Disclaimer~ See previous chapters. Much too lazy to type it again.
Author's Note~ I must admit I rushed this chapter so I could update before I left on vacation. Some there is probably some minor mistakes. My apologies. Also, this chapter is more violent than my previous work. It's not too bad, I just thought I would warn you. And there's lots of............foreign cursing. You probably won't understand it, therefore, don't worry.
Chapter Thirteen
The Heir
"Family," said Hagrid gloomily. "Whatever yeh say, blood's important...."
~ Hagrid, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
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Cesare took a connecting train from King's Cross to Rome and then on to Naples. The stations were bustling with holiday traffic. The noise and crowds were unbelievable. He spent an hour sitting next to a screaming Muggle baby and was almost relieved when he got off the train and into the waiting limo. The limo drove quickly through the night in a speed that a Muggle car could never master.
When the car pulled up to the large stone villa, Cesare saw a house-elf waiting on the stately marble steps leading inside. The mansion looked dark and quiet and very ominous. He took a deep breath, grabbed his bag, and got out of the car.
The house-elf's wide, terrified eyes looked up at him as he approached. "Master is not back yet. He is leaving orders that he will be home soon."
Cesare rolled his eyes. "I thought this was supposed to be some important emergency," he said sarcastically.
"I is not knowing, Sir."
The elf snatched his bad from his unsuspecting hands and led him through the heavy wooden doors. The spacious stone foyer was nearly as dark as outside. Cesare noticed that none of the wall torches had been lit. It made the room look like a black, cavernous tomb.
"Why are done of the torches lit?" he asked.
"Your uncle likes it dark at night." The elf shrugged her bony shoulders, but Cesare thought she looked more nervous than usual. He pitied the house-elves here. His uncle had several and treated them all equally horrible. They were also instructed to be loyal to Vincenzo only; therefore although Cesare pitied them, he never trusted them.
"Always thought he acted like a vampire," he joked, but the elf didn't smile as she headed for the stairs that led to his rooms. On the way, they passed the long, twisting corridor that led to the dungeons. Cesare thought he heard voices and stopped, straining his eyes to see down the marble hallway. He could have sworn he saw a sliver of orange light under one of the doors.
"Did you hear that?" he asked the elf as he took a step towards the noise. His steps echoed across the corridor and the light vanished.
"It is nothing, Sir. Just the ghosts. They is acting up again." The elf suddenly stood in front of him, blocking his way.
Cesare felt the back of his neck prickle slightly. Something was definitely very wrong here. Ignoring the warning that the back of his mind was screaming at him, he merely nodded. "Right, let's continue then."
They reached his room, which thankfully was lit up, and the elf put his bag in the corner.
"I will send word when your Uncle is telling me," the elf said briskly. He nodded and the elf brushed by him.
Just as the elf passed him, she stumbled into him. "I is so sorry! So clumsy!" she said in a nervous high-pitched laugh. Cesare didn't notice the small hand that had grabbed something out of his pocket.
Cesare closed the door after the elf, shaking his head slightly. He took the torch out of the wall and lit a few more torches and candles. It was lighter now, but his room didn't even feel the same. The cold marble floors and stone walls were stark and unwelcoming, He found himself longing for the familiar Gryffindor common room. How strange that Hogwart's should feel more comfortable than the place he had grown up.
"It feels like a tomb in here too," he muttered and went out to the balcony. The villa was situated on a cliff, bordering the ocean. From the balcony, Cesare could see the dark sea churning below. He realized that his room was more like a trap than a tomb. The only way out was either through the door and downstairs or over the balcony. He shuddered as he looked at the distance to the water. That fall would be impossible to survive. You would be either dashed on the rocks or be killed upon impacting the water. He thought he remembered a story about a distant relative committing suicide on the rocks below. The memory chilled his blood.
"You're being paranoid," he told himself out loud. "This is just what he's hoping for. Vincenzo is already trying to frighten you. You are not a child anymore, Cesare. Don't let him bother you."
He grabbed his bag and pulled out his school books. While he was waiting for his uncle, he might as well get some school work done. He was much too tense to sleep. Snape had assigned them a long essay on medicinal droughts. He took some parchment and ink from his desk and started.
It was past midnight. The candle he was using for light had slowly dwindled down to a short stub. The door suddenly creaked from behind him. The noise split the deathly silence of the room, and he jumped. Cesare slowly turned his head around.
Vincenzo stood in the doorway, not saying anything. His face was shadowed by the dark doorway and his lank black hair hung in his face. Cesare noticed the tip of his wand sticking out from his uncle's long sleeves. It seemed like he was trying to unsuccessfully conceal it.
Cesare eyed his uncle with contempt, not bothering to be polite. "You're late. From your letter I presumed there was some sort of a emergency," he said coolly.
