Hydrus stared at the great enclosure.
The dome was a translucent purple-blue, rippling with every soft breath of the wind, as if it were the delicate surface of water. Inside, a black-and-purple dragon frolicked, chasing after a squirrel.
The nubs that were once the beginning of her horns had grown until they stood like jagged knives atop her heads, tall and sharp, curved like a crossbow. Her eyes - even from such a distance - could be seen. They were bright red. Red like fire, red like anger and red like Lord Voldemort's own.
Norberta chased after the squirrel, her talon-less feet pounding noisily against the crisp, green grass. She opened and closed her mouths, caught in a wordless cry of frustration.
In the distance, the sky was pink and orange, just starting to turn blue.
He looked behind him.
The professor, no longer wearing his purple turban and no longer smelling of garlic stood half a dozen paces behind, a polite, respectable distance.
Nonetheless, Hydrus Malfoy wished he would leave.
Lord Voldemort had granted him the hospitality of the castle, in return for his dutiful service. One did not refuse the gifts of the Dark Lord.
"She's doing quite well," the professor said. He came closer and pressed a finger against the swirled blue-and-purple barrier.
Immediately, there was a zap and he jerked away.
Hydrus looked over at him. "It's warded so that only the people I allow may enter."
He stepped through.
Norberta turned one head to him and opened her great jaws. A burst of hot orange flames escaped, torching the grass, devouring all that stood in its way until everything was black. Her other head began making a strange, quiet but high-pitched whistling sound that sounded rather like a gagging babe.
The flames caught on his robes, but Acromantula silk was fireproof and so Hydrus made his way in a quiet silence to Norberta.
There were no books written on the taming of dragons. There were no steps to follow, no charms to induce obedience.
Some part of him knew that he ought to stop, to burn his plans as easily as Norberta destroyed the grass in the purple-blue dome. Lord Voldemort had not been pleased when he learned of what Hydrus intended to do.
"We are allied with many creatures, my dear water snake… but dragons… they are something else entirely…"
"But I can do it," Lord Black had told him, with a certain confidence he didn't know he possessed. "I can."
"And this is why you wish to forfeit your Hogwarts education? For a childhood fantasy?"
Hydrus could not express the strange feeling of attachment that possessed him to openly defy Lord Voldemort.
"My Lord, I am no use to you, stuck inside of Hogwarts. Unbound by the restraints of the Ministry -"
His eyes had flashed with anger, and Hydrus Malfoy knew in that moment that he had pushed too far.
And yet, Lord Voldemort did not curse him with the Cruciatus, nor did he raise his voice above a whisper. "Leave," he ordered.
Hydrus Malfoy had, as the first rays of sunrise peaked through grey clouds.
Norberta snapped one of her heads, the other, smaller, frailer one hanging behind, watching him warily from afar. She came closer, seemingly perplexed by the fire-proof creature that stood in front of her.
"I can do it too," Hydrus whispered.
His hands bloomed with bright blue flames.
Norberta came closer, and the larger of her heads approached, craning its long neck until she was level with his hands.
Slowly, Hydrus sat down onto the ashes that were once the grass and watched as she ambled onto his lap. Both her heads turned to him, sniffing his silk robes that twinkled with orange fire, but did not burn. They nuzzled his chest, nudged his arms and breathed puffs of dark smoke into the nape of his neck.
For a long time, they sat, Norberta's heads opening their mouths wordless, soundless screeches chiming from their throats.
Their orange-red eyes watched his hands most of all, staring at the blue flames that whirled about, dancing to the tune of a long-forgotten song.
How long it was he sat there, Hydrus Malfoy did not know.
Time did not seem to matter anymore. The furies of Lord Voldemort did not matter anymore. There were no Death Eaters, and there were no silver-gold masks.
There was only him, and Norberta, her two heads watching the blue flames.
I can do it.
And slowly, his hands brushed over the fringes of his sleeves.
His robes - his robes that should have been fire-proof - they caught like dry kindling, and burned with black smoke and orange flames, devouring his silk robes until he sat naked with Norberta in his lap, watching the sunrise.
The dawn of a new era.
_(O.O)_
Hydrus Malfoy did not want to be present for the meeting.
