Dawn woke the next day to find a steaming bowl of oatmeal, a glass of orange juice, and two pieces of toast on a tray on the nightstand next to her bed. A glance at the old clock near the door told her she had slept in to 11:30.
"11:30?" she exclaimed. "I must have been really tired yesterday."
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning, Dawn threw the sheets off her. She gulped down her breakfast and tossed on a shirt and baggy jeans. While she starched, she wondered why Lord Voldemort had let her become a Death Eater. Not that she was complaining; she loved it here. It was just that, so far, she hadn't seen any other Death Eaters that were remotely close to her age.
"I'll ask Lucius when I seem him," she muttered to herself, punching the air.
After Dawn finished stretching, she sat down in front of the large mirror and rested her head in her palms. What now? she thought, surveying her reflection idly. It's only 12:15—I still have another forty-five minutes to kill.
Dawn sat for a few minutes, daydreaming about nothing in particular. Then the blissful silence was broken by the creak of her door opening. She started and jumped up, letting out her breath when she saw it was only a house-elf. It was wearing an old pillow case with the arm and neck holes ripped at the seam. Upon seeing Dawn, it bowed very low, then spoke in a high voice. Dawn suspected it might be female.
"I is sorry to have disturbed you, Miss," she said, straightening. "I is only wanting to clear away the dishes."
"You don't have to apologize," said Dawn as the house-elf gathered the tray.
"Miss is very kind," said the house-elf, bending again.
"Please don't bow," Dawn murmured. "I'm not used to all this sudden luxury yet."
"Ah. I is remembering now that you is joining Master only yesterday, Miss," said the house-elf, sapphire tennis-ball eyes widening. "I is hearing you is the youngest Death Eater ever. I is also hearing you mastered Master's mark and the Curses in one training session."
"News travels fast in this place," observed Dawn. The house-elf bowed her head.
"I is sorry if I offended you, Miss."
"You didn't," said Dawn hurriedly. "Er- what's your name?"
"Crescent, Miss," she replied. "I is very honored Master has assigned me to you. I is hearing—"
Crescent stopped, then took the bowl off the tray and started hitting herself on the head with it—hard.
"Oh, please, Crescent, stop that!" cried Dawn, jumping forward and grabbing Crescent's wrist. Crescent looked up at her through rueful eyes.
"I must, Miss," she said. "I is not being a good house-elf if I tell the things my master wants kept quiet. I will keep his silence, but Miss will find out from Master. Miss will find out if she works extra hard at the next training session."
"So, if I manage to do all the dueling and transfiguring stuff, he'll tell me?"
Crescent nodded. Dawn placed the bowl back on the tray.
"Thanks, Crescent," said Dawn. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 12:55. "I'd better get going."
"Good-bye, Miss," called Crescent as Dawn turned to head towards the gruesome place where her training was held. "I hopes you do well!"
"Me, too," murmured Dawn, ambling down the stairs and into her training room. Lucius was already there.
"Hey," she said, yawning. "So what're we doing today?"
"Dueling skills," answered Lucius. "When you've perfected them, we'll move on to transfiguring yourself."
"Oh, I've been able to do that forever," said Dawn. "Watch."
She stuffed her wand in her pocket and muttered a short spell under her breath. A rush of imploding air followed, and the next instant, a large snow leaopard crouched where Dawn had been standing.
"Amazing," said Lucius. "You never told me you were an animagus. How—?"
The snow leopard vanished, replaced by Dawn, who shrugged. "I was bored."
"Amazing," Lucius said again. "It seems we can skip the transfiguring part."
"No more talk," said Dawn suddenly. "I haven't dueled for ages; my skills need oiling."
Lucius and Dawn spent the next hour-and-a-half dodging spells, curses, and charms, cornering the other, then having to back up to avoid being hit with the Stunning Charm. Lucius, to say the least, was awed at how quickly Dawn moved and adjusted to any situation without even the slightest pause. He also marveled at the myriad of magical knowledge Dawn had; she never uses the same curse, spell, or charm twice.
"I get the feeling you'll never cease to amaze me," said Lucius, collapsing and leaning against a wall. "Where did you learn all of those?"
"The moves or the spells?"
"Both."
"I took fencing when I was six," Dawn said, sitting down next to Lucius and yawning. "When I found out about dueling, I tuned some of the moves I learned. As for the spells; my tutor, I guess you would call her that, used to take me to Diagon Alley with her on weekends. I spent a lot of time in Flourish and Blott's."
"Ah," said Lucius. Dawn thought she could see a grin under his mask. "Lord Voldemort will be please; he may even give you a test."
