Chapter 7: Angels and Demons
Rebecca
A ball? Really? Could they get more eighteenth century? If they gave me a dance card I was going to explode.
"Do I have to dance?" I asked Draco as I gingerly ran my fingers over one of the dozen dresses I was to pick from. A couple house elves sat around the room waiting for me to decide. I was looking for which one had the least frills. This one looked promising but I was concerned about the heavy fabric on my stomach.
Draco was sitting on a stool nearby, already dressed in his tux plus robes ensemble. He was brooding again. This ball had put him on edge, which was annoying because I needed emotional support. Not that I would tell him that.
"Draco?" I prompted when he failed to respond.
He jerked up from wherever him mind had wandered to. "I think it looks great!" He answered with distracted enthusiasm. I glanced to the dress my hand was still on.
"Um…okay. That wasn't what I asked though."
He sighed. "It wasn't? Oh. Well, I think it's hideous then."
I rolled my eyes and gave him an amused look before moving on to the next mass of lace and velvet. "Will there be dancing?" I repeated.
"Of course there's going to be dancing, it's a ball!" He responded shortly. "Have you picked one yet?"
I shook my head. "Sorry, I'm more of a Renaissance period girl than Victorian. I don't need a corset right? I'm never going to make it through the night."
"Quit being a baby. It can't be that bad." Draco muttered. He really was edgy if he was letting his temper get this short.
I didn't look back at him. He probably expected me to smile ruefully and make a joke about the clothing, and I wanted to. Corsets were open for so many jokes. They were a product of the devil if ever there was one. But his words had struck a chord and I didn't trust my voice. It was the mantra I'd chanted to myself for the past six months. Quit being a baby, it's not that bad. Just a stomach ache. It's not that bad, get out of bed. It's not that bad...
Tonight would be awful. I had a hard enough time breathing without the constricting presence of a corset.
Don't be a baby, Rebecca. It can't be that bad.
"Do I have to dance?" I asked, voice strained tight.
I could almost feel Draco tense behind me. The fabric of his pants shifted noisily as he rose from his seat and stepped closer. I busied myself with the dresses, biting down on my tongue to distract myself.
"If you do not want to dance I don't think anyone would make you." He answered behind me. An arm slipped past me and he pulled a deep maroon dress off the rack. "This would look good on you."
I took it from him without meeting his eyes. "Thanks."
There was an awkward silence that I tried to ignore by inspecting the garment. It was pretty. "You don't know how to waltz do you?" He guessed, sounding superior.
This pulled a well-deserved eye roll from me. "No, I mean, yes, I don't know how to waltz."
"I'll teach you, if you want." I smiled at his offer and shook my head.
"No, I can't. I mean, physically. I'm…I'm too sick. I can't move enough." Bad topic. Bad.
The bodice had beads. I liked beads. And the sleeves were made of some sort of sheer material overtop of the maroon, giving it an almost gypsy-like flow. Gypsies were great. There was a giant ribbon that would presumably tie into a bow behind my back. Perfect.
Maybe if I got excited enough about the clothing my eyes would quit trying to water.
"Not that it matters much." I continued quickly, hoping if I talked fast enough I would be okay. "I couldn't dance before I was sick. I'm about as graceful as a cow. Always have been." I forced a bright smile and a chuckle and fled behind the changing screen.
"You can't be that bad." Draco responded in disbelief, his voice carrying over the screen.
"Wanna bet?" I called back lightly. I thought my voice suddenly sounded a little high but it was better than nothing. I changed into the dress as best as I could. I had hoped it would be a cheater outfit, with hidden zippers and other easy to do things but the Malfoys never went halfway. The back had to be laced up. Dang. "If there is something to trip on my feet will find it! I trip on nothing all the time."
I moved out and a house elf skittered across the room to help me with the laces.
"Well, you certainly don't look like a cow." The boy muttered when the elf finished. I glanced over at the full length mirror. It probably needed a farthingale and a corset and whatever else people from older centuries stuffed under their clothes to appeal to fashion's dictator tendencies. I thought it hung a bit funny over my figure, but it was pretty and if Draco liked it the rest of the world probably would to.
"Looks can be deceiving." I muttered and then twisted in the mirror to see how easily it moved.
"Are you saying you're a cow in disguise?" He asked. The reflection beside mine quirked an eyebrow, inciting a wave of jealousy in me. The things I could do if I had the muscular function of lifting only one eyebrow. Look out world, I have a genetic deformity that gives my face extra flexibility! Fear my awesome skills!
