The Loneliest Day
Another day passed. December 13th. It's Friday night. People of her age were usually found in discos and clubs at this time of the evening. Laughing, having fun, hanging out…she was staring at the moon from the window of her apartment. A moon so round and so very bright! Such a lovely night…to die. Expecting death could be, sometimes, quite boring. After all, the doctors said that she would live for another two or three months. That had been a year ago. She had waited all her life for adventure, for danger, for…something. But no! All she got was a flat line of events…nothing significant. And then, this illness eating her inside. She kept wondering why is Death playing around with her like that? Why is it not coming to take her last breath?
She was sick and tired of always being sick and tired. She had stopped her medication earlier this year. What was the point in spending all the money her parents left her when they died on medication? It wasn't going to make her better…the pain was excruciating, but she had gotten used to it. Just as she had gotten used to the silence, when the phone stopped ringing, when there were no friends visiting her…the only one calling now was her doctor.
The two of them had met in the parking area of a supermarket, when she used to take the pills and more often that not got sick. The good doctor was worried at the sight of that young woman vomiting up her breakfast, white as a sheet. And how lucky can one get?…she was an oncologist in a private clinic. "I'm sorry, Doc, I can't afford your services," she had said when they prepared to leave the cafe. "And besides, what else is there to do? I have already outlived the expectations, haven't I?" But the doctor hadn't wanted to give her another treatment. At least she was fair enough with her to tell her there was nothing humanly possible to be done. But if she wanted, the clinic was doing some research on how people overcome their affections without medication and, most of all, when apparently there was no hope to overcome an illness. And it was free of charge. "OK, Doc, I'll do it! But I'm not going to spend my last days on Earth in a hospital room. Here is my address and my phone number. I'll come to your clinic every Friday afternoon."
And so she went to that clinic every week. After the usual tests made to determine her actual state, she and the doctor spent their sessions talking. And since she never told her friends about her state of health and she hardly kept contact with them, the doctor became her only contact with another human…sort of a friend, actually.
And tonight was one of those nights when depression took her over, when she wanted to stay alone in the dark and listen to music. She didn't go to the session earlier that afternoon. She already had about a dozen messages from her doctor. The last one was announcing her arrival as soon as she finished her shift at the hospital.
She was breathing heavily and the beats of her heart were strong and rhythmic in her head. She felt dizzy. Her vision was beginning blur and she couldn't concentrate any longer. It was like the room was spinning around but she couldn't get up. So thirsty! She closed her eyes and tried to breath, but the darkness overcame. She felt like she was floating, covered in a smooth and silky darkness. And then…bump! She hit a hard surface.
"I have to go see how she's doing. It's kind of late, though. What if…she died? Oh, stop thinking that! She's OK. Maybe she went out with some friends. Friends? What friends? She doesn't keep in touch with anybody anymore! Oh, I'll be there in 10 minutes!" the doctor was thinking, as she hurried towards the apartment.
Ten minutes later she arrived. She rang the doorbell. Nothing. Again. Nothing. She knocked the door hard several times. Nothing. She could hear the music, but there was no answer. She took her cell phone out of her purse and dialed. "Shit, the answering machine!"
Then she tried the doorknob. It was opened. She entered and followed the sun. She stepped in the living room and stopped in front of the computer. With one click she killed the music. Then she tried to locate the switch to get some light into the room. She turned her head towards the window, and then, she saw her. The moon was lighting her pale face. So peaceful…as if she was sleeping. She stared at her in disbelief, not being able to think or to react in any way.
But her instincts rose quickly to the surface and she walked to verify her pulse. Weak, but steady. She shook the girl, yelled at her but, obviously, there was no response. She sighted. "Unconscious. This is no good!" She got her cell phone out of her pocket and called an ambulance. She finally found the switch. She dialed again. "Hi, Mark. It's Suzanne. Can you bring all your stuff to the clinic? I've got a patient in a possible comatose state. No, not right now, I want it next year! Of course now! OK, bye!"
She took the keys standing near the keyboard as two medical assistants took her patient to the clinic. She turned off the lights, she verified the kitchen, then closed the door with the keys and headed to the clinic.
A fresh breeze was caressing her face, but she was sore. She opened her eyes and found herself in a place that seemed to be in the countryside. It was a plane surrounded by a forest. She got up feeling like her head was about to explode. Image after image, her mind started to fill with glimpses of memories. Her being little. She had done something wrong, she was hiding from her parents. "It's alright! Please come out of there, child!" her mother was saying. All her life she's been hiding. "Nobody must know." Then she was grown up. Her parents dead in a car crash. A strange letter found among her mother's documents.
