Another update! Whew! This chapter gets a bit more action. Thanks to all of the readers I've had so far, but it kind of disheartened me when I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter. If it won't take up too much of your time, please review. I love getting feedback, and it's really appreciated. Thanks!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I most definitely do not.
As always, enjoy!
Shadow of Light
Chapter 2: When the Dead Walk
Gellert Grindelwald coldly regarded the woman that sat in her cell, head bowed, eyes glassy. Once, he might have honored her by taking her to his chambers, but her beauty had long since wasted away from the dementors that he had recruited for his cause years ago. When she had first arrived, Bellatrix Lestrange had possessed a fiery temper and an impressive ability to swear at the top of her lungs, but that had been beaten out of her by the visions that the dementors produced daily. She didn't bother to look up as he studied her, wondering why it was that she hadn't yet broken and given up, taking up her rightful place beside her husband on his side. Perhaps it was the influence of Tom Riddle… but he had been able to discern that she and he were not particularly close.
She didn't acknowledge his presence. Either she was being defiant again, or she really didn't know he was there. Bellatrix clung to a tiny flicker of sanity, and yet somehow still wasn't broken. He had had Rodolphus and De Sort "experiment" on her so many times that the Auror had forgotten her own name, but she never did give any useful information. She simply babbled on and on about her family, mostly complaining about the, "filthy blood traitor". The few times he had allowed Narcissa Malfoy to visit her sister, Bellatrix had screamed bloody murder at her and then refused to speak at all.
He now took in her appearance. Her layer of skin clung to her bones, and seemed to shine an unhealthy white. Her hair, once lush and full, now hung a tattered mess, splayed all over the place. Her right arm was twisted at a wrong angle from when it had healed incorrectly after Rouge had broken it. He made a mental note to have somebody fix it, which would be just as, if not more, painful than having it broken in the first place.
He made a decision, stepping away until he was out of sight, leaving her to think that she was alone. Perhaps she would let something slip if she believed that she wasn't being listened to. He had tried it before, but whatever came out of her mouth was usually nonsense. However, he was nothing if not patient; maybe, this time would be different. At first she remained the same, not moving an inch from her position. After several minutes, one of her fingers twitched.
Eventually, she fell to her knees and began crawling over to the bars that blocked the front of her cell. She clung to them like a dying man, wide eyes fixed on the cell across from her. He glanced over at it, seeing that its occupant was unresponsive as always. A mess of old robes and filth. He wondered why she took interest in that particular prisoner, and resolved to look into it later. Grindelwald was startled when Bellatrix began to speak.
"That blond woman came to visit me again the other day," she slurred, her voice coming out a cracked whisper. She swallowed thickly, fingernails scrabbling at the bars, her eyes not once leaving the unmoving mass in the other cell. Her smile was haunted and empty. "I yelled at her. Did she abandon us? I don't… I don't know her… but I do know her… she left us, I know she did." The laugh that echoed forth from her traveled through Nurmengard, causing many prisoners to shiver.
"Who is she?" she asked, like a curious child. "Who is she… who…"
The two wolves circled one another beneath the moonlight, snarling savagely and unwilling to back down. Their yellow eyes glowed and both were breathing feverishly. Sweat coated their fur, and flecks of blood dripped from scratch wounds. An ear flicked, a muscle twitched. Pupils dilated in bloodlust, and both froze for an instant.
Pause.
With a savage howl, the larger one flung himself at the other, claws out and catching his opponent behind the ear. This prompted the wolf to roar in pain, lashing out violently and scoring wounds down his flanks. For a moment, all that could be seen was flashing claws, writhing heaps of fur, and flecks of blood flying in all directions, before the larger one pulled out and raised its head to the moon, howling in triumph. He turned and bounded away, leaving the other to lie there limply.
Hours passed, and nothing but a faint breeze stirred the fur on the motionless creature. There was a sharp crackling noise, but still the wolf did not stir. Achingly slow, the moon descended towards the horizon, filtering light through the trees. There was another sound; this time the wolf stirred, raising its head wearily. A peculiar thing was happening; his wounds appeared to be closing already, despite their severity.