Wow. I was one big package of depression today.
Stop that. No one wants to see you being all self-depreciating.
"I'm not a cow. But that doesn't make me any more graceful. Is there any chance I'll be able to wear flats? Seeing as high heels are a considerably more modern accouterment? " I asked hopefully, thinking that if at least my feet were comfortable the evening would not be a terrible disaster. Optimism! Feel the optimism! Live the optimism! Optimistic people live longer, happier lives!
Draco grinned. "If our styles of decorating our bodies with fabric haven't changed in the past three hundred years, our shoes at least have developed."
Optimism just got canned.
I groaned and dropped my face into my hands. "Just shoot me now."
My fingers were gently pried from my head by one of Draco's big pale hands. He had a mischievous expression that I found rather alarming. "Now? But we haven't even put your make-up on yet. Or done your hair!"
Good heavens. They wanted me to put make-up on. Maybe a better phrase was bad hells. Very bad.
"I demand to know who designed this system of slow torture." I stomped my foot and jerked my hands away from his to firmly place them on my hips.
"Ah, that would be the French." He answered with a shrug, unperturbed by my frustrated posture.
The house elves began setting up a tray of brushes and frighteningly pointy hair pieces. Had anyone ever died by hair accessories before? Should I be signing some sort of waiver before letting them at my tender scalp? "Then they shall meet Madame Guillotine." The firelight glinted off the silver spines of a clip and I shuddered. "Immediately."
Draco apparently found my distress highly amusing. Too amusing. He looked at the pained expression on my face and collapsed in a fit of laughter.
"It's not funny. I'm serious!" I protested vainly.
Draco's mirth did not subside but at least he managed to straighten his spine. "Yes it is."
I pouted into the mirror. "At least you're not laughing at me. I'm totally serious."
"Seriously ridiculous. You'd think you were being drawn and quartered instead of being honored by the illustrious Malfoy family in the finest ball of the year. I mean, really. Hmph." A light, musically mocking voice drifted out of the mirror, vigorously reprimanding me.
My jaw dropped and Draco doubled over in renewed laughter.
I just got dissed by a mirror. If ever there was an FML moment…
Nicolette
"You aren't coming!" Snape growled at me when I cornered him.
"Wanna bet?" I responded, arms crossed defiantly.
"You're volatile and you will be a liability!" He responded, shoving me out of his way with the ornate cane he carried for decoration. He was trying to dress formally and spiffy in his fancy bathrobes and under tux. But let me tell you it wasn't working for him! Never! "If you could possibly control your temper and your tongue for thirty seconds I might be persuaded, but you cannot and so you will stay here."
I followed. "Potter gets to go!"
"Much to my chagrin." He muttered.
We ended up in the kitchen where the other four 'ball guests' were gathered—members of the Order of the Useless Bird. The team consisted of Charlie Weasley, a hot but oblivious guy who worked with dragons; Severus Snape, the epitome of incorrigible jerkface; Bill Weasley—the other hot red head; and Fluer Delacour—Bill's part veela fiancé. A separate group consisting of Nymphadora Tonks (the pink haired lady who could change her appearance at will), Mad-Eye Moody (scary, scary man I didn't want to meet in a dark alley), and Harry Potter would lurk around the sides for added protection.
They would swoop in, find Becky, talk with her, and sneak her out before anyone realized they weren't death eaters.
Without me.
How was Becky supposed to know all these people? What if she thought they were evil doers trying to abduct her? I was needed, dang it!
"Is everyone ready?" Snape asked tersely. He adjusted his cuff links and strode toward the fire where a cup of floo powder sat. There was some gruff nods, some mumbles of agreement, and an exuberant "Hell yes" from Tonks.
Snape gave the girl a glare and she rose several points in my esteem.
"Good. First group, move out."
Several explosions of green fire later and I was left with the three commandos. I couldn't follow because they would be making several apparation jumps after leaving the floo network to ensure no one could follow them. I went for one last attempt at being taken along.
"You have to bring me!" I whined to Tonks. I figured she would be the most receptive to my pleas. "I can help!"
She glanced over at Moody and shrugged. "I'm down with it."
"She's an untried teenager with no experience in this area." He answered gruffly as he shook out an invisibility cloak. He and Harry each had one. Tonks would just morph as needed.