His uncle stepped into the room, but his face was still unreadable. There was a strange glint in his dark eyes. He was watching Cesare very closely. Cesare glared right back at him. His uncle had an ugly scary hooking under one eye and extending to his ear. He was starting to get old and bald, but Cesare knew his very image still provoked fear in the gossipy villagers, who whispered that he was a sorcerer. (How very correct they were) The al-Jalil family had terrified the locals from the time they arrived from Egypt.
Cesare remembered the first time he realized how scared the villagers were of his family. He'd been very young, probably about six. One day he stumbled upon a group of children near his age and before he could say anything, they had backed away from him. A boy twice his size had stumbled back in fear and crossed himself. In terrified whispers they asked "il diavolo" not to hurt them. Il diavolo. The devil. He had stayed away from town after that.
Vincenzo cold voice snapped back Cesare's attention to the present. "There is an emergency. I'm looking at it."
Cesare rolled his eyes in disgust "What? I'M the family emergency? Oh, that's creative," he said sarcastically. "Ishmi, Vincenzo," he said dismissively and turned back to his essay.
"Watch your tone, boy. You and your recent behavior have been quite troublesome." His voice was unusually calm, for his uncle normally had a quick temper and booming voice.
"My recent behavior?" Cesare didn't even bother trying to sound innocent. He knew exactly what Vincenzo was getting at.
"Yes," he repeated. "First this ridiculous business with being put in Gryffindor." He spit the house name as if it were a filthy curse. His uncle slowly paced the room with his hands behind his back, as if he was surveying some sort of interesting animal. "And then I get the news that not only have you beaten up LUCIUS MALFOY'S son, but that your new taste in friends is proving quite ...... surprising. Really, Cesare......... Harry Potter? And ......." His face curved into a malicious snarl. "A Mudblood girl?"
Che didn't let his emotions show. How had his uncle known? Could Malfoy really have been spying on him? He tried to control his tone. "My choice in friends is simply that. MINE."
"That's where you're very, VERY wrong, boy. Your mother got involved with a Muggle-loving blood traitor and it will NOT happen again."
Che clenched his fists. "And now you have disgraceful result of that relationship in front of you, don't you, Uncle?" he said repeating something Vincenzo said often. He got to his feet, choosing to glare at his uncle from the same level rather than sitting down.
He expected his uncle to lose his temper right then, but he didn't.
"Fortunately, we can make corrective measures."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Vincenzo shook his head with a small smile on his face, like he was explaining something complex to a very small child. "You're too important, Cesare. We can't let you throw your life away like this. So we've sped up something that would have happened eventually anyway."
"Why do you keep saying 'we'?" Che asked suspiciously. This was becoming too strange. He tried to inconspicuously take a step backward towards the balcony and slowly reached into his pocket for his wand. It was empty. His wand was gone.
His uncle noticed Che's bewilderment. "Yes, I had the elf take it," he said answering the unspoken question. "We don't want you to be causing unnecessary problems. Trust me, in a few months you will be very glad this all happened."
That was the final warning Cesare needed to get out of there. Vincenzo was speaking like there were others with him. If that wasn't a sign of total madness, Che didn't know what was. He remembered the broom he usually kept on the balcony and hoped his uncle hadn't taken that too.
He nodded slowly. "I'm sure," he said. A series of event unfolded rapidly in the next few seconds. Che viciously kicked the desk over at his uncle, hoping to slow him. Vincenzo staggered back as the heavy piece of ancient furniture knocked into him. Cesare bolted for the balcony. When he was outside he looked around frantically. The broom was gone. He was trapped. He grabbed for the railing, wondering is there was a possibility of climbing down the wall. His manic uncle's enraged bellow made him whirl around.
Vincenzo stood less than five meters away from him. Cold fury raged in his eyes. He raised a shaking arm, his wand pointed directly at his nephew's heart.
In a stupid spurt of bravery, Cesare said the first nasty thing that came to his minds. "Cus, Vincenzo."*
"STUPEFY!!!"
Cesare ducked, but it was useless. The spell hit him hard in the chest. That wasn't the worst problem. Vincenzo was a bit too close and screamed the spell a little too loud. And the railing was much too old. As the spell slammed into Cesare, he hit the wall hard. He felt the ancient stone slowly crumble beneath him. Terror filled him as his mind receded, and the railing gave way. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was black water and flashes of dark cliffs rushing up eagerly to consume him.
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He was eight, sitting outside on Anksenum's dusty steps. Summer holidays had started and he was one of last children still there. The Egyptian sun beat down unmercifully upon his back, and the glare from the bright sky was nearly unbearable, but he ignored both with the famed endurance that had long sustained his ancestors.