The yellow eyes immediately became fixed on a shadow hiding nearby. The wolf let out a weak growl, then a loud warning bark when the figure stepped out into the open. Its eyes looked over the petite girl who crept cautiously forward, and its teeth began aching, desiring to bite, to tear, to mark this girl…
As it was thinking this, the moon descended over the horizon.
It gave a shuddering cry, cringing inward on itself and making the girl jump back in surprise. Her eyes widened when the head reverted from its elongated form, and the fur began to vanish, leaving nothing but pale skin behind. He blinked as her eyes widened in excitement, and her hair went from brown to green to red to purple and back again. She grinned in a rather lopsided manner, but it quickly slipped off of her face when he groaned in pain.
"Wotcher, there, sir!" she exclaimed, hurrying over and attempting to help him up. He winced; his injuries were not fully healed, but the girl was surprisingly strong, keeping a firm grip upon his arm. He blinked when she suddenly grew to be his height and size, looping his arm around her shoulders. Her mouth was opening and all sorts of words were flying out, but he couldn't comprehend most of them. He could only be grateful that she was helping him when she clearly knew what he was.
After what seemed like ages, the backs of houses appeared out of the woods. Dimly, he registered that they must have arrived in a neighborhood, and realized that the girl lived there. She steered him toward one house, where one frantic looking woman stood on the back porch. He strained his ears to hear her words as they neared the place, eventually able to comprehend her.
"…been worried sick! I've told you to stay close to the house when you go wandering, but instead you stay out all night, getting up to who knows what…"
Her voice trailed away as she stared at him, jaw dropping in surprise. He registered that he knew her, and blinked at her resemblance to someone else he knew as well. Her countenance was definitely lighter, but she still looked the same. Recognition flared in the woman's eyes, causing the girl helping him (most likely her daughter) to glance at him curiously. He gave her a wan smile, ignoring how the scratches itched as they healed.
"Remus!" she exclaimed, rushing forward to help her daughter. The two brought him inside, with Andromeda commanding him firmly to stay put. She told the girl to keep an eye on him, while she rushed to get bandages and water. He was a bit uncomfortable under her scrutiny, but the only thing present on young Nymphadora's face was childish glee at having been the one to find and, 'rescue' him. Soon she was chattering away, far too much for a seven year old.
"My name's Nymphadora," she said happily. "I hate my name, though- don't tell Mum I said that, she'll have my head- I always tell people to just call me Tonks. All the muggle boys make fun of me for my name; I used to try beating them up when they didn't listen, since Mum said that I shouldn't use magic on them. I can't believe I still have to wait four years before I go to Hogwarts! Who are you? Are you a werewolf? I'd say that that's cool, but Dad says that it hurts a lot, and I don't want to insult you…" She stood up enthusiastically and promptly tripped over the leg of the coffee table.
He smiled softly, heartened by her energy. "Yes, I'm a werewolf. It takes getting used to, but… it isn't so bad." He thought back to what he and the Marauders used to get up to and allowed himself a grin. "My name is Remus Lupin. I'm a friend of your mother's, and… an acquaintance of your aunt's."
Nymphadora's nose wrinkled. "Which one? I mean, Aunt Narcissa betrayed us all. Mum tells me not to mention her, but she never did seem very nice. It must be Aunt Bella..." She looked at him strangely. "But Dad says that she's a nutcase now! I'm not sure if that's true… she visited us a few weeks ago and she seemed okay, apart from the fact that she refused to touch my mum and dad and gave me the shortest hug in history. I actually think she likes me, but just doesn't want to admit it. She did something funny to Sirius when they both came over once… oh yeah! She kicked him there."
