A/N: Thanks for following! This is a rather long chapter but I hope you like it!
"Stand up and ready your wands," Dolohov said, removing the parent's chains. Fatin didn't understand what was going on, and she stood up uneasily, unsure of why she would need her wand to talk to Heather. She watched as Dolohov passed out sixteen wands to the parental figures, and then moved to a position only a few yards away from her, a couple of feet away from the first student and parent pair. He was standing right in between them so as to be able to see every person in the room. By now we were all standing with our wands in front of us, and more than a few students' hands were shaking. But the parents seemed eerily calm towards all of this. They seemed almost resigned to whatever was happening.
"We are now going to have ourselves a little duel, students." Is this….the final task? Fatin thought slowly, turning to look at Heather for the first time. A dull, aching pain shot through Fatin as she saw the same emptiness in Heather's usually kind, blue-gray eyes that she had seen in the others. But Fatin didn't have time to worry about Heather because Dolohov had continued to talk, his smile getting just a little wider with each word he said.
"The rules are that either you, or your parental figure must die in the next two minutes after I say to begin, or your lovely Professor Lestrange will make sure that neither of you will leave here alive."
It seemed to take a minute for Fatin's brain to fully comprehend what Dolohov had just said. She turned her head to see Bellatrix Lestrange with her twisting long black hair, eyes sparkling as she stepped out from the shadows. How had I not noticed her? Fatin thought nervously when it suddenly occurred to Fatin, staring into Bellatrix's dark, dancing eyes, why this was all happening.
How stupid I had been to not realize that Heather was also meant to be my training tool. Why would the D.E.A.T.H. camp ever give the students someone to watch over them and show them affection, when they were being trained to be coldblooded murderers? She felt foolish and naïve, but worst of all Fatin felt entirely too vulnerable. Despite all of her efforts to hide her true feelings in this place, the Professors knew that she had gained a costly affection for her parental figure.
And then Fatin's mind traveled back to Heather and the other parents. The soulless looks in their eyes from the very beginning, and their lack of reaction to the situation meant that this was no shock to them. They must have been told beforehand of this duel. They must-no, they have to expect us to kill them to save our lives. For each student had been trained to kill without thought, without mercy. But could Heather really believe that? It certainly seemed as if she did, but why?
As Fatin reached conclusions that only led to more questions, she also took note that there was only one door out of the room, and no windows. Even if she managed to get herself and Heather past Bellatrix, which was nearly impossible since she only had an assigned Simulation Wand, she would have to deal with getting out of D.E.A.T.H. camp itself. D.E.A.T.H. camp was held underground in an immense labyrinth of hallways that was filled with monsters, locked doors, ruthless Professors, and dead ends.
"The Dark Lord always shows concern for the proper usage of wizarding rituals, of course. You shall all now bow cordially and then turn around and walk three steps to take your dueling position as you have in previous trials." Bellatrix told the students, her face lighting up with adoration when she acknowledged the Dark Lord.
Bowing, Fatin kept her eyes on Heather who didn't show any sign that what was going on was reaching her, as if she no longer cared what happened. She wouldn't make eye contact with Fatin, so there was no way to communicate to Heather that Fatin was not the cold-blooded murderer she thought she was. At least, not when it came to Heather. The entire room was completely silent as the students all raised slowly from their deep bows, and Fatin knew that everyone else was going through the same thing she was, especially when a couple of them started to sob. However, Fatin could only faintly tell that Draco Malfoy was crying even though he was standing right next to her. It seemed as if Fatin's mind had created a barrier in which all she could see, all she could think about was Heather.
Her heart beating faster now, nervous beads of sweat forming on her temple, Fatin turned and began those short three steps to the dueling position. One….Perhaps I could just try to reason with Dolohov, ask that maybe I could kill every other person in this room but Heather. Two….He wouldn't go for it. Three…If only Heather would just look me in the eye, she could toss me her wand somehow before time was up. Fatin thought wildly but as soon as she turned around, took her position, and saw Heather take hers, she knew that there was no hope. Surely both of them would die there in that cold, dark hole in the ground.
Fatin heard Dolohov say to, "Begi-"
"Avada Kedavra!" yelled all of the 'parents' in unison, and Fatin saw that bright green light leave the end of Heather's wand. Her life flashed before her eyes in that instant, bits and pieces of memory floating to the surface.
She was four years old, sitting with her mother in the Lessons Room at their house, and she had just listened to her mother tell the story of the Dark Lord's rise to power. The thought of hundreds of people dying had shaken her young self, and Fatin was sobbing quietly.
"Fatin," said her mother with a stern tone, shaking her head.
