Disclaimer; I don't own anything but the plot and the OCs. Sorry if there are any mistakes, this particular chapter was written on Doc Manager itself.
xoxo
11. One's Pain is Another's Gain
Twenty Fourth of November
Sirius, with Dolohov's hand wrapped around his throat, was thrown down when they apparated onto the grounds of the Malfoy Manor. Dolohov touched the squirming Dark Mark tattooed into his skin and winced when it burned. But then a cold and evil laugh emerged from his mouth and he peered down at Sirius's face.
'Not so pretty now Black,' he laughed, whispering a spell that had Sirius on the verge of screaming for mercy. But he bit his tongue; he'd be damned if he ever screamed because of that bastard. When the spell was lifted Sirius spat at Dolohov's feet whose face contorted with hatred. He was about to hit Sirius when Carrow grabbed his arm.
'I want to hurt him just as much as you do ... he's ruined my brother. But let's leave him to the Dark Lord, don't bother now,' she whispered urgently, pulling his arm. 'Let's take him inside.' She said softly. Was it just Sirius or could he see something flickering between them. Aw, did Carrow fancy the big bad Dolohov? How sad for her.
Dolohov conjured wires which like snakes, slithered and wound themselves tightly around Sirius's hands. He grunted, feeling the circulation to his hands stem slightly.
Dolohov then grabbed Sirius by his bound arms and dragged him across the grass. Sirius cried out softly, as he felt his body ache. His cracked ribs screamed, and his legs burned. He started choking; finding it hard to breathe as Dolohov dragged him across the hard gravel.
The gates jumped aside and both he and the following Death Eaters hurried up the walkway towards the enormous home. Carrow knocked hard and sharp on the door, and within seconds the pretty and anxious face of Narcissa Black answered.
She gasped. 'You caught him?' she whispered, moving aside to let the three Death Eaters and the one prisoner in. Her steel blue eyes met Sirius's almost identical grey ones and for a second she looked almost sympathetic. Then her expression hardened. 'Where's Lucius?' she whispered. Narcissa frantically looked out of the door. It was almost as if she knew the answer.
'Where is my husband?' she hissed, her eyes pooling with tears. When Alecto Carrow put a hand on her shoulder, Narcissa threw it off. 'Is Lucius dead?' she breathed.
'No, no, but he's been hurt, hurt grievously. It must have been Mulciber, or someone of the likes who took all the injured to Snape's. They'll be healed there.'
Narcissa looked down at Sirius with contempt and then growled, colliding the back of her hand with Sirius's face. The blow forced his neck left and his lip started bleeding faster. He didn't whimper though. He looked up at her and met her eyes. She slapped him again. But the same as before, he didn't show any sign of pain but calmly looked at her.
'He killed my brother,' Sirius said softly. In answer, Narcissa shrieked with pain and loss. But a louder shriek came from the kitchen.
'Take your damn son Narcissa! And who the hell is at the door!' Bellatrix screamed. They heard hard and loud footsteps, and Carrow sunk a little behind Dolohov – she was obviously scared of the mad woman.
When Bellatrix saw them, clustered in the large and spacious hallway before the door, she stopped. Her face showed evidence of Lord Voldemort's wrath for failing the capture of Sirius a few weeks ago. There were dark bags under her eyes, and her face was white and pale. She looked sick. But that was what well executed Cruciatus Curses did.
'Y-you caught him?' her deep voice whispered, ever so softly stepping closer. She pulled out her wand as she continued softly stepping forward, then she sunk to her knees so her face was inches from Sirius's. Her face looked almost as if she had died, died and gone heaven.
Bellatrix tapped his chest with her wand, tracing the tattoos before stroking his matted and bloody hair with her other hand. Then she kissed his forehead.
'My dear cousin, how have you been?'
Bellatrix liked to play with her food. She liked to play then bite viciously. Well Sirius was like that too, and he could play just as good.
His voice was hoarse and quiet but no one was breathing; their every fibre was focused on catching his words. 'I've been good thank you Bella; though my chest hurts ... can I have some water?'
He was making a fool of her, and that did not bode well with a Black. Not one bit. She drew back, ready to hex him when they heard the crack of apparation and the swish of a cloak just outside the door.