"Soon, I hope." Dawn yawned again. "Am I finished with the training?"
"Yes," said Lucius. "Just make sure to practice your skills so you don't rust up."
"'Kay," said Dawn, stretching a little as she stood up. "Thanks, Lucius. See ya 'round."
"Yeah," he said, standing. Dawn grinned a little, then strode out of the space she referred to as "the training room." She bounded up the long staircase, turned at the landing, and flung herself into her room, pulling out a pencil and a sketching pad out of her trunk. Dawn bit the end of the pencil lightly as she reclined on the feathery pillow on her bed, thinking. She flipped through the first couple of sketches in the pad, which were all scenes in Diagon Alley; a couple of kids playing around, the long line at Flourish and Blott's to see that dumb blonde fool, Gilderoy Lockheart, and a messy-haired kid staring in the window of the Quidditch supply store, gazing at the Firebolt display. These sketches were quite old; the kid and the Firebolt had been drawn two years ago, when Dawn had been thirteen.
Smiling, Dawn flipped to a blank page, thought for a moment, then started to sketch Lucius and her dueling. In the drawing, Lucius's cloak flapped dramatically around him as he shot a jagged beam at Dawn, who dodged it, suspended in mid-air, her hair whipping to one side. Dawn signed and dated it, then stuffed the pad and pencil back into her trunk. She leaned further back into the pillows and closed her eyes, exhausted from all the exercise.
Dawn must have drifted into sleep, for the next thing she knew, a small hand was shaking her lightly awake. She opened her eyes lazily.
"Huh? Wha—"
"Crescent is sorry to was you, Miss, but Master is wanting a word with you," a voice squeaked. Dawn bolted upright, awake instantly.
"Voldemort wants to see me?" she exclaimed. Crescent nodded fervently, her bat-like ears flapping.
"Yes, Miss. I can guide Miss to him, if Miss likes."
"Yes, please do," Dawn said breathlessly, jumping out of bed. Crescent hurriedly led Dawn down the staircase and through a dizzying maze of hallways. The whole time, Dawn raked her fingers through her hair absently, wondering what the Dark Lord would say.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Crescent stopped in front of a large, dark red door. She knocked softly, and the door opened a crack. Turning to Dawn, Crescent bowed. "Crescent wishes Miss good luck," she said, and scurried off down the corridor.
"Thanks, Crescent," murmured Dawn, and she stepped inside the room.
"11:30?" she exclaimed. "I must have been really tired yesterday."
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning, Dawn threw the sheets off her. She gulped down her breakfast and tossed on a shirt and baggy jeans. While she starched, she wondered why Lord Voldemort had let her become a Death Eater. Not that she was complaining; she loved it here. It was just that, so far, she hadn't seen any other Death Eaters that were remotely close to her age.
"I'll ask Lucius when I seem him," she muttered to herself, punching the air.
After Dawn finished stretching, she sat down in front of the large mirror and rested her head in her palms. What now? she thought, surveying her reflection idly. It's only 12:15—I still have another forty-five minutes to kill.
Dawn sat for a few minutes, daydreaming about nothing in particular. Then the blissful silence was broken by the creak of her door opening. She started and jumped up, letting out her breath when she saw it was only a house-elf. It was wearing an old pillow case with the arm and neck holes ripped at the seam. Upon seeing Dawn, it bowed very low, then spoke in a high voice. Dawn suspected it might be female.
"I is sorry to have disturbed you, Miss," she said, straightening. "I is only wanting to clear away the dishes."
"You don't have to apologize," said Dawn as the house-elf gathered the tray.
"Miss is very kind," said the house-elf, bending again.
"Please don't bow," Dawn murmured. "I'm not used to all this sudden luxury yet."
"Ah. I is remembering now that you is joining Master only yesterday, Miss," said the house-elf, sapphire tennis-ball eyes widening. "I is hearing you is the youngest Death Eater ever. I is also hearing you mastered Master's mark and the Curses in one training session."
"News travels fast in this place," observed Dawn. The house-elf bowed her head.
"I is sorry if I offended you, Miss."
"You didn't," said Dawn hurriedly. "Er- what's your name?"
"Crescent, Miss," she replied. "I is very honored Master has assigned me to you. I is hearing—"
Crescent stopped, then took the bowl off the tray and started hitting herself on the head with it—hard.
"Oh, please, Crescent, stop that!" cried Dawn, jumping forward and grabbing Crescent's wrist. Crescent looked up at her through rueful eyes.
"I must, Miss," she said. "I is not being a good house-elf if I tell the things my master wants kept quiet. I will keep his silence, but Miss will find out from Master. Miss will find out if she works extra hard at the next training session."
