A/N: So, you know that old excuse of, "School's starting and I just haven't had time" that everyone uses around this time of year? Yeah, I'm going to use it. Because I really haven't had much time for anything since the first week of August when band camp started. School began the following week.

What you see now is the collection of what I was able to right during government and band and any other scrap of time I could find. So if it seems choppy and not as awesome as it should be, blame it on the fact that I was listening to lectures on basic music theory, reeds, and democracy.

As it is I decided to end the chapter early so I could finally get something up. So there may be a really short but important chapter coming up in a relatively short amount of time. Assuming all things go according to plan.

So...here it is.

Chapter 10: Nightmaric Truth

Nicolette

Zinny was consulting his notes and writing out a list of instructions for his 'helpers.' I stood in the doorway and glared at him. He continued on, unperturbed by the ferocity of my livid expression.

He knew I was there. I had been standing there for several minutes after all, glaring all the while. It wasn't really my style to be quiet and brooding and passive-aggressive. Mostly I was a yell and scream and break things kind of angry person. But that wasn't getting me anywhere and whether or not we were in school this was still my Professor and he held a sort of authority you couldn't throw things at.

So I glared and waited to be noticed.

Impatiently.

After a while he sighed, turned, and leaned against the desk he had been writing on. "Nikki, I know you're upset."

You think, genius?

"Does Becky know you stole her project?" I growled. Just because I couldn't actually yell at him doesn't mean I couldn't be snarky and biting.

"She probably was aware that I took her idea but she might have forgotten it. However I didn't steal anything."

"It was her project! She came up with the idea, balanced all the equations, made it work!"

Becky had worked all year on that assignment. I had spent many all-nighters watching her fix things as I half-heartedly did my own homework, occasionally reminding her that she needed food. Her dedication to that project had been outstanding. She hadn't done anything nearly that good this year on account of her sickness, but it would have been hard to top that anyway. The anti-magic solution was an amazing feat of alchemical work. And now it was going to be used to kill her. All because this man had sold her genius out.

"And also signed the lease allowing the school to take her idea to an official that could put it to good use." Zinny replied. My brain momentarily stumbled over this fact, but only for a moment. He was giving me that look that adults liked to give me. The one that said 'She'll calm down once we've shown her how stupid she's being.' It just made me angrier.

"What lease?"

Zinny had the nerve to smile. "The one you all signed halfway through the year when I officially gave you the project. That paper all you students took home, signed, and never actually read? I explained it in class, I'm fairly certain Becky was the only one to hear me though. It was entirely optional. There was even a section about it in the syllabus. That other document no one ever reads."

I didn't remember this but unfortunately it was more than likely. I stuck with being stubborn though. "Minors can't sign contracts." I grumbled.

"Your parents, who also did not read the paper, signed the lease as well." He paused, a thoughtful look coming over his face. "Unless of course those signatures were forged. Which is possible."

Even more likely. I happened to be very good at forging my parents' signatures. I had to concede to that and just fall back to what I really was complaining about. "You can't let them hurt her!"

Zinny stood up and crossed the small potions brewery to put his hands on my shoulders. I wanted to jerk away and be indignant, but his firm grip was absurdly comforting. I respected and trusted Professor Zinnober. He was a good teacher and a good man. My shoulders sagged and I avoided his gaze. I spoke again in a much quieter tone, barely a defeated whisper. "They want to kill her. You're giving them the chance."

Zinny didn't talk down to me or lie to me about how everything would be okay. He respected me as an almost-adult. He cupped my chin in his hand and angled my eyes back towards him. "Sometimes we just have to hope that people will make the right choice. We have to believe in these people. I am making two bullets because someone might miss, not because I want them to kill Becky. Do you believe me?"

I shrugged. "I believe you. I don't believe them."

He sighed and withdrew. "Nikki, I'm going to be completely honest with you. I want you to believe how much this hurts me. Becky is a wonderful girl. I love her just as much as you do."

I snorted and muttered a quick 'not likely' which he ignored and continued to speak.