He did not want to feel their stares, a mixture of bewilderment and pity and jealousy…
But to abstain from a Death Eater meeting was to scorn the Dark Lord, and Lord Black could not afford to anger him once more.
And so, he had brushed his dark hair, oiled it with Sleekeazy's Hair Potion until it shone like obsidian, before placing the silver-bronze circlet on his forehead. The robes came next: black-purple Acromantula silk that shimmered in the orange candlelight, and his cape, clasped at his shoulders, trailing behind him.
It hadn't been very long into the meeting, but already, Hydrus Malfoy's neck was beginning to ache. Perhaps it was the knowledge of what would happen… for Lord Voldemort had told them to bring them in today…
He shifted in his seat, his hands cradling each other in his lap, his legs quivering.
The Dark Lord sat in his place at the very front of the table, his pale grey face inhumanly thin, skin pulled tight over sharp cheekbones. He swept his gaze across the Death Eaters, meeting their eyes, watching as some raised their chins and as others shrunk in their seat.
An eerie sort of melancholy filled the room as if they could all feel the moral weight of what they had done.
The Death Eaters had brought them in, chained at the hands, tied at the feet, to be hammered against the wall, rusted nails driven into their wrists. They had screamed and thrashed, shrieked and begged, but the hammers came, and as Lord Voldemort laughed, they all forced weak chuckles, Avery the loudest of them all.
Blood had come pouring from the wounds, bright red, slithering down their arms like thin, crimson worms. The screams had lasted for a minute, and then two, before their eyes rolled into their skulls, and the whites were all Hydrus could see. By then, the blood was dry, caked over their forearms, brown like the rusted nails that pinned them to the wall.
They're going to die, Hydrus had thought, watching with morbid fascination as Lucius hammered a spike into the wrist of a black-haired woman. With every pound of his hammer, she had screamed in agony. Not today… no, the Dark Lord needs them… in a week… in a month… in the lonely, lonely cells… surrounded by misery… at least Belvina had a better fate… console yourself with that, Lord Black, before this breaks the brittle wall you've built in between yourself and reality.
He did his best. His absolute best to keep his eyes staring forward - but facing him sat the professor, and so Hydrus Malfoy found himself meeting his eyes more often than not, what must have been a crazed look glimmering in his complexion.
Lord Voldemort watched the bodies, hanging to either side of the walls, silent, kept on the brink of death through layers of complex magic. Then, with a satisfied look to his eyes, he turned to face his servants. "You said you had something for me, Nott."
The man nodded. When he spoke, it was in a deep, formal voice, that sounded nothing like Theodore. "I have found Wormtail, master."
Wormtail… there was no Death Eater called Wormtail… unless...
Lord Voldemort's lips curled upwards, and a queer smile stretched his silver skin. "Well, don't leave us waiting, Nott. Bring him."
It was impossible to tell through the silver-gold mask, but Hydrus thought he detected hesitation. "If it pleases my Lord, he is waiting in my manor, uncertain of whether or not his presence would be welcome -"
"Bring him to me, Nott."
"Of - of course, master."
Silence reigned as king until Nott came back, a quivering, stout man trembling behind him.
"Master," he squeaked, his brown, bulging eyes glued at the floor. "Master… master… I would have arrived at the summoning… but I had no wand… no means of reaching you and your splendour… please… forgive me…"
His thin lips kissed Lord Voldemort's robes, falling to his knees, mumbling incoherent words of forgiveness over and over.
"Rise, Wormtail," he said bracingly. His eyes shone with red malice. "Where have you been? It seems… time has not treated you well…"
Indeed, it had not.
Nott may have lent him spare robes and allowed Wormtail his gracious hospitality, but no amount of soap could erase wrinkles and the bizarre, insane look to his eyes. Magic could not, for that matter, regrow limbs. The man's index finger was missing.
"Yes," he mumbled. "But it was all worth it… to see you once more… alive… master… I cannot begin to say all the joy this brings me… to see you… after - after… Harry Potter… he -"
"Harry Potter is dead," Lord Black told him. He did not know where the courage came from and did not dare look to his right, to see what might be Lord Voldemort's reaction.
Wormtail did not lift his head from his master's robes. "Then that is the most wonderful news…"
"Look who speaks to you," the Dark Lord said quietly.