The Darkest Lord Voldemort was here.
xo
It had been weeks now since Sirius became their secret keeper – about a month ago. And he was still on the run, and James was still so proud of him. Sirius was always a bundle of surprises and this proved that he wasn't the mad and incorrigible and reckless fool most knew him to be.
Lily was tired and in the process of falling asleep on the sofa when the weather report on the WWN was interrupted with breaking news. James, who was in the middle of massaging her feet, threw them off his lap and sat up straight, his eager ears perking up.
Lily jumped up too, she must have thought they were being attacked too but when she heard someone so like a brother to her being mentioned, she sat up as well.
' ... Over three dead Death Eaters left behind. The Aurors have also captured two dead bodies, and three injured or unconscious ones. There were thirteen casualties of this Diagon Alley wreckage. Bystanders during the war between Sirius Black and the Death Eaters have informed us there seemed to be a dozen or more. Black managed to hold them off, and even murdered some of the wanted Death Eaters, as well as paralysing Malfoy and putting Amycus Carrow into a coma, who is of the wanted for the Carrows Massacre. However the Aurors were too late and Black was taken ...'
'NO!' screamed James, jumping up in shock. 'This isn't...' he cried, staring at the WWN with hatred and confusion. 'No, no, no!' Then he kicked the wall and the sofa and started screaming, throwing his arms in the air and punching anything he could get his hands on. It was impossible, it wasn't true. Sirius wasn't ... he hadn't ... it was impossible, this was Sirius, he was invincible...
He could hear Lily's breathing, loud and uneven and wheezy.
'... fatally injured, with illegal curses used on him. One of the bystanders said he was set alight, but managed to put it out. Nonetheless, Black has been taken, meaning that the mission he has been assigned by the Aurors has failed. However, if he manages to escape the clutches of He Who Must Not Be Named, after wounding and aiding in the capture of some of his darkest followers, Black will become a world wide hero. Nonetheless, the grievous injuries and torture he had undergone during the battle has had the public questioning just how desperate the Death Eaters and He Who Must Not Be Named are willing to go.'
Another woman started talking in more detail about the battle that had taken place. About a dozen against one man; the sheer power and strength he put into the battle he knew he was losing was something to be remembered. But it wasn't helping James and Lily. The detail from the broadcaster and one of the eye-witness's accounts was too graphic.
James sunk to his knees, moaning. He was shaking his head. This wasn't true; it had to be someone else. Sirius hadn't been caught. His brother had not been caught. They were lying. They were all fucking lying!
'No,' he whimpered, shaking his head and covering his face with his hands. His best friend had not been captured. This wasn't true. Sirius was clever; he was sneaky; he was sly and he was quick – he was Sirius Black. Stubbornly James shook his head. 'No ... uh-huh ... this isn't true,' whispered James. He slowly walked over to the WWN, turning it up.
His best friend had been set on fire; many Unforgiveable Curses had been used; Dark Magic had been cast by both the Death Eaters and Sirius. He had even been hurt by the Death Eaters who resorted to using Muggle fighting.
When the news report ended after fifteen more minutes, and some songs started playing James turned the WWN off. He sat down on the floor near the small and shabby fireplace and stared into the flames. If he tilted his head that way, he could almost see his friend's face.
He could hear sniffling, and didn't know whether it was him of Lily. It was probably both of them. Sometime later, he was joined on the floor by his wife, who took his hand and turned his face to look into her eyes. She wiped the tears streaking down under his glasses; the never ending stream of tears; like a river.
'Look at me darling,' she whispered, pecking his forehead and then his nose and then his lips. 'Jim, he's going to be—'
'DON'T TELL ME HE'S GOING TO BE OKAY!' yelled James, slapping her hand away and jumping up. Then he looked out of the window, with its curtain still open and suddenly an idea sprung to him. He hurried around the house, collecting his jacket and putting his shoes on.
Lily screamed when she realised what he was going to do, and chased him to the front door. 'J-James, what are you doing?' she breathed, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him from opening the door. When he wouldn't budge she started tugging hard on his arm. 'James! JAMES! James please, please—' her shrieks were hysterical and frantic and desperate. 'Please don't do this to me! Please!'
