You rang? 😄
Originally posted by H. S. 6
“My lord, if I may, he’s… hysterical. Beyond help.” As an afterthought, Snape added, “…unfortunately.” His voice remained an unwavering monotone while speaking to his master. Beside him was Lucius Malfoy, who stood with his head down and his cloak wrapped tightly around him. The odd sniffle occasionally escaped from under his hood.Snape had brought Lucius to Lord Voldemort’s current residence; a small cabin, hardly noticeable to any stray passer-bys, at the edge of a quiet Muggle town.
The two Death Eaters now stood in the small parlor of the old home. Voldemort remained sitting in a throne-like chair he had summoned—the only furniture in the room.
It was still dark outside; the only light came from the fireplace, in which a dying fire cast flickering shadows about the room. An eerie wind whistled outside—remnants of the storm that had been raging over Snape’s own current home.
Voldemort flicked his wand lazily, directing the gesture at Lucius, who had collapsed on the floor in a fit of hysterical sobs. His body snapped upright, hovering several inches above the floor.
The movement was quick and violent. Something inside broke, producing a dull crack that one might hear when they snap a tree branch in half. Lucius screamed in bitter pain, muttering incoherently in a high-pitched tone, as if he were a cowering puppy.
“You say…” began the Dark Lord, “that you managed to escape Azkaban.”
Lucius continued to whimper for several seconds. He didn’t answer.
Voldemort hissed, and raised his wand mere centimeters in the air. Lucius’s body became more rigid, pulling tighter as if he were being squeezed together by an unseen force. A pained gasp escaped his lips.
This time, he spoke. “Y-y-yes, my lord. O-o-only a few hours ago.” (It was still several days until the young Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour would be married.)
Voldemort’s blood red eyes shown with something like that of renewed interest. “Who else?” he demanded. “Who else escaped?”
Lucius struggled in vain against the invisible force surrounding him. The Dark Lord sneered with contempt and lowered his wand. Lucius fell to the floor in a crumpled heap.
There was a moment of silence. Voldemort glanced into Lucius’s eyes. Almost effortlessly, he sifted through Lucius’s insane thoughts and plucked out what he was searching for.
“Everyone…” murmured Voldemort after a moment, speaking to himself. Lucius attempted to get into an upright position on the ground, in order to nurse the bone that had broken in his arm. Snape dared not move, let alone help the fallen Death Eater.
Suddenly, as if he had just recognized who was lying on the ground before him, Voldemort stood, and then bent down to get a better look at Lucius’s face.
Lucius had managed to prop himself up on his unbroken arm. His face was skewered into an expression of grim pain. Beads of sweat began to form on his forehead. “My lord…” he gasped, “my arm… it’s broken. Please…”
There was silence. Then Voldemort spoke, the faintest hint of a twisted smile creeping into his pale features.
“Do you know what your boy Draco has done, Lucius?”
Lucius groaned, although whether out of physical pain or anxiety of what was to come was uncertain. Again, he didn’t answer.
Voldemort stood up. Only the utmost contempt remained in his eyes as he watched his pitiful servant trembling before him. “He failed me.” The Dark Lord spat out the word ‘failed’ as if it was poisonous. “You’ve been a loyal servant to me for quite some time now. Surely you are aware of what happens when one of my own fails me?”
Lucius’s whimpers became louder, and his body shook. He seemed to be trying to say something. His eyes darted to the side, throwing a helpless look at Snape, bottom lip quivering.
Again, Voldemort bent down to look into the eyes of his servant. His face twisted into an expression of sheer hatred. “I wonder if the boy thought he should follow his father’s lead. After all, you managed to fail me before as well…” he hissed.
Lucius shuddered, as if he had been physically hit. Immediately, he began to plead. “M-m-my lord, I couldn’t… the Ministry came—it was…”
“Crucio.”
Lucius cried out in agony as a thousand white-hot knives were driven into his flesh. His body fell flat onto the ground and twitched fiercely, broken arm lying next to him. “You failed...” Voldemort’s voice was a dangerously low hiss. His eyes were flashing with anger. “and you will be punished for it.”
Lucius moaned between pained sobs. Voldemort stood up. “You know, Lucius…” he said, drawing his wand. “I’m going to kill him, too.”