He watched from the corner of his eye as another boy, younger than him, rushed from the doors. His black eyes were full of excitement and in his exuberance, he did not even notice Cesare as he ran past. The young boy's sandals made clattering noises as he raced down the wide, stone steps towards the couple waiting for him. The sand he kicked up drifted back in Cesare's direction.
"Bapi!"
The boy threw himself into the waiting arms of a tall robed man. The man smiled and swung the boy high in the air. The child shrieked in delight and the woman standing next to the man clapped her hands together and kissed the boy on both cheeks. The man, (the boy's father, Cesare assumed) laughed as his son pulled determinately at his turban. The trio happily went their way, chattering away in Arabic.
A gentle hand on his shoulder tore his attention away from the reunited family. He glanced behind him, recognized the person, and then jumped to his feet.
"As-salaam alaykum, Ustaath," he said respectfully. The towering white-robed figure of Anksenum's headmaster Khaled Rakha was enough to force respect from any student. But however terrifying he might have appeared, Rakha was a kind, friendly man with a love of learning and a heart big enough to care for all his students.
"Wa alaykum as-salaam," Rakha replied with a warm smile. Then he hesitated slightly and Cesare noticed concern brewing in his dark eyes. He stroked his bushy grey beard thoughtfully. "Cesare, I just received an owl from your uncle," he said slowly.
Cesare felt his heart sinking fast, knowing what the Headmaster was going to say before he opened his mouth again.
Rakha looked sad and Cesare hated the pity he saw in the professor's face. "Unfortunately, some business has him caught up for the next few days, so he will not be able to come pick you up just yet."
"But term is already over! Where will I stay?" Cesare asked, his voice rising to match his emotions. Vincenzo couldn't even bother to send someone anyone else to pick him up from school?
The headmaster smiled again. "Do you think we would put you out on the street, child? You'll have the school all to yourself for the next few days," he said optimistically, trying to cheer up the boy who had already experienced so much pain.
Cesare nodded without looking the elder wizard in the eye. Rakha knew he was trying not to appear upset and the headmaster had the sudden urge to strangle the boy's uncle for repeatedly doing this to him. His heart broke when he saw his young students hurt like this. Particularly the son of one of his most favored students. The late Camilla al-Jalil would roll over in her grave if she knew how her son was being treated.
"Why don't you come inside, out of the sun for a bit? Professor Ali was telling me before that the chimaera egg has hatched. Would you like to see it?"
"No, I'll stay out here for a bit longer," Cesare muttered.
"It will only be a few day, Cesare. Then you will be able to go back to Italy and see your family."
Cesare looked up at him and the boy's eyes were startling. They held none of innocence and curiosity of a normal eight-year-old's. Instead, they brimmed with the cynicism and bitterness of a much older person. "I have no family," he declared without a trace of emotion in his young voice.
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Was he dead? That was the first thought that ran through his aching mind. But he hadn't expected that death would be so.........cold and wet? And his head hurt very badly. He would at least expect after-death to be relatively painless. Then, as feeling slowly returned to his body, he noticed the tight binds that held him securely to a clammy, moldy stone column.
He heard the voice before he opened his eyes. It was cold and high-pitched and eerily familiar.
"It was quite foolish of you to resist. The only thing you accomplished was nearly killing yourself. Lucky your uncle is skilled with a slowing charm."
Cesare now knew why he was dripping wet. The memories of falling swiftly came back to him. His uncle must have slowed his descent and saved his life. He squinted as he opened his eyes; the salty water dripped down his face and stung his exposed eyes. He glanced around his surroundings and was horrified when he recognized where he was. The dungeon. There were only a few dispersed torches which gave the chamber an orange glow. The walls were thick with grime and blood accumulated through centuries of heinous activities. Cesare had avoided this part of the villa like the plague and now knew his avoidance was justified. Dingy, metal cages and cells lined one wall. He noticed several gleaming white skulls and shards of bone littering the stone and dirt floor. Another wall was adorned with what seemed to be the latest and the oldest tools of the torturing trade. In one corner, a small group of dark robed shapes stood huddled together around a large armchair which faced a small fireplace.
"Who are you?" he demanded angrily. "Why am I in here?" He tugged and pulled at the ropes that bound him, but it was futile. They had to be magical.
The room was very dark, but he noticed a tall, thin cloaked figure stand up from thechair. Cesare could only see his back, but suddenly an unbidden chill raced along his spine.
"Why, don't you recognize my voice? I've been visiting your dreams often enough. And your visions, my young Animagus. Congratulations on that success." He laughed again, a noise like sharp knives upon bone.
The nightmares. The murderous dreams that all ended with the same cold laugh. That voice belonged to the very person standing in front of him right now. And his Animagus vision. 'OPEN YOUR EYES!' Well, they were open now, but he didn't like what he saw.