She was begging almost, and her pleas were barely comprehensible but she was begging nonetheless. Lily was begging for James's life, she knew he was going to die. If he left he was going to die.
She tugged again, this time harder. 'James, please – think about what you are doing! THINK FOR ONCE! JUST FUCKING THINK OF WHAT WILL HAPPEN!' Then they heard cries from upstairs, it was Harry. They must have awoken him. His cries were loud and hollering. Her husband looked towards the stairs, almost frightened.
James's eyes looked red, and the tear streaks were still there. His face was scarlet and he looked just about ready to cry. But the determination in his steely and resolute glare made Lily shiver.
'D'you hear that James?' she pleaded, shaking his arm and pulling his gaze towards hers. 'D'you hear him? If you leave ... if you leave then he'll die. I'll die. We'll die without you Jamie, please.' Her voice broke and she started stuttering, her mind going haywire.
'Jamie, Jamie please.' She pleaded, tenderly holding his face and kissing his lips again and again and again. His whole body sagged and he started sobbing hard sobs. Lily cradled his head, which nestled into her neck. She started kissing his hair and rubbing his back as his arms wrapped around her small body.
'Don't ...' she panted. 'Don't ever do something like this to me again.' But her panted words were drowned out by his sobs, and they were heart wrenching and devastated sobs. 'Don't,' she whispered. But she started crying too. And with him, she grieved the brother they knew they were going to lose.
xo
The First of December
'Rose?' Remus asked hesitantly. She was breast feeding, and didn't care if Remus saw. All her spirit had gone. It was the first of December. A week since Sirius had been captured; a week since Sirius James had been born. And it hurt so badly. The full moon that had passed a few days ago had been the worst he had ever experienced. He had only just gotten out of St Mungo's the day before because it was so severe. The wolf was mourning. The wolf had been grieving a lost friend.
But Sirius wasn't dead yet. He could withstand Voldemort for a week. He could maybe withstand him for longer. But it didn't matter. It hurt so much. Because whether he held out for a week, a month or a year, he would be killed at the end. He'd be dead.
Rose had been grieving differently though. She didn't talk much, and she was barely eating, opting to cuddle up in front of Remus's inherited television (his Father gave it to him in hopes his Mother would stop being so obsessed with it) and nuzzle her son. Sirius James was very small; and extremely adorable. His eyes were the piercing silver Remus had known they would be.
'Yes,' she replied quietly, looking up. Her large plain green eyes were a little red (as if she'd only just stopped crying) and her mouth was trembling. Remus joined her on the sofa, with a cup of tea he had made for her in his hands. He set it down in front of her, and looked at the beautiful baby boy now asleep in her arms.
'I've made you some tea, would you like to eat anything?' his voice was always gentle when he was talking to her. He was scared something he'd say could hurt her, could make her cry again. The day they had returned from the hospital was a sad day. She stayed in her room with her son, crying for Sirius. The next day was a little better; she wrote a letter to her Mother informing her about her son. But Rose never got up from the sofa except to go toilet or to sleep. She never spoke unless spoken too. And she watched nothing but tragedy films or listened to the WWN for any news. It was heartbreaking to watch.
Rose shook her head softly. 'It's alright Remus, I'm not hungry.' She replied in a quiet voice, rocking her sleeping son. Her eyes drifted closed for a second but she opened them quickly.
Remus gently touched her arm. 'Please, please go to sleep Rose. You haven't rested for a week. I'll take care of little Seers, I promise.'
She started shaking her head but when her eyes started closing again she sighed. 'Thank you Remus,' she yawned, covering her mouth. She gently and rather reluctantly handed over her son before kissing Remus on the cheek.
Sluggishly and slowly, she shuffled out of the room. Rose had lost all the weight she'd been carrying when she was pregnant. Well her breasts were still abnormally large and her bum looked bigger too. But she wasn't eating properly and Remus was scared that if this carried on going, she'd be as skinny as he used to be in his first few years of Hogwarts. And that level of skinniness was not attractive.