"Part of growing up is realizing that some things aren't what we want them to be. And as great and kind a person as Becky is, there is a chance that she could pick the wrong path. You yell and scream about these people being in the wrong, but never once has it occurred to you that you might be wrong."

"I'm not wrong!" I shouted at him, interrupting his speech. I did not want to be lectured. I wanted… I didn't know what I wanted. I wanted to do something. I wanted Zinny to do something. He was a teacher for heaven's sake! He was supposed to have the right answer! This was not the right answer!

"No, Nikki. You aren't wrong. You care about your friend and will defend her to the very end. That is not wrong."

I gave him a sharp look, trying to figure out his angle. How could he agree with me and be against me at the same time? "So you agree with me?"

Zinny walked back towards his work table and sat down. There was an extra chair that he gestured for me to take. I hesitantly lowered myself into the seat and then slouched back, folding my arms and refocusing my glare.

"Nikki, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to be an adult. This is not a black and white issue."

"Either she dies or she doesn't. Seems pretty simple to me." I interrupted.

He sighed and shook his head. "Nikki, you have to realize that these people aren't wrong." He began fiddling with his alchemy items. Hs face was just becoming wrinkled and the creases grew deeper as his expression became pained. "I need you to let go of the 'I'm right and you're wrong' attitude for just a minute. They have to defend their entire country from this threat, not just worry about one girl. And in the global perspective, that is all Becky is. Think about it. If she does choose wrongly, which is a possibility, then it is not just England that is in danger. This Voldemort character is not just going to settle for this tiny island. This could build into a much bigger threat."

I shook my head, not wanting to believe it. Part of my resolve was crumbling though. I'm stubborn and unreasonable, but there is a point where logic wins. It was true. If this turned into a large terrorist threat than who knew what horrible things might happen. How many hundreds of people would die. What horrors might await other people I care about. I'd seen Becky's nightmares, been terrified by them.

But I could not accept that she could turn evil. It was impossible. If Becky could not stay good, then what hope was there for the rest of us?

No, I would not believe that.

It just couldn't be.

…Could it?

"No. Becky wouldn't do that." I bit down on my knowledge of that irrevocable truth and held fast.

Zinny let out a long sigh. "Nikki, I'm going to ask a lot of you right now. I want you to keep your faith in your friend. Do not let anyone take that from you. But you are going to have to grow really fast right now. Not every story has a happy ending. It is time for you to be an adult and recognize that. Becky may very well die, but if this threat it not eliminated, it will be much worse for everyone."

"What are you saying?" I asked, throat tightening. No, no, no. This could not be right.

"Sometimes the best thing is not the right thing. Sometimes people die. I want you to keep hold of your hope, but you need to live in reality. This is not just a petty squabble, this is a war. Causalities happen to innocent people." He paused and I could see the pain in his eyes. He didn't want this to be true, but it was. He didn't want to be the one to break down my childlike distinctions of good and bad. But he had to step up and be the adult.

"Isn't there another way?" I asked quietly, my suddenly heavy heart weighing my tone down to barely a whimper.

Zinny shrugged. "I don't know. But this is the way we're going."

I nodded and rose from my seat. "How long will it take you?" I asked.

"A couple weeks. A month at most. You know, you're missing school now."

He was trying to be amusing, trying to draw out my defiant spirit. But it was half-hearted and came out more as a flat statement than an engaging quip. My doleful expression did not change. Tone even and unamused, I responded. "Professor, my best friend is about to be sacrificed for a war she was never supposed to a part of. I could care less about school."

I headed for the door. Zinny called out to me, "Nikki, I'm sorry. The world is asking too much of you."

I waved away the words of wisdom I knew were coming and exited.

Was this what it meant to grow up and be an adult? Making the choice to let people get hurt for other people? To know when to retreat? To let there be a sacrifice?

Maybe Peter Pan had something going for him. I did not want to grow up. I wanted a happy ending. I wanted my best friend to live.

