None of the possibilities Will had considered came to pass. Voldemort did not ask him about Harry, call him to account, or have the other Death Eaters attack him.
To Will's surprise, Voldemort introduced him to the Pure-blood Death Eaters still active in the Wizarding World—as his student.
Voldemort's rasping voice echoed through the dim banquet hall, cold and commanding. His scarlet eyes swept slowly over the bowed heads on either side of the long table. Every Death Eater who met his gaze bent lower.
"My finest student..." he repeated, with an almost delighted cruelty in his voice. "At Hogwarts, right under Dumbledore's nose, he found the Chamber of Secrets, released the Basilisk, and successfully... assassinated Harry Potter..."
He paused deliberately, letting the word "assassinated" hang in the deathly silence.
"Can any of you..." His voice turned suddenly sharp with undisguised displeasure. "Can any of you say you did that for me?"
A suffocating silence followed. No one dared raise their head or make a sound.
The muscles in Corban Yaxley's rugged face twitched.
"No." Voldemort answered his own question, his voice cold and smooth again. "When I needed strength most, where were you? During the years I had no body, how many of you remembered your oaths?"
An invisible pressure settled over the banquet hall. Cold sweat had begun to bead on some foreheads.
"But Will... he accomplished what none of you could. He proved his worth, and he proved his... loyalty."
Voldemort didn't suspect me? Why not? Will had no idea.
What Will knew even less was that Voldemort had suspected long ago that the assassination had failed. He had not doubted Will; he had simply seen Fawkes weeping beside Harry.
Phoenix Tears could heal most injuries and even break many curses. Fawkes's tears were clearly visible in