This is a short little snippet of something I'm going to start writing. Tell me what you think, okay?
**WORK IN PROGRESS!**
____________
The Dark Lord Ascending
→ He walked deathly slow across the floor, gazing at the fire sitting a warm welcome in the far side of the long room, right behind his seat at the head of the table. The fact that he was now inside the house of an utter failure made Lord Voldemort feel pathetic in a way; he'd prefer to be in the home of Bellatrix Lestrange or Severus Snape, his two most trusted and favored followers.
→ Glancing behind, he saw the Imperiused ex-Hogwarts teacher walking behind him with a dreamy look smeared across her face; it made him want to laugh, the subject that she had one taught: Muggle Studies. Who, in their right mind, would want to be associated with Muggles or want to be near them even? Or treat them as if they were… equal? Those thoughts had plagued him ever since he had first attended Hogwarts.
→ Hogwarts… the school where he had learned everything, and the place he held more dear than any other place, but it was tainted now, by the Mudbloods and Half-bloods. Voldemort's lip curled at the mere thought of Mudbloods; they shouldn't be allowed to hold a wand, only Purebloods should, like himself, and like his ancestors dating all the way back to Salazar himself.
→ Movement behind him brought Voldemort back to the present, and he spun, seeing only Draco Malfoy shuffling into the room flanked by his mother and his failure of a father. He could feel that his presence in their home terrified them, and that only gave Voldemort satisfaction: he loved people who feared him more than those who revered him.
→ Voldemort made his way to the seat at the far end of the fire lit room, sitting down in the chair and facing the only other occupants in the room. He raised his wand, flicked it, and the Imperiused woman glided to hang above the table and began to spin. Gazing at Draco, Voldemort let out a laugh, seeing the shocked and terrified look on the boy's face.
→ "Are you upset, Draco, that your ex-teacher is now a decoration of your very own home?" His cold and shrill voice piercing the silence. Draco did not reply, but only shuffled and looked down at the floor, not even sparing a glance at Voldemort, which made him angry; he had given the idiotic boy a second chance after failing to kill Dumbledore and yet he could still not look at him?
→ With a small hiss at the entire family, Voldermort spun in a fury of cloak, and glided along the floor towards his seat. He took it, and sat down exasperatedly; he honestly hated calling meetings of the Death Eaters… all of them were inferior to the Dark Lord himself, none of them even possessing the slightest bit of power he had… yet one boy did, and maybe more… and that was the entire point of the meeting that evening: Harry Potter.
→ "M-my Lord?" Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke, but barely a whisper, "My Lord, people are arriving now, I can hear them entering now.
→ "Good, good. Bring them into here, Lucius, if you can do at least that correctly," Lord Voldemort hissed coldly, making the entire Malfoy family flinch as if he had just sprayed venom onto the table before them.