The Chapter One; Blood.
This chapter is dedicated to the AMAZING –AccioTeddyLupin, for being such a great reviewer ;D
I stand at the door of the study, a sturdy black and silver structure that blends in with the rest of the dismal house. I knock once on the door, and await the reply. It comes after a heartbeat, but it's not a greeting. Merely a flick of a wand and the door slides open silently. I step inside and feel a chill on my bare shoulders, there is no warmth here. The air that I pull into my lungs with measured breaths seems to freeze me from within, like cold tendrils stroking my lungs. The room is dark, lit only my the light of the green witch-lights floating in the air. The room is large, but mostly void of furniture and is as cold as death. Everything is black, green, or silver, as is the rest of the house, and dark magic artifacts lie here and there, giving the room an uneasy presence. Candlelight casts shadows over the green walls, shadows that eerily flicker and change. My brown eye's flick over the room, automatically searching for hidden dangers that may lurk in the dark corners.
At the back of the room is a desk, and behind the desk is a man who looks as cold and dark as the house he is in. Grey hair clipped with precision lies on the top of a stern face, lined and drawn. Crisp robes of the darkest black adorn his tall frame, a sleeve draped over the desk as he writes with an quill. My shoes click on the polished floor as I walk to the desk. The man's eyes flick over me with disinterest and quickly turn back to his papers that lay neatly on the black wood. I wait quietly, unmoving in front of the desk as the minutes tick by, straight backed and blank faced.
Today I wear what has become my uniform. Tight, black trousers fitted with hidden pockets that conceal deadly weapons. The most deadly of all, my wand. Nine and a quarter inches, a smooth black that glints a fiery red in the sun. The same crimson colour as my hair, which is in its usual braid. A form fitting top, stealthy and easy to move quickly in. Boots as black as the rest of my clothes. I strike a stark figure, a willowy body clad in black. The sight of me sparks fear in all who see me. Most of whom never live to tell the tale.
None killed by my hand. Seventeen is seen as the right age to make a kill. I am only sixteen so my soul is spared, for a few months at least. No, I only distract, find, disable. The victims vary, muggle borns are the usual pick. They'll be at home, innocent and unsuspecting. Any defenses are useless; we have far too much power. The last thing they'll ever see is a flash of green light.
The man in front of me finally acknowledges my presence as he hands me a sheet of perfect, unwrinkled parchment. My name; Alexandria Rakoff is written in neat cursive on the top and under it an address is transcribed in ebony ink, along with a list of names. I nod to the man behind the desk and silently leave the room. As the door slides silently shut behind me, I let out a slight breath. I am relieved to leave the presence of that man, that man whose blood runs through my veins. My father.
The choice I have in what I do is minimal. Nothing really. Any rebellion and I would be quietly murdered then disposed of, despite my blood. Moreover, despite how good I am with wards. My value here is based on what I can do. I was trained to be a master at disabling and creating wards, but I became an expert. My skills are useful to the Dark Lord, whom my father serves. The house I used to love is now a base for those loyal to him, and is filled with evil and darkness.
Blood is all that matters here. Pure, half or Mud. There are only Pure blood's here. My father, a loyal Death Eater through and through, runs this sector of the Dark Lord's organisation with brutality and fear. This house, once the noble dwelling of Rakoff's old and past, is now the breeding hole of darkness and despair.
It wasn't always like this, when I was younger, back when my mother was still alive, and the Dark Lord unknown, it was wonderful. The Rakoff mansion was adorned in Mama's bright colours and laughter hung in the halls. It was a paradise for a little girl, and I ran and played with the servant's children in the wide open gardens.
Then when I was eleven, my beloved Mama was killed, and my loving Father turned into one of the unholy followers of the very man that killed her. The bright colours were stripped from the walls, and death was brought in to decorate. Now I live in a place filled with dark shadows and the immoral people that lurk there.
The house Elves are the only sane creatures here, and the only ones that will tolerate my company. The others are either too scared or too disdainful to take any notice in me. After my mother died, her friends and the servants faded away, either too scared or too mistreated to stay, leaving me in the care of a now loveless father who was only to keen to hand responsibility for me over to the house elves. A mistake on his behalf as the house elves care has taught me more about blood than he has. They have taught me that blood is worth nothing. That your family is who is closest to your heart.