“N-n-no… NO! PLEASE!” The word was reduced to broken sobs for a moment.
“Avada Kedavra!”
There was a flash of sickly green light, and Lucius Malfoy was dead.
Snape dared not move—he scarcely breathed. He stared at the floor, waiting for further instruction from his master. It didn’t take long.
“Your arm, Severus,” ordered Voldemort. As a second thought, he waved his wand in an arc beside him. There was a slight hissing noise, and Lucius’s motionless body disappeared, leaving behind no trace that it had ever been there.
Silently, Snape held out his left fore-arm, pulling back the sleeve of his robes, revealing the tell-tale mark of the Death Eater—a snake protruding from the mouth of a skull.
Voldemort touched his wand to Snape’s arm. The mark burned a dark black, searing into Severus’s skin. He grimaced at the pain.
Voldemort didn’t notice.
Habitually, Severus raised his hood over his head and dropped to a knee. There was silence for several seconds, and then the familiar pop, pop, pop of wizards Apparating filled the room. Each Death Eater bowed before their lord as they appeared.
After several quiet moments, the room was filled with the Dark Lord’s followers. He surveyed them for several moments, and finally spoke, “You’ve escaped Azkaban,” His voice remained a cold drawl. “Very well. Even I could not touch my followers there. Too many Aurors, you see… crawling around the place. Rats.” His tone was conversational, and yet still dangerous. “Of course,” Voldemort added, “none of you have done anything worthy of my efforts to free you.”
Somebody in the circle spoke up. “Sir… you’ve helped free us?”
Voldemort whirled about, his cloak following his movements in the air. “Naturally… The Dementors were very willing to help out an…” He paused a moment, searching for the right word. “old friend. You see, Alecto,” continued the Dark Lord, referring to the Death Eater that had spoken, “the Dementors are truly no different than any other animal on this planet. They only wish to be fed.” He let the last sentence hang in the air a few moments. “Even now, they gather around this very house in search of a meal.”
“Pettigrew!” Voldemort barked suddenly. A short robed figure threw himself at his lord’s feet.
“Yes, my lord?”
“The Dementors await their payment.”
“Yes, my lord.” He nodded in understanding, and Disapparated with a crack.
“But my lord…” began the dumpy looking cloaked figure of Alecto, who had since taken off his hood to reveal a lopsided face. “The Dementors never showed up at Azkaban. We overran the Aurors just a few hours ago…”
There were several whispers—or perhaps groans—of agreement. Voldemort spoke again, a trace of frustration present in his tone. “My dear Alecto, the Dementors are useful in more than one way. Just because you did not happen to see them with your rather blind eyes doesn’t mean they were not there.”
This time, Alecto remained decidedly quiet.
Once more, Voldemort began to talk. “It is important you understand why I’ve summoned you here. All of you are aware of what transpired only a couple of months ago at Hogwarts—” He let the details of that night return to his followers for a moment. “Draco Malfoy failed to kill Albus Dumbledore, an assignment that he had willfully accepted at the beginning of his sixth school year.”
“Fortunately, Severus was able to make up for the boy’s failure, and… carry out the plan. You may also know that our dearest Draco hasn’t shown his face to myself or any of his fellow Death Eaters. Regretfully, his time is up.”
At this time, Voldemort turned to face one of the Death Eaters. Snape glanced up and recognized immediately who the Dark Lord was now looking down on.
“Bellatrix.”
She pulled back her hood, revealing pale skin, a bony face, and heavily-lidded eyes. She nodded, but kept her eyes glued to the floor.
Voldemort moved swiftly over to Snape’s position in the circle. Snape could feel his lord’s eyes upon him, even with his hood up.
“Severus.”
Snape responded by pulling back his hood. He kept his head down.
“You were the last to see Draco. Go with Bellatrix. Find him.”
The flames in the fireplace burned ever lower. Shadows threatened to control the room, and yet the light of the flames fought back with an unyielding perseverance.
Aside from the nigh-inaudible crackling of the fire, there was complete silence.
“Find him,” repeated Voldemort. His voice was a characteristically low hiss. “And kill him.”
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No more complaining! I got it in on time, okay? 😛