"Yes, Madame?" Fatin whispered, sniffling.
Her mother folded her arms across her chest and seemed disappointed as she explained it to Fatin. "You mustn't cry, Fatin, for these people that have died are not worth your tears. They are merely Muggles, a crude form of the human race that will only weigh us down if they continue to live. They are the reason that we have to hide. If only they were gone, the wizarding community would be free to rule. This is your destiny, Fatin, you must live in the Dark Lord's ideals, and be ruthless to those who are not in compliance with his ways. This includes the witches and wizards who have betrayed their kind, do you understand, Fatin?"
The scene faded away slowly, Fatin's younger self attempting as best as she could to understand and please her mother. Then, Fatin watched as her four year old self grew to be six years old. She never left the house, for she was not allowed to. Spells were placed around the house so that if Fatin touched even a wall with the intention of getting out she would be propelled backwards. Fatin spent most of her time alone, reading whatever she could find in the house-which was usually books about the Dark Arts and the Dark Lord's rise to power. Besides that she spent a few hours a day trained and lectured in dim light and cold temperatures.
Fatin saw herself huddled in a corner, crying because her parents had just left and the house was pitch black. This was caused by the curse they had left behind. Usually, when Fatin was scared of the monsters, she merely had to explicitly think of a way for them to die and wish for it to happen. Then it would enact itself and they would disappear. However, that time was the first time the monster had transformed into a woman who looked like her mother when she had wished it was dead. The monster had started to scream and thrash about on the floor as if Fatin had put the Cruciatus curse on her.
Shocked by this sight, Fatin had thought that she wished the woman wouldn't die. That's when it turned back into the terrifying black beast that it had been before and clawed at her, creating a long gash on her upper right arm and a small, very deep gash on her right leg. Then, the beast disappeared and the house became pitch black. That's when Fatin had let out the owl to get Snape and had curled up in the corner. She was shaking with fear. Fatin had always really hated the dark, as it brought to her imagination all of the cruel things she had heard about and seen. Snape slowly walked into the room after what seemed like ages to Fatin and sat in front of her, holding some butterbeer.
"Fatin," he said slowly, with a look in his eyes almost as if he pitied Fatin. He pointed his wand at each of her wounds as he talked but never broke eye contact with her. Fatin's wounds began to disappear, only leaving a couple of unnoticeable scars. They could not be removed since they were part of the curse- a reminder of what would happen if one let themself be weak.
"You must try to control your fear, and if you cannot never show it to anyone, or anything else. If it is absolutely necessary, you can always call for me if you are in dire need of help and I will be there. But it is best if you take care of whatever it is that is troubling you by yourself, for you must not have to depend on others. You will find that even I will not always be there for you." Then he passed Fatin her butterbeer and she sipped it slowly while she listened in amazement to the stories he told her of Hogwarts and its bright lights and moving staircases…The image of Snape's face dimmed in Fatin's memory only to be replaced by another man.
"Fatin, your letter from the D.E.A.T.H. camp has arrived," said her father, who had just removed a parcel from a particularly gnarly owl's leg. Fatin's nine-year-old self didn't look up, but continued to read about the different methods to torture a Muggle. She had already heard about the death camp and was scared about leaving her house for the first time. She had read in some books about the witches and wizards who ended up in St. Mungo's mental ward for some time after attending D.E.A.T.H camp. Despite this, she wouldn't let on that it even piqued her interest.
Fatin's father glanced over the letter quickly. "It says here that it begins in a couple of months, so you must be completely prepared by then. You must excel at anything and everything they ask you to do, and never hesitate when they ask you to do it. They say here that if you do indeed pass the course, you are immediately accepted into the Dark Lord's ranks after you get out of wizarding school. However, the children of the cruelest wizarding families fail to get through even half the course. If you also fail this course, then you might as well die there for you will have no future inside this house. We do not accept weaklings that are not fit to be a part of the Dark Lord's army." Fatin's nine-year-old self nodded emotionlessly in acknowledgement of her father's demands as the scene changed once again.
The next memories that Fatin saw were those of her time at D.E.A.T.H. camp. The beginning when she thought it was easy, just going over knowledge about the Dark Arts that she had already learned at home. Then Fatin saw when she got the Simulation Wand and had to start learning how to use the spells she already knew about and when they started to bring in spiders and mice, progressing to owls and cats to practice upon. They mostly used the three Unforgivable Curses-Imperio, Crucio, and Avada Kedavra.