There is nothing I can do though. What choice does a girl trained by death-eaters in disabling wards have, a girl whose father is one of the Dark Lord's closest men. The parchment in my hand bears the names of those who are to be killed. I open it's neat folds to see whose blood will adorn my hands this time, written on white paper is;
Fabien Prewett
Gideon Prewett
They shall both be dead by morning.
The paper is stamped as high risk, but it means nothing. They will send the best, and I am one of those. Even among death-eaters I have a reputation for my skill. I walk through the dim corridors to my room to wait out the remaining hours in solitude until the mission begins. My room is one of the few solaces I have left, other than the kitchens. The walls are painted snow white, and soft gold's provide contrast to the black of the rest of the house.
I kick my black boots off, and they provide a dark blemish in the soft gold carpet that I sink my feet into. I grab my wand from its hiding spot and execute the necessary spells that will allow me access to my secret hiding place. Even though the room itself is so layered in spells that the Dark Lord himself would have an effort to break in, you can never be certain, and this box contains things that could sign my death warrant. I pull out one of the forbidden books I managed to save when my Father burned all of the 'traitorous' ones. I've read all of them so many times, but this one is my favourite; The Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousseau.
I sprawl on my soft bed until my alarm rings sharply in the quiet air, making me jump to my feet. I save my book from where it had been flung to the floor in my shock and lovingly return it to its place in the box, which I then hide with layers of spells. I slide on my boots and check I have all my weapons.
At midnight, I step into the entrance hall. Three others stand there, nameless beneath black hoods. Mine is the only face uncovered, and I draw up my hood to hide beneath. I've done this so many times now, I'm barely nervous, just disgusted at the horrors to come. One of the Death Eater's thrusts out a glove covered hand, I take it and we spin into the air. I land on my feet as silently as a cat, a feat that has taken years of practice.
A rickety house stands before us, black in the night. A few waves of my ebony wand eradicates the outside wards and they fizzle out gently. One of the other's point's there wand at the gate and it swings open silently. It's best not to touch anything as people will curse anything that they think might help to protect them. None of it is ever any good though. We creep down the garden path, to the front door. A swish of my wand disables the wards, another flick opens the door. It is surprisingly easy for a house that has been labelled as high risk.
We stalk soundlessly in, I am in front guiding with light from my wand. The three others follow behind as we stalk up the stairs. I push the first door and it slides silently open. The room is dark, but the sound of breathing directs us to a man who's features I can barely make out in the faint light of our wands. He's about twenty, with wild ginger hair and even in the dull light I can see his freckles. He's probably innocent and unaware that his life span will now be very short indeed. I stare at his young face, too young to die. However, there is nothing I can do .So, I just stand there and wait for it to all be over.
The crack of apparition startles me back to my senses, I tense, adrenalin racing. There's no more time to think before we're ambushed by blurring figures. They swarm through the open door, like bee's into a honey pot. There is three sudden cracks and I turn just in time to see the Death eaters apparate away. I search around me frantically for an exit but the door's blocked by aurors and the windows are tiny. The only option is to fight.
And fight I do. My wand swirls through the air, again and again. Flashes of light fill the room, red, pink, blue, and orange. Every colour but green. Screams fill the air- I'm not sure if they're mine or not as everything confuses around me.
I fight and fight and fight. But no-one can fight forever, especially when they're sixteen and outnumbered by about ten to one. I'm exhausted and my wand moves slower now. I miss a curse and gain a gash across my forehead and warm blood drips into my eyes. Spells wiz towards me from all directions. I scream as a jet of red light hits me straight in the chest. Then everything is black.
A/N; Hello everyone, this is a sort of new story; I had a couple of chapters up here, but it was quite different as is going to be changed drastically, I feel the other one was only half-baked, and I shouldn't have posted it as soon as I did. I hope you like the changes, if you read some of the other story, and if you didn't, I still hope you enjoyed it!
The Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousseau is a real book; A famous quote from the book states that "Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains." This accurately summarizes the book's prime position on the importance of individual human rights within society, so basically, Alexandria is reading a book that goes against all the Dark Lord's views.
This story is going to have longer chapters, and a different writing style to Unique, but I'm really looking forward to writing it and I have a lot of inspiration! Thanks for reading, I love you all.
Also, if anyone would like to beta this, give me a shout.
Anyone wanna send a review to tell me how you thought it went?
(Edited 03/03/15)
Love, Chloe.