Deep beneath London, the Ministry of Magic had a specially designated private common room.
When Tom received Shawn's message, he was attending to business in this elegantly furnished room.
He sat upright in a carved wooden chair. Not far away, an old, dispirited wizard knelt before him-one of the pure-blood patriarchs who had betrayed Voldemort and returned to England.
Tom glanced at the message. Rather than leaving for Italy immediately, he continued calmly.
"Old Parkinson, I'm a practical man. If you want wealth and glory, a few casual pledges of loyalty won't earn them for you.
"I have a task for you now: find out where Voldemort is!"
"Ah, my lord, I-I really can't do that!"
Terror filled Old Parkinson's eyes, and he nearly fainted from fright.
He had only just managed to return to England. Though money was painfully tight, there was no way he would run back into the tiger's jaws to die.
Tom gave him no chance to argue. He rose and walked out, leaving behind a few imperious words.
"If you only wanted to live an ordinary, unremarkable life, I wouldn't trouble you. But since you've come to me, you'll do as I say.
"Otherwise, the Parkinsons will meet the same fate as the exterminated Selwyn family!"
Old Parkinson collapsed onto the floor, trembling uncontrollably.
Selwyn had been among those who had rebelled against Voldemort alongside him.
Yet recently, every member of that family, young and old, had died. Even Young Selwyn, who had not yet graduated, had been killed!
The Ministry of Magic's investigative team had merely concluded that Voldemort had taken revenge, then closed the case.
Only now did Old Parkinson realize that the real killer was the man who had just walked out.
That was far too ruthless!
*All I wanted was to