"I can see that some of you disagree with my plans," a cold, sneering voice echoed out of the shadows.
No-one spoke but everyone held their breath.
"Why don't we put it to a vote?" he asked the room, clearly.
Bellatrix Lestrange leant forward. "My Lord," she spoke with passion, "we will follow any of your plans. A vote is not needed."
"Bellatrix," he spoke, slowly, "I admire your loyalty. I believe Yaxley disagrees however."
"My…my Lord?" Yaxley asked.
"Do you, or do you not believe that taking over the ministry now would be a mistake?" he asked in a high, carrying voice.
Yaxley hesitated. "I do, my Lord," he whispered. Silence lingered over the table. Sensing that his answer had not satisfied Voldemort, he continued, almost inaudibly, "With Dumbledore still in power, I believe we should wait until…"
"Until Dumbledore is dead?" Voldemort asked, dangerously. "I agree with you Yaxley, so, when will Dumbledore be dead?"
Voldemort looked at Draco Malfoy. He was looking down, visibly shaking. Yaxley detected that he did not intend for him to reply and sat back again.
"Draco?" Voldemort asked, harshly.
Draco looked up, slowly. "Soon, my Lord."
Voldemort was not satisfied. "When?" he asked, his voice high and cold.
Draco could not answer. He did not know when Dumbledore would be dead.
"I hope you will not disappoint me, Draco," he whispered, standing silently.
Draco looked down again. "So," he spoke, clearly again, "who votes we should take the ministry now, and who thinks we should wait?"
The Death Eaters around the table raised their hands accordingly, everyone looking to see who else had voted for their cause.
"I see we have a tie," he sneered.
Bellatrix looked up at Voldermort. "You must decide, my Lord. You have the power to…"
"I wonder if your daughter, Bellatrix, would come and visit us for a moment. I would like to hear what she has to say about the matter," Voldemort turned, glaring at Bellatrix, smirking. Draco looked up at his aunt, eyes wide.
She gaped at him for a moment before composing herself. "My Lord?"
"Your daughter, Bellatrix," he said, calmly.
"My Lord. She does not understand the importance of our work. She…" Bellatrix gabbled, fumbling with her hands.
"I wonder, are you disobeying me?" he whispered, clearly, "Fetch her. She, after all, is a respectable pure-blood, I am sure?"
Bellatrix stood immediately, and left the room, her face lined with worry. She closed the door behind her, before stalking towards the stairs which led to the cellar. Unlocking the iron bars and pushing the wooden door open, she entered her daughter's room. She was asleep on her bed, lying on her front, breathing softly, peacefully.
"Get up," she hissed, closing her grip around her daughter's arm. She jerked awake, and looked around wildly.
Bellatrix pulled her to her feet before leaning down so their faces were an inch apart. Both were shaking, Bellatrix out of anger, her daughter out of fear.
"The Dark Lord wants to speak with you. You will answer correctly when you are spoken to," Bellatrix explained, livid, "One slip of any of your blood-traitor beliefs and you will be dead."
The small child nodded, her jaw set. Despite the fact that she had inherited her mother's dark hair, she had a soft, kind face, with gentle features. It was extraordinary how similar they looked, but how the child could look so kind compared to her mother.
"Come on," Bellatrix whispered, harshly, pulling her by the arm back up the stairs. She threw the child from her when they entered the room. Bellatrix strutted back to her seat as the small child straightened up, before staring at Voldemort with defiance.
"Ah, Miss Lestrange," Voldemort greeted the small child, in a falsely friendly voice. He was doing this to humiliate Bellatrix, she needed putting down a peg or two. "I would like your opinion, your honest opinion," he began, pacing away from her around the table. He glanced at Bellatrix who was frozen in her seat, glaring at her daughter with as much hatred that would make Voldemort proud.
"Please, tell me, do you think I should attempt to take over the Ministry of Magic now, or wait until Dumbledore is dead?" he asked, watching her reaction. She looked very young, not yet the age of a Hogwarts's student.
She was staring at Voldemort, her lips pressed together, but she had not moved her body an inch since she had straightened up. He could tell that she had just learnt new information, firstly, that they were intending to overthrow the Ministry, and secondly, that Dumbledore would soon be dead, however, she was clever in the way she had masked this surprising news.
She did not reply. Voldemort touched his fingertips together and looked at her. "Any thoughts?" he asked, glancing at Bellatrix. She was leaning so far forwards in her chair that she was no longer sitting, still glaring at the small child.
"You won't be able take over the Ministry of Magic while Dumbledore is alive," she stated. Her voice was young and confident, but it shook ever so slightly. She was brave, but stupid, Voldemort thought.
Voldemort kept his face steady. He had not expected this from her. He was shocked that she had dared state that he was weaker than Dumbledore.
"What an interesting…opinion," he spoke, slowly.
"It's not an opinion," she retorted, her voice sounding stronger.
"You believe that I should wait until Dumbledore is dead?" he asked, cutting across her, narrowing his eyes at her.
"No. You will be incapable, until he is dead," she whispered, angrily.
"Enough," Bellatrix screeched, "You are insolent and rude! How dare you!" she spat.
The young child didn't look at her mother. She stayed silent, glancing at Draco. Her expression was blank, but Draco saw a glimmer of anxiety in her eyes. He wanted to help her, but he couldn't.
"Get out," Bellatrix glowered, pointing at the door.
"I will give the orders round here," Voldemort spoke, clearly, pacing behind Bellatrix. "You may leave," he spoke in a high pitched voice.
She didn't move for a moment, looking at the wall ahead. When she did turn towards the door, she looked back over at Bellatrix and Voldemort and spoke clearly, "You will never win."
Bellatrix plunged her hand into her robes and pulled out her wand, sending a blue jet of flames towards her daughter. However, the child was too quick. She had run for the door and slipped out. She didn't stop running until she reached her room and slammed the door behind her. She heard Voldemort speak loudly, and angrily, and she heard a shriek from Bellatrix; whether it was a shriek of pain or anger, she did not know.
Breathing heavily, she lowered herself to the ground, sitting on her heals, wrapping her arms around her knees and burying her head. She shook with quiet sobs, having never been so scared. She was dead and she knew it. Bellatrix was livid, but she could not tell how Voldemort had reacted. She was filled with fury and dread.
There was one thing she knew, and she knew it for sure. She had to leave, somehow.
I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. I have decided on a name for the child, it will be included in the next chapter.