Remus cuddled the newborn to his chest and whispered soothing songs to keep the boy asleep. He felt guilty – it was supposed to be Sirius doing these things, not him. Had they not always said Sirius would make a great dad – anyone with eyes could see how he was with Harry. And so it was sad to know that Sirius would probably never meet his own son. It was more than sad.
But no, Padfoot would be grateful. He would forever be grateful that Remus took care of the love of his life and his child. Perhaps he could take another day off for tomorrow? He hadn't gone in work today too. But no, he had to go in tomorrow. They were one of the four departments investigating in where Sirius was right now.
Rose could manage by herself. She had too. Because after today Remus was putting mind, body, soul and wolf into this damn investigation. He was going to get his brother back. The newborn started stirring and when he awoke from his very short slumber he didn't cry; which was what Remus had expected. He started grinning at the small baby in his arms who just stared up at him. Just stared patiently, and the look was so similar to his father's gaze that it gave Remus shivers.
xo
The Twenty Fourth of November
He wasn't sure if it was a cellar or maybe an attic. There were shelves filled with books on one side and a sofa opposite him. The floor had deep burgundy carpet and the walls were ivory. There was only one window in the room, right at the end. So it must be an attic; Sirius thought calmly.
He was thrown down and didn't even have time to put his hands down. Well they wouldn't have been much help. They were bound.
Bellatrix walked past and made very careful steps to scare Sirius, to worry him. It worked but he wasn't going to tell her. He grinned his arrogant and handsome and charming grin at her. When inside he knew he should be shitting himself. He hadn't actually seen Voldemort. Bella and Narcissa immediately stunned him. Maybe Voldemort had seen him?
'You're going to stay here until the Dark Lord finishes with the others.' Bellatrix said softly, sitting on the sofa before Sirius and twisting her wand. Obviously she had been dealt with for the blunder a few weeks ago at the hotel. Her face had betrayed the terror she felt, but there was also admiration and was that a trace of longing flickering over her face too?
Sirius wanted to laugh. 'Were you dealt with too?' he asked, finding the courage to laugh at her. Bellatrix scared him – from a young age. She was almost eight years older than him and a terrifying witch when she wanted to be, which was all the time. Her face turned red with her unfathomable anger and she drew her wand but. But she breathed in deeply and after a minute was able to put her arm back down.
'I see what you're trying to do Sirius, it won't work.'
'Oh but it always worked at Uncle Alphard's. Whenever you upset Regulus I'd get you in trouble by luring you into one of your many terrifying rages in front of my parents. Even then you were evil. I should've put you down myself.'
It was true. Whenever Bellatrix had made Regulus cry (which was often during their early years) Sirius would feel so enraged he knew that he had to get Bellatrix in trouble. And he would – she'd often get hit or sent to one of Alphard's holiday house rooms for the rest of the day. And her parents were really quite powerless against the likes of Orion and Walburga Black.
Bella's beautiful fierce eyes roamed over Sirius's tattoos. They lingered too long on the rose, but when she saw that initials she sighed dramatically. 'It's such a shame Regulus was killed. He had the chance to thrive amongst the Death Eaters and instead he took your cowardly route and tried to escape. I heard it was Lucius who killed him.' And at the pained and infuriated expression from Sirius she knew she struck gold.
'Was that why you paralysed him? I don't think Snape would be able to save him if you used 'Numquam Ambulare', that's Dark Magic cousin. Very Dark Magic indeed. I didn't know you had it in you.' Was she praising him?
'Yeah well, he shouldn't mess with me,' Sirius joked, laughing dryly at the lack of humour. 'Can I go to the loo? Only I'm about to piss my pants, and that's something you really don't want to witness. Or maybe you would, I'm not sure what quirks you're into these days.
Bellatrix smiled sweetly, leaving the sofa and crawling on her knees towards her dear cousin.
'You could have become great,' she said sadly, shaking her head. 'You could have ruled among us Death Eaters, but instead you settle at protecting and battling for the weak.'
Sirius opened his mouth to retort but she placed her finger on his lips. He gulped. Sirius was only a little ... intimidated by Bellatrix Black Lestrange. And he never knew what her next move was going to be. So this was what James and Remus meant when they said his recklessness scared them. Because right now he didn't have a clue what she was going to do to him.