Zinny had told me to keep hoping, but that it would likely be futile. How did someone uphold a paradox like that? How do you hope for something you know can't happen?

Everyone becomes an adult sometime. I was seventeen.

Draco

How do you make a monster? How do you turn something so intrinsically good into an object of fear and destruction? How do you turn a person—a good, kind-hearted, happy person—away from everything they believe in and send them down to darkness? How do you destroy the light in someone?

All questions the Dark Lord has answered. He's done it countless times. Taken great people and forced them into his personal slaves. He destroys their will, their conscience, their ability to see the truth. He blinds them with promises that they're doing the right thing and wraps his influence around them like a constricting snake until there is no chance they can escape. By the time they realize that they've turned down the wrong path, it is too late.

I've seen the results of the Dark Lord's power. I've watched ghosts of men wander the halls, existing only to follow the next command. How did he do it? How did he turn decent people into mongrels? Filthy, pathetic mongrels?

And more importantly, how did one resist him?

I didn't know. All I knew was it hurt to watch it happening. I knew so many people who had already been turned, but I had never actually watched the process. It was painful.

In one respect I could actually see the changes in Rebecca. Her physical being was different. For one thing she was mysteriously healthier. Her pale cheeks filled with color and her eyes lit up with exuberance over her accomplishments. Her smile was less forced and her tone less dry.

Less obvious, but probably more important, was the confidence she was gaining. Under Bellatrix's guidance her mastery over her powers was growing incredibly quickly. She felt powerful, felt strong. She was brilliant. Her powers really were beyond belief. But while each day her control over her magic grew, her control over herself lessoned.

I knew that her motivation to work as hard as she did was rooted in the fact that she really didn't want to hurt anyone. Her primary purpose was to gain control so nothing like the ball would ever happen again. It was so ironic.

She was totally convinced that anything Bella asked her to do would lead her in the right direction—the direction where she would finally be free of her own crippling fears and would gain a hold on her life. All credit for her growth went to Bella. I knew it was her own talents as a witch and determination to succeed that gave her such good results, but trying to tell Rebecca that was impossible. Her confidence in Bella was absolute and that spread to confidence in herself and blinded her to what was really happening.

It was terrible to witness. Worse, because I was contributing to it.

The Dark Lord was more than pleased with his new pet. The nightmare chamber was now molding to her every whim and she was getting better at creating things outside the room. She didn't need to pull her illusions out of a mind anymore, she could invent something form her own imagination. And with Bella's tutelage, we were learning just how dark her mind could be.

That was why I hesitated outside the door every time I had to bring her a meal. I was never sure what waited for me on the other side. Bella's 'lessons' ended on more and more frightening notes—not that Rebecca ever seemed to notice—her faith in her tutor was unwavering. It didn't matter how evil the things she created were, if Bella said it she did it.

I didn't think I really had much to fear from Rebecca personally. I was fairly certain that she would never actually hurt me. Every time I came to see her she greeted me with such a bright smile it felt like my worries about what she was turning into melted under it.

I thought that surely if she could look that happy she couldn't be too far gone. Someone as kind and good-natured as this girl wouldn't be totally swayed. No one could smile like that and be a monster.

…Right?

With a sigh I pushed open the door and made my way through the threshold.

I had unconsciously closed my eyes so I wouldn't be immediately struck by whatever horrors lurked within, but the feel of a cool breeze brushing over my skin and playing with my hair surprised me into opening them. My gaze first landed on Rebecca. She was facing away from me, leaning back onto her hands with her legs crossed in front. Her long hair lifted idly in the breeze and she would toss her head when the tendrils tickled her neck. She was sitting on a grassy hill overlooking a small valley.

The sky was a bright, beautiful blue with large fluffy clouds drifting lazily overhead. Little flowers poked their heads out of the grass, sprinkling the hill with happy colored dots. I could hear a faint rumbling noise interrupting the tranquil scene, the source of which appeared to be metal boxes traveling across a ribbon of road on a distant hill. Muggle cars, I guessed.