She pointed at a certain spot to emphasize, and Lupin coughed loudly to hide his laughter and embarrassment on behalf of his friend. At that moment, Andromeda rushed back into the room, an expression of worry plastered on her face as she started bandaging his wounds. He shifted uncomfortably, which she scolded him for. Nymphadora continued watching, head tilted to the side. He realized that she had shrunk back to her normal height, and her hair was now almost touching the floor.
"Really, it's fine, Andromeda," he protested. "They'll heal quickly."
"You've been in the forest, Remus," she said, scowling. "If that doesn't give you an infection, I don't know what will." She was diligent in her work, firmly ignoring his protests. Eventually, he gave up, knowing that with Andromeda, it was futile. Her stubborn streak easily matched her sister's; he wasn't sure which of them would win in a contest to who was the most obstinate.
After he was suitably patched up (which included far more bandages than necessary, in his opinion), Mrs. Tonks left to cook up some breakfast for their guests. Her husband was away on a mission for the Alliance; he knew that much. Riddle gave her less work than others so that she could take care of her daughter. He wondered if Lily would receive the same treatment, as she too was pregnant. Nymphadora hurried outside to play with the boys on her street, changing her hair so that it was now short and spiky. He laid his head back, completely exhausted.
Well, that was a mission failed. He had blown his cover, which had been what caused Greyback to attack him, of course. He sighed; now, their only successful spy was Severus, and he was in a precarious position at the moment, still trying to escape the scrutiny of Bellatrix Lestrange's escape from Nurmengard. He could remember how frantically his heart had been beating when one of Greyback's minions confronted him about one little slip up he'd made, when she'd caught him sending a message to Riddle.
Eventually Andromeda returned with a plate of eggs and bacon, which made his mouth water. He tried not to be too rude, but it was difficult not to throw himself at the food and start scarfing down as much as possible. He restrained himself, eating slowly, while Andromeda settled herself down on the armchair across from him, clutching a cup of tea in her hands. She smiled gently at him, waving towards him.
"Don't be shy, now," she said. "I know a few things about your mission; you must be starving."
Nodding gratefully, he ate with significantly less dignity thereafter.
Bellatrix froze in the doorway of her apartment, listening to the chatter of the insignificant muggles next door. Grumbling to herself, she stepped inside, slamming the door shut. Once again, she was hearing voices besides the ones that actually existed. Her wand didn't leave her hand; she was loathe to let it go, and it usually took her almost an hour to gather the courage to place it on her bedside table before she retired. She jabbed it at the stove, turning it off, since she'd forgotten to do so before leaving work earlier.
All was well. And yet the hairs on the back of her neck continued to stand up relentless, refusing to fall back into place. She tried to calm herself; how many false alarms had she had this week? Four? It was somewhere around there, and it somehow always ended with the destruction of that damn clock on the wall. She shot a glare at it, thinking that the next time it got in her way, she wouldn't repair it.
She couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Maybe the ghoul that lived in her closet had decided to come out again? The blasted thing never came out, though; Remus had offered to remove it, but she'd declined almost immediately. It was a reminder that her sanity was still somewhat intact. She could see Moody in her mind's eye, nodding at her approvingly for her paranoia. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, eyes darting towards all the shadowy corners of her living room.
A shuffling sound behind her.
Instantly she flattened herself to the floor, while a jet of green light flew overhead, slamming into the clock and making her scream in rage. Why was it always the clock? Whirling, she shot a nonverbal curse at her attacker, who ducked. It was a hooded Mortis Vindex, and they clearly meant business. Another rushed out of the doorway, shooting a purple flame at her, which she blocked with a silent Shield Charm. Not thinking, she shot four simultaneous spells at her attackers, blinking when they bounced off of their shields and proceeded to smash up her apartment. She swore loudly, prompting the both of them to shoot more curses in retaliation. She ducked beneath one while the other impacted her shield, colliding with the caster, and throwing them into the wall. Bellatrix saw that when they landed, blood began to drip down the robes, almost indistinguishable from them.
She paid for her distraction when the other shot something at her, shattering her charm, and she heard a loud snap as her right arm broke cleanly. Howling, she screeched a spell that she had become increasingly fond of when it came to Grindelwald's followers as of late:
"Crucio!"