When the pain finally stopped and her vision seemed back to normal, she saw a huge trunk in front of her. "Wow, I've always wanted one." She moved towards it and realized what she was dressed with. A large, black and silky hooded cloak. And under it, a long, black, low waist skirt and what seemed to be a black corset. "Well, that's certainly a lot of black. A very interesting situation this is! I wonder what this is all about. I'm probably dreaming…or I'm already dead!"
She opened the trunk. A lot of black, emerald green, red and orange outfits. Shoes. Underwear. Some documents. Ah, and the "famous" letter. "I wonder how all this fits in here. It's a big trunk but…anyway! At least the moon shines strongly enough and I can read this letter."
At least 20 pages. Written in green ink, on a type of paper she had never seen. Parchment. But she read it so quickly. "I must have read it before. That's why it took me so little time." She looked around, suddenly being aware that she was all alone. What was she doing there? How did she get in that place? One thing was for sure. She had to make a plan. The letter was very explicit: "…and whatever you do, stay away from Lord Voldemort." her mother wrote. "And just who the fuck is this guy?" she asked herself. "What kind of joke is this? I'm certainly dead! There's no other way! I'm being sent to Purgatory. I'm just punished for my sins!"
She couldn't get herself to move from where she was. "And just where am I supposed to go? What should I do? Think, Clara, think!"
The only light in the room was coming from the fireplace. A man was staying in a large armchair. His face was more like a snake's and the eyes too. His skin was so white that he looked like a dead. Near him, a huge snake was crawling and hissing.
"Hmm, Nagini sssays there's a young lady not far from thisss wretched houssse you found usss, Wormtail. You should go welcome our guesst. Try not to scare her with your bad manners!"
"Yes, Master. At your service!" said the man, coming out of the dark corner of the room and hurried out of the house.
"The plan is ready. I'll work on the details later. I don't see a way out of this little game of fate, so I'll play my part until the end." Clara was thinking as she began putting all the stuff back into the trunk. Surprisingly, she found several secret compartments with jewelry. And she found a strange looking key. "This is a vault key. I may need it later. Maybe it belonged to my parents. Perhaps more clues are to be revealed."
Suddenly, she heard paces. She turned towards the trees and saw a funny looking man coming her way. He was short, kind of bald, with a rat-face appearance. He seemed to wear a silver glove on one hand. She didn't like him at all. Sneaking little man! But she put her feelings aside, as it was the only human being that seemed to be in the neighborhood.
"Good evening, Miss," he said as he approached her. "My name is Peter Pettigrew and my Master would like to invite you to our humble house."
"Good evening, Mr. Pettigrew. I would be delighted to make the acquaintance of your master. I seem to be lost."
"In that case, Miss, please follow me. May I take your luggage?" he asked her with his honey-and-poison mixed voice.
She nodded briefly and followed him into the forest. At one moment, as the moon was lighting them through the trees, she actually saw her trunk floating near the man's silver hand. She decided to shut up about everything that seemed odd. She was starting to feel worried that she was actually going mad. She felt something like energy growing inside her, radiating from within. "Now it's not the time to lose control over your body. You'll be safe tonight at this man's house and you'll sort this out tomorrow morning." she said to herself with determination, in order to make herself feel more courageous.
"Sir, are we there yet?" she asked the man who was walking ahead.
"We shall arrive immediately, Miss."
"I was wondering…how did you know I was outside? Or did you just happen to wonder in the woods at this late our in the night?"
He didn't answer right away.
"Well, Miss, it was my Master who was first aware of your presence. I have to tell you, the house doesn't look very well!" he said, changing the subject. "But it's quite comfortable!" he added.
"I'll be sure not to make assumptions on it based on its exterior, Sir."
Finally, they arrived. The house looked abandoned. Very abandoned.
"Please come in, Miss. My Master is in the living room. To your right."
The interior wasn't any better either. She entered the room to her right, but all she saw was a fireplace, an armchair in front of it but with its back to her, a table and some chairs in one corner. Nevertheless, she began speaking:
"Good evening, Sir, and thank you for your generosity!"
"Wormtail, bring your insufferable and useless self here, so I can greet our guest!" a strange voice came from the armchair.
The little man came into the room in a hurry and with no great effort, which was odd, turned the armchair towards her.
"He used magic in front of me! He doesn't even know if I'm a witch. And that means that if I'm useless to him, he intends to kill me. Hmm!" Clara was thinking as the armchair was turning.
The sight of the person standing in that chair left her speechless. "You could think it's a hybrid between a man and a snake. Gross!" Her face betrayed no feeling, as she stood in front of the snake-faced man. Her eyes fell on the snake slithering next to the fire.