The figure chuckled. "Come now. You have a sharp mind. Can you not unveil my identity? ....... I see not," he chuckled, a sound that would scare even a ghost. He slowly started to turn towards Cesare and his face was revealed. The deathly white skin, red eyes, and serpentine smile greeted him. The face that haunted the dreams and nightmares of the entire wizarding world. The sorcerer that his kind were taught to revile or revere, depending upon one's family. Lord Voldemort.
Cesare's eyes widened in horror. He must be dead, because he only thought to see someone like Voldemort in Hell. No, it couldn't be. It just couldn't be. This was a nightmare. This entire trip was a horrible nightmare. But it felt horribly real. Maybe it was someone else, he thought, but knew he was only lying to himself. Who else could look like that? Who else could make the very air crackle and ripple with fear, death, and pure malignance?
The Dark Lord shook his head in dismay. "How sad. You're speechless. Is that how I am to be treated at this long over-due family reunion?"
Confusion mingled in with his shock and Cesare was able to find his tongue. "Fa-family?" he asked bewildered. His mind was still trying to comprehend what was happening around him. Why would the troublesome nephew of an Italian death Eater warrant Voldemort's presence?
A malicious smile flitted across his fanglike mouth. "Yes. I don't think we've ever been introduced. Cesare al-Jalil, I am Lord Voldemort. Your dear old grandfather."
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Disbelief and surprise flooded Cesare's mind. He knew Voldemort was a psychotic killer. This just had to be some sick delusion. But why had he chosen an insignificant seventeen year old wizard to play it on?
Assuming that just for witnessing the Dark Lord's personage he would be killed, he lifted his chin bravely and said. "You're a lying murderer."
"Lying, am I? I have no reason to lie, my boy."
"Don't call me that," Cesare snapped. "I'm not your boy. You're lying." It couldn't be true. This was absolutely crazy. But doubt was starting to gnaw on Che's mind. All the times he was forbidden from asking about his parents or any other family.........
Voldemort looked bored. "Don't play games. You know it's true. You are my true heir." He leaned in close to Cesare's face. "You've heard me in your nightmares. But I haven't been controlling your dreams. It was your mind that dreamed of the murders ..... of perfect kills ....... savoring your victory before your victim's terrified face .........Only a person with my blood coursing through their veins could experience such an exhilaration."
"SHUT UP!" he screamed. "You're wrong!"
Voldemort laughed softly in his ear. "My, my. You DO have a quick temper. Wormtail! Chair!" he ordered brusquely.
Cesare saw a short, balding man step out of the corner, pulling an armchair with him. He dragged it over to Voldemort, a nervous smile playing at his lips.
"Here you are, Master." He scurried away to join the few others in the dungeon. Death Eaters, Cesare now realized.
Voldemort sank into the chair and rested his chin on his long fingers. "You'll have to excuse me. My strength is still building. Of course," his eyes flashed in anticipation. "You will be helping me with that shortly."
"I'll be damned if I do a thing to help you."
"Language, language, Cesare. A very brave comment considering your position. Perhaps you do have the courage of a Gryffindor. Yet I know you have the soul of a Slytherin."
Cesare snorted. If he was going to die, he wouldn't do it bowing down to Voldemort.
"You still don't believe me, do you? Well, let me tell you a little story. It will be amusing to see you break down when you accept the truth." Voldemort leaned back in his chair, although his eyes remained on Cesare's defiant face.
"I must have got the idea before I even left Hogwarts. I already planned then to be the greatest sorcerer this world had ever seen and I knew I could do it. However, there is a very important element to power that most powerful people don't see. That is preservation. Immortality has been my most prized goal. Some of the world's strongest leaders watched their empires turn to dust as they got older if they didn't made careful plans for the future.
I am talking of course about the idea of an heir. I knew I could remain immortal if I lived on in others. I became convinced that I needed a child. My closest friends knew of my plans and were already devout servants. However, one family agreed to go the extra step. The patriarch of that family was a wonderful servant, absolute in his beliefs of blood purity. He had even been exiled from his homeland when he tried to defend his people's sacred heritage from ignorant Muggles. I am speaking of course of the al-Jalil family. I would marry into their family and my wife would produce an heir for me. In exchange, I would grant that family control of their true homeland when I took over. They were a talented, ancient and pure family, and I believed my child would be extremely powerful."
An ugly look of disgust came over his face suddenly, as he if he was remembering something distasteful. "But I was wrong. My daughter failed me. Oh, she was decent at transfigurations, but she had no special talents whatsoever. No ambition. Quite a 'regular' witch," He sighed, but the disdain was still evident in his voice. "Well, I considered killing the entire family to express my disappointment, but that would have been a waste of several years' investments. So I decided to leave the family, while she grew up. I would arrange a marriage for her when she was older to one of my more powerful followers. She was exceedingly pretty and I knew finding a husband would not be difficult.