It was a man, judging from his screams as he twisted into impossible contortions, trying to do anything to escape the pain. She almost laughed out loud, but it caught in her throat and she quickly ended the curse, watching while he shivered, curling up in a fetal position. Should she kill him? Most of her fellow aurors would disapprove, but it would be rather prudent, in this case. Her wand was trained on him, and the words were on her lips, but she found herself hesitating anyway.
Her instincts suddenly screamed at her, and she threw herself to the floor again as an explosion rocked the street. Her windows shattered, and the sitting room became unrecognizable as debris was scattered all over. She held her breath, waiting for more, but nothing seemed to happen, and she slowly lifted her head. The second attacker was still now, a large shard of glass impaling his chest.
Well, that was… convenient.
Bellatrix stood up, dusted herself off, and Disapparated, reappearing on the sidewalk below her apartment. The street was in a similar state of chaos; lampposts had been completely flattened by the blast, and chunks of stone littered the area. In the center of it all stood a man, who stared directly at her with a very calm gaze. He almost looked as though he was smiling- but his eyes said something very different.
Her heart began racing at an uncontrollable pace, and sweat began collecting in her palms. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and she clutched her walnut wand so tightly that she thought it might break. He slowly raised the unique looking wand he held and pointed it at her, now smiling fully.
She knew him all too well- she'd seen his face studying her own too many times to forget.
Before she even had time to register why he himself would be here, Gellert Grindelwald had opened his mouth.
"Avada"-
"Get down!" shouted Lupin, dragging Andromeda to the floor. Three different hexes flew over their heads, and he clambered over to the couch, peering over it. A red haired woman was striding up the front walk, a pleasant smile on her face while she fired Killing Curse after Killing Curse. He nearly swore out loud, but instead focused on firing spells to subdue her, with no luck; she blocked them easily with a lazy flick of her wand. Why now? Why were they being attacked now?
Behind her, he caught a glimpse of the street, and blanched when he noticed how Pugiles Mortem were running rampant, setting fire to houses and chasing the muggles who lived there, laughing. He remembered that Nymphadora had gone to play outside- what if…?
He cut off the thought before he could finish it. There was no time to think about that; the redhead was dueling much more quickly, and he didn't know how long he could keep up. Beside him, Andromeda was doing her best to help, despite the fact that her face was ashen; probably from worry over her daughter.
The red haired woman kept smiling, as though they were merely having a polite conversation instead of dueling. One of her curses hit him, and he went flying backwards, hitting his head on the wall. Ignoring Andromeda's scream, he had to take a moment to recollect his thoughts while his vision recalibrated itself, before blinking in shock as fear ran through him. Andromeda was dueling the redhead with everything she head, looking desperate to get out and search for Nymphadora. He jumped back to her side, shouting, "Protego!" just as a jet of red light flew towards them.
"Remus Lupin, correct?" the woman asked, peering at him carefully before smiling civilly, as though she hadn't just been trying to kill him. "Wonderful to meet you. Zat woman, standing next to you- we need to borrow 'er for a moment."
He didn't reply, except to step forward and to the right, so that he was partially blocking Andromeda from the woman's predatory gaze. Her smile was similar to a shark's, and despite her obvious beauty, she had a coldness in her gaze that few other women could possess. He frowned; he had never seen this particular Mortis Vindex, but for some reason she seemed vaguely familiar to him.
"I am so very rude," she said dramatically, her accent emphasizing that point. "I forgot introductions. Well zen- Je m'appelle Rouge De Sort."
Oh, he knew that particular name. Rouge De Sort- a Mortis Vindex that had come into existence only recently, quickly gaining fame for her tactics. While he had yet to see her specialty, he had heard unpleasant rumors of it. The woman had a certain allure about her, and he could see why she was quickly gaining a reputation. He wouldn't have been surprised if she soon came to be one of the elite; her dueling skills were nearly beyond his own.
