A/N: Mild swearing in this chapter. I'm not completely satisfied with it so I may replace this chapter at some point. I feature my theory as to what the Order of the Phoenix is (well duh, read the chapter title!). Please tell me what you think in your reviews.
- CHAPTER FOUR -
The Order of the Phoenix
Monica found herself breathing very fast as she watched two men in black cloaks exchange inaudible whispers. They reminded Monica of the lurking bad-guys you often saw in films, except this situation was only too real. A strange feeling of foreboding seeped through Monica's veins. Would it be wiser to stay put or to move away and risk being seen? Monica might have considered running off if her legs didn't feel so numb with fear.
Monica's eyes widened in disbelief as others like these mysterious characters appeared out of the nothingness. It was incredible, but Monica assured herself it could be the darkness playing tricks on her eyes, for these shadowy figures appeared in all the places the moonlight did not shine. They assembled into a circle under the largest yew tree, with one man in the centre, standing with an air of mastery. He verified all were present by muttering names under his breath, sounding remarkably like a hissing serpent.
He then lowered his black hood to reveal his deformed, distorted and unnaturally deathly white face. He had a nose like a snake's, with slits for nostrils, and demonic blood red eyes which were piercing and intimidating. Monica's stomach lurched at the sight, and even this monster's faithful followers struggled to hide their revulsion. This man used to be human, but human he was no more.
The man regarded a gap in the circle and then uttered, "Where is Knarling?"
"Sh-Sh-She has been captured, my Lord," quivered a voice.
"Captured?" the man snapped.
"I-I-It could not be avoided, my Lord, I am afraid. I-I-It was A-A-Arabella Figg, my Lord. She and Mad-Eye Moody discovered us levitating Muggles in the early hours… I-I-I managed to flee, but Volumnia was not quick enough Disapparating. I-I-If I had tried to save her, we would both have been captured, possibly killed, my Lord," said the man in the circle. He lowered his head.
"FIGG!" the Lord spat, as if it were a swear word. "She's living on borrowed time, the meddling bitch."
There was an eerie silence as the hideous man eyed each of his followers suspiciously, causing them to shudder. He then took a deep breath, and said in a sly, high-pitched, spine-tingling tone:
"I sense some of us are doubting where their loyalties lies. All I shall say to these fools is that I do not make a good enemy, as you will already know, unless you are incredibly stupid."
He seemed to be eyeing a particularly short and fat associate with those last words. The short, fat man squirmed uncomfortably. There was another pregnant pause.
"Now, why I have called my faithful Death Eater family to my side," the man in the centre of the circle hissed malevolently. "The McKinnons are dead. I, Lord Voldemort, put an end to their pitiful lives but an hour ago."
Monica felt appalled; she was in the presence of a shameless band of murderers. Monica was truly in the most hazardous predicament she had ever managed to find herself in. She shrank further into the shadows, trying desperately not to make a sound, for that could be deadly.
There was a collective excited whisper between the Death Eaters. Some even bowed and muttered praises to this man who called himself Lord Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his dark robe.
"Yes, yes, that's quite enough, Avery," Lord Voldemort muttered irritably to a man who refused to get back to his feet. The ring of Death Eaters reconvened. The Dark Lord circled within in, his cape swishing sinisterly like a whip.
"Now I shall remind you of my plan of action, if only for the joy it brings to my own ears," Lord Voldemort declared dramatically. "Now, for some time I have been considering my roots, and my family history. As you know my ancestor was the supreme wizard Salazar Slytherin, and I am his Heir to Hogwarts. He was one of the four who founded Hogwarts. Until recently I did not know they did so much more than build a castle and teach young witches and wizards. Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin began the writing the Order of the Phoenix.
"The Order is a record of everything that ever was, is, will be reality or was, is or will be imagined. That is to say the Order of the Phoenix is a collection of documents containing every scrap of information the universe holds. Imagine the power one could have with such a thing! All the secrets of the galaxy at your fingertips! My ancestors failed to grasp this power they could have had. They passed their work on to the next generation and the next, and now the writing of the Order continues. It is an everlasting task, like the life of a Phoenix is endless. Every moment of existence the universe is revealing and creating new secrets to be documented.
"Now the descendants of Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw continue to write the Order of the Phoenix. By birth rite I should too have privileged access to this fountain of information, but the fates denied it me. My mother had contributed to the Order, but she had perished before she could pass the duty to me. With all my relatives gone, I was sent to a repulsive Muggle orphanage, and my place in the Order was forgotten. The other descendants of the founders of Hogwarts were oblivious to my birth and they thought the Slytherin line had died out. How very wrong they were. How dare they omit the greatest of the Hogwarts Four! They shall all die for the sins of those before them, and alone shall I possess the Order! I shall rise to dominate this world for what it has done to me! All Muggles shall be destroyed for how they have treated me in my past! All those who oppose me shall perish along with them! Together, my Death Eaters, we shall form a better world of pureblood wizards! The Dark Order shall rise in triumph!"
Lord Voldemort had succeeded in whipping his followers into exultant hysteria. They cheered, they laughed, and they praised their Master. Monica found it sickening and quite frightening.
Lord Voldemort then waved his arm to silence them and continued to speak in a hissing tone. "Of course, the Order is written in the utmost secrecy. Therefore tracking down who the present writers of the Order are is exceedingly difficult. Already dead is Caroline McKinnon, by a fluke of fate I found her in possession of the page of the Order containing how it began. Little did she know she cross paths with myself and sentence her fellow writers to death."
There was an eerie silence. Voldemort swivelled on his heel to face Monica. He seemed to be looking directly at her, although it was difficult to tell in the poor light. Those venomous red eyes were enough to makes the bravest of men tremble with fear.
"Hmm… a stupid little Muggle child eavesdropping on our conference. Deal with it, Severus," Voldemort snarled almost playfully. He regarded Monica like something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe, or a spider invading his bathroom. Monica had never felt so small and insignificant in her life.
"Me, Master?" Severus Snape said, in an almost fearful tone.
"Yes you, Snape! Do you not know your own name? Now kill it!"
"Y-Yes, my Lord, of course," Snape stuttered.
Unthinkingly, Monica grabbed Chandler and her rucksack and ran for it, as fast as her scrawny legs would carry her. She started to yell, hoping to wake someone who could help her, but the words got lost before they reached her lips.
Stop shouting and running away. Walk back to the graveyard.
That's what something or somebody was telling her to do, and she could do little else. Her legs were already carrying her back to the churchyard before she could think. It was so easy just to forget her own thoughts… the former fear just flowed away like clouds skimming across the sky…
"Shall we have a little fun first, my Lord?" Snape said, his voice shaking ever so slightly.
"As you wish," Lord Voldemort muttered in an offhand way. Snape raised a thin rod of wood in Monica's direction, and muttered inaudible words. Suddenly Monica found herself horrifyingly aware of her surroundings again, and the fate which awaited her. She was going to die, age ten, before she could fulfil any of her dreams and ambitions. Death was looming… what everyone feared most…
"Wingardium Leviosa," Severus Snape muttered. Monica's stomach gave an unpleasant jolt as she realised what was happening. Her feet were leaving the ground. She was floating!
Monica squirmed and lashed out with all her might, screaming in fear only in vain. The Death Eaters laughed and jeered at her misery, making the terrifying experience worse. Higher and higher she hovered, above the houses… above the trees… above the church spire. Higher still… son she would be touching the clouds! Then something completely unexpected happened.
Someone, or something, grabbed her around the waist.