That was my second mistake. Trusting my idiotic former wife and her equally stupid husband to watch over Camilla carefully. She fell in love with an English blood traitor and ran off."
Voldemort shook his head and his voice turned nastier. "I was furious. Of course this time I did kill her family for their mistakes. All save her step-brother. He was already a devoted and talented servant of mine, and I spared his life. A wise choice for he has been essential in my plans for you. Then I tracked down Camilla. I had no intention of letting her live either. Although she never knew I was her father, I was terrified of someone figuring out her identity and using it to get to me."
Cesare was trying desperately to control his anger. The only thing he wanted to do was strangle Voldemort. Sitting there calmly, while discussing murdering his only daughter.
Voldemort paid Cesare's twitching no heed and continued with his story. "But when I arrived in London, I recognized her new husband. He was extremely talented and powerful, and I decided to ignore his beliefs until they had a child. I would see how my grandchild turned out, and then make a decision." He laughed at loud, a high-pitched cackle that seemed to make the room grow colder. "I will never forget the irony of who Camilla fell in love with. If only he knew his sweet bride's true identity. But that is another story for another time.
You were born at the time when my power was at its peak. The entire wizarding world was entrapped by and terrified of me. The wondrous rush of such power, the knowledge that you can control and influence millions ........... A feeling like no other in existence."
While Voldemort appeared lost in the memories of his glory days, Cesare tried to work his arms out of the ropes. 'Concentrate on getting away,' he told himself. Ignore him, it's not true, it's not true, it's not true!
"If the al-Jalil's had disappointed me before, their failure was wiped away with your birth. I knew in an instant how powerful you would be. You would fulfill your destiny if your mother could not. You would be my heir. Of course, there were some problems with getting you under your uncle's care," he waved his hand derisively. "But it all worked out in the end. Of course I had to kill your mother, can't have more than one of you walking around, can I? I will never forget the look on her face when she realized who I was. A shame really," he said, but there was no trace of remorse in his voice. Cesare started to quake with anger.
"And getting rid of your father was just as easy. For such a smart man, he fell into my trap eagerly. You were under your uncle's tutelage by the time you were four."
Cesare couldn't ignore it anymore. Everything fit. Reluctant acceptance started to flood his thoughts, and he couldn't push it away. He was too much or a realist. He forced himself to look into Voldemort's ...... his grandfather's face. 'No! Don't think that. He's lying!' he mentally screamed at himself
Deciding his life was most likely going to end before dawn, Cesare decided to go down his own way. He opened his mouth, and his characteristic sarcasm poured forth, "So if I were to believe you....... let me get this straight. You killed my mother, your own daughter and did God know what to my father. You destroyed my family. Why the hell would I help you now?"
Voldemort didn't seem surprised by Cesare's acceptance or pronouncement. He looked indifferent. "You have no choice. Why also do you think you were sent to Hogwart's? To continue your education? You don't need it; you're already more talented than most of Hogwart's graduates. But you will serve another function. In less than two months your loyalty to me will be absolute and I will have penetrated one of the most defended wizarding areas in the world. Can you imagine? Not even Dumbledore will suspect you. To have a spy in that school is priceless. To have my heir is even more so." Malicious glee lit up his snake-like face. "I wonder if Harry Potter would sleep comfortably, knowing that I have an easy assassin in the same room?"
"NEVER!" Cesare yelled. "I would die before I served you."
Voldemort shook his head in annoyance. "You simply do not understand. You will be under my total control."
Voldemort started to say something else, but Cesare had gotten his arms free. With a cry of rage he snatched his hand out towards Voldemort's wand hand. His mind kept repeating Voldemort's calm words about destroying his family.
But he didn't reach the dark wizard. Voldemort was on his feet, with his wand out and looked like he had been expecting this.
"Crucio!" he said in a calm, almost bored tone.
Cesare fell to the floor as pain he never felt before suddenly consumed him. In his worst nightmares, he couldn't imagine pain as bad as this. His skin felt like was on fire and lying on a bed of sharp knives at the same time. As he writhed in agony on the floor, he couldn't contain the screams that erupted out of his mouth.
Then suddenly the pain was gone, and he was left gasping on the floor.
Voldemort stood over his head, looking disappointed and annoyed. "Now, REALLY! I killed my own daughter; don't you think I have ways of making a seventeen-year-old wizard cooperate? You are severely testing my limited patience. This isn't a difficult concept. Misbehave and I will more than happy to show you several types of Dark curses. Think of it as a 'learning experience'."
Voldemort crossed his long arms over his black robe and surveyed the teenager on the floor. "Yes, I believe Vincenzo's advice is correct. The ritual must be performed immediately. Let us begin."