A light smile formed over my face at the pleasant surprise. Instead of the evil darkness I had been expecting, Rebecca had created a peaceful little place. There was even a stream gurgling merrily down the hill. One could sit here all day, simply enjoying the scenery.

The breeze blew again and wind chimes gently tinkled nearby. I glanced to them and noticed several pinwheels sticking out of the ground. Actually, there were many of them scattered across the hillside, spinning in the light wind. It seemed like a strange thing to have, until my eyes focused on the grass. Or the areas that lacked grass.

Large rectangular blocks of stone were organized in neat rows across the ground. Each one had two dates and a name etched into their surface.

Headstones.

Unable to help myself, I let out an exclamation of alarm and stepped backwards. My foot landed on another headstone, right on top of the death date. I jumped and almost tripped over a slightly elevated stone. Now that I was looking for them, I could see the stones everywhere. Some of the flora I had mistaken for taller wildflowers were actually bouquets left by family members.

The noise I had made brought Rebecca's attention around and she blinked at me in confusion before smiling warmly.

"Hey." She said softly. Her eyes traveled to the position of my foot and crinkled in amusement. "Draco, don't step on the headstones. It's not appropriate."

Appropriate? Appropriate?! Who was she to lecture me on what was appropriate?!

"What is this!?" I demanded, gesturing widely at the horrible scene.

Rebecca looked pensive for a moment and then a soft sigh escaped her lips. "It's a cemetery, Draco. Well, the illusion of one. The real one is back in California."

She said it so calmly! So nonchalant! She had created a bloody graveyard! What was wrong with this girl!? "Why? Why would you create this?"

Her smile had faded and she turned her attention forward again, gazing listlessly at the cars driving past. "Because. I wanted to understand."

"Understand what? Death?" I was still holding her lunch in my hand but I was not going to go to her. Not with all the dead people around me.

"No… not exactly." Her voice was airy and soft, but not quite a whisper. "Draco, why are people afraid of dying?"

I felt a chill run down my spine. "What?"

"Why are people…" She started to repeat the question and then paused. "I mean, it is human nature to do all in your power to survive. I get that. But death is a natural process. Everyone dies. It's inevitable. So why are people afraid of it?"

Still resolutely standing at a safe distance from the crazy girl and at close proximity to the door to sanity, I tried to think of why she would ask something like this. "People just are." I answered shortly. "Why are you doing this?"

Another sigh and she had turned her blue gaze back to me. I avoided looking her straight in the eye. "Because I don't fear death. At least, I don't think I do. I haven't ever really been tested. But personally I find the idea of prolonged pain much more frightening than death. Wouldn't that be worse?"

I didn't want to consider that. Not with all the bones around me. "Can you get rid of the graveyard? It's creeping me out."

She tilted her head and coyly smiled. "Why? There's nothing here."

"Nothing! There's dead bodies here! I'm not talking to you in a graveyard!"

She smirked. "Technically it is the illusion of dead bodies." I glared—not amused—and she rolled her eyes. "I like cemeteries. They're peaceful and pretty. Old ones are usually the best, but this is where my brother was buried so it's my favorite."

I froze and she nodded her head to the headstone on her left. I inched closer to get to an angle where I could see the writing but not be next to her. Sure enough, the printed name read, 'Our Beloved Son, Tanner Patrick Nils. 1995-2000.'

I knew she had a dead brother. It was in the file of personal information I'd studied before Rebecca had been ever set foot in England. But I hadn't really thought much of it since she hadn't mentioned it before. She'd been only eight when he had died, I didn't think the boy had had enough time to really make an impression on her.

"Who in their right mind has a favorite cemetery?" I asked derisively, not wanting to drift into awkward topics like dead siblings.

"I do." She responded shortly. "And anyone who does a lot of genealogy work does."

I snorted. "You're crazy. It's a big place of dead people. Most people avoid them for a reason."

