The tonality was so perfect he could not determine if the voice belonged to a woman or a man. They used to castrate young boys for that sound. This was definitely not a standard occurrence for the Malfoy family property. That young whelp probably couldn't stupefy a tone in a bucket. Intrigued, he made his way towards the sound. The sound became a song. The words raised the hair on his arms.
"Do not stand at my grave and weep. I am not there, I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow..."
Poetry? A swan song then. What pathetic creature accepts their own demise? Inexplicably it rankled him. He moved towards the clearing, but stayed in the cover of the wood. Seven Death Eaters surrounded a young girl. That was hardly interesting, but what was in front of her surely was. That young girl had three corporeal patronuses and she was using them to relay a death message? What a waste of talent. More shocking still, she'd managed to get the Death Eaters to let her out at all.
"...I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there I did not die." He almost felt regret, the termination of her song would surely coincide with her demise. All seven wands were on her.
She turned to face her executioners. Her hands were up in the universal surrendered captive position. She tripped as she stepped back bracing herself. Her fall was comical, right until she rolled out of it wand ready. She took out the center Death Eater with a blaze of green. She was down again, rolling towards rather than away from certain death. A well placed Levicorpus and the nearest Death eater was barreling inverted towards his fellow casting in a panic towards friend and foe alike. Three down, but she could not survive 4 experienced Death Eaters. He moved silently towards the fray.
"Stupefy!" The girl fell. Shocked expressions greeted him as his Death Eaters knelt at his feet. The Dark Lord went to inspect his capture. The girl appeared to be about the age of a six or seventh year at Hogwarts. Such dark spells little one. His lips curved upwards. Immobile the girl was no beauty. Pretty yes, but there was no exterior marker to indicate her extraordinary capabilities. She looked normal- vulnerable. He moved her experimentally with his foot and her arm flopped into view. His followers zealotry induced a grin. MUDBLOOD read across her forearm in a fiery scab. The cut was deep and jagged; there would be a scar.
Pain burst through every synapse. Anger burst through her, she'd believed she'd never have to feel again. A beaker was thrust into her hands. She knew instinctively that she was meant to drink it, instead she let it clatter to the floor. She braced for more pain. A hand grabbed her face gently but firmly, the fingers pinched her nose shut as a second hand brought another beaker to her lips. I should have known there would be another! She coughed half the contents out of and down her throat. She was livid and there was nothing but darkness. Minutes passed and she waited. The only sound was soft, steady, terrifying breaths.
"Who are you? What is this?" She demanded.
"What this is, an interrogation. Who I am, your interrogator. The Veritaserum has entered your bloodstream. You have an hour in which you live or die at the Dark Lord's pleasure. Do cooperate. Full name?"
"Herminoe Jean Granger."
"Year and school?"
"Hogwarts, 7th year."
"OWL Scores?"
"O for Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Runes, Potions, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, and History. E for Defense against the dark arts."
"Where did you learn Sectumsempera?"
"A friend's sixth year potions book."
He smirked, there was little doubt his follower had not been pleased by the appropriation of his book. "Well you are cooperating nicely! Blood status?"
"Muggleborn, you haven't asked anything important."
"Don't sass me child, again the Dark Lord will know, and your life does in fact depend on these 'unimportant' questions." He sounded bored. "How long have you been able to cast a corporeal patronus?
"Since 5th year, and I was supposed to die. Go ahead and kill me, it makes more sense than this interrogation of my personal life!"
"You are trying my patience, favorite colour? He said flatly.
"Blue maybe?" These were not the questions she had expected. She couldn't decided which was more terrifying, the apparently random questions or her invisible bored interrogator. "Why am I alive?
The interrogator was no longer bored. She could feel wrath emanate off of him. "You, are alive because I choose it. In time you may have figured out the answer for yourself, but you are now out of time! Crucio!"
As the pain left, panic set in. Oh God, oh god, oh shit. Voldemort is my interrogator. She answered more useless questions and felt strangely relieved he had not asked her anything beyond those insipid personal questions.
"You took out my Bella first. What was your reason?
"I took the queen," she said proudly.
"Clearly, but why not run?"
"I was outnumbered by older wizards. I was going to die. It was either going to achieve nothing or make the most of my end by taking that crazy, vindictive bitch with me."
"Why not use the killing curse more than once?"
"She said you have to mean it for the curse to work. She was the only one I hated enough. When will you kill me?" She heard an almost contented sigh.
"Obliviate."