"What? Does Harry have a PH.D. in kicking death eater but and saving damsels in distress?" I demanded. "He's not much older than me!" Harry glared at me.
"Potter's got plenty of experience." Moody wasn't bending. "Practically fights evil every other day. Besides, he can keep an eye on You Know Who. If someone's spotted he'll know immediatey and we can get out."
New argument. "Come on! There's three of you! You need an even number! What about the buddy system?"
"She has a point." Tonks put in as her hair shortened to a tight brown bob. "Nikki here did manage to contact Rebecca, something no one else did. She's proved pretty resourceful."
Moody sighed and gave me a hard look with his one good eye. "You think you can do this?"
"Totally!"
"It'll piss off Snape." Tonks offered with a grin. Moody snorted.
"Fine then. Your life's your own." His magical eye swung around and looked up through the ceiling. "She's your problem though. It's on you if she dies. Go change into something more sneaky."
I held in my squeal of excitement and raced up the stairs.
Draco
"Stop looking at me!" Rebecca protested my amused grin, but she couldn't do anything about it. The house elves were busily doing her nails and hair, leaving no room for her to move. And despite how uncomfortable she was with it I refused to look at anything else. It was too hilarious.
Coming from my family, with the strict dress codes and constant fancy clothing, watching someone being forcefully assimilated into our standards was rather pleasing.
And it was kind of nice to see Miss "I have super powers that you should be quivering in fear of" look so out of sorts.
It was really amazing what you learned about people when they were explaining just why things made them uncomfortable. For instance, Rebecca did not have anything pink in her wardrobe and home. At all. She had almost stepped into the realm of purple once and found it frightening beyond belief. She had then turned tail and sprinted back to her grass stained jeans and soccer cleats, screaming.
Or something akin to screaming, because apparently only girly-girls did that. Rebecca had long since gone through grueling anti-girly training, courtesy of two older, rather opinionated brothers.
Snakes, spiders, knives, bloody slasher films? No problem!
But heaven forbid there be a mascara brush. Eye shadow belonged in hell. Lip gloss? A fate worse than death.
"How on earth have you been wearing all these evening gowns if you are this afraid of looking like a girl?" I asked.
She shrugged. "I'm not afraid! I'm just…less comfortable. I wear dresses for church all the time. But you haven't made me wear make-up, or extensive jewelry, or done anything with my hair until today! I mean, I wear necklaces but I usually wear sunglasses anywhere people will see me so make-up is a pointless effort and I'm anything but a hair stylist, I usually just leave it long or put it up in a pony tail!"
I listened to her complaints with a sympathetic expression, but silently I was reveling in pushing her outside her comfort zone. This was payback for having such freaky dreams. "You look like you're about to have a panic attack."
She shot me a glare but her face was promptly pulled back for the dreaded application of the inky eyelash amplifier.
"This isn't period." She grumbled softly, earning a broader grin from me. She was in so much pain. I loved it.
There was a quiet knock at the door of the dressing room and I rose to answer it.
It was my mother. My mood soured immediately.
"Draco." She greeted without feeling. I was taller than her now, but I'd never felt like I could look down at Narcissa until this year. She had always stood with such a proud, self confident posture that to presume that a simple matter of height difference gave me the right to gaze down on her was not only ridiculous, but deserving of retribution. "Might I speak to you?"
She turned and drifted down the hallway, each step perfectly placed, full of a lithe grace that hid the woman's troubled life. Narcissa Malfoy was the epitome of nobility—impeccable mannerisms, perfect breeding—A true pureblood witch. No one who did not know better would notice the way her was just barely arched, the way her left arm hung just slightly slower, the way the expensive dress was padded to hide her gaunt figure. The way Narcissa was hurting.
Draco turned his head back to Rebecca. Suddenly her complaints were not quite so entertaining. This might just be her last night she could protest the transformation into the Dark Lord's pet. Soon she too would hide marks behind clothes, hide pain behind the aristocratic mask of the Death Eaters.
I stood in the doorway between Rebecca Nils and Narcissa Malfoy. The threshold we would all pass through as we followed the Dark Lord down his evil pathway.
But no. This was just a regular gap between walls, built for the sole purpose of stepping through to get from one room to the next. It was no metaphorical explanation for the transformation of loving, happy girls into soul-less slaves.
