Lost

A/N:
Just a few warnings. English is not my first language (I'm German) so you'll probably find loads of grammar and spelling mistakes. I used some words I never used before. Therefore don't wonder if a few sentences that don't make any sense (although I hope most of them do). I have also no idea at all where to put commas (yes, punctuation is also not one of my strengths).
About the story... I was in a bad mood when I wrote this piece. That's why it ended up somewhat dark and depressive. Still I would like to know about your opinions. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Disclaimer:
All rights for Harry Potter belong to Joanne K. Rowling.

Darkness surrounds me. The air I breath is heavy, stale and there is a rotten smell in it.

It is warm here; I feel sweat running down my neck. Simultaneously I'm so cold, colder than I've ever been before. My heart beats fast, my stomach seems to squirm inside me and I have to press my hands with all strength to my body in order to prevent them from shaking.

I know what's going to happen to me. When I accepted that last assignment, I knew it would be my last chance. The Dark Lord has no use for failures... like me. I have disappointed him too often, even endangered important missions. It was clear, if I failed this time as well, nothing and no one could help me.

Of course nothing went as planned and everything ended in a disaster. I failed again. There is no excuse. I did my best – what else could I have done – but it wasn't enough. Once again. Now I have to deal with the consequences for my incompetence.

I am afraid. The Dark Lord seldom shows mercy...

The door of the small, muggy chamber opens and two masked Death Eaters enter. Silently they request me to follow them. It is time...

Like in a trance I follow them. Our steps resound dully in my ears. In my head everything is spinning. Emotions, thoughts, memories... everything rushes past and becomes one single roaring thing, making it difficult for me to have a clear thought. I feel the sweat on my hands, feel the violent beating of my heart. That's what I concentrate on while trying to regain control over myself. At least partially I'm successful.

If the other two Death Eaters know how I am, at least they do not mention it. They haven't said a word since they picked me up; therefore I can't recognize them. Everyone could hide behind those masks. But it doesn't matter who they are. They're just servants performing a task.

What made me join the ranks of the Death Eaters all that time ago? Sure, my parents wanted me to - it was a honourable occupation for the offspring of an old, pure blood wizard family – but what was my own motivation to do so? I don't know it any more. The memories are silent. Fact is, that I did join them. And this action had far reaching consequences for my life.

It may be, that sometimes I had thoughts of getting out again but they were never really serious. You can't just get out. When you pledge loyalty to the Dark Lord, you do it forever or you choose death. Because trying to escape Him is useless. He will find you anywhere and any time and the punishment for such a treason is terrible; even worse than the fate that awaits me if that is possible.

We reach the yard. Ahead they stand with their masks, waiting... a silent, dark crowd that makes my heart freeze.

For a moment I consider to flee, but I see how stupid and futile such an attempt would be. The chance for escaping is long gone. There is no possibility to elude the inescapable. Yet everything inside me struggles against proceeding. It is amazing that my legs still have enough strength to carry on.

Then we reach them. My two escorts leave me to join their places in the ranks. I have to do the last few steps alone.

There He is. Motionless, powerful and menacing. His glowing red eyes bore into mine, force me to move on, to take one step after another. I want to turn away my eyes from his terrible countenance, but I can't. His gaze holds me captured. A shiver runs down my back. In His pitiless eyes I see what awaits me.

He won't show mercy. Not this time.

Now I'm standing in front of him. My legs finally stop working altogether and I drop to my knees. I don't say anything since there is nothing to say. Every attempt to excuse or defend myself would be useless. Apart from this... I don't think my voice would still work.

His silent, piercing gaze remains fixed on me. He's taking his time, giving his Death Eaters an opportunity to observe me. This is going to be a demonstration of his power, a lesson for all of them.

I feel their looks on me. Once they were my comrades; we shared a great deal with each other: success, defeat, even pain. Now they have left me. Perhaps some of them feel sorry for me in secret, but no one would challenge the Dark Lord's wishes. Each of them is glad not to kneel in my place in front of Him.

Eventually He raises His voice to them. I don't know what He says. The words just don't get through to me. It is like a dense fog surrounds me, absorbing every sound. Even if I could understand the words... they would no longer have any meaning for me. Nothing has any meaning for me any more.

Suddenly I feel the expectation around me increase. The Dark Lord has stopped speaking. Overwhelming He looms above me, His eyes relentlessly focused on me. Slowly, almost with pleasure He draws His wand.

I feel dull horror inside me, paralysing my body. I can't move as much as I want to. Desperate I close my eyes and lower my head.

I feel lost. I am lost.