Prologue
'BANG'
The luxurious darkened oak doors blasted open, thrown off their hinges and fell apart into splinters as if it were broken glass.
A male figure, tall and clothed in luxurious emerald green robes calmly walked into the study. His barefoot steps gliding across the room not making a sound. His red eyes stared unblinkingly towards the other end of the room, towards a young man, no later than his early twenties clutching onto a young girl who seemed barely of age. A grip was on her forearm so tight that it was quite clear to see that there had been a struggle, a fight of some sorts. The older man had a sickeningly psychotic grin on his face as he stared frighteningly in awe of the figure stopped in front of him.
"I'm impressed to see your loyalty towards myself, I had undoubtedly thought you would have perhaps had second thoughts. You've done well. And as you know, I always reward my most faithful death eaters".
"My lord". Replied the young man, bowing his head. "It has given me the greatest honour to receive your praise." The Lord lazily trailed his eyes over the young man and then turned his attentions to the girl which was reluctantly by his side.
"You've caused quite a headache amongst my Death Eaters, Lyra. More so than I could have predicted. So tell me. Where is Harry Potter?"
The young girl stiffened but turned her head, avoiding eye contact and not providing him with the answer to his question.
The Lord realised this and continued. "You are but a mere young thing which I have no qualms of using the killing curse on, however if you do not answer me. I will do much worse. I will not repeat myself, child".
A middle aged woman, who adorned a two toned hair, blonde at the sides and a deep, rich chestnut on the top. Made a barely noticeable whimpered. Though, if you were to have been watching her at the time, you would not have realised she had uttered a word.
"Quiet Narcissa." The Lord had said, not tearing his eyes off the young girl. A slow, venomous and predatory smile crept on his face, it was only a small smile that could have barely been noticed however, if one were to know Lord Voldemort it would only mean one thing.
"Crucio" The young man's grip on the girl fell and she crippled to the floor, screaming in excruciating pain and agony. The girl's screams were carried throughout the whole building. The young man was stood, watching the young girl juddering on the ground, flinching and shuddering whilst he smiled a smile so cold and distant that he could have very well have been the one that had placed the curse on her.
The woman, Narcissa, was still. She was watching with no movement to help or join in with the torture, however she watched on with what could be unmistakably perturbed eyes.
Voldemort paused his torture. Allowing the screaming to stop and for Lyra to collect herself, her panting and whimpering could be heard across the room as she shakily tried to shake off the ringing in her ears and swallow the bile that had raised in her throat. Hastily she wiped the tears away from her eyes and roughly dried the trails that had been left on her face with her hands.
"Have you changed your mind, or shall I continue?" Voldemort said calmly. "That may have felt like minutes, hours worth of pain however it was a mere few seconds and I will quite happily carry on for much longer if I must".
"Lyra please answer our Lord. End this stupidity. You are loyal to him as you are loyal to myself and the Malfoy name that has looked after you." The young girl named Lyra glanced over to Narcissa for the first time since Voldemort had entered the room before glancing over to the young man that had held her captive with his grip earlier before. She could see the cold, twisted grin on his face. He was relishing in this. The look of pure hatred on his face for her as well was made apparently clear. Lyra looked up to Voldemort. She knew, Voldemort was getting restless trying to find him. Harry was finding his horcruxes and destroying parts of his very soul. She was no fool though, for if she were to not say a word she would die, if she did, she would branded as a traitor by the Order.
She bowed her head in defeat. Pain etched on her face. Voldemort took her silence as her answer and raised his wand. Narcissa made another small whimper and just before the spell was released from his wand.. a frail voice came from the girl on her knees.
"I'll tell you".