In any case, Rebecca already had one foot through that doorway and the house elves were busy sealing the space behind her as they painted a mask across her cheeks. Maybe she was on to something, if all that make-up only represented her conformity to the Dark Lord.
"I'll be back." I told the girl before closing the door behind me.
"Yes, Mother?" I asked when I caught up to her.
Narcissa stood in front of a window, staring out at the Manor grounds. It was winter but there was no snow. The landscape looked brown and dead. It was too cold to grow, but not cold enough to cover the decay.
"I suppose we'll have to charm the gardens." She observed conversationally. "With so many guests coming, we will have to look like life exists here." Her light and airy tone took a turn for the bitter and her expression tightened.
Narcissa's gardens were much like Lucius's study. The one place of solitude and relaxation. But the woman had been bound to the manor's interior for nearly a month now, and the hired gardeners could only do so much with the English winter.
I stepped up next to her and peered out the window. She used to bring me down there when I was little. I had even planted a few rosebushes. She had cross bread so many roses throughout my life. It had been a tradition to make a new color on my birthday. A new petal for every new year. We had missed this year. The empty plot sat conspicuously barren, even amid the rest of the brown foliage.
"Was there something you needed me for?" I asked, refusing to look at the swinging bench Narcissa had once cuddled with me on as I nursed the finger a thorn had ripped.
She nodded and pulled away from the window with one last, longing look. She drew an elegant hair comb from a fold of her robes and carefully placed it in my hand.
"This is the Dark Lord's gift for Miss Nils." She explained as I twisted it around—watching firelight flicker in its polished, gem-studded surface. "Careful, the potion contained within is not for you."
My head jerked up and I looked into my mother's blue eyes with surprise. "What? Why is he trying to poison her?"
Narcissa shook her head, beautiful blonde curls bouncing with a vitality they did not possess. "Do not jump to conclusions, Draco. It is a potion to amplify her connection to her powers. Think of it like a concentrated dose of adrenaline. It is supposed to more thoroughly convince our little guest that she requires our help."
I hesitantly pocketed the glinting metal. "What do I do with it?"
"You simply have to accidently prick her scalp as you slide it into her hair." She answered with a shrug. "Do not think too much about it. I will see you in the ball room." Her long, cold fingers brushed lightly down my cheek and with an graceful turn of the heel she left me.
Unconsciously my own fingers touched the skin she had and I wished my mother would come back—from more than just down the hall.
The tightening of my throat was from dust. The house elves had not cleaned this area thoroughly enough.
I stormed back to the dressing room to berate them and deliver the present.
Harry
I stuck close to Professor Moody as we lurked around the edges of the gathered party. I recognized a good portion of them and would have liked to just start blasting their evil hides, but we had a specific mission in mind. My only job was to focus on my connection with Voldemort.
He had been so happy the last few nights and now he was almost giddy with anticipation for the evening's events. It disturbed me more than a little.
Nikki and Tonks were on the other side of the room. Rebecca had yet to appear in the room. Apparently she was to appear late to make her presence more dramatic. Moody and I weren't supposed to move around much but the girls were to skirt around the edges keeping an eye on our other guests.
Moody slammed a hand down on my leg when it started bouncing. I flinched and sighed. I was twitchy and nervous. I wasn't used to sitting on the sidelines as reconnaissance. I'm an action kind of guy. This is driving me crazy.
"Easy kid. Don't go looking for a fight if we don't have to have one."
He really didn't have to tell me that. I didn't enjoy battles. I just didn't want to sit in a corner all night when I could be taking out half the Death Eater legion. I couldn't believe just how many people were here! I'd never dreamed there were this many followers of the Dark Lord. He really had amassed an army in the past year.
A wave of joy spilled over my bond with Voldemort. The crowd seemed to ripple as everyone turned to stare at the Malfoys' grand staircase. The orchestra that had been playing for the few dancing couples cut off. I started to rise to get a better look at the room, but everyone had knelt down. Voldemort, not Rebecca, was coming down the stairs.
He paused at the middle of the stairs and stretched out his arms widely, gesturing to the entire gathered host. He wore a stunning black doublet with silver embroidery underneath an exquisite robe. His pants matched the shirt. A large necklace hung down over his chest. I couldn't really see the emblem from here but I guessed it was a snake.