Slowly, the quivering, squat man lifted his face and stared at the young boy right beside him. "H-H-arry Potter," Wormtail whispered. Thick, sausage-like fingers fiddled with the lapel of his robes. "I mean - Hydrus. Hydrus Malfoy."
Lord Voldemort turned his red eyes back to Hydrus. "It seems formal introductions are in order. My water snake, this is Wormtail, known to the public as Peter Pettigrew. Once best friends with your father - pardon, your biological father -" he looked to Lucius "- and has since been… what is it? Hiding as a rat? Owned by those filthy blood-traitors - the Weasleys. Did they dress you in filthy muggle oddities? Did they brush your coat, trim your whiskers?"
A round of laughter passed around the table, and for once, Lord Black joined in whole-heartedly.
"This is my water snake, Wormtail. But you have met before, of course. The companion of a blood-traitor, milling around Hogwarts… of course you wanted to see the famed Harry Potter…" Lord Voldemort took a finger and lifted Pettigrew's chin. "Have they corrupted you, Wormtail? Have they sown lies into your mind?"
"Never, master," he stuttered. "I have been yours. Forever and always."
The Dark Lord's eyes were a miasma of mockery. "Excellent… excellent... take a seat, Wormtail."
His round body quivered as he moved, his robes jiggling like rolls of blubber before Peter Pettigrew finally sat down on a high-backed velvet chair. Hydrus Malfoy watched him. It was more than his demeanour that set him apart from all the other Death Eaters.
Wormtail hunched in his seat, his hands shaking just as bad as the rest of his body. There was no grace, no elegance to his manner.
How did he earn the Dark Mark?
Hydrus Malfoy tried to focus on the thought, as Lord Voldemort continued to speak, describing the atrocities that would be needed to reduce the filthy muggles to insane beings, the curses, the torments… and the list went on…
Water-boarding, the Cruciatus, branding… it would be a loud next few meetings, Hydrus Malfoy concluded. And perhaps best that he did not think of their suffering too much. Before the wall crumbles. Do not let it crumble, Lord Black.
"Leave us now," the Dark Lord commanded. "There is much to be done."
_(O.O)_
Many secret passageways snaked in and out of the castle, encircling the vast estate like a series of worm tunnels. The house-elves had told him of many; emergency escape routes, spy holes, strongholds should the worst ever arrive to the noble family.
"But the castle is old, and many secrets have died with its ancestors," a particularly articulate house-elf told Lord Black. "There are many more, we suspect that will never be discovered."
They told him of all they knew, behind cabinet doors, in the back of pantries, false walls… the list went on and on. Some led to the outskirts of the property, others to the dungeons, and some that branched off and led to secret rooms.
He had not understood just how many there were until one day, Hydrus had stepped on the wrong plank and went sprawling a hole.
His hands had ignited, those stupid, foolish instinctive things, glowing the colour of dark carnelians. They razed the hay, burning all of it away until nothing remained but grey ashes and dark smoke.
Coughing, he sat up.
His throat burned, and when Hydrus tried to open his eyes, they watered so much it was as if the world's rivers flowed in his cheeks. He spat a glob of phlegm, and grappled about, trying to find the wall.
With every move, a jolt raced up his spine and his head pounded to the sound of distant drums.
"Mondor," he cried, his throat burning. "Torond, Merla, Soren… help… I… I…"
It was as if the world had played their little trick on him, as he drowned in a black fog of the remains of his greatest blessing. What little light there had been was from his dark orange flames, devouring the straw. Yet whatever deity out there must have had mercy on him.
His fingers found the wall, and slowly, Hydrus let out a quiet breath of relief.
Walking was impossible, so he crawled, feeling the acrid smoke brush his face, kissing him with poison, going and going, following the curve of the rough stone, until the air felt breathable.
A soft moan escaped his lips.
The air was sweet like fresh pomegranates, plucked straight from the vine. How long he lay there, collapsed on the rocky floor, Hydrus Malfoy did not know.
But slowly, he got up and did his best to blink away the tears, pointless as it was. They rained down his face, from the smoke - and the pain, Lord Black thought.
His back was a swirl of aches that gave off a burst of protest each time he moved his legs. It was as if someone had shoved a blunted knife into his back; with every step, the very same spot would blossom with agony.