At his command, the small group of Death Eaters moved forward. There were only a few present. His uncle, the man called Wormtail, and two other. A black-haired woman with a nasty expression, and..........of course........Lucius Malfoy. The silvery-haired wizard sneered at him.
Cesare wasn't sure what exactly this ritual was, but quickly decided that he didn't want to stay around and find out. The Cruciatus curse had undone whatever magic was done to the ropes. Voldemort had crossed to the other side of the dungeon and was angrily shouting things at Wormtail and his uncle. They were crowded around a large black cauldron that was emitting a nasty green steam.
Cesare closed his eyes and pictured the wolf. He remembered every detail of the shiny black fur, amazing senses, and powerful jaws. It worked. When he opened his eyes again, the darkened dungeon was clearer and he smelled the strong scent of the potion brewing in the cauldron across the room. He scanned the room and saw a twisting stone staircase leading up and out of the dungeons. He knew that would lead to the corridor and front doors.
He crouched and prepared to run for his life. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Voldemort start to turn slowly. He saw his mouth open and scream something. But it was already too late. Cesare was off and running. He reached the stairs at a speed humans could never reach and raced down the corridor. He skidded to a stop on the marble floor and then turned towards the main doors. He was within ten feet of freedom when he heard a voice yell a spell behind him.
The room filled with a quick flash of light and with a small pop Cesare became human again and stumbled, hitting the floor hard. He heard running feet nearing him and tried to scramble up, but it was too late.
Vincenzo and Wormtail grabbed his arms roughly and began pulling him back towards the dungeons.
"Conjure up some ropes!" Vincenzo yelled frantically at Wormtail as he struggled to pin down Cesare.
He twisted and kicked and fought as best as he could, screaming and cursing in Italian and Arabic. The terrible knowledge filled him about what was planned in that dungeon. Voldemort was somehow going to be able to control his mind. Cesare couldn't let that happen. He hit his uncle hard in the face.
"Damn you!" his uncle swore at him and pulled out his wand angrily. "This will teach you, figlio di puttana! CRUCIO!!!!"
The pain felt worse this time and Cesare lost all ability to struggle. Vincenzo and Wormtail ignored his pain-filled cries as they dragged him down the steps back to the dungeon. Vincenzo removed the curse, and he crumpled to the floor.
Voldemort's rage was terrible to behold. "That was very foolish," he hissed. "Lucius," he asked icily. "Tell me how long a person can withstand the Cruciatus Curse without being permanently damaged?"
Ice filled Cesare's mind as he listened wordlessly to Voldemort. No, no. He couldn't take the curse another time. He'd rather kill himself. 'Oh God, anyone, please, someone help me,' his mind begged.
The elder Malfoy looked uncertain. "Well, Master........it is thought a person will go insane if this curse in uninterrupted for over ten minutes.
"Excellent. Well, Cesare, I hope you disprove that theory. Why don't we try for fifteen?"
Before he could open his mouth, the curse was upon him again. Terror, torture, horror washed over him as unbearable pain wracked over his body. He wasn't aware of the primal screams that tore from his mouth. It was like being cut, dismembered, burned, and every other terrible things people used to inflict wrath on their fellow beings. As the long seconds ticked by, the pain increased. Black dots appeared, blocking out his vision and obscuring his mind.
After what honestly felt like hours, he was dimly aware of the pain ending. The exhaustion struck him. Cesare couldn't even open his eyes, let alone make any attempt to resist Voldemort. His mind was in another place, fighting to return to his body, fighting to force him to get up and try to escape again.
"Well, he doesn't appear to be frothing at the mouth yet. You were wrong, Lucius." Voldemort turned his attention towards Malfoy.
Lucius gaped in obvious fear. "My Lord, I apologize profusely. I shall make an effort not to displease you again."
"Yes, see that you do that," Voldemort said idly. "Carry on with the preparations." The four Death Eaters rushed to do their Master's bidding.
The white fiendish face stared upon Cesare's prone form. "Let that be a lesson," he hissed. "The fact that my blood runs in you only means that I will expect you to hold to higher standards than my other followers. I killed my father. I killed my daughter. I killed her family. I will not hesitate to kill you."
Cesare looked at him with pure hate in his eyes and didn't respond.
Voldemort glared at him and shook his head. "Still no manners, but ......." he raised his wand suddenly and smiled when Cesare flinched. "Even the most vicious stray can be broken."
He strode over to a round wooden table covered with a musty tablecloth. There were large dark stains on the cloth that looked suspiciously like blood. Also on the table were several antiquated book, surrounded by a few vials and a large dagger. Voldemort lifted the dagger and let the firelight dance along its sharp edges. The knife was a masterpiece. Emerald and gold were inlaid in the shiny bone handle and it looked sharp enough to cut through air.