"Don't be afraid of Nagini, child. She will not hurt you, unless I command her. What is your name?" he hissed.
"My name is Clara Noctus. You can speak to snakes, sir?" she said trying to sound and look as innocent as a five-year-old. "This is going to be a very difficult role to play. Watch what you're saying!" a little voice whispered in her head.
"Yes, I speak to snakes and them to me," a dry answer came.
"Oh, I believe it's amazing, Sir. Your snake told you I was around, I suppose."
"Indeed, Clara Noctus. Tell me, where do you come from? I don't recall the name of Noctus in Great Britain."
"I'm not English, Sir. I come from Transylvania." "Next he's going to ask me if I'm not Dracula's great-great-granddaughter, right?"
"So, why did you come here?" He sounded both threatening and curious.
She looked at him in the eyes as if she wasn't sure he could be trusted, as if she was considering whether to tell him or not. After a few seconds, she spoke.
"I'm here to find Lord Voldemort and play my allegiance to him. You wouldn't know where I could find him, do you, Sir?"
A sinister laughter.
"You are courageous, I give you that, girlie! I am Lord Voldemort," he said rising from his chair.
She knelt immediately, throwing herself at his feet.
"Please, Master, forgive my ignorance! I wasn't sure it is really you. I haven't been given details about you."
"And what do you mean exactly? Who didn't give you details? Explain yourself now, or die!"
"He sounds concerned. He's afraid I'm here to kill him. Hahaha (Dracula style laughter "
"Master, if you allow me, I have a letter in my trunk. It can explain better than I this odd situation I'm in."
"Wormtail! Bring the trunk here!"
As the man entered the room with her trunk floating near him, she retreated from Voldemort's feet and got the letter out. "I wonder if I could get a cigarette?!? Hmm, better not!"
She extended her hand with the letter, bowing her head. "The Master and servant game is about to begin. If he believes me, that is!"
He read it twice. His face betrayed his feelings: he was worried, he had doubts about her. She hid well behind her mask of total innocence.
"You do realize, girl, that this letter only makes you as much of an enemy to me as Harry Potter?" he asked her, approaching dangerously as she was again embracing the soil in a very deep bow.
She raised her head, and then stood up, taking a proud pose.
"I don't know who this Harry Potter is, My Lord. But I can tell you this: I read my mother's letter and drew some conclusions myself. Conclusions which lead me to you, Master."
"Oh, please do enlight me, child!" he said in a mocking tone.
"Master, you may treat me as a child. After all, you are so much wiser and experienced than I will ever be. But know that I've got some aces up my sleeves. Besides, why wouldn't you accept me? After what my mother wrote, I realized that both my parents have been so terribly wrong! They chose the wrong side to fight! And I'm not going to make the same mistake they have! I'm going to be on the winner's side! Your side, Master! Besides, you're the greatest wizard alive and I have tons to learn from you, my Lord!"
She knew that's the kind of speech that would tickle his ego. And she was right. At least he looked pleased.
"You're cheeky!" he said. "I like that. You stand up for yourself, unlike some of my acquaintances. But what could you possibly have to offer me?"
"I offer you myself, Master."
He raised a non-existing eyebrow.
"Yourself, you say?!? I have no interest in your body, child," he said and started to laugh.
"Sinister way of laughing. Such an idiot! Thinking I'm offering my body…not in a billion years!" she was thinking, rather amused in spite of herself.
"I wasn't offering my body, Master!" she said smiling feebly.
"What is it then? I'm losing my patience here!"
"I am the Daughter of Fire," she said calmly.
"You're what??????" two men's voices sounded in unison.
"Wormtail, I will deal with you later! GET OUT, NOW!!!" Voldemort seemed to be both furious and amazed by Clara's statement.
"I know how it sounds, Master, but I assure you I am. And I want and need your protection. You read the letter, my Lord. You know all about me. I beg you," she said kneeling, "let me serve you!"
Voldemort was fuming. He searched for years for the elements of the prophecy, finding only two: the Boy Who Lived and the Moonchild. The third one was nowhere to be found. Anywhere. His best men searched everywhere where powerful magic occurred, but couldn't find her. For a while, he thought it could have been the Weasley girl, a redheaded young woman with a lot of character and skill, but not sufficient power. But he had been wrong. As he was wrong for not considering the power of a mother's love to her son. As he was wrong when he tried to kill Harry Potter.
"Wait for my decision in the other room!" he barked at her. "I will call you!"
"Yes, Master." She left the room in a hurry, her heart beating fast. "If he doesn't accept these facts, I'm dead. What's with him and this Daughter of Fire thing? It's just a name my mother gave me when I was little. She said that when I am in a difficult situation, I should say it. I have this memory."