Where am I? Hydrus thought, one hand running against the uneven walls. They raked across his fingertips, harsh like sharpened daggers, digging their iron teeth into his flesh. Perhaps it had already drawn blood, but he did not care. To be lost in the dozens of forgotten passages was unthinkable.
He opened his mouth, but only a whisper came through; the sound of a dying man. It echoed in the dark space, taunting him for how very weak he was.
The professor's voice was back in his mind, lecturing him in his apathetic tone. "And so, what is it that is your greatest advantage? Your hands? Your feet? Your arms? Your legs? Those are all important. Yet what controls all of that? Yes, your brain. Your mind. Your wits. Now look around you and think. What can be done to improve your current situation?"
"Light," Hydrus whispered to his invisible professor. His voice cracked as he continued. "I need to see where I'm going."
His hands lit the way, turning the world a warm bronze.
Yet despite that, it was impossible to see the other wall, and so Lord Black kept his left hand firmly against the rough stone, feeling the jagged edges draw blood. He did not care, for something told him that if he got lost in the middle of the path, he would not be able to find the wall again.
His flames were not ever this dim. Perhaps the fall had drained more from him than he thought.
For how long the passageway went on, he could not say. It sloped up and down, left and right, branching off into multiple different routes. Hydrus always chose the centre-most one, praying that there truly was an exit point, praying that he had not lost himself in a maze of ever-twisting walls.
His feet began to ache, and the pain in the small of his back seemed to lessen as time went on.
Multiple times he tried to cry for the house-elves, for them to come to save him, but his throat was so very raw, and only a hoarse, gasping sound came through.
An eerie silence reigned as king as Hydrus Malfoy continued to hobble, whistling a song that brought shivers down his spine. Perhaps he would die here… the great Lord Black, dead after wandering the secret passageways of his castle, his dead body to rot in a forgotten catacomb, the first corpse to be put to rest.
And then, the noise came, from far away, a whisper of sorts, guiding him to the left…
He could not tell where the sound came from; it sounded like a muted buzzing, a hushed voice that spoke… Hydrus followed it eagerly, quickening his hobble, a cynical part of his mind convinced he had gone insane.
There were two voices - he could hear them now, becoming more distinct as he walked; one a high-pitched squeak, the other a low rumble.
The floor would sometimes slope up, and the sounds would fade away into the quiet background, but soon enough afterwards it came sinking back down, and the voices would only get stronger.
"Mudblood..." one of them hissed, its voice a low rumble. "Prove your loyalty… Hogwarts… don't you?"
Hydrus felt his heart leap right into his throat, beating as if on fire. He knew the voice. Of course, he did. The very same had spoken a thousand times at the Death Eater meetings, his prose calm and commanding, terrifying in its quiet way.
He quickened his step, feeling a stab of agony as he broke into a tentative jog.
The second voice became louder as he went, squeaking as it spoke. "Of course… loyal… loyal… forever loyal…"
"Then you know what must be done…"
They were becoming so very clear now… they couldn't be far -
A ribbon of light stuck out far away, glowing a sort of warm yellow, very much unlike the coppery bronze Lord black had been staring at for… for how long now? It was impossible to say.
He started to run, however foolish that might have been. The voices continued to speak, saying what, he would not have known. His back was on fire, his feet so sore they might have been aching to the bone.
It was a window almost, the size of a bludger, round like an egg, flowing with the jagged walls so very naturally that it almost seemed to be a crystal, a glowing yellow crystal that had lodged itself in the spiky embrace of the rocks.
Hydrus looked through, the brightness almost blinding him.
He blinked hastily, wiping away the tears with impatience. Slowly, the world through the oval glass came into focus.
A library, with great wooden bookshelves that stretched to the ceiling, filled with dusty tomes… the Black family library… he was still in the castle... that was good…
Relief coursed through him until Hydrus saw just who was sitting in the library. The voices had grown so loud, it was as if they were right in front of him. For they were.
Lord Voldemort, his pale grey skin shining like silver, his dark red eyes staring at a quivering, blubbering man…
Hydrus crouched immediately, feeling his heart race.
This would have been a private matter. The Dark Lord would have his head, regardless of who he was.
He should leave. Run through the passageway, running before he heard any more of what went on, before he was killed for knowing too much.