"Rise." The people pushed up from the ground and watched their master with a mixture of fear and devotion. "Friends, loyal followers, distinguished guests! Welcome to our little ball honoring our most prestigious guest. We would like to thank our gracious hosts, the Malfoys, for allowing our use of their home for our own frivolous ends. As you know our weapon will be presented shortly. Treat her as you would treat me, with reverence and respect due to one of her importance. A demonstration of her abilities will be given later tonight, but remember your instructions. Do not speak of it to her. She gets nervous."
There was a collective chuckle and then Voldemort turned about.
"And now I present to you, the lady who will win this war for us…" He trailed off as he stretched out a hand to the entrance above the grand staircase. "Miss Rebecca Nils!"
Cheering and clapping exploded across the hall and on the arm of Draco Malfoy came the girl who could potentially destroy everything.
Draco
Accidently puncturing someone's scalp with a hair pin on purpose is harder to do than it sounds.
I mean, if it didn't actually break the skin I would have to redo it. And I had to do that without looking like I was actually trying to stab her. Because even though that's kind of what I was doing, it wouldn't go over well.
"Do you want me to put it in?" She asked as I hesitated over her hair.
"No!" I growled shortly. I did not need help! I was Draco Malfoy! I could properly accidently stab a girl with a hair pin without assistance! Rebecca jumped at my tone and gave me a confused look. I pushed her face back so she couldn't look into my eyes. "You don't even know a doublet from a tunic! I doubt you could properly apply hair accessories if you tried!"
There an awkward pause and then Rebecca ventured back into conversation with a questioning, "And you… do?"
My cheeks burned. That had not been what I meant to say. Trying to make up some ground I stumbled over a response, "All aristocrats are well-versed in all forms of bodily adornments!"
"…Right."
What the heck. I shoved it in. She have a satisfying yelp of pain and I apologized profusely.
She had jerked her hand upward to cover the point of pain and hissed unhappily. "Well verse my eye!" She grumbled before pulling her hand away. "If I'm bleeding…"
I could be too apologetic or she would get suspicious, but I couldn't be too callous or she would get upset. What kind of stupid job was this? "Threaten me later. We have a ball to get to." I grabbed her hand, dragged her from the stool, and towed her behind me to the door.
"Why are we running?" Rebecca cried.
Because I don't want to watch whatever drugs my mother put on that swim through your system. Because I don't want you noticing how agitated I am. Because if I run fast enough maybe I can get away from the nightmare that will be tonight.
"Because running is good for you! You're slow!"
"I'm in a dress, high heels, and I've spent the past six months being an invalid!" She protested.
"No excuses, we have a ball to get to!"
Becky
Draco pulled to an abrupt stop and I just avoided crashing in to him. He then positioned me more dignified way—my arm looped through his—and walked us carefully into the ballroom. I could hear Voldemort making some sort of speech but the words seemed mumbled. I just barely made out my name when Draco and I entered the room.
Tumultuous applause broke out. I froze at the banister and stared around at what seemed like a thousand fancily dressed castors all cheering for me.
"Woah." I gasped softly, my hands starting to shake.
Draco gave my wrist a comforting squeeze and then lead me in a slow descent to Lord Voldemort, who indicated that we should continue our progression to the floor. I couldn't decide if the wizards looked like exuberant puppies eager for a new friend or like a pack of sharks clamoring for the chance to devour me.
We reached the ground floor and I gave a hesitant smile to the few that rushed forward to shake my hand and greet me.
There were so many people here! And they all wanted to talk to me! Draco guided me through the crowd but we could never move very fast. Maybe they were more like piranha than sharks. Swimming in packs and ripping off flesh piece by piece. I drew closer to Draco as time passed, slowly hiding more and more behind his broad shoulders. But he kept giving me furtive, expectant glances that I didn't like so he really wasn't any more comfort than a big rock.
A lot of people were giving me the same expectant looks. It was like they were waiting for me to perform something. It made me more nervous than I already was and my stomach started to churn.
It didn't help that my head was beginning to pulse. I was getting pretty dizzy too. I put it down to the thousand and two people turning me around to shake my hand, but it was getting serious. I was really dizzy. Like, nauseas dizzy.
"Draco…" I started when there was a brief gap of almost worshipping ball guests. "Draco, I really don't feel good. I need to sit down or I'm going to collapse soon."
He gave me a worried look but expertly pulled me through the crowd to a quieter corner. He conjured a cup with his wand and filled it with water. "Here."