They arrived at the clinic and put her under strict monitorization immediately. As Dr. Billings thought, she had fallen into a coma.
Mark Hudson had brought his high-tech equipment to monitor the patient's brain activity, which was rather intense for someone in such a deep coma.
"So, Suzanne, what do you think? This is highly unusual, she's in a deep coma but her brain activity is high. As if she was awake."
Dr. Billings shook her head. When this girl accepted to become her patient, she believed it would be a classic case. But now, not even a week after her last tests, her new tests results showed a regression of the disease.
"I tell you one thing, Mark. There hasn't been a precedent. Not one that I know of, anyway. This kind of disease is much too aggressive to just back up so quickly. It's as if her body is prepared to sustain her in a final battle with death. But will it be strong enough to keep her alive?"
"One thing is for sure, Doc. If she's a fighter, we will have some interesting readings in the hours, or maybe days, to come."
"Perhaps you're right. Hey, if we're stuck here I'll go make some coffee. Want some?"
"I wouldn't dare to say no!"
She lay there on the hospital bed. Wires connected to her head and to her arms. No life-support equipment had been needed. She looked as if she was sleeping deeply and calmly.
As she stood facing the dark and glooming Lord Voldemort, her face as innocent as the one of a new-born, her mind was planning how to get out of this mess if he wouldn't accept her. The silence was deafening. He finally spoke:
"First of all, Clara Noctus, and this you have to answer me truly, I have two questions. First, this energy emanating from you. What is it? And second, why is it that, even if I'm the best in Legilimancy there is, I cannot reveal you?"
"I swear, my Lord, I will speak only the truth!" she answered, thinking to herself. "Off…half of the battle is won. It means that he will make up his mind upon my answers."
"You understand, child, I barely know you. Your word isn't going to be good enough!" he said dryly.
"But…," she continued his phrase.
"But, I was going to say before you rudely interrupted me (she mumbled a "Sorry, my Lord"), my Potions Master will arrive shortly and administer you with Veritaserum. Then I'll trust your word completely," he said in defiance as if he had won a war.
"He's so ridiculous and full of shit!" she said to herself.
"The Serum of the Truth?!? As you wish, Master," she said with a little bow of her head.
"So, you heard about it? How come? Do Muggles use it?" he inquired.
"I didn't hear about it, my Lord. But I know my Latin quite well. And I don't know what Muggles are."
"Let me enlight you, ignorant child. Muggles are filthy creatures with no magical powers whatsoever and even less brain!" he said in disdain.
"Oh, I see. That's why we're called pureblood. The wizards and the witches."
"Not every wizard is pure-blood. There are those who are half-blood, and mud-bloods, born of Muggle parents and there are squibs – children born in wizards' families, but with no magic in them. Disgusting creatures!"
"This only leads us to a conclusion. If he started teaching me about all these, he wants me to be his slave! Battle won!" she thought smiling mischievously to herself.
"My Lord, what is Legilimancy? You've mentioned it earlier."
"You really haven't been taught anything about your magic, have you? It's the art of reading people's minds. And Occlumency is the art of concealing your thoughts. As I see, you're instinctively good at it."
"Forgive me, Master. I don't do that on purpose."
He nodded. They sat in silence for a few minutes. She felt tired of standing, while the horrible man in front of her was comfortably sitting in that armchair. But she didn't have to wait long, with those terrible red eyes X-raying her inch by inch. A green light filled the room as a man materialized himself next to Voldemort. He was tall but not overly so, wearing black robes, having black hair (looking kind of greasy-icky!) and the most amazing black eyes she had ever seen. "He could be quite handsome, if it wasn't for that nose that gives him the looks of someone harsh," she thought.
Then, another green light filled the room, this time revealing a tall man with white-blond hair and an air of aristocracy. The two men bowed before Voldemort.
"Lucius, Severus! Good to see that you've decided to answer my call!" he said rising from his chair and adopting, if that was ever possible, an air of complete superiority to everyone in the room.
"This is the young lady I told you about. Clara Noctus, these are Severus Snape, my Potions Master," he said pointing to the dark-haired man "and Lucius Malfoy. Both of them, my most loyal servants."
She slightly bowed her head, conscious that the two men standing in front of her were carefully checking her from top to bottom. She suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable, remembering the corset she was wearing and that revealed quite generous breasts, as well as the low waist skirt, showing a part of her belly. She folded her cloak around her, looking towards the fireplace and spotting the snake. But she noticed the unexpressive face of Severus Snape and the devilish smile of Lucius Malfoy. Suddenly, her heart began racing.
-