"Most people do not understand them." She answered. She stretched out a hand and brushed it over the lettering of her brother's name. "Cemeteries are not scary places. They are resting places. Places of peace and perspective. The bodies buried here? They're just that, bodies. Empty shells. There's nothing more to them than there is to any doll. My brother's body is buried here, figuratively, but he is far from here."

I just stared at her blankly.

That apparently frustrated her because she frowned and turned her entire body to look at me. "There's no one here, Draco. Its empty shells. No one picks up shells on the beach and cares that some poor oyster died to give them their pretty trinket. It's the same thing."

I looked out over the graves again and then gingerly stepped closer to her. I handed her the box that held her lunch and then settled down beside her. Sometimes I really just had no idea what went through her head. "It's not the same thing! Rebecca, why did you want to come here? This is a place of sadness and grief."

She shifted around so that she could set the lunch comfortably on her lap, but she did not open the box. "It's pretty. Cemeteries are well tended. When people come here they are quiet and considerate. I have…good memories here."

"Good memories?" I asked, feeling totally confused.

She nodded. "We come here every year. Victor and Adam and I used to race down this hill." A faint, nostalgic smile spread over her lips. "This stream goes to a fountain at the bottom, around that hedge over there. Sometimes there would be tadpoles in it. I always wanted to catch one but I never could. My parents…didn't want us to be afraid because our brother died. They wanted us to understand that he was dead, but not gone. We like to visit cemeteries all over the place. It's not a family vacation if we don't go searching through headstones for our ancestors."

It sounded like a funny way to bond to me. My parents would never have done something like that.

She was smiling contently though, probably still sifting through old memories of tramping through graveyards. I didn't like this conversation at all. It made me uncomfortable. It should have made her uncomfortable too, but apparently not.

"So what's with the pinwheels?" I finally asked.

She shrugged and laughed. "I honestly have no idea. Some people like to put them by the graves of their children. They're always here when I come. Sometimes people put toys or little flags. We always just put some flowers."

"Oh." I suppose that made sense. Looking at the dates on the graves around us, all these people had died very young. This was probably the children's section. People would put children's objects by the graves.

We were quiet for a while. Rebecca looked utterly at peace here, while I still felt utterly unnerved. Logically I knew they were illusions. But despite her assurances, I couldn't see a dead body as anything other than a dead person. It was creepy to be hanging out with them.

"So…" I began, wanting to get to the bottom of her strangeness and get her to change the scene. "Why were you asking about death earlier?"

She glanced around, like she was checking for eavesdroppers. "I'm just confused by some things. I was kind of hoping you could explain them to me."

"Can I explain somewhere else?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine." The area around us rippled and we were suddenly sitting on a sandy shore, the ocean gently lapping up against the sand. The sun was dipping below the horizon, leaving us with a pretty scarlet sunset. "Better?"

I nodded. "So what am I explaining?"

"I…I think I'll get in trouble if I ask." She looked worried and glanced over her shoulder again. Just for a moment I wondered if she had found a break in the net the death eaters had been closing around her. If she had found a hole in their logic and I helped her see it then she might not turn into the Dark Lord's tool! But then that hope faded as I realized that it was actually my job to keep her under that net. I couldn't disobey the Dark Lord's direct instructions. He would know.

"I…I promise I won't tell anyone." I tried to assure her.

She stared at me for a moment, judging if I was lying or not.

"You won't get in trouble." I promised—hopefully sincerely. Voldemort loved her, she would be safe. I would be the one who got hurt. Somehow.

She still looked unsure, but she spoke bluntly and quickly. "Why does the Dark Lord fear death?" Her eyes darted around as if expecting something to jump out and accuse her of heresy.

Which, technically, wouldn't be out of line.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how one looked at it—I had no idea how to answer that. It hadn't occurred to me that the Dark Lord could be afraid of anything. He was, after all, the Dark Lord.

"Um… could you clarify that a bit?" I asked. I only just kept myself from glancing around and searching for eavesdroppers, this topic was dangerous.