Voldemort continued to stare at the knife, but spoke. "This belonged to Salazar Slytherin, himself, to be used in this very purpose. Now there are a few difficulties in becoming a true magical heir, Cesare. The first is this ritual. After we are done here, you will leave possessing the very same powers that I have." He walked back over to stand in front of the young wizard. Vincenzo had chained one of his wrists above his head.
"Do you know what a gift that is, boy? You will be a Parseltongue and capable of advanced magic most of your instructors can't even imagine doing. Forget studying," he said with a laugh. Then his face turned cold again. "You don't appear very thankful."
As Cesare recovered from the curse, his rage started to build again. A life with his parents had been torn away from him. His mother murdered, and possibly his father as well. The abusive years spent with Vincenzo were present in his thoughts. All because of this monster in front of him. And he had done the same to countless families. He felt his damnable attitude start to reassert itself.
"The only thing I am thankful for is that now I know Vincenzo not a blood relative of mine," he hissed.
Anger flashed in Voldemort's red cat-like eyes. "While you may think your wit is amusing, rest assured it is not. You are being very repetitive with this disbelief and anger. You are starting to become boring. And I HATE boredom," he seethed. "Isn't that right?" he asked the Death Eaters behind him, who of course murmured their complete and utter agreement with every word that Voldemort spoke.
"And therein enters a crucial problem about my gift. I can't very well give you my powers and then have you confess to Dumbledore and use your new talent against me." He wore an expression of mock horror at the idea.
"Therefore, I had to devise a way to control you. That damnable, traitorous jinn was able to unknowingly help me with that you will also take on aspects on my personality and mannerisms. This part of the transformation will take longer to show up, but in about four fortnights, it will be complete." He threw back his head and laughed. "The anticipation! You have no idea what it is like to wait YEARS for your goal to be accomplished. But it will be."
He grabbed Cesare's chin and stared at him with a maniacal glint in his eyes. "You will be PERFECT. Imagine what we can do, with our power combined. We will rule the world."
Cesare finally spoke up after jerking away from Voldemort. "You're mad and foolish enough to think you can pull that off when you failed the first time? Brought to a powerless nothing by an infant!"
Voldemort hit him hard in the face. "No, boy. It is YOU who are foolish. But not for long."
He whirled to face his followers. "What is the delay!? Let us get on with this already!" he said and angrily pushed past them. Wormtail scurried towards the fire and filled a large vial with the emerald liquid from the cauldron. He approached Cesare with terrified caution. Cesare glared at him, and Wormtail nearly dropped the vial.
"M-m-master, I do not believe I c-can make him drink this," he stuttered. Vincenzo grabbed the vial and shoved Wormtail out of the way.
"Hopeless idiot," he muttered. He grabbed Cesare's head fearlessly and pried his mouth open. He poured the burning liquid down his throat. It felt like drinking glass shards. He tried not to choke.
Vincenzo stepped back and tossed the vial on the floor. It shattered and the small droplets of liquid burned into the stone and smoked. Voldemort looked pleased. He picked up one of the books and flipped to a worn page. He read something carefully, and then put the book down. He ran his hand fondly over the cover.
"Another artifact of our very noble ancestor. The journal of Salazar Slytherin. This manuscript has been essential in my ascent to power. Now it will continue to help me in my life's work."
He picked up the lethal dagger and without any hesitation sliced his palm deeply. Indifferent to the crimson blood dripping onto the floor, which had already absorbed much blood in the past centuries, he started an incantation. The ancient words themselves sounded dangerous and full of evil. He finished and turned towards Cesare with the bloody dagger in his hand. His eyes were glazed and he looked like he was possessed.
Cesare saw Voldemort approach him as if in slow motion. There was nothing he could do to stop the Dark Lord and the thought filled him with sick foreboding. Voldemort grabbed the hand that was chained above Cesare's head. He raised the dagger and Tony felt a searing pain across his palm. He looked up to see bright blood dripping slowly down his forearm. Voldemort clasped Cesare's hand in his own bloody one, held his wand tightly in the other, and uttered something unintelligible.
The dungeon was suddenly filled with a gushing wind. It was so strong it could have stirred a Saharan sandstorm. Blinding white-gold light shot out from between their clasped hands. Cesare felt the searing pain in his palm slowly spread down his arm and into the rest of his body. It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse. He started to twitch. It felt like his very soul was literally being torn from him.
The same thing was happening to Voldemort. All of sudden Voldemort threw his head back and a reddish haze rose swiftly from his body and towards Cesare. The haze surrounded him for a moment before quickly soaking into his skin.
