Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Everything else is mine. Hope you like it.
My name is Clarissa Riddle. I'm 16 and a war is raging. It is caused by my father Lord Voldemort. He is returning to power and the world is slowly crumbling to ashes and dust. But I don't care. I don't care that Death Eaters are poisoning the air with their dark, smoky figures or that Dementors are sucking the very light out of every cheerful feeling or memory. To be honest Dementors have no affect on me. I am immune. And as for the Death Eaters, well, I'm their mistress. The heiress of the forever cruel Voldemort. Of Tom Marvelo Riddle. They wouldn't, couldn't, hurt me. Or they'd undergo the consequences. They would not be punished by my father, but I would personally make them suffer. I've been educated since infancy in the Dark Arts. Even though my father was not around to do it himself, I was brutally trained to be a killer. A murderer. A Death Eater.
But I refused the Mark, of course. I would not be branded like some cow in a cattle herd. I was better than any of those imbeciles and I refused to be lowered to the status of a dog – running to my master with my tongue hanging out every time he called. No. I was – and am – the heiress of Salazar Slytherin himself. My father respected that. Admired that, even. There was an uproar amongst the mongrels when I refused the Dark Mark, but my father simply smirked and complied with my wishes. But I needed a link to him. Something that would help me notify him of any upcoming threats or news and vice versa. And so I received a special Mark. The Mark was placed on the skin covering, protecting my heart. A glittering emerald snake. No skull. Just an emerald snake. And I was pleased. I was special. I'd always known it, but this Mark was proof that I was different from all the other blithering idiots under my father's command. I had more rank. And I was definitely more dangerous.
After my father's return that night in the graveyard, he had taken over my training. Up until then I'd been living with a Death Eater named Edgar Smate. He was a tall, lean man in his mid-forties. He had a receding hair line and dull green eyes that gave away nothing of what he was feeling. He had seized me from the Ministry's grasp, taking me before they could, the night my father had been defeated. Smate was a good enough man when it came to the Dark Arts. At age seven, I was able to focus all of my magic on a Cruciatus Curse. Of course, everything became easier when I turned eleven and got my wand. I was home schooled, of course. What Smate was teaching me wasn't exactly available in the Hogwarts curriculum. Teaching kids how to perform a killing curse would probably be frowned upon in normal society. By age 15, I was adequate in the curious world of the Dark Arts. I wasn't the expert my father is, but I could hold my own in a duel. Until my father returned.
After he took up with my training, the Cruciatus Curses got harsher. The Imperius Curses got stronger. Everything got sharper. And I became stronger, colder. I grew numb to everything. Every feeling. Pain was no more a problem. I didn't even think. I just schemed. I just killed. And I didn't feel any guilt. That's why Dementors have no hold over me. I have nothing for them to feed on. I am nothing. Nothing but a murderer and a damn good one, too.
Currently, I find myself sitting in an antique hand-made chair made from the best wood money can buy. The seat is cushioned by goose feathers covered by emerald velvet. The room is lit by an elegant chandelier hovering about twenty feet over our heads. I must say that the Malfoy's have exquisite taste. Very refined. The normal furniture for their sitting room was carelessly slung against the wall. Poor Narcissa had to leave the room. I looked over to her now. She had joined us again just moments before we all sat down. She was still grimacing, staring down at the table so intensely you'd have thought her destiny was written out in the table's intricate patterns. I smirked. I doubted that. I turned to look at the man to my right. He was the head of the table. My black eyes met his crimson ones and we shared a brief smirk.
Suddenly the door creaked open slowly and Father's snake Nagini slithered in. She was a beauty, really. She was a huge python thick enough to take down the biggest of prey and enough venom to kill 50 grown men. She was extraordinary. The great snake slithered up the arm my father offered her and unto the table. Narcissa looked as if she were about to have a spasm attack. To her left sat her husband Lucius Malfoy. He looked a bit perplexed himself that Nagini was slinking about on his no-doubt expensive table, but he did a bit of a better job at hiding this.
On Narcissa's right sat a woman who was crazy and evil enough to make anyone think twice about messing with her. Except me and my father. Especially not my father who could kill her with a lzy flick of his wrist and the muttering of two simple words. Bellatrix Lestrange was ogling the Dark Lord with an expression of complete adoration. He knew of her feelings, but didn't respond to them. He could never respond to any feelings other than hate, revenge, and bitterness. But I didn't have room to talk. I couldn't feel at all.
I didn't like to wait, though. I was growing impatient. Nagini seemed to sense my frustration as I waited and she came over to try to help soothe my impatience. She didn't like when I grew aggravated. I gave her a slight smile and petted her head.