"Well… I would think that he'd be scared of what he might find on the other side, but I have a hard time believing that he actually believes in hell. I mean, he's done terrible things, right? But like, I don't think anyone would really do something bad if they really believed in a punishment. Crimes are usually done when people think they can get away with them. But then I can only think that he's scared of it being an end to his power. Or maybe it's just that it's something he can't conquer and he is afraid of power greater than him?"

She rambled on like that, throwing out possible reasons for why the Dark Lord could possibly fear death. She had obviously put a lot of thought into this and I wasn't sure how to respond. Somehow I needed to make sure that she never wavered from thinking that the Dark Lord was the greatest being to ever eist. But I didn't know how to do that.

"Well, why does it matter?" I finally asked lamely, hoping she'd just forget it.

"Because Bella doesn't fear anything! And that's because she believes in the Dark Lord so strongly, but I don't see why. If he is so afraid than why is he the greatest?"

A lot of thought indeed. "Rebecca… every great leader has his fears. That just…makes him greater, you know? He can stand despite those fears and conquer more." I almost winced as the words came out of my mouth. I sounded like some cheap inspirational speaker for the light. It sounded so stupid.

I held my breath and watched her expression carefully, trying to judge how that was received. Finally she gave a slow nod. "I guess…"

I had succeeded. I had defended my mission. I kept Rebecca in the dark. So why did I feel so guilty? I tried to change the subject to safer grounds.

"Enough about death and fear and depressing stuff. Eat your lunch."

She smiled in amusement and pulled a bowl of pasta out of the box. An ocean breeze swept her hair back and she ate slowly.

I looked out over the ocean and watched the reflection of the red sun floating in the water. Guilt ate at me. Each wave roaring towards me yelled about how terrible I was. The gentle sigh as the water kissed the beach and retreated mocked my cowardice. I could do something. I could interfere with the process. It wouldn't be hard. A few words here and there would plant just enough doubt.

But just like the last time I had been given a mission, I could not stop. A man, arguably the greatest man England had ever known, had been killed because I had the courage of a mouse. I had wanted to prove how strong I was, how brave I could be. But all I'd done was seal the fate of a good man. In the end, I hadn't even been strong enough to finish the deed.

Dumbledore died because of me. And so would many others. I was too scared to stand up and put an end to the madness.

Coward… the waves whispered.

I couldn't disagree. Rebecca smiled at me and I pulled my lips into a mirror of the expression.

Coward…

Bellatrix

She was having trouble focusing. This was typical after meeting with Draco, but normally her mind caught up quickly with what I was asking her to do. This session she seemed to be extra distracted.

"Rebecca, stop for a moment."

A brief look of panic crossed her face. "Did I do something wrong?" She asked worriedly. Assuming the answer would be yes she immediately broke into an apology, "I'm sorry. I am trying, really."

Oh, she was so eager to please.

"No, no. Here, come sit with me for a moment." Even as I spoke she created chairs behind me. Green plush seats with ornately carved armrests materialized from nothing. I settled myself gracefully into the closest one. It felt completely solid and supremely comfortable.

Her abilities were as amazing as her obedience. The seeds of devotion had long been planted in her heart, she just needed a direction to grow them in.

She quickly moved to sit in the remaining chair. That in itself was a sign of how much progress she had made with her magic. Initially she could not touch anything she made. She was too aware of its unreal nature for it to be solid. Anyone else would have been able to sit in that chair, but Rebecca had not believed enough for it to work for her.

But as her confidence in her powers grew, so did her belief in her creations. The chair she made was real to her and so it became more than just an illusion.

The Dark Lord had been so very wise to bring her here.

I had to continue her improvement, but I needed to make sure everything inside her mind was on track. "You seem distracted. Is there something bothering you? Is your healing draught not working?"

She had been taking a potion developed by our top potions masters to ease her stomach pains. She took one with every breakfast to ensure her capabilities for our lessons. Too many of the beginning ones had ended with my poor child choking on her own blood. Her health had improved immensely in the past few weeks, but one couldn't be too careful. If they were failing now, I would have to meet with the potion master and show him what failure meant.