Dueling between the students had been enforced each day, with the killing curse used as the winning spell. The loser didn't die, of course, but was assigned to the torture chamber for one hour. Fatin didn't know what happened during that hour because she never allowed herself to lose a duel. However, Fatin noticed that the students always came out of the room with tear-stained faces, quietly shaking all over. Lots of students had left because of this, who were included in the twenty-two that had either left or been kicked out before the day of the final test. Heather had been there since the beginning.
Fatin saw the first time they met in her room about three weeks after she had arrived at D.E.A.T.H. camp. Fatin's room was really a cell, meant for people who were being tortured in the secret underground area but it also had a paltry bed and set of drawers which had been conjured in it for the D.E.A.T.H. camp.
Fatin walked into the room after a rather trying day having to defeat a fellow student that was begging her to not send him to the Torture Room during a duel. When she saw Heather her eyes narrowed suspiciously and she whipped out her wand in case Heather was another test of her abilities.
"Who are you?" Fatin asked.
The strange woman had held up her hands, saying, "My name is Heather. Your Professors have sent me here to make you dinner and watch over you." She smiled widely at Fatin, to which Fatin didn't respond.
"I don't need you. Leave." Fatin lowered her wand, but she didn't relax her stance. Instead she folded her arms across her chest and scowling at the unwanted visitor.
"I...can't, really," Heather said, anxiously glancing at the door as if she expected someone to be standing there, listening; and then she looked back at Fatin, adding cheerfully, "but I hope that we can get along well."
"Just stay out of my way, Heather," Fatin said, spitting out Heather's name vehemently. Fatin didn't need to have any distractions in D.E.A.T.H. camp, and she thought that Heather smiled because the Professors were trying to soften Fatin mentally with her kindness.
Despite Fatin's cold behavior, Heather stayed in that room and continued to warmly smile at her even though Fatin repelled Heather whenever she got the chance. After three or four months Fatin got used to Heather being there, and was even forced into telling Heather a little about her home life. Heather was shocked at the way that Fatin had been brought up, and fumed, saying,
"It's not right for a child to be brought up in the dark, without any care or comfort from her parents! You should have been loved like every other child, not forced to learn the ways of a cold-blooded murderer!"
"No," Fatin explained as if Heather was the child in the situation, "I am better off knowing the realities of life than to be weak and vulnerable because of someone's 'love'. I can only rely on myself for protection, because people may be nice to have around at first, but they always have the power to leave and they will use it. Then you must fend for yourself or die. My parents taught me this through their absences in my life, and for that I am truly grateful to them. It would be far worse if they had let me into this world vulnerable and open for anyone or anything to harm me. And that is why they are in the Dark Lord's army and are training me to also be in it, because he is raising up his followers to be stronger, immune to those that would rather destroy us and our ways, like Muggles. "
When Fatin was finished speaking Heather just looked at her with a sad expression, which Fatin thought was because Heather pitied her dark outlook on life. But Heather didn't say anything and just listened as Fatin excitedly detailed what she would do when she was one of the Dark Lord's top supporters and could control her own life instead of having to hide from those filthy Muggles. Fatin even told Heather that she hoped Snape would be able to come and visit her after the Dark Lord rises again to power and bring butterbeer like he did when Fatin called him during the weeks she was left alone. From then on Heather had butterbeer waiting for Fatin every night and listened to whatever Fatin had to say. Before Fatin knew it she had come to care for Heather despite all of her efforts not to. Heather really was the mother Fatin never had back then and Fatin could see that she had been grasping childishly at something that should never have been.
The flashback ended, and Fatin saw the green light that came from Heather's wand in slow motion, heading straight towards her heart. It was an inch away from Fatin's chest when, all of a sudden, it vanished. Fatin automatically looked up at Heather, who was now yelling furiously at her. However, Fatin couldn't register in her brain what had just happened, and she only heard bits and pieces of what Heather was saying. Fatin's brain seemed to move sluggishly as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Heather had just intended to kill her.
"…stupid….useless….if…killed you….brat….no one….like you…" The bits and pieces weren't making any sense either to Fatin; they weren't anything that Heather would usually say to her. She….didn't even hesitate when he said to begin. Fatin thought, too shocked to fully comprehend the implications of Heather's actions. "…bloody…hate you…want….you….die-"
The yelling stopped all of a sudden and Fatin looked around for the first time to see what had happened. She saw that Dolohov had silenced the 'parents' using his wand since their mouths still moved for a couple of seconds before the owners seemed to realize what was happening. Fatin looked to her left and right and saw Bellatrix ruthlessly kicking the students who had passed out. While they were getting back up, it seemed as if none of the other students were dealing well with what had happened. Fatin stared at Heather, disbelief filling every pore of her body while she was forced to come to the conclusion of what it all truly meant. Heather had been lying to her all along, that was the only logical conclusion Fatin could make. It seemed as if Heather never really cared for Fatin and all of those smiles that had seemed so warm and comforting before now seemed fake and cruel to her.
