he could do anything Violetta spoke yet again.

"I wouldn't stand for that if I were you" she said casually. "It is very disrespectful to interrupt you while you talk... you should train him better" the sarcasm of what she had said was not lost on Tom, but he turned towards Avery anyway and raised his wand.

"Crucio!" The Death Eater on the ground writhed and shrieked. Tom noticed that Violetta was not impressed. She probably wouldn't be since she seemed able to control her reaction to immense pain.

Tom cancelled the curse and Avery lay flat on the ground gasping in a completely undignified way.

"Get up, Avery" said Tom coldly. You'd think his Death Eaters would have more backbone than a fourteen year old girl. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years ... I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?"

He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob. Pathetic. He sneered at him in disgust, but he had to give credit where credit was due even if he only came back to him out of cowardice.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master" moaned Wormtail, "please. Master . . . please ..."

"Yet you helped return me to my body" said Tom coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me ... and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers..."

Tom raised his wand again and effortlessly conjured a silver hand which he attached to Wormtail's arm. Wormtail's sobbing finally stopped. His breathing harsh and ragged, he raised his head and stared in disbelief at the silver hand, now attached seamlessly to his arm, as though he were wearing a dazzling glove. He flexed the shining fingers, then, trembling, picked up a small twig on the ground and crushed it into powder.

"My Lord" he whispered. "Master ... it is beautiful. . . thank you... thank you. ..." He scrambled forward on his knees and kissed the hem of Tom's robes. Tom held back a cringe of disgust. Maybe Violetta was right and he should just make his followers bow to him without kissing his robes.

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail" he told the disgusting rat.

"No, my Lord . . . never, my Lord . . ." Wormtail stood up and took his place in the circle, staring at his powerful new hand, his face still shining with tears. Tom then turned his focus on the man on Wormtail's right.

"Lucius, my slippery friend" he whispered, halting before him. "I am told that you have not renounced the old ways, though to the world you present a respectable face. You are still ready to take the lead in a spot of Muggle-torture, I believe? Yet you never tried to find me, Lucius. . . . Your exploits at the Quidditch World Cup were fun, I daresay. . . but might not your energies have been better directed toward finding and aiding your master?" Out of all of his followers Tom considered Lucius the closest thing to a friend and he had been highly disappointed when he had completely given up hope on him.

"My Lord, I was constantly on the alert" came Lucius Malfoy's voice swiftly from beneath the hood. "Had there been any sign from you, any whisper of your whereabouts, I would have been at your side immediately, nothing could have prevented me -"

"And yet you ran from my Mark, when a faithful Death Eater sent it into the sky last summer?" Tom said lazily, and he was amused when Lucius stopped talking abruptly. "Yes, I know all about that, Lucius. . . . You have disappointed me. ... I expect more faithful service in the future."

"Of course, my Lord, of course. . . . You are merciful, thank you. ..."

Tom was about to move on when Violetta decided to intervene again.

"I think you are forgetting something Lucius" she said sadistic amusement evident on her face. Tom looked back at Lucius expectantly and when he didn't seem to be forthcoming with his information Violetta prompted him again. "Isn't there anything that you would like to tell your Lord?" she taunted "Perhaps something that happened... oh I don't know... two years ago?" Tom watched as Lucius' eyes dilated in horror and he felt his own narrow.

"Well Lucius? What have you got to tell me?" Tom hissed dangerously.

Lucius seemed too frightened to talk so Violetta intervened again.

"I believe you had given him something to look after" she said innocently. "A little black notebook perhaps?" she continued in that same taunting tone and fury washed over Tom as well as fear. Was his Horcrux still intact? Violetta carried on as if she hadn't felt the dangerous magic spreading around the graveyard trying to find the cause of his distress. "You see it accidentally fell into the hands of a Weasley and it was never seen again" she finished widening her eyes sadly.

"Crucio" Tom was furious the curse went straight but before it could hit Violetta she was gone from her bonds, fading into the shadows. She reappeared next to Wormtail, her wand back in her hand and she accioed the cup to herself.

"Till next time Voldy" she shouted disappearing with Wormtail in tow.

Tom angrily cursed his followers especially focusing on Lucius after finding out that he had lost him his Horcrux that now might or might not be destroyed.

Hours later as Tom sat back in his armchair lazily twirling his wand between his fingers, he pondered on the strange behaviour of Violetta Potter. She could have escaped anytime. So why did she choose to wait and suffer through two doses of the Cruciatus before escaping? And why did she tell him about the Diary? He noted that she hadn't said that it had been destroyed. So maybe she had it? She wanted to use it as a bargaining chip? But what Tom wanted to know most of all was how she had managed to become the Lady of Shadows at such a young age. How could she control the shadows, make them do her bidding?

So many questions swirling in his mind and all he could focus on was a pair of mesmerising Avada Kedavra green eyes.