But Rebecca shook her head. "No, the potion works fine. Thank you for those, by the way. I feel better than I have in months."

I might see the potions master anyway. Just to be certain he understood how important this girl was. "Is there something else bothering you, then?"

She looked at the ground thoughtfully. "I was just…thinking about… Draco."

Draco? Of course. I had wondered if something like that would happen. If my nephew weren't such a failure I might think it would be an excellent match. Though, he reportedly had some talent. He did fix that cabinet after all. Maybe she could bring him up to a proper standard.

It was tiresome to ask, but part of my duties included the darling's emotional wellbeing. "Is there…something going on between you two?"

Rebecca jerked from her contemplative posture with a start and turned quizzical eyes on me. "What? Oh! No. No, no. That isn't what I meant. Actually, I guess it isn't just Draco. He's just the most recent person."

She trailed off and returned her gaze to the floor. She always inclined her head downward and to the left when she was thinking, as if there were some answer in the floor that if she just looked hard enough she could find.

Of course, she was not particularly forthcoming when in this mood. She had to be guided into answering, but that allowed for guidance of her thought process, which she desperately needed. The poor thing was a lost soul. Lost and afraid and in need of the solace the Dark Lord could give her. I would show her the way.

Gently, my fingers lifted her chin and turned her back to me. "What is it, Rebecca? You know you can trust me."

A happy smile graced her face, gratitude shining in her eyes. She did trust me. She trusted me without question, without reservations. So faithful. Such a good girl.

"I don't even know why it bothers me anymore. I just… He's afraid of me. Most people are. Or they're mad that I can see all their secrets and they can't see mine."

Of course they feared her powers. They should fear them. It was the ultimate form of legilimency and she barely had to try to attain it.

"People are weak. They fear what they do not understand. Rebecca, you need to remember that. They become angry to prove that you are below them."

She nodded in agreement but I could tell those words had little effect on her. She was trying too hard to be considerate of feelings. The only feelings she needed to consider were her own and the Dark Lord's.

"Rebecca, you must listen to me. You have given those lesser creatures power over you. You have let them gain a hold of you and they have made you fear them. You do not need to hide anymore. You do not need to bend to their rules. Now is your chance to show them that you are not a force to be trifled with."

"But it really isn't their fault. I—"

"You? You, Rebecca, have been wronged. Do not buy into their fear. Those people are hardly worthy of standing in your presence, let alone occupying your thoughts like this. You are chosen of the Dark Lord, you are a holy vessel of his will."

She still hesitated, obviously conflicted. This wouldn't do. It was time to try an exercise the Dark Lord had taught me personally in the early days when I had been weak and foolish and had trouble delivering the killing blow my master required of me.

"Try and remember. Remember every time someone spurned you for something you could not control. Each time some ingrate stared at you with hate-filled eyes. Every time you were yelled at, every person who hurt you, frightened you. Remember them. Stop giving them excuses. They deserve none. When the basic facts stand they hurt you for no reason. It is time to show them who you are."

And the girl obeyed, as I knew she would. She had previously clasped her hands together at her knees and now they came apart, the muscles twitching and growing agitated. The corners of her mouth twitched as she fought with herself. Her sense of right and wrong had been solidified by a corrupt society, solidified in a terribly self-destructive way. The poor dear would have spent her life in a troubled state of wrongness, always thinking herself inadequate, always keeping herself on the fringe. But deep underneath the statutes of society she knew I spoke the truth. She could not deny it even if she had wanted to.

She hardly noticed when the nightmare chamber began to pick up her memories. Voices echoed around the room. Screams and shouts, hating defensive tones. Indistinct figures of people drifted in and out of focus around her. Their images were faded and blurred together, but their eyes stood out starkly. Every pair was filled with fearful hatred. Each was riveted on Rebecca, boring painful holes in her psyche.