But not quite.
She suddenly whirled around and glared behind her, shouting something in French and causing many of the Pugiles Mortem in the street to turn their heads in confusion. There was a loud crack, and suddenly multiple people appeared in the street, already casting spells at the Dark Lord's followers. De Sort barely got her wand up in time to block a strike from Alastor Moody, her face determined. Remus took this opportunity to flee out the back door, dragging a struggling Andromeda with him.
"Nymphadora!" she screamed, panicking.
"We will look for her!" he shouted, a bit harsh. "But for some reason De Sort is after you, and we need to get you away from her!"
Why had she joined the Alliance? Andromeda was much too gentle- too maternal, too innocent, to be fighting alongside the rest of them. A small part of him acknowledged that she probably just wanted to keep her family safe from the terror that Grindelwald was bringing to the world. Still, mostly he believed that she was foolish. Riddle hadn't tried nearly hard enough to warn her about the effects this war could have on her mind, in his opinion.
They moved around the side of the house to the front, where the scene that greeted them was nothing short of disaster: muggles ran about the street, screaming, and aurors and Pugiles Mortem fought furiously. Spells flew in every direction; he felt Andromeda tense in horror as one stray hit a boy who was trying to escape the carnage. He fell, and didn't get up. His stomach twisted, and he felt he would be sick. It never got any easier; at least Riddle had been telling the truth when he said that.
He was about to move out and help when a wild scream made them both freeze.
Her mind was blank- her jaw was dropped in shock; her wand was pointed uselessly at the ground. She couldn't think or move; she could only wait for the oblivion that death would hopefully provide. Bellatrix saw the faces of her three sisters flash before her, recalling the promise she'd made to 'Dromeda that one day, so long ago. A bitter smile appeared. They hadn't exactly stuck to that, had they?
Grindelwald's outraged cry cut off her thoughts, and her eyes flew open again, to see the back of a wizard in black robes. He and the Dark Lord were dueling so quickly that it was almost impossible to tell which spell came from which side. A furious snake erupted from the newcomer's wand, instantly telling her who he was; it was quickly vanquished by Grindelwald, who retaliated with an incredibly powerful Imperius Curse, which his opponent quickly conjured a shield for. Next thing she knew, all manner of debris was flying in their direction, but soon froze in midair.
The battle of wills that ensued was clear; both men were concentrating furiously, eyes never leaving each other, red on blue. The world appeared to be in a state of suspended animation, and Bellatrix watched with a child-like fascination as the two wizards tried to fight for control of the flying objects. She frowned, trying to get her racing thoughts in order, when everything was thrown back into action again.
Grindelwald won; the other threw up a shield and threw himself backwards, shielding Bellatrix's body with his own while rubble struck the shield with a vengeance. She scowled, not exactly in what she'd call a comfortable position; thankfully, the barrier appeared to be holding, though the Dark Lord was striding forward again, wand out. She had no doubt that he intended to banish the barrier and impale them. Turning her head, she found herself burning under a deep red gaze.
"In over your head, Bella dear?" he hissed in her ear, making her furious.
"Get off me," she snarled fiercely.
Glancing over his shoulder at Grindelwald, who was still advancing as though he hadn't just created a tornado in the middle of the street, he slid off carefully, murmuring, "With pleasure." He brandished his wand, making the Dark Lord pale considerably; suddenly, everything that had been flying around turned to fire, which roared at the blond wizard, rushing at him with full force. She couldn't see Grindelwald, but Tom's face suddenly turned ashen, and he bent over a bit. Abruptly, everything vanished, leaving the street deserted once more.
The Dark Lord was nowhere in sight.
Narcissa resisted the urge to spit in Dolohov's face- the man had no self respect whatsoever- how dare he address her as such! Beside her, her husband kept a hand on her shoulder, offering silent but much needed support. Drawing herself up to full height, she adopted the position of looking down her nose at Antonin, putting on a fully fledged sneer in an attempt to intimidate him more.
