Dark Schemes, Darker Secrets

Chapter Seven

Joe bit his lip and his eyes watered in agony as the knife plunged into his shoulder. He refused to cry out, however, for he did not want to please Voldemort. He felt warm blood trickling down his shoulder and drenching his shirt and he began to feel a bit faint.

The youth looked up at his brother, pain-glazed blue eyes searching the expressionless brown ones. Joe knew that Frank hadn't done this of his own free will.

He had no time to consider the matter any further, however, as Voldemort hissed, "Ah, ah, ah. Frank, it seems like your brother doesn't want to cooperate. Why don't you give the dagger a twist?"

"No," Joe breathed, struggling to escape his bonds as much as his stinging shoulder would allow. "Frank, no! Please don't hurt me again!"

His brother, however, gripped the knife in his hands and twisted it. Joe screamed in agony. Voldemort smiled and stepped over to the brothers. Joe's face was deathly pale from pain; hot tears of anguish were making their way down his ashen face. Voldemort removed the spell from Frank, and the young man shook his head, dazed. "What happened?" he muttered. He couldn't remember anything from the past five minutes. He then looked down and nearly passed out.

Joe was lying on the ground, bound tightly, and a knife was buried deep within his blood-soaked shoulder. And Frank was holding the dagger. He looked at his brother with tear filled eyes. He removed the dagger from the youth's shoulder, which brought a new shudder of pain from him. Frank then reached down and stroked his brother's tear-streaked face. "Joe," he whispered.

Joe opened his pain-filled eyes and looked at Frank, dazed. "Frank?" he managed to crack out before fading into unconsciousness.

"Oh, little brother," Frank sobbed. "What have I done?"

Voldemort pulled Frank to his feet and said, "Don't worry about your brother, my dear Frank. He shall be fine…I am not finished with him, and if he is dead, then how can I get your father to do my bidding?"

Frank glared at the evil men standing before him, hatred burning in his eyes.

"Now," said Voldemort, "it is time for me to tell you of your job." He smiled evilly and said, "I will be putting two spells on you. First, a memory charm, so you will not remember what has happened here or what this place looks like. All you will remember is what I have told you and that Joe is tied up in a place you know not, in grave danger."

"No," Frank whispered, but Voldemort wasn't finished yet.

"The second is the Imperious Curse, the very one I just used to make you stab your own brother."

Frank, eyes wide in fear and anger, said, "No. You can't. And I'm not going anywhere! I'm staying with Joe."

"Oh, but don't you want to see your parents again?"

Frank stared at him.

"Yes, that's right. I'm sending you back to your parents so you can be an…'ambassador' for me." Before Frank could react, he swept out his wand, pointed it at the boy, and said, "Imperio." Frank immediately felt like he was in a dream. There was no pain, he felt light and airy. Then he heard the voice, strong and harsh.

"Frank," Voldemort said, "we are going to transport you home to your very doorstep. When you get there, you will walk in and tell your parents that if they want Joe to live, Fenton will join with Lord Voldemort. They will surely notice that you are under the Imperious Curse and remove it. But make sure you tell them what I have bid you first."

Frank nodded his head, the sensation of light-headedness overwhelming.

"Now, I am going to put a memory charm on you. When you come out of the Imperious Curse, you will remember nothing of your time here but the image of Joe lying in a dark room, bound hand and foot, blood pouring down his shoulder and the fact that if your father doesn't join with us, his 'baby boy' will suffer and die. Obliviate!" And his memory was gone.

Then Voldemort said another spell and the room with Joe and the captors faded away as Frank found himself standing on his front step. Everything seemed distant still, and he had only one thing on his blurry mind: to do the task he was bidden.

He opened the door and heard frantic voices distantly from the kitchen. Though under a spell, he recognized his father's voice as well as his mother's, and another voice…but whose was it? Albus Dumbledore, he finally realized.

"I don't see why I can't call the police," he heard his father say frantically.

"Fenton," came Dumbledore's calm yet strained voice, "we know for sure this is the work of Voldemort. There is no reason to alert the police. They will not be able to find his lair, especially without magic."

"He's right, honey," Laura put in. "And, since we know it is…well, Voldemort—" she said the name like one would of a poison, "—then he will surely send a messenger sometime soon."

"I just hope that they are okay," Fenton sighed.

Frank walked into the kitchen. Laura was the first to spot him. "OH MY GOSH!" she screamed, making the others look up. They had surrounded the dazed teen in a second.

Dumbledore took Frank's pale face in his wrinkled hands. "Frank," he said. "Frank, are you alright?"

Instead of answering, Frank stated in a monotone voice, "If you want Joe to live, join with Lord Voldemort."

All three paled at this statement. Laura stuttered, "What do you mean, honey?" When Frank did not reply, she turned to Dumbledore and her ashen husband. "What's wrong with him?"

"Imperious Curse," both Dumbledore and Fenton said in unison.

Fenton scowled. "Apparently Frank has been chosen to act as an ambassador for Voldemort."

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and pointed at the eldest Hardy. He muttered the counter-curse. As Frank blinked his eyes, confused, he said, "Frank, are you okay?"

"Yeah," the boy muttered.

"Come on," ordered Dumbledore, taking the youth by the forearm with a surprisingly strong grip, and led him to the living room. "Sit." Frank did as he was told, exhausted.

"I know that you don't feel well," Fenton said, after taking a seat next to his wife and Dumbledore, "but we need to know: what happened?"

A frown creased Frank's forehead. Straining his memory, he said, "I don't remember. I…remember getting jumped in the alley by some cloaked men with sticks…and I don't know if this is really a memory, or just a feeling…or an image…but I do recall Joe tied up in some dark place—where, I don't know. He had a dagger wound in his right shoulder, that was bleeding badly."

Fenton and Laura paled. "Are you sure that's all you can remember?"

"Yes." Frank nodded.

"It seems that Frank has been hit with a memory charm."

"Do you suppose," Fenton began, looking at Dumbledore nervously, "since all the spells and charms have been performed on Frank…that they know?"

"I am sure they do…or did, in Frank's case." Frank, at this time, was sitting quietly, barely hearing the conversation that was going on around him. Gosh, he was tired. And he knew that something was terribly wrong. His brother was in some kind of danger. If only…if only he could remember what had happened after the alley attack, they might be able to find Joe.

"Is there any way to get his memory back?" Laura asked anxiously.

Dumbledore sighed. "It depends on how strong the charm was. Maybe, just maybe, if Frank concentrates enough on the subject and strains his memory, he might get it back. But if he is to do that, which I highly recommend, he needs sleep. Perhaps he can tell us more in the morning. In the meantime, I am going to London and getting Harry and his friends. They will be safer here with me than at their homes, as they are on summer break right now. Also, this is ultimately Harry's battle, but I know he won't want to face it without his best friends by his side. They will want to help find Joe. I shall be back with them in the morning.

He disappeared.

Frank went to sleep, straining his memory for what happened to him and Joe. He fell to sleep with a memory on the edge of his consciousness. While asleep, he dreamed of a man with pale skin and red eyes, someone with silvery hair and gray eyes, Iola's death being blamed on his brother. And when he awoke, he knew it was true. He had remembered. He was much more powerful than Voldemort had assumed. He ran downstairs, still in his pajamas.

"Mom! Dad!" he yelled. They woke up instantly and looked at him anxiously as he entered the room. "I remember!" He exclaimed. "I remember everything!"


A/N: So...how's it going? Please, please review, and I'll update ASAP. (btw, Harry and the gang come in next chapter! Yay!) Please R&R, and an update will come soon.

~Emachinescat ^..^