Hold him ... hold him ...
A surge of joy wafted through his being as he flew towards the cottage. A feeling foreign to him had entered his body and mind and yet, he knew that he had once felt this way years ago.
It had entered his body, for, he believed that he had won. The boy was within his grasp. He flew, without the need of broom, towards Bathilda Bagshot's cottage in Godric's Hollow. Racing against time, he flew as fast as he could manage, for, Nagini had summoned him. She had the boy! She had him!
He would reward Nagini, for, catching The Chosen One was no simple task.
Through the snake's eyes, he could see the boy who lived breathing through a narrow escape with his Muggle-born friend.
He gripped the windowsill in the attic, his knuckles white as he held on tight. Nagini slithered towards him upon the dusty hardwood floor. The Dark Lord reached down, stroking her head.
"There will be plenty more timesss to kill the boy," she hissed in a language only he and the boy understood.
He did not answer, but, loosened his grip on the windowsill. He continued to look out the window, stroking her. She looked up at Voldemort, and it almost seemed as though she were smiling.