"Your final task, students," Dolohov began once again.
Fatin whipped her head around to stare at him in shock. There's still a final task? After all of this? What could they possibly ask of us that wouldn't be easy to do now? Fatin thought angrily. Heather had stopped yelling by the looks of it and she looked resigned, no longer angry that her wand had turned out to be a fake. Had she been angry? Fatin hadn't looked at Heather, but had supposed she was since she had been yelling at the time. Fatin turned her head back quickly to hear the rest of Dolohov's sentence.
"…kill your assigned parental figure."
At this, Draco's father figure broke rank and ran for the door. Somewhere in the back of Fatin's subconscious she thought with some dark humor that they actually made a good pair, him and Draco.
"Crucio!" bellowed Bellatrix, giggling with delight when the large man fell to the floor screaming, his body seeming to contort with the pain. He writhed there for a couple of minutes while all of us just stared at him with blank faces, except for Draco whose face was stricken with horror.
"I think that's plenty, Bellatrix, crucia," said Dolohov, ending the man's suffering. Draco's 'father' just laid there, breathing hard, and didn't even make an attempt to change his current position on the floor. "Well, Draco, it seems as if your 'father' is ready to be done with this. So you will go first. Kill him."
The whole room watched with baited breath, but the most anxious to see what Draco did were the students, who were all internally fighting their own battles of what to do and trying to figure out why what had happened had.
Fatin had always disliked Draco, since he was often slimy and underhanded when it came to dueling; he used whatever means to try to trick Fatin into losing. He almost got her once, too, when he started to scream and thrash about as if he was in great agony and Fatin stopped firing spells at him to wait for him to get back up when he whipped out his wand and narrowly missed her with the killing spell. He was one of the ones who ended up crying and begging Fatin to spare them their turn in the Torture Room. Draco always talked big but he couldn't back it up. Just like his father, Lucius Malfoy, who also paraded himself around but wasn't ready to give his life for the Dark Lord. It could be certain that the only reason that Draco hadn't been kicked out for his weaknesses thus far was due to his father's influence and wealth.
It seemed as if Draco was actually going to prove himself when he raised his wand to point it at the man who had just tried to escape from his fate. But then Draco's wand began to shake and soon after fell to the floor with an ominous clatter as he dissolved into tears. He had failed the final test.
"Shame," said Bellatrix, who then grabbed Draco roughly by his upper arm, digging her nails into his skin. "Levicorpus," she whispered, and Draco's 'father' rose into the air by his ankle, and all three of them went through the only door into the hallway, and the door slammed shut behind them. After a couple of seconds Fatin saw a flash of green through the crack between the bottom of the door and the floor. Then Bellatrix walked in, alone. Now the students, including Fatin, were wondering who, exactly, that green flash had been for.
"Fatin," Dolohov said, "since you are our best student, it is your turn. Decide wisely."
Fatin nodded towards Dolohov, and pointed her wand straight at Heather's heart. While watching Draco, she had thought the matter through. She had to kill Heather, because that was the only way to pass the test and get herself that much closer to the future that would keep her from ever being betrayed like that again. And if Fatin didn't kill Heather, she wouldn't have any future to go home to at all. Her father had made that very clear. Heather hadn't hesitated to kill me, so why should I? It's already painfully clear that our whole relationship was a fake, so killing her should be just like killing a spider. They both mean nothing to me and are just a waste of space that need to be removed. That was what Fatin thought, but she could tell that somewhere inside she still cared for Heather, despite everything.
Fatin kept her hand steadily pointed at Heather's heart and looked in her eyes for something, anything to help her decide what to do. What Fatin saw there didn't make any sense. Heather's eyes no longer looked soulless and empty; they no longer avoided Fatin's eyes. Instead, they seemed to look right through Fatin's eyes and into her soul. Heather's eyes were calm as she continued to stare right at Fatin, almost as if she was just waiting for Fatin to end it all.
"Avada…Kedavra" Fatin choked out, for she had started to cry. The awful green light left her wand and traveled towards Heather. Before it vanished at Heather's chest, Bellatrix also said, "Avada Kedavra," since Fatin's simulation wand couldn't do it, Fatin realized as she watched Heather's lifeless form crumple to the ground. After that everything went black for Fatin and her body joined Heather's on the cold stone floor, the third to fall of many that night.