The acrid smells of sweat and urine filled the air as she shuffled down the hall. Her head down and arms wrapped tightly around her midsection, Jacqueline DeVries made her way through the prison's dank corridors as quickly as she could. She knew the meeting would be unpleasant and she was dreading every second of it, but the pull of the dementors, floating like vultures waiting for their prey to take one last shuddering breath, pushed her to hurry.
Turning around a corner, she came to a sudden stop in front of a cell. Turning to face it, she stood for a moment in silence until a faint rustling cut itself through the air. It rose and sharpened into the clanks of metal on metal as a chain was dragged across the prison floor, towards her. Finally, one filthy hand emerged from the darkness and wrapped itself tightly around a bar. Another followed and soon a man's face, smudged with dirt and unshaven, lay between them as he stared at her with glassy eyes.
"You came." He rasped.
"You are still my husband, it would be improper not to." Jacqueline huffed through trembling lips, hoping beyond hope that he would not sense her fear. His features twisted into a cruel smirk.
"Good," he growled. "I expect you to make sure our name stays untarnished until my master comes to set me free."
She flinched.
"Set you free? Adrian, I…" She faltered. "I'm not sure if they told you, but your master, he's dead, he was killed by-"
"SILENCE." he snarled, eyes turning murderous and knuckles turning white as he gripped the bars, shaking them. Jacqueline did her best not to cower, shrinking into her expensive robes and lowering her head to hide the building tears.
"I a-apologize if I have offended you," she stammered. His reply was a barely audible hiss.
"Do not presume that you know what my master is capable of. He would never be brought down by a mere child"
His wife said nothing.
Slightly appeased, the man backed away from the front of his cage and began to pace.
"You don't understand how great he was." Adrian mumbled, almost as if he was talking to himself. "He had ways of doing the impossible, ways you and I can never hope to understand." He drifted off, turning once again to face his wife fully. "He will return, and when he does, I will proudly stand by his side! And our Eleanore," he paused, his cruel smirk taking on a deranged edge. "Oh Eleonore, can you imagine what kinds of things she will be capable of in a decade's time?" His eyes became distant, enveloped in a greedy haze as he did not see his wife's reaction. Jacqueline was entirely motionless, her mouth open slightly in horror. Their daughter, he wanted to use their daughter to… she stood there paralyzed by sheer terror at the thought.
No, she could not let this happen. If Adrian was so convinced that the Dark Lord would return, then she did not doubt that he would. When that vile snake rose from the grave her husband would hand their own daughter over to him on a silver platter… oh no, she could not let this happen. In that moment, Jacqueline DeVries, a woman of many mannerisms but little pride, changed. Her spine straightened and her chin rose. Her eyes, previously watery and unsure, froze into shards of ice, hard and unforgiving. They glinted dangerously as she observed the madman rattling in his cell for the last time.
That night, the darkness surrounding the DeVries manor was lit up by glowing reds and yellows as the aurors desperately tried to control the inferno. They spent hours just trying to contain the magical fire until finally, just as the sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, the flames were extinguished. That morning, the front page of The Daily Prophet was covered in news so morbid that the likes of it had not been seen since the end of the war. Written across the top, in big letters was:
Pureblood Jacqueline DeVries and three-year-old daughter killed in magical house-fire: Accident, or Murder?
Eight years later….
A young girl bounced her way through one of the largest train stations in London, her blue eyes sparkling as she took in all of her surroundings. She twirled a strand of long, blonde hair nervously around her finger as she scanned the area, making sure the coast was clear.
Satisfied, she leaned casually on the brick wall between Platforms 9 and 10 in her best impersonation of a spy. Unfortunately, she may or may not have forgotten that that wall was in fact a barrier. So, she landed face-first on the other side.
With an undignified squawk, she jumped up and quickly dusted herself off in the hopes that nobody had seen her. Luckily, it didn't seem that anyone had. Reassured, she stood proudly in front of the train that would take her to the place of which she had been dreaming for the last four years of her life. She was struck suddenly by the realization that she would be travelling alone. Glancing towards the empty space beside her, she thought of the person who would have been, no, should have been going with her.
"Eleonore…" she whispered.
AN: Hope you liked the prologue! It ended up being a little darker than I expected but I get the feeling that's going to happen a lot with this story so... let me know what you think!
Please R&R!