Deafening
Spinner's End was as dark as ever. As the people were poorer and less organized than their counterparts across the river, they had never actually petitioned the local government for improved street lights, and of course, the local government never did anything out of its own accord. So the streets remained black, save for the full moon once a month, which would beam brightly into the alleyways to show a dismal and wretched neighborhood, full of broken people with broken windows.
Maybe, then, the darkness was for the best.
Snape closed the curtain, putting an end to the sad scene and an end to his musings on his boyhood community. The inside of the home he was standing in was not much better, but this thought didn't cross his mind. It, too, was uncomfortably dark, with pockets of candlelight sporadically glowing throughout, giving an ironically cheerful polka-dotted effect. The candles' flames were the only glimmer of movement in the room.
So when Snape barked, "Wormtail!" the ding echoed long after, as if the house was shocked at the noise and still trying to register it.
-mtail, -mtail, -mtail
A small man entered. His hair was thinning and he had a strange rat-like countenance, not only in looks but in mannerisms as well. His hands and nose twitched as if he were fearful, and his behind swayed slightly behind him as he walked.
"What is it, Snape?"
Snape wasted no time in his reply.
"Crucio," he whispered, and the man fell to floor with high-pitched screams and unhuman moaning.
Snape rolled his eyes.
"Stop putting on a show." It seemed, to Snape, that after so many Cruciatus Curses, one would have gotten used to the torture, and been able to deal with it better.
Snape collapsed into a molding armchair, and surveyed the man writhing and shrieking on the floor for a few moments, with an air as if he were waiting for a traffic signal to change.
"You're hurting my ears," said Snape as he lazily moved his wand to lift the curse.
Wormtail attempted to get up, panting, but fell to the floor in exhaustion. He pushed himself up again, and this time succeeded. Snape continued to simply watch.
"The Dark Lord," Wormtail breathed, "didn't tell you to do that!"
Snape raised his eyebrows.
"And how would a small pathetic thing like you know that?"
Wormtail seemed to steady himself.
"I am not pathetic! I'm important to him, I am."
"Important enough to make you my servant?" inquired Snape.
"I'm not—," Wormtail was still panting, "—your servant! I was loyal enough to give the Dark Lord important information, I gave him the Potters! And he won't ever forget it, and you shouldn't either! I—"
"I don't forget," said Snape lightly.
Wormtail's shock made him step back, and the floorboards creaked beneath him. His eyes were wide, revealing how watery they were.
"You – you don't?"
"No. I don't. Crucio."
Wormtail fell to the floor again, and while his screeches filled the room like the candlelight never could, Snape didn't hear them anymore, but instead heard the cries of a woman.
Her shrieks were deafening.
Snape stood and opened the curtains once more, looking past the river into the neighborhood beyond, where if the moon was out tonight, he would have been able to see a small playground, with peeling paint and broken swings, but nonetheless intact.
Lily, or was it Wormtail, continued to scream.