And yet his feet stayed firmly planted to the rough floor, his hands extinguishing themselves until the only source of light was the glass pane, glowing a golden yellow. The voices continued to speak, and Hydrus breathed a great sigh of relief.
You should go now, he thought to himself. Leave before the Dark Lord sees you… his magic will find you… go now… go…
But he did not.
And the voices continued to speak.
"Bring it to me, Wormtail," Lord Voldemort commanded. "I want it before the moon passes. Do you understand that?"
Hydrus heard him stutter a response, lost as he continued, "But how do I know that you will remain loyal? I suppose I cannot, can I? No, the second you enter Hogwarts, you'll go sniffing for that wretched Albus Dumbledore. Do not deny it, Wormtail. We both are very much aware that you are a coward."
"I am loyal, master…" Peter Pettigrew whimpered. "Loyal… forever and always loyal…"
"Are you truly?"
"Yes," he cried. "Forever and always, master."
For a long moment, there was silence. Hydrus could hear his heart beating like a thousand drums, banging in his ribcage, begging for release.
I should go now.
His feet did not move.
Lord Voldemort continued to speak. "If you are truly loyal, then you shall accept whatever gift be dealt to you. Give me your arms, Wormtail. Both of them."
There was a pause, as Peter Pettigrew must have knelt before him.
It came unexpectedly, a roar of thunder. "IGNEM ACCINCTI."
A roar came from the room, a shriek that lasted so long, Hydrus' mouth began to ache from clenching his teeth.
I should leave.
But curiosity got the better of him, and his hands grasped the rough stone and pushed himself up. Wormtail lay rolling on the carpet, his fat, pale wrists encircled by red bands.
He was screaming, screaming and screaming, thrashing his head, pounding his wrists onto the flor.
"Do you feel that?" the Dark Lord said quietly. "The second any treasonous action comes to mind, those bands will burn with pain a thousand stronger than that. Go on, Wormtail. You have much to do."
"Of - of course, master."
Hydrus watched, his eyes caught in a trance.
Lord Voldemort watched him. "Go, Wormtail. Bring me that map. The Marauder's Map."
Hours later, and Hydrus Malfoy had not moved. His legs were burning, but he kept his gaze to the glass pane.
How long it had been, he did not know, until finally, he tried to speak and found that his throat did not burn.
"Mondor," Lord Black called. The house-elf appeared at his feet. "Bring me back to my bedroom."
_(O.O)_
Lord Voldemort did not eat meals.
He did not seem to eat at all, and spent his time in the Black family library, flipping through the dusty tomes, during the nights… during the days… Hydrus Malfoy did not see him unless it was during the Death Eater meetings or the short minutes afterward.
The house-elves brought the invitation in a yellowed scroll, written in dark ink, signed with the elegant flourish of a wrist. She bowed, her floppy ears kicking us cinders.
Norberta had taken to torching the grass as often as the house-elves replaced it. Hydrus had commanded that a fire-proof variation be bought from whatever business, for whatever price they commanded, but it had yet to arrive.
Until then, she would frolic in a field of ashes, her every step sending billows of grey dust into the air.
With the note in his hands, he said goodbye to his dear companion and changed into silk robes. Would he have to wear the cape and the circlet? Hydrus Malfoy did not know.
Lord Voldemort looked up as Hydrus entered, his long, thin fingers snaked around the leather cover of a thick text. "It is not often that one is surrounded by such vast knowledge." He set the book down onto a coffee table, beside a vase of orchids. "Your family has an impressive collection of literature. Have you read any of it? Well, don't stand there. Take a seat, Hydrus."
He did.
They sat facing a great, gaping window. In the distance, it was possible to see the purple-blue dome, shining like the sheer surface water.
Lord Voldemort followed his gaze with bright red eyes, watching as a flash of orange appeared, and a cloud of black smoke blossomed like an overgrown mushroom. "Your dragon is a very… spirited creature. To tame one… is not as easy as one might think it is."
This was not the first time they had had the conversation.
"You have said so many times, my Lord," Hydrus said carefully. It was impossible to determine his moods.
He returned his gaze to him. "I have. Yet that does not seem to deter you in the slightest."