Cesare slowly began to feel warm strength filling his limbs, as if he was on a severe adrenaline rush. Visions suddenly swarmed his mind, too quickly for him to recognize any of them.
The light suddenly flashed scarlet and two wizards were forcefully thrust apart. Voldemort was thrown back and landed sprawled on the floor. Wormtail quickly helped him to a chair, where he slunk back exhausted.
Cesare was simply smashed against the wall he was already chained too. He thought it should be impossible to survive this sort of physical torture and abuse. The chains had burst during the spell and his arm fell to his side. He felt weak and sick all over. He not only felt physically ill, but he felt incorrigibly corrupted. Voldemort had accomplished the ritual. Cesare had never taken much faith in Divination, but he knew that something had been forever changed and his future would be a much darker place.
Voldemort was already recovering. He forced himself out of the chair and staggered towards his wand lying on the table, pushing away the help of his dark servants.
"No, I will finish this myself," he ordered in a hoarse voice. He dangled the wand from his unusually long, pale fingers and pointed it at Cesare.
"Morsmordre," he croaked.
Cesare felt something burning into the underside of his left forearm. He cast his eyes downward and saw a bright red skull with a snake protruding from its mouth drawn swiftly on his arm. It flashed jet black and then faded into his skin. Cesare was speechless and could only look at the now unmarred flesh with horror. The Dark Mark.
"It will reappear when the transformation is complete, two months from now, and you will embrace your ancestry with pride." Voldemort seemed more rejuvenated by the moment. The gleeful malicious look was back in his eyes.
"But in all the ways that are most important, you are one of us now. A Death Eater and my true heir." His voice held nauseating pride at his accomplishment.
Cesare barely heard the murmurs of congratulations that Voldemort was being given by the other Death Eaters. His voice kept echoing the same phrase over and over again. 'A Death Eater and my true heir.' He was a Death Eater and Voldemort was going to use him to spy on the only group of people to every show any caring for him. And he couldn't think a damned thing to stop it.
His attention was brought back when Wormtail suddenly pulled him up and helped him into a chair. He tried to focus through bleary eyes.
"You are now his superior, Cesare. Although, with Wormtail that isn't saying much. It is his duty to make sure you are comfortable."
Cesare blinked in confusion. He was so dizzy. Why was the world spinning so fast? He couldn't keep a straight thought in his mind.
Voldemort seemed to have read his mind. "This sickness will pass in less than a week. Your body must get adjusted to its new power." He looked at Cesare closely, his eyes seeming to burn through his skull.
"I believe I will give you one more gift, before I erase all memory of this night from your mind. It is a question you are yearning to have answered, particularly since attending Hogwart's. Do you know what I speak of?" Nasty malevolence played around the Dark Lord's cancerous smile.
The question. The question that had plagued him his entire life. "My ...... my father ......" he said weakly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know anymore. He had more than his share of family secrets tonight.
"Yes. Would you like to know his name?"
In spite of the fact that what he really wanted to do was strangle Voldemort with his bare hands, Cesare found himself slowly nodding his head.
Voldemort smiled that same fake benevolent smile that could turn vicious and cold in an instant. He said the name and waited for Cesare's reaction.
Cesare was confused for a moment, trying to place the name. He knew he had heard it before, but where? Then he recognized it. No, it couldn't be. It didn't make sense. How could he be ........?"
Voldemort enjoyed the look of raw bewilderment on Cesare's face.
"He was told that you were accidentally killed as a child. A terrible drowning," Voldemort said with casual indifference. "I will see you very soon." He raised his wand high .........
"OBLIVIATE!"
Cesare felt what seemed to be like a rush of thoughts, visions, and sounds flee his mind. Then nothing, but mild confusion. Where was he? Why did he feel so sick? He heard a strange voice sneer, "Might as well stun him," before blackness rushed over him once again.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
-_~ Author's Note ~_-
Oh, wait.........Was that the part where I was supposed to write in his father's name? Must have forgotten.......
Well, I won't tell you that secret just yet, but I did tell you a lot! Okay, maybe not things you expected, but nevertheless.
I can't believe I was able to finish this in only a few days, but I did get it up before I went away.
*Notes on the other languages~ Okay, I occasionally branch off into Italian and Arabic in this. It won't really limit your understanding of the chapter if you don't know what it means. But in this chapter, I used a little.......um.......cruder language. For your own safety never, EVER say "cus" unless you are looking for a fight in a Middle Eastern bar. And beware of "figlio do puttana" as well. Understand? I won't be held responsible for some innocent tourist getting beat up because they read my story. Lol
Okay, now guess what? GO REVIEW! Please! I am despaired.
And of course, my thanks to those who did review! Thank you! Molto grazie! Shukran!
THW
Barbara Kennedy
Carina
Nunki
October Spirit
Linaevial
HogwartsHottie