I drank it gratefully and sank into an expensively cushioned chair that he pulled up for me. "Thank you."
I was about to ask him to refill the glass when his father appeared. I sighed, sensing the coming demise of my moment of peace.
Draco came to my defense. "Father, Miss Nils is feeling ill." Ha, that almost rhymed. "She needs to rest for a minute."
The two men took a minute to silently stare at each other. It was some sort of silent challenge that I didn't understand, but I was on Draco's side so I dropped my head into my palm and tried to look extra pathetic. I've had a lot of practice with that look, mostly because it was usually true.
But Mr. Malfoy didn't buy it. He stepped around his son and lifted my chin up.
"I think you just need to get your blood pumping." He told me with a tight, almost-friendly smile. The muscles were too strained for it to be sincere. He proceeded to pull me from the chair and loop my arm through his. "Draco, tell the maestro to do something more…peppy."
Lucius led me back through the crowd and I stared desperately over my shoulder at Draco. He could only shrug helplessly and move in the direction of the orchestra. My spirits plummeted and I tried to plead with my dance partner.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy! But I really don't think this is a good idea. I can't dance. And even if I could I don't know how—"
"I will lead, Miss Nils. You have only to follow my feet. I'm sure you will feel better once your blood has a chance to circulate more."
I didn't believe him. This was a ridiculous theory.
"No, really, you don't understand!"
The orchestra stopped and then began again at a much quicker tempo. Lucius took my hands and began to lead me through a quick step.
Well, if I collapsed it was his fault. And if I started coughing up that circulating blood on his fancy clothes, that was his fault too.
My pulse did pick up, but so did the dizziness.
Two dances later I was breathing hard—sharp gasps of too little oxygen—but I was strangely feeling better. Something felt like it was almost rushing through my veins. Something giving me more energy, lifting me higher, filling me with some sort of adrenaline rush.
My body felt invigorated in a way it hadn't in months. I felt…energized! There was a soft hum in my mind, a buzz through my systems. There was something…
Lucius spun me out and brought me back in. I looked directly into his eyes and opened my mouth to comment on my strange surge of vigor, when I got caught in his gaze.
Shadows. Shadows everywhere. His eyes were almost black with all the fear in his mind,, all the secret desires, all the pain.
Power burst out of any control I had and slid into his mind, dragging out any and all secrets he could have buried within.
Death, Pain, so much pain. Death death. Killed. Lucius had killed. Images swam through my brain and I couldn't contain any of it. I shoved away from the man and grabbed my head, fruitlessly attempting to block them. I wanted them out of my head. So many lifeless bodies. Contorted, tortured bodies.
"Get out!" I shrieked and illusions hurtled from my mind onto the floor. I was suddenly stepping on severed limbs, pools of blood, dark, dark magical workings from Lucius's past tumbled out of my control, becoming real in his fear and mine.
Runes covered the polished dance floor. Crimson, demonic runes. A woman's shrieks echoed over the orchestra's chords, the destructive frequencies battling overhead.
Twirling couples broke apart. I felt hands grab my shoulders and I shoved them away. Someone lifted my head and I stared right into the brown eyes of a death eater. From his mind to mine, my power wrenched his worst memories and most abysmal fears from his subconscious and forced them on reality. Raging, growling wolves raced down the staircase to wreak havoc in the party.
Where was my control!? Why was this happening? What was wrong with me?
Power blazed in my mind, amplified beyond anything I'd ever had before. I couldn't even comprehend the level of magic storming through my head, let alone try and manage it! I jerked away and turned round and round, gaze flicking from one tortured mind to another.
This one feared rejection, this one feared pain, this one hated spiders, this one snakes, this one fire.
Shrieking animals rose up from the pits of hell, demons conjured from my imagination and theirs. Flames coursed over tapestries and food tables.
Bodies littered the floor. Every non magical boy and girl, every partial blooded soul rose from their fears and dark pasts like undead banshees, flying overhead and desecrating the ballroom with their unholy screams for revenge.
I tried to get away, tried to flee from it all. Flee from the power that was overpowering my sense of self. But there was so much fear in this room, so many sins laid bare in the light of my gift, there was nowhere safe to turn.
I knew my illusions weren't real. I knew they weren't! But these people couldn't. They saw nightmares pouring from my fingertips, from my mouth, from me and they cowered. Their fear fed my monsters and made them stronger. Their own demons ruled their senses and grew from their terror and I could do nothing to stop it.