"I - I meant no disrespect, my Lord -"
"Many commit to actions, goals, plans that are benign when first imagined in their mind, but entirely, radically different when viewed through the tinted lens of another. This will not be the first time we disagree. Nor will it be the last."
Today, Lord Voldemort was in one of his better moods. Hydrus Malfoy thanked Merlin for that.
"Your graciousness… is a prime example for us all, my Lord."
"And so it shall be. But foolish squabbles… no, my time is otherwise better used. I asked you a question upon your arrival into this magnificent stronghold of information. Tell me truly, have you ever palmed through this collection? Have you opened any of these thick tomes, brushed the dust from the leather-bound covers, lit an oil lamp and studied the carefully printed words?"
Hydrus had never enjoyed reading. "No, my Lord."
Lord Voldemort crossed his hands upon his lap, an air of nobility to his gaze. His chin was raised, his back straight like an iron rod, his thin, long fingers like sharp, grey knives. "It shows my water snake. It shows… I was there, you know. All those times you trained with Quirinus, all those times you crossed knives with him, shot a quarrel, danced that terrible dance with bōs… I was there. Sometimes, I took possession of his soul. You must excuse my indulgences… but I missed having a body, a physical container for my spirit…"
His red eyes glowed with passion. "It was I you spoke to, that night, where you had second doubts… where you were not sure if you wanted to go on… poisoning Belvina Black… I am not a fool, Hydrus Malfoy. You are young. Painfully young. Eleven, to turn twelve as the seventh month dies… You are new to this world, new to the horrors, the atrocities, the suffering that all must experience to achieve their goals. Your heart is… it is by no means benevolent… but it is not dark. Do you understand that?" Lord Voldemort stared at Hydrus' palms. "Yes, I suppose you do. Your soul is tainted, after all. Five deaths. A sixth to come. A tall order for such a young boy."
The Dark Lord watched him. "You were there, yesterday, weren't you?"
His heart crept into his throat. Lying is punishable by death. "Yes… my Lord."
"Do you know how I knew you were there?" Hydrus Malfoy did not dare answer. "I could feel you. Standing there, behind that glass mirror."
His gaze followed Lord Voldemort's finger.
It was the same bludger-sized round window that Hydrus had looked through, encircled by vines, only it showed his reflection and not the jagged walls he knew were behind.
"We are connected, my water snake, connected in a special only the two greatest wizards will ever be." The Dark Lord lifted Hydrus Malfoy's chin. "There are many more filthy muggles and mudbloods that unrightfully walk this world. My conquest will lead me south, north, east, west, but someone must stay to keep the rule. You are young, my water snake. But the young can be groomed. Do you understand this?"
Hydrus Malfoy felt his forehead, the line that went from one temple to the other. The cold silver-bronze circlet was gone from his head, but he could feel the weight of it regardless, the dull pain that thudded in his neck.
Power is pain, and one day, I will sit on a throne made of death and destruction, with invisible strings attached to my arms and legs, to dance to the will of the Dark Lord. And then… and then what shall happen?
A/N:
I like to think that this is a gigantic foreshadowing chapter. A bunch of the stuff mentioned here will come up in later throughout the story. How soon I can't say, which scenes I also won't say (for obvious reasons).
You guys are welcome to guess and speculate in the review/comment section, though, um, if any of you are right, for obvious reasons I won't be confirming it (sorry KingZeRopL XD)
Special thanks to KingZeRopL and WingsFlockFromAbove for taking time to write a review of my story!
To KingZeRopL, I would lying if I said I agree with your opinion on the LGBTQ+ community, but everyone has a right to their opinion and I respect yours. Voldemort... is not gay. Rereading the past few chapters I definitely understand how a person can reach that conclusion, but um yeah, he's... I actually don't know what his sexual identity is. In this fanfic, he's... I also don't know the answer to that question. He will have a relationship with Bellatrix Lestrange, further than that, I don't know (I'm terrible at planning out books). I'm really glad you liked last week's chapter because I was honestly kind of worried that the drop in tempo would be too much of a dramatic shift. Hopefully this week's chapter also lived up to your standards :)
To WingsFlockFromAbove, thank you so much for your kind words! The next big storm might happen sooner than you think... (hint hint hint triple wink - I'm also not that great at planning stories so don't quote me on this! :) )
I hope to see you guys next week!
Cheers