And it was scaring the living daylights out of him.
'You've betrayed us,' she continued, once again running her wand over his face; tracing every feature, most of them similar to hers. 'And the Dark Lord forgives not the traitors.'
Sirius swallowed when she tentatively touched his chest with her wand. 'How am I a traitor, when I was never on your side to begin with?' he replied just as smoothly and silkily. Then they heard the attic down open and when Sirius looked up he started shivering; quite literally.
Remember how he said he wasn't scared of anyone but his Mother? He was wrong. So brutally wrong. The man before him was so terrifying; Sirius felt his bones quiver and his lips tremble and his heart race.
Lord Voldemort was a tall man, roughly the same height as Sirius, maybe a little taller. His black robes were made from silk and fluttered like wings in the gentle breeze from the open attic window across the room. His hair was jet black and his features were handsome. But he was not handsome. Lord Voldemort had travelled to the deepest realms of Dark Magic, further than anyone before him, further than anyone ever would travel. The magic was changing him; for his skin was pale but not pale like Sirius's. It was pasty and looked slightly grey. His eyes were scarlet red, not black like they had once been years ago. And the fury in those eyes. The fury.
Then the Dark Lord smiled. And it was worse than the fury in those eyes; it was so much worse. Sirius felt his heart skip a beat, and his hands start to sweat. He felt his eyes water a little from the fright and his throat dry up.
'Will you excuse us Bella?' the voice was quite, patient and soft. It was what Sirius imagined the Angel of Death sounded like. It was a voice that rattled bones and warmed blood and watered eyes. It was a terrifying voice.
Bellatrix threw herself down, kissing the tips of the silk robes and whispering words that were unintelligible. Abruptly, she jumped up and hurried out of the room with a tentative half glance back to the two wizards. She hurriedly closed the door hard behind herself.
Voldemort sighed and turned back to look at Sirius. He smiled again; one of those smiles. Slowly and deliberately, he took close steps towards where Sirius was huddled. Then he sat down on the sofa Bella had just preoccupied and put a hand under his chin to prop his head up. Voldemort sighed again.
'Sirius Betelgeuse Orion Black,' his quite voice said. Sirius trembled at the sound of his name leaving the Dark Lord's mouth. 'Original heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. One of the seven original families from London. How proud must you be?'
Sirius breathed in three or four times, praying that his voice wouldn't falter. 'Not very proud.' His voice did not falter. The eyes of the Dark Lord flashed dangerously.
'Aren't you proud? You could have inherited the whole fortune. Millions of galleons, houses across Europe, unimaginable power.' His eyes flashed at the mention of power. It was a test. This was all a test.
Hadn't Dumbledore once said Sirius was a man who could handle power? Who could command it and rule it because he wasn't excited or tempted by it? And only if you weren't excited or interested or tempted could you command it. Only then could you rule.
Again, in a voice that was quiet and soft and steady he replied, 'I've never been as intrigued as you or my family by power.'
The Dark Lord raised a delicate black eyebrow. 'Why?'
Sirius shuffled into a more dignified position, so he was now sitting on the ground barely a metre from Lord Voldemort. He set his bound hands on his knee and shook the hair from his eyes. 'Power is something that can change a man. Power is for those who are weak and tempted. I am neither weak, nor am I tempted by power because my family have commanded it since my birth. I have commanded it since my birth, I've used it and seen it, and it's not interesting or tempting at all. Well at least for me, but I'm not sure about the weak...'
Lord Voldemort started clapping sarcastically and laughed loud but his eyes remained like lasers. 'And you think power is for the weak? Power is commanded and controlled by the strong and the fierce. Hmm... I wonder, was I always this ignorant when I was young? Were my beliefs and ideals as warped as your own?' He laughed again.
Sirius jutted his jaw defiantly. 'You asked for my opinion, sir, and I gave it.'
'Yes, yes you did. And now I know the answer to the question I am still going to ask.'
'A bit pointless really,' retorted Sirius in a bland voice. 'Asking a question you know the answer to.' And the Dark Lord laughed heartedly, throwing his head back and chuckling.