"I demand to know why the Dark Lord wants me as a prisoner. Lucius and I have served him faithfully for years now."
Dolohov shrugged, leering at her. Narcissa raised her chin even higher, ignoring the way her heart stuttered with fear. Being kept under lock and key by Grindelwald never meant anything good; she knew what he had done to her sister. She had seen for herself the pile of misery and forgetfulness that Bellatrix had been reduced to. But she was not about to let it show on her face. For her unborn child's sake, if for nothing else.
She took a step forward, feeling Lucius step with her; he was confronted by the end of Dolohov's wand; the man grinned nastily. "Just Cissy," he stated; she bristled at the use of her nickname. Head held high, she sent Lucius a reassuring look, before following the man out of the chamber.
Durmstrang's corridors were dimly lit by torches held in brackets. She passed the entrance to the dining hall, several classrooms, and that strange symbol that (it was rumored) Grindelwald himself had carved into the walls. The Dark Lord had chosen the school as his fortress, his headquarters, where all reports from the numerous Pugiles Mortem came at one time or another. She and Lucius were permitted to live in this place, mainly because her husband's influence had gained them quite a lot of ground in England.
He led her to a nice enough room- plain, but it was preferable to a Nurmengard prison cell. She allowed herself to feel a bit of relief at that fact, but would not show it on her face. She gingerly sat down on the bed, as though it might burn her. Dolohov slammed the door shut behind him, leaving her alone with her thoughts, though not for long.
The door flew open again, and an agitated looking Grindelwald strode in, covered in dust and bleeding from his arm. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she wondered how he had gotten in this state. There were almost no wizards in existence who were capable of even injuring him. Unless he had had a run-in with Tom Riddle… but why would he?
"Narcissa," he said suddenly, clearly trying to reign in his emotions and calm down before turning his blue gaze on her. She couldn't help it; she flinched at the coldness she saw there.
"I need you to tell me everything you know about your eldest sister."
James felt like he was going to regurgitate right then, as he witnessed something that he'd only heard stories about.
The remaining Pugiles Mortem stood in a circle, wands directed at the aurors, keeping up shield charms as long as they could. In the center stood Rouge De Sort, and screaming on the ground below her was Dorcas Meadowes. Around him, several aurors actually did throw up, horror on their features. He clutched his stomach, suddenly feeling very faint, and only barely registered Lupin and Andromeda approaching on his side. Lupin immediately covered Andromeda's eyes were his hand, staring at Dorcas, a woman who had been their classmate.
It had started at her mouth; it had stretched over her head, out, until her tongue was suddenly where her neck should have been. The more that progress it made, the more that James understood about De Sort's 'specialty': she turned people inside out. It wasn't even dark magic, strictly speaking, just a sick way of using the Turnout Charm. Rouge De Sort was speaking, too softly for them to here, and smiling almost gently while Dorcas was reduced to a pile of… he didn't want to think about it. She soon fell silent after that.
He knew that De Sort did something awful to her victims, but this…
A loud sob interrupted everyone's shock, and suddenly curses were flying through the air once more. De Sort turned and smiled a terrible smile when her eyes landed on Andromeda, and began to walk calmly through the crowd of fighting, intent on her prey. James and Remus instantly focused all of their efforts on her, but she still continued forward, even though he hit her with a curse that should have crushed her ribs.
So intent was she that she didn't notice the slightly mad face that suddenly appeared behind her, along with a pair of burning red orbs. De Sort screamed as she was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, making James blanch; he had known that Bellatrix wasn't against using Unforgivables, but she seemed all too willing to inflict pain on Rouge De Sort. Even as the woman was screaming, she smiled, and Disapparated.
The other Pugiles Mortem, who had panicked at the sight of Tom Riddle in their midst, followed suit, leaving the destroyed avenue in their wake.
