Voldemort's mind raced, countless thoughts flashing through it, but a resigned calm slowly appeared on his face-or rather, what looked like resignation.
He even had the capacity to observe his surroundings.
The Death Eaters stood frozen like a flock of quails stunned by thunder, their eyes filled with fear and bewilderment.
Good. At least they still dared not move.
He, Voldemort, was by no means an ordinary, defenseless wizard, even without his wand.
Given one opportunity, he had over a hundred ways to make the boy before him die in greater agony than the Cruciatus Curse could inflict.
"You... how exactly did you do it? Did Dumbledore teach you?"
Voldemort stared fixedly at Douglas, forcing the words through gritted teeth.
He needed answers.
No sooner had he spoken than the body of the boy opposite him began undergoing a remarkable change.
Harry Potter's somewhat youthful, thin face was filling out and maturing at a visible speed.
His signature messy black hair grew longer, its color lightening even as it gradually took on a strange depth.
He grew taller, his shoulders broadened, and his slightly loose school robes rapidly filled out, outlining an adult man's upright, powerful figure.
It was a complete reshaping, from bone to muscle.
The effects of the Polyjuice Potion... were wearing off!
Above the cemetery, even the wind, which had turned cold and sinister with the gathering of the Death Eaters, seemed to stop at that moment.
The Death Eaters were utterly stunned.
They watched the "Chosen One" they knew so well turn into an entirely unfamiliar man.
A man who made them tremble in the depths of their souls.
Many of them had seen that face countless times on the front page of the Daily Prophet.
Hogwarts's youngest, most mysterious, and most feared Professor of Defense