'What is that?' he asked, pointing at the stag pendant hung from his neck.
'It's a pendant I was given.' Sirius answered rather calmly, looking down at the stag sitting on top of the initials R.A.B.
The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow, smirking. 'Ah, a gift. From who, your friend? Your friend James?' the cold voice sneered.
Sirius gritted his teeth but managed to ignore the bait. 'Yes, it was a going away gift. He's always been very sentimental. Great friend, you'd like him.'
Again, Voldemort laughed. 'Oh I heard about you. I heard of your humour and your rhetoric and your sarcasm. It's nice to know these few days I'll be entertained. And then after a few days you'll flounder of course.' His scarlet eyes flashed again, this time brighter and more terrifying; like a star. Lord Voldemort leaned forward. 'They always flounder.'
'I don't think I will, at least not in the first few days.'
Voldemort leaned back and rested his hand under his chin again, propping his head up. 'Well then Sirius Betelgeuse Orion Black ... we will just have to see.' Suddenly, Voldemort jumped up, wand in his hand and the torture curse on his lips.
It was such pain. Such unimaginable, inconceivable, unthinkable pain. Sirius had sworn to himself when the Death Eaters had tortured him that he wouldn't scream, he wouldn't cry. But when you felt like you were on fire, when you felt like you were being stabbed again and again all you could think of was the pain. It was like he was drowning. He wished he was drowning. It brought with the pain, death.
But this torture ... this pain wouldn't end in death. Insanity, maybe but Sirius never wanted to be insane. He'd rather die.
All he could feel... he couldn't restrain himself. He couldn't stop the ghost of a cry escaping.
And then, with such passion and pain, Sirius threw his head back – threw his head back and screamed as loud and hard as he could. And the scream tinkled the chandelier; the scream caused a flock of birds to take flight in surprise which had been hovering near the window. The scream caused Voldemort, Lord Voldemort, to laugh. The scream spoke of his pain.
'I'm going to ask you a question,' said Voldemort, ending the curse. 'I am going to ask you a question most in your position would beg for. And I want you to think, ponder and dream ... I want you to muse over everything you could achieve if you say yes. Like most would.'
Sirius started panting, deep and hard pants. Never again did he want to feel that pain. But he knew. If he gave Voldemort what he wanted than he would be discarded, he would be thrown into the Atrium of the Ministry dead, lifeless and without the secret inside him because Lord Voldemort would have gotten what he wanted.
The only thing he had to do was resist. As hard as it seemed, as painful as this was going to be he needed to hold onto the secret and his integrity. And so he grinned, re-splitting his lip because of the hard and wide grin. The grin that stretched from ear to ear. Then Sirius chuckled.
'I am not like most Lord Voldemort; I thought you would have known.'
The spell hit him as hard as a broom; faster than an arrow fired by a centaur; sharp like a knife. Once again the scream that Sirius cried was so loud, it rattled the chandelier and scared the animals outside. Because these screams were a warning. A warning to stay away. To stay far away.
Little did Sirius know that perched at the bottom of the stairs were a cluster of Death Eaters. Narcissa was still in the Manor - she had been ordered to stay inside even though she had begged if she could check on her husband.
Her smile at Sirius's pain was cold and merciless and evil when he screamed again. In her hands was her son Draco, with his white-blond hair and beautiful eyes. Besides Narcissa was her sister, whose face was enigmatic; ecstatic. Carrows and Dolohov were behind the sisters. All the Death Eaters could think about was how jealous they were to not have caused these screams during the battle.
'He'll last three or four days,' Dolohov said, chuckling when Sirius's scream increased in volume. Carrows started chuckling too. But Bellatrix shook her head, her eyes flickering towards the attic door they could see above. She threw her head back, but not out of pain, but rather mirth. And she laughed. Oh how Bellatrix wished she was there to witness this.
Looking at Carrow and Dolohov, she shook her head again. 'He won't last a three or four days. He won't last a week. He'll last longer.' And her eyes met her sister's identical ones. They shared a knowing look. 'He'll last much longer.'