"So, if I manage to do all the dueling and transfiguring stuff, he'll tell me?"
Crescent nodded. Dawn placed the bowl back on the tray.
"Thanks, Crescent," said Dawn. Looking at the clock, she saw that it was 12:55. "I'd better get going."
"Good-bye, Miss," called Crescent as Dawn turned to head towards the gruesome place where her training was held. "I hopes you do well!"
"Me, too," murmured Dawn, ambling down the stairs and into her training room. Lucius was already there.
"Hey," she said, yawning. "So what're we doing today?"
"Dueling skills," answered Lucius. "When you've perfected them, we'll move on to transfiguring yourself."
"Oh, I've been able to do that forever," said Dawn. "Watch."
She stuffed her wand in her pocket and muttered a short spell under her breath. A rush of imploding air followed, and the next instant, a large snow leaopard crouched where Dawn had been standing.
"Amazing," said Lucius. "You never told me you were an animagus. How—?"
The snow leopard vanished, replaced by Dawn, who shrugged. "I was bored."
"Amazing," Lucius said again. "It seems we can skip the transfiguring part."
"No more talk," said Dawn suddenly. "I haven't dueled for ages; my skills need oiling."
Lucius and Dawn spent the next hour-and-a-half dodging spells, curses, and charms, cornering the other, then having to back up to avoid being hit with the Stunning Charm. Lucius, to say the least, was awed at how quickly Dawn moved and adjusted to any situation without even the slightest pause. He also marveled at the myriad of magical knowledge Dawn had; she never uses the same curse, spell, or charm twice.
"I get the feeling you'll never cease to amaze me," said Lucius, collapsing and leaning against a wall. "Where did you learn all of those?"
"The moves or the spells?"
"Both."
"I took fencing when I was six," Dawn said, sitting down next to Lucius and yawning. "When I found out about dueling, I tuned some of the moves I learned. As for the spells; my tutor, I guess you would call her that, used to take me to Diagon Alley with her on weekends. I spent a lot of time in Flourish and Blott's."
"Ah," said Lucius. Dawn thought she could see a grin under his mask. "Lord Voldemort will be please; he may even give you a test."
"Soon, I hope." Dawn yawned again. "Am I finished with the training?"
"Yes," said Lucius. "Just make sure to practice your skills so you don't rust up."
"'Kay," said Dawn, stretching a little as she stood up. "Thanks, Lucius. See ya 'round."
"Yeah," he said, standing. Dawn grinned a little, then strode out of the space she referred to as "the training room." She bounded up the long staircase, turned at the landing, and flung herself into her room, pulling out a pencil and a sketching pad out of her trunk. Dawn bit the end of the pencil lightly as she reclined on the feathery pillow on her bed, thinking. She flipped through the first couple of sketches in the pad, which were all scenes in Diagon Alley; a couple of kids playing around, the long line at Flourish and Blott's to see that dumb blonde fool, Gilderoy Lockheart, and a messy-haired kid staring in the window of the Quidditch supply store, gazing at the Firebolt display. These sketches were quite old; the kid and the Firebolt had been drawn two years ago, when Dawn had been thirteen.
Smiling, Dawn flipped to a blank page, thought for a moment, then started to sketch Lucius and her dueling. In the drawing, Lucius's cloak flapped dramatically around him as he shot a jagged beam at Dawn, who dodged it, suspended in mid-air, her hair whipping to one side. Dawn signed and dated it, then stuffed the pad and pencil back into her trunk. She leaned further back into the pillows and closed her eyes, exhausted from all the exercise.
Dawn must have drifted into sleep, for the next thing she knew, a small hand was shaking her lightly awake. She opened her eyes lazily.
"Huh? Wha—"
"Crescent is sorry to was you, Miss, but Master is wanting a word with you," a voice squeaked. Dawn bolted upright, awake instantly.
"Voldemort wants to see me?" she exclaimed. Crescent nodded fervently, her bat-like ears flapping.
"Yes, Miss. I can guide Miss to him, if Miss likes."
"Yes, please do," Dawn said breathlessly, jumping out of bed. Crescent hurriedly led Dawn down the staircase and through a dizzying maze of hallways. The whole time, Dawn raked her fingers through her hair absently, wondering what the Dark Lord would say.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Crescent stopped in front of a large, dark red door. She knocked softly, and the door opened a crack. Turning to Dawn, Crescent bowed. "Crescent wishes Miss good luck," she said, and scurried off down the corridor.
"Thanks, Crescent," murmured Dawn, and she stepped inside the room.