They spun around the chairs we sat in, calling and jeering. Rebecca shook her head quickly in a vain attempt to cast away the memories. I could not tell the exact moments she was recalling, but I could see the potent effect they had on her.

"Stop justifying their treatment. Prove that you aren't what they say. Prove you're better than they are. I know you are. Show them!"

She listened. My words were near gospel. She was growing angry.

I could feel the waves of frustration sliding off her body as the cage she had normally kept her more negative emotions trapped in began to bend. It was a fight, years of conditioning herself to believe that those feelings were wrong—that she was weak and sinful for having them, that they were made for people stronger than her—had created a force of habit that did not want to be broken. But she wanted to believe in me more than she wanted to believe in those teachings.

And that was enough.

"Take all that pain, everything you've bottled up, make something of it. Create them." I instructed, anticipation increasing my heartrate.

It was working. The soft grey-blue of her iris was hardening into a crystallized fury as pain solidified into pure, righteous anger.

The room reacted to her changing mood. I could feel the earth shaking beneath me, rocking back and forth in a passion-induced quake. The anger was taking hold of Rebecca and she was blossoming under it. The world around us rippled with suppressed energy. The quaking grew in intensity, jerking the floor back and forth until the ground began to split.

The hurt and pain she had suffered through as well as the shame and fear imposed on her being were burdens she would bear no longer. She rose from her chair, eyes blazing. This time, the world at large would feel her pain.

Clouds of ash exploded form the widening chasms, rising above our chairs and spreading in thick mushroomed swirls. It was chaos. It was destruction. It was ecstasy. And it could only get better.

I laughed in triumph as another cloud of smoke exploded behind her. Such imagination. Such skill. Such beauty.

"Bring out your fears, make them submit! Show them who has the power!"

A shrieking, snarling rumble rose from the fountains of ash. Spidery, claws hands stretched out of the chasms, crawling over the broken edges. Black, leathery beasts rising from the abyss. Every fear, every pain, every awful memory Rebecca held was being personified into a writhing, surging mass of claws and limbs. They were demons from the darkest nightmare. They gathered at our feet and bowed, ready to serve their mistress.

They were masses of pointed spines, twisted bones, and blazing red eyes. Wave after wave of the beasts rose from the pits, coming to stand in a trembling horde.

Their exact forms were unimportant. Rebecca did not see the world distinctly for her inner demons to take a distinct shape. Instead, bowing at our feet were shadows. Shadows with reaching, raking fingers.

The ground trembled and the broken pieces slammed back together. Rebecca was standing, gazing over her army with a twisted satisfaction.

She turned her head to look for me, fiery blue eyes seeking my approval. I gave it with exultant joy. She was almost ready.

The nightmare queen had been born.

Draco

I thought I had a plan. I thought maybe I could get her to focus on the good parts of her life under the guise of learning more about her past. That's what I would do. I would walk in there and get her talking about nice people. About puppies and butterflies and everything that fell under the category of 'sickeningly cute.'

It would work. I knew it would. It was all I had.

I didn't wait for the house elf to come get me. It was time for dinner and I was going to go into that chamber like a man.

I twisted the doorknob and thrust the wooden barrier out of my way, striding into that warzone with the confidence befitting my class.

I caught a glance of Rebecca's furious eyes before they were on me.

Wailing, gnashing beasts attacking my flesh and ripping me apart.

Blood splattered across spiny black monsters, staining their leathery skin and matching their death-filled eyes.

Rebecca's shriek was drowned out by my own as I dropped to the ground. Blood and shadows enveloped my vision and I was gone.

There we go. I'm not entirely happy about Bella's POV but it is an unfortunate product of my busy schedule and I actually found myself rather uncomfortable with it. It will get better. If anyone has suggestions I would be most grateful.

Leah, I'm sorry I've hurt your opinion of Harry. xD He really isn't a bad guy, Nikki just tends to put people in a bad light and not let them out. I'm glad you like it anyway.

I hope the lines make it easier to find the switches in POV.