But her sentence was cut off, by another rippling scream. And the Death Eaters waiting at the bottom of the stairs started laughing; deep laughs. Because they despised Sirius Black. And they would do anything to have him killed. To have him in pain.
xo
'DAMMIT!' roared Moody, kicking one of the desks. They had captured a few of the Death Eaters – but two of the ones they had managed to reach before the other Death Eaters snatched them, were dead. Of the three conscious ones, one was in a coma and another was in no fit state to talk yet. The third was stubborn, but they hadn't even started interrogating him using magic yet. However this wasn't why Moody was exactly angry again. He was angry because Sirius had been snatched before his eyes mere hours ago.
Moody had watched as Dolohov (a thorn in his backside) wrapped a hand around Sirius's throat and disapparated with two other Death Eaters. The only reason he had known it was Dolohov was because the mask had half come off during the fierce battle.
Dolohov and three other Death Eaters had been added to the list of known followers at large thanks to this battle. Not that Moody hadn't known Dolohov was a Death Eater, but rather because they had never witnessed him doing anything.
When Moody had seen the damage his young protégée was able to create, he had been very close to crying with pride. Had his little protégée really battled against ten or so Death Eaters (they didn't know the exact number) and managed to survive. But he had been captured. Sirius Black had been captured.
Moody had been waiting for this, the day his young trainer would be caught. And he was hurt. He had never gotten so attached before to one of his Aurors, and this was one of the reasons why. Though if it wasn't for the anger at Sirius Black's capture, and the raw emotion that it spiked in Moody, he wouldn't have battled so fierce and dangerously.
And people said he was getting old – he was still in his mid-fifties! Not old at all compared to Dumbledore.
'JOHN!' shouted Moody. Immediately, the replacement for Black hurried into the room. He was a very good fighter, spectacular. But his powers of deduction were pitiful, no comparison to Sirius's.
'Yes sir!' John wasn't as exciting or as funny. Moody hadn't laughed since Black left, and he desperately wished for someone to make him piss his pants laughing, a feat that Black was terribly proud of, and reminded him of often.
'Get Crouch for me; tell him I'm scheduling a meeting in his office in an hour. Then tell him I want a full meeting in two, three days with all the Heads of Departments and other important people.' John nodded and rushed from the room, no doubt to construct a memo. Moody sunk down in his chair and put his feet up on the table.
It had only been three hours since Black's capture. He was going to order a search party – Dolohov couldn't have gone far. And Moody had seen Lucius Malfoy; if the Death Eaters had fled to any house it would be the Malfoy Manor. The house was big, and away from wizards with incredible Protection Spells.
But he needed a warrant to search the house, because he was getting his little protégée back. Still, they had won in a way. As soon as Amycus Carrow got out of his coma (if he survived, which he probably wouldn't) then they were going to interrogate him before throwing him in Azkaban. He was the only Death Eater high up that they had caught.
But they were going to bribe Carrow with the promise that they would set him free afterwards of course – the policy now was 'By Any Means Necessary!'
The policy was dark of course, and Barty Crouch was getting as cold as the Death Eaters, but it was necessary. Moody didn't like it though. He wanted to be different to the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, not the same. And what they did justified as the same.
Yes, he was going to fix this by getting back the best damn Auror they had! Sirius had risked too much by staying secret keeper for the Potters. And though the ignorant, arrogant fool was too blind to see it, he was going to die.
Voldemort would make sure of it. He'd use whatever tactics he had to get the information and then he'd wreak havoc on the young man. And Black had so much to live for. Who knew? In ten years he could damn well have Crouch's job! In fifteen Moody could see him as Minister. He was such a promising lad, and he was so kind and fun. It was a shame. It really was.
Moody conjured a glass, and poured some firewhiskey into his glass. He sipped it, sighed and then sipped again. It really was such a shame.
A/N: I'm worried how you guys might take my view on Voldemort, and the way I've written him and his dialogue. I find him extremely hard to write as, because he's Voldemort after all, he's got too much swag going on ;]
Leave a comment pleasepleaseplease, about what you think of Voldemort maybe, or Bellatrix or any other character, or about this chapter. Especially if you haven't left your thoughts yet.
Thanks for reading, and reviewing,
Take care
-xo