"Have you eaten yet?" I asked in Nagini's native tongue, the words slipping through my lips like silk.
"No!" she hissed back. I smirked. I knew what she wanted but she would have to wait.
"Be patient," I soothed her. How the tables had turned. Only moments ago, she had been trying to ease my impatience.
"Yes, Nagini, patience is key to victory," my father butted in, making eye contact with me as he said it. I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled.
Nagini rubbed her scaly body against my arm, catching my attention once more, urging me to continue petting her. I sighed but complied. Then – finally! – the door opened to reveal Yaxley. The fool was grinning from ear to ear, looking as if he had just found his reason to live. I scowled. I would destroy it. I hated Yaxley with a passion that burned hotter than all the stars in the sky, and him making me wait did not help his situation. I suppose I was exaggerating earlier when I said I felt nothing. I feel annoyance, anger, frustration, and impatience. And Yaxley invoked all of these in me. HE was the only one that could make me feel so much at one time.
"Ah, Yaxley. You are late. I hope for your sake you have a good reason," my father said in a deceitfully calm voice, his eyes glinting. He hated waiting as much as I did.
Yaxley came around to my father's left, bowing his head so low, his hair almost swished over the floor. "Yes, my Lord. I bring great news. We have found the cabinet. And we are ready to move it. We just need to set up a team."
A murmur of delight broke out among the Death Eaters as they heard. This was indeed what we had all been hoping for. Finding the Vanishing Cabinet was certainly a treasure to all of us. My father's aggravation would be appeased. I looked at his face now. He seemed to be more than pleased. He had a menacing grin taking up residence on his face. Nagini left me to slither over to my father to share in his silent celebration.
"This is great news indeed, Yaxley," he approved. "I shall set you up a team right now." He looked around at all of his followers, clearly profiling all of us, picking through to find the ones most competent for the job. And then he smirked. "Bella, my dear, you shall assist Yaxley. And, Clarissa, you will also go."
I blinked. He knew how much I hated Yaxley. I didn't care too much for Lestrange either. But I could do this job easily and I would. I'd show them how it was done. I was the leader after my father after all. Lestrange made a strange sound in the back of her throat before crying out, "Yes, my Lord! Thank you for giving me this opportunity to serve you! I will not fail you, my Lord!" I rolled my eyes. She disgusted me. My father looked to me then, and I gave him a curt nod, showing that I would do this. As if I had a choice.
The meeting soon broke up after that, and I went to my room to prepare for my upcoming mission. We would be leaving in the morning at the break of dawn and we had to meet my father at the doors to go over our plan. Once in my room, I went to the connecting bathroom and pulled off my clothes for a much needed shower. Today had been a particularly brutal day of training and I had sweated clear through my clothes. After my shower, I pulled on some silver pajama bottoms and a black tank top. I climbed into my soft bed and tucked myself in for a deep sleep. The last thought that drifted through my mind was of Lestrange staring sickeningly lustfully at my father.
The next morning I woke up refreshed after a night with no dreams. I rarely had dreams. My mind stayed dark in my sleep and when I woke up, it only slightly colored. I pushed myself reluctantly off my bed and began to stumble around my room, dressing myself in a black jumpsuit and tucking my wand in my left pocket. After brushing my teeth and my silky dark hair, I staggered downstairs to join the others who were waiting for me. They didn't say anything as I approached and when I came to a stop in front of them, they were all looking expectantly at me. I looked to my father.
"Basically the plan is that we will go to the cabinet and appaparate with it back to Borgin and Burkes with it. Simple enough, right?"
My father scowled. "And what would you do should something go wrong?" he sneered at me.
I shrugged. "We'll wing it." He scowled, but didn't press it. I was infamous for winging things and I did a good job at doing it.
"You have three days. Get it here safely. And don't do anything stupid," he warned with a growl in his voice. He then turned and left us, his robes billowing out behind him. I turned to the others.
"Shall we, then?" I said and we all headed out the front door and grabbing a broom for each of us as we left the grounds of the Malfoy Manor. I thought back to what my father said. Don't do anything stupid. I smirked. I was a professional. What could possibly go wrong? Feeling smug, I kicked off the ground and sped to the front of the formation Lestrange and Yaxley lad taken. We rode as fast as we could, flying deeper into the horizon.
A/N: Okay guys. I hope you like it. I know I have other stories going on, but this idea seemed too good to pass up. So review and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading! =D
XOXO
~Tigdream