"Oh, right, a king."
Douglas nodded in acknowledgment.
"Then are you satisfied with your current appearance, Your Majesty?
Honestly, this look... is a little too avant-garde.
Compared with how you looked at Hogwarts, it's like night and day.
What made you abandon your handsome appearance and choose this...
Well, back-to-basics style? Does this represent some sort of artistic pursuit of postmodern deconstructionism?"
"You're asking to die!"
"Don't get worked up, Tom. We still have time. Why not chat?"
Douglas completely ignored his threat and began steering the conversation like an experienced reporter.
"I'm curious about your resurrection plan. It sounds very grand. Bone of the father, flesh of the servant, blood of the enemy. Quite a sense of ceremony.
Is this recipe your own invention? Or did you consult some ancient text? Have you applied for a patent?"
Hearing the words coming from Harry's (Douglas's) mouth,
Voldemort began to hesitate.
"The gravestone! So Dumbledore really did write that recipe?"
Harry (Douglas) said:
"What gravestone? But how is that potion coming along? I heard from Sirius that Mr. Pettigrew didn't do very well in Potions back then.
I hope he hasn't held up your grand undertaking. I can introduce you to my Potions professor, Severus Snape, a Potions master."
Voldemort stared fixedly at Harry (Douglas).
He had thought his actions were extremely secretive and Barty Crouch Jr.'s infiltration had been very successful, but now...
"What... do you know?"
Voldemort narrowed his red eyes, a dangerous, cold light flickering within them.
"I don't know much."
Douglas answered modestly.
"I'm only a student. But I like reading, and I like listening to my maternal cousin tell stories."
"For example, stories about Horcruxes."
It was a thunderbolt.
Even the wind around them seemed to fall still at that moment.
For the first time, an