There's nothing here but what here's mine.

This wasn't, exactly, how he had planned his return. He had expected to be on home turf, a place he understood and wanted to be. Surrounded by worshippers and already plotting. Not here with some strange man using the power he gave specifically to his followers to bring him back. The books of Saxon weren't meant to be public knowledge, they were his private notes, and yet this man decided to drag him into a world he didn't want to be in.

The Master always had a funny feeling that magic wasn't something he should of ever tried to toy with because as it stood, he didn't like where this was going. It defied the logic he knew.

Voldemort was a strange creature, a very unpleasant one at that. He looked sickly and his eyes were red like an albino. Still, he didn't say much on it, he'd looked worse himself and damages were just a sign of ambition and desire. It always took everything out of you, especially with humans.

The drums were raging in his head as he followed Voldemort into this meeting he'd decided to attend. He'd only been back a few days and already he seemed to of captured the imagination of this tiny little creature who was all but eager to introduce him.

An ancient ruler from another reality must of been interesting.

He didn't walk behind Voldemort, he kept in step, not willing to seem a lesser. Hey, the dark lord brought him here. If he was going to play with this merry band of psychopaths, he wanted to seem equal.

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"An extension of yourself? Sounds like overcompensating," the Master dismissed as he decided to make an effort and actually set the book aside, listening attentively to what Barty was saying about the game. He was curious to see if he could get into this sport, it could be something they did together when he was in a good mood.

"Right, so what does a chaser and a seeker do? I can kind of guess what a keep does? Same as in football, yeah?" Basically like a goal keep but on a broom or something.

"There's something to be said about a man with a long wand," Barty agreed, smirking as he watched the sky and tried to point out the chasers. "They try to get the ball they play with through the hoops the keeper's guarding. Their ball is the only one not really enchanted, just something that makes it fall slower so they don't have to keep landing to pick it up."

His tongue flicked out for a quick moment as he glanced at the Master, looking slightly bemused. "You'll think the seeker position is ridiculous." Anyone familiar with muggle sports tended to. "Their only job is to find and catch the third type of ball. When either of them does, the game's over and his or her team gets 150 points."

"So basically the seeker is the only real important player?" the Master said, thinking exactly what anyone who didn't know the game would assume. He watched with a curious expression, eyes on a beater who was keeping the ball off a nearby team mate. All that fuss and effort and he probably wasn't that essential to the game. Not really the best way to run a sport.

With a faint noise of casual disinterest, he picked up his book again and continued to flip through once more. "I never did like ball games. Nor ones with a giant hole in the premise."

"Actually, the way it goes, it's still often the other seeker's team that ends up winning." Barty shrugged and watched, not really bothered by the hole in the premise himself. He grew up in a world that very often made little sense after all.

"Though the best things about it are really the fouls."

There's nothing here but what here's mine.

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