So many people, so many fears!
"Get away from me!" I shrieked at the death eaters, shoving two aside only to find three more with quaking nightmares for me to take hold of and raise from the smokes chasms of brimstone.
Tears streamed down my face. What was wrong with me!? I was a monster! I was some horrible, horrible monster! This proved it! I was a terror, a demon. I was the source of all of these nightmares, the creator of the winged beasts ripping the chandelier apart. I was the cause of the screams of the guests!
I knew this and could not begin to fight it. So many people, so many people! Why were there so many people!
Smoke rose from the flames as they gained strength. The people were panicking, rushing to and fro in their attempt to escape this new reign of terror. My power raged through their souls, stripping them of every last discomfort and forcing them to crumble under its might.
There had to be somewhere I could go! Somewhere without fear, somewhere to end all of this!
Somewhere!
I finally stumbled to a wall. Sobbing, I tried to withdraw some magic, tried to bring order to the wildfire that had consumed every ounce of my mastery.
I could hear a wild laughter over the rage and wails. Rejoicing in the satanic rule that had destroyed all sense of right.
Wands were being drawn as men and women attempted to fight off what they could only kill in their minds.
Chaos. Evil, hell-spawn chaos.
They turned on me. Panic making them forget my status of safety. As they advanced more demons exploded from around me, fear for my own survival bringing shadows of nightmares form my own mind and throwing them in their path.
I tore through the party, sprinting to who knows where. I only needed the briefest glance of a pair of eyes to draw out their secret pains. It was impossible. There was no peace. I had finally died and gone to hell. This was my lake of fire and brimstone. This was my eternal punishment.
This was—
Nothing.
My eyes locked on a single pair of wild, brown eyes. Eyes with no fear, no terror. Only joy at the power, joy in her lord, joy in progression, joy in me.
She had absolute faith in what she was doing. She had faith in her lord and in me, and with that absolute certainty there was no room for fear.
Desperate for any bit of refuge, I threw my arms around her waist and buried my head in her shoulder, shaking violently. It was too awful. I couldn't bear it any more. No more fear. No more pain.
"Make it stop! Make it go away! Help me! Please! Oh, God please help me!"
She hesitated but then let her arms wrap slowly around me. "Do not fear, darling. We will keep you safe." My fingers tightened in her dress robes and I clenched my eyes as tightly shut as I could, trying to block out the sounds of my creations behind me.
Bellatrix Lestrange held me close, petting my hair and telling me that I was a wonderful angel. That I was blessed and she would help me understand.
Bella had no fear. Bella held only faith and love in her cause and her Dark Lord.
Bella would keep me safe.
Harry
No nightmare could ever compare to the one created by Rebecca Nils.
Nikki's shrieks for "Becky!" couldn't be heard over the screams of the death eaters as everything fell to chaos. Our infiltrating party guests immediately retreated on Moody's signal; Tonks forcefully dragging Nikki away.
I was still shaking when we returned to Headquarters. I could still see those flames rising up from nowhere, the demons hurtling out of that little blonde girl, the wolves with blood dripping from their maws standing over decapitated, ripped bodies.
Screams echoed in my ear as Mrs. Weasley placed a cup of tea in front of me. I looked over at Charlie Weasley to see the haunted expression I was sure was mirrored on my own face.
When a meeting began I declined to attend, preferring to go the bed instead. Ron and Hermione stayed with me and sat by my side.
"She's a demon." I finally told them, hands tightening in the folds of my blanket. "Straight from the pits of hell. She's a demon. If we don't stop her, we're all doomed."
"What about Nikki?" Hermione asked worriedly. I thought about the girl who had fallen silent. It was worse than her going ballistic. When Nikki had no angry words, there really was nothing that could be done.
I shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. Whatever she sees in her friend has been destroyed by Voldemort." The silence was heavy and pained. An innocent girl had just been destroyed by a war she had never even heard of before. "Demon." I repeated with a shudder. Hermione wrapped her arms around me, but she could murmur no comforting words to drown out the screams of the damned.
Wow. I had this moment planned for a long time. It's the key turning point. What do you think? When the only person who isn't afraid, the only person who displays the love and faith in something that can truly fight off fear, is a Death Eater... what do you do? Creepy, huh?
Please Review. I'm afraid I didn't capture this all correctly.
