A/N: Hope yall like the way I depicted Malfoy. I was hoping it wouldn't
completely stink.... :)
Chapter Five:
Pain. There was a whole lot of pain. Numair didn't even remember what happened. All he could recall was a scarlet eyed figure, talking to him,
pleased by him he imagined from the tone. And then there was pain. Burning terrible agony.
When he woke up, safe at home in his bed, he thought it was surely all just some wild nightmare. And then he'd felt it. Burning on his left forarm. The Dark Mark.
For days on end it seemed like it would never stop. The mark was bright on his skin, dark, terrible...... but he'd wanted it. And now he had it.
It was oddly thrilling, like he was in on some kind of secret. A horrible secret.
Eventually the pain died down to a mere easily ignored throbbing, except on the few occasions when the Dark Lord called his servants to him. Then the pain was worse.
Numair eventually got used to it. And while he did he spent all his free time hunting a certain auror.....
It didn't take long. The mud-blood and his family were painfully easy to find. Especially his family. Numair had no intentions of just killing him.
Oh no, that was to good for the vermin. He wanted him to suffer. Wanted him to feel the pain that he himself was feeling. He started with the young man's dear sister.
She was just a muggle. A poor, defenceless muggle. Catching her was almost to easy. Years later he'd hear her screams in his nightmares and be haunted all the things he did, but at the time it didn't effect him one bit, beyond making him want revenge even more.
He was so filled with hurt, with anger, with pain. The girls pain didn't make it go away. It made it stronger. And the need to be rid of it stronger.
That was why he was so careless in getting the auror. He wanted him to suffer physicaly now. And he did. Oh he did.
The mud-blood had thought himself skilled at battleing the dark arts. He'd never before had to face someone quite like Numair though. You couldn't take away one of the things a man held terribly dear to him and expect him not to come after you. It was a lesson he learned the hard way.
Numair kept him alive for days. It was dificult. The Cruciactus curse was hard on a person after a while, and muggle forms of torture weren't any kinder. When he finally allowed the wretch to die, it was with small satisfaction. He found the man's death didn't make him feel any better about what happened to his father. It gave him no satisfaction.
So he was careless. He made a mistake. Leaving the remains in the home of the mud-blood's muggle parents wasn't the wisest idea he'd ever made.
He'd been the only wizard seen in the area for ages, so naturally all fingers were pointed at him.
That's how he'd ended up were he was now, in a small cell surounded by dementors, awaiting the day of his trial. They were slow about it, but he didn't care. The dementors didn't have much effect on him. Because he knew he was guilty. He knew and he didn't want to fight it. He deserved, wanted, no, -needed- punishment. He didn't care if he died.
It gave the vile creatures nothing to feed off of. It was amazing how disapointed a unseeable face could seem.
Anika was in shock. Complete shock. The auror had turned up dead in a most gruesome fashion, and now her brother was being blamed for it. And the dead auror hadn't been just any old auror, not to her.
She'd known him well. Very well. They'd met when she went in to auror training, and become friends. More than friends. A year and they'd planned to marry. The event with her father hadn't changed her affection for him in the slightest- it had been her who'd given him the tip after all.
The way she saw it, it had been an accident. The auror, Mark as he was called, had done his job. She couldn't hold it against him, loving him the way she did.
She'd been planning on telling him something most important when she'd gotten the news. She was just getting over the initial shock when she heard who'd they'd picked up as the killer.
And now here she was, waiting patiently to get into his holding cell to see him.
He couldn't have possibly done it. There was some mistake. Her precious little Numie could never have done something so horrible. That's what her heart kept telling her. Her brain was saying that it was all to true,
and it was all her fault.
Numair looked up curiously as all the dementors went away. Someone was standing there at his cell door, looking at him, but he couldn't see who it was.
"Numie?"
"Ani? Is that you?"
"Of course silly. They've told me the most aweful thing....."
He cut her off. "Oh dear sister, it's the truth, how terrible could it be? You always knew were I was heading didn't you? And yet here you are,
shocked." he laughed softly. "Look at me, I'm a complete reck. And whatever they decide to do to me, I deserve it. I'm not even going to bother defending myself, no point. They won't believe me."
Ani stared at him, fighting tears. This was all her fault. She should have payed more attention to him. Should have been there. Shouldn't have ever spoken to Mark, or told him about there father. Shouldn't have.......
"Oh Numie, how could you?" she felt like breaking down in tears. It was to much. "How could you?"
"Oh it was quite easy really. I could give you all the details if you'd like."
She nearly gagged. Ani looked at him for a moment. Really looked at him.
It wasn't the brother she knew. He had a bit of beard from not being allowed to shave for quite some time, and he'd let his hair grow long.
It was a bit on the dirty side at the moment. But what was most differnet was his eyes. Before they'd been so beautiful, filled with a child-like innocence, even when he was older. It had always made her think of a over happy puppy. And now..... now they were empty. Haunted. Dull.
How could this man be were sweet brother? It didn't seem possible.
"What's the matter lovie, don't like how I've turned out?" Numair flashed her a smile. "I'm rather proud of it myself."
He turned so his back was facing her and curled up in a corner. "Now,
if you don't mind I'm going to get some sleep. Some time withing the next century I'm going to have a trial and I want to have some dignity when I admit to guilt."
Then he was silent. Ani watched him for a moment more, then turned away.
The trial was held the next day, in the Ministry dungeon and led by the infamous Barty Crouch.
Ani debated not going. She knew how it would end. But she couldn't live with herself if she didn't. And besides, she'd come up with a plan of sorts. It may or may not work, she wasn't sure. But it was worth a try.
She tried hard, but she couldn't hate him for what he'd done. He was her brother. As she'd said before, her 'other half'. It was her duty to do something for him, anything. And then she could settle into despising him. He had to be alive and well for her to do so though.
It was a tough choice to make, as she sat in the top row, watching as the dementors brought him in and he was chained to the chair. Crouch started in on him. He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to declair his guilt, but any stood up.