Just before Apparating to where many aurors were confronting the enemy, a Riddle and a Lestrange had an interesting conversation. Bellatrix was not too pleased with her savior, and Tom was exasperated with her for not getting over her school girl grudge. She studied him, having not seen him for a while. He had changed since her departure from Hogwarts; the scarlet eyes were new, and he looked slightly less human than he had before. His gaze was also now significantly colder than it had been before.
She could, however, still see the arrogance.
"You haven't changed," she muttered. At least he still had hair; god forbid that Tom Riddle ever went bald. He was also still handsome, but she would never in a million years admit that out loud. She was careful to avoid eye contact with him, not wanting to give him an opportunity to see into her mind.
"You have," was his reply; had voice ever been that icy before? He appraised her silently, calmly.
"No! Really? I hadn't noticed!" she exclaimed sarcastically, swaying on the spot. Her black eyes glittered with insanity, and for a brief moment her face was transformed into insane glee- then it was gone, replaced by the scowl that he often saw on the face of her cousin. Poor Bellatrix; she was never going to truly recover from her time at Nurmengard, was she?
"You want to tell me what the bloody hell just happened?"
"You were attacked by Grindelwald."
He watched as she restrained herself from flying at him in a rage, before taking in deep breaths to calm herself. Finally she raised her head to meet his eyes, and instantly he was drowning in despair, madness, pain, and regret…
De Sort smiled.
Grindelwald towered over her, lashing her with the Cruciatus Curse again and again; her throat was raw from screaming...
Andromeda clutched her hand, tears pouring down her face.
She ran through a dark hall, carrying her sister with Narcissa sprinting in front of her.
"Why won't you ever talk to me? You can't say that you don't know me." The lump in the other cell didn't react.
She was laughing and laughing, like the madwoman she was.
She was arguing with him now, merely a student; trying to debate with him. It was a futile prospect.
He tore through memory after memory, searching for something- anything- that meant that what he had discovered today was true. There was nothing; no indication that it had been she that it had spoken of. There was nothing special about Bellatrix Lestrange.
So why, then? Why not himself?
"Stop it!" shrieked Bellatrix, crumpling to the ground. She shivered uncontrollably, while he stood over her, trying to feel some kind of remorse for making her live through that pain.
He couldn't.
Eventually her breathing steadied, and she stood shakily, not daring to look him in the eye again, for fear that he would break into her mind again. She felt violated, torn apart from the inside. It had all been so sudden. What right did he have to barge into her thoughts like that? He might have been the leader of the Shadow Alliance, but that didn't mean he could do whatever he wanted. Maybe some of what Rita Skeeter had printed about him was true.
Riddle grabbed her arm, but paused for a moment and spun her to look straight into her black gaze again. This time he purposefully chose not to delve back in, but merely held her glare.
"Perhaps," he said softly, ignoring the way she shivered, "You should be glad that I now share you agony. Do not presume that I am unaffected by what I saw."
With that, the two vanished with nothing more than a faint pop.
Somewhere far away, Frank Longbottom stumbled around, wishing that he still had his eyesight. He didn't understand why Grindelwald had suddenly been shaking him earlier, demanding that he repeated what he'd said. The only problem was that he hadn't said anything, and he only wanted to rest. The feeling of exhaustion had been unexpected, to say the least. He shivered, wishing that the cold couldn't penetrate his very bones.
The sound of the door to his room scraping the stone floor started him, and heavy footsteps made their way inside. He recognized that gait easily enough, and had to wonder what it was Fenrir Greyback intended to do to him this time. Perhaps he had finally been allowed to rip him apart? It didn't matter very much anymore. He ached to see Alice; was she even alive?
But instead of Greyback's rough voice, he heard the cool voice of the Dark Lord. Something was clamped to his arm, making him slightly apprehensive. They had blinded him; maybe they would take his arm next. He shuddered at the thought; Greyback himself had done the gauging before, and it took everything he had to stay alive after that experience.
"Greetings, Longbottom. Bear in mind, today, the usual rule applies. Don't struggle too much, and there won't be more pain than necessary."
He trembled, hating how weak he felt.
Something plunged into his arm.
