The Houses Competition (THC); Y8; R4

House: Gryffindor

Class: Transfiguration

Category: Drabble

Prompt Chosen: [Character] Antonin Dolohov

Word Count: 958

Trigger Warning: Mentions of torture and non-canon death

AU: I think that the entire thing is AU. There is not much information about Antonin Dolohov in any case.

Beta(s): Crissie (secretfanficlover); Sab (Butterflies765)

I am a Death Eater.

I realize that all of you idiots will want to know why we joined our Lord in the first place.

Most of all, you foolish followers of the 'Light' want to know what type of punishments our Lord uses to keep us firmly in his control. You will want to know what we have accomplished that you all have no clue about yet.

I will answer those questions, simply because I have nothing else to do. After all, sitting in the Azkaban Prison is not fun.

I am not Bella. I promise that, hopefully, I won't be biased. However, if you 'Light idiots' start screaming about the 'Greater Good', well… I will not be held responsible for my reactions.

My father was Russian and my mother was a Veela Princess. My family was staunchly neutral in Grindelwald's war. I was a disappointment to them, in every possible way. To them—especially my mother—beauty was everything. I wasn't that handsome with my long, pale, twisted face.

They had another child, a girl this time. Her name was Claire, after my mother's grandmother. Claire was everything to me. She was beautiful and bright—the apple of my parents' eyes. She was clever for her age. She had a quick wit which rivalled her equally quick and fearsome temper.

She was the person who kept me grounded. The person who consoled me when my parents said I'm worthless. The person who supported me in everything I did.

I loved her. I would've moved heaven and earth to get to her.

When I was ten years old, a carnival—a Muggle carnival—took place in a nearby town. Claire was fascinated by Muggles. I wasn't. I didn't want to go to a place so heavily infested by those worthless beings. However, Claire begged so hard, she even cried, that eventually my parents agreed.

I genuinely liked the carnival. Everyone adored Claire. How could they not? With her flowing blond hair, green eyes and aristocratic features…people would've called her sexy if it weren't for her age. Those of Veela Heritage—especially females—tend to mature faster.

After enjoying the rides to the fullest, my mother decided to buy me and Claire some sort of weird Muggle food called candy floss. Or, as mother called it, une barbe à papa. Claire went with her while my father—the parent who tolerated me better—got me on a roller-coaster by confounding some Muggles.

I had just gotten down from the roller coaster. My blood was still pumping with adrenaline when mother rushed towards us, her face horrified, her eyes feral. Her usually impeccable hair in a mess. I was instantly aware that something very grave had happened. Something to scare and horrify my perfectly stoic mother into showing emotions in a public place. Maybe it was the adrenaline or maybe it was as I was quite careless of my surroundings because it took me some time to realize another very important fact.

Claire was not with my mother.

In fact, she wasn't anywhere near us. My first thought was kidnapping. Surely some wizards may have taken away Claire to use as bait? After all, both of my—our—parents had a very respectful and important lineage.

I shot down the thought as fast as it appeared. My mother, although she looked frail, was easily capable of duelling and winning against highly skilled wizards. Muggles wouldn't have been a problem as well. No person would try to kidnap her when mother's attention was diverted since someone could easily notice him/her and cause a racket. There was only one other way left.

Someone had lured my sister away.

We instantly alerted a Muggle Auror—Pleaseman, I think. After hours of nervously chewing nails, Pleaseman finally gave us a report.

Claire Victoria Dolohov was dead.

It took me time to process what they said. Apparently, Claire had been lured by some Muggle people into an abandoned factory. There, they had tortured her till she died. I couldn't believe it. My sister, my Claire. Dead. By despicable Muggles. She hadn't even been old enough to go to Hogwarts.

From that moment, I didn't dislike the Muggles. I loathed them. How can you like a person who has the ability and will to torture such an innocent little girl?

We never attacked those who were neutral or the children—the wizarding children, at least.

The next year, my first year at Hogwarts saw me being sorted into Slytherin. There, I met my Lord. Or, as they called him, Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle was in his fifth year and a prefect during my first year. He was already powerful. Enchanting. Dark. Seductive. Mysterious. And, he had similar views and goals as me; to change the wizarding world.

It really is no wonder that I joined him.

The days spent serving him were the most wonderful I have ever lived. I was free to do whatever I liked. I was accepted into his elite group. I married Artemisia Wood—-an elite Death Eater. She was like Bella. I loved her.

One day, during a raid, Artemisia was captured. Later, we learnt that the Prewett twins—Fabian and Gideon, on the so-called 'Light' side— had tortured her brutally. She was dead. I was dead-set on avenging my wife. I created a spell. Poena. After a week of waiting impatiently, the chance finally came. Our Lord gave me a chance to avenge Artemisia's death.

I must say, I was impressed by the Prewett twins. They managed to kill five of my comrades. I killed them using my invented spell. Their sounds of agony were like music to my ears.

I remained loyal to my Lord. Nothing could break the trust.

So, you foolish Light idiots, have you gotten your information? Will you believe it? Or will you not? It is up to you. I don't care.

Personally, I think you all deserve to rot. Deserve to be thrown to the Dementors. No matter. I have gotten my revenge. I am satisfied.

A/N- Hope you all like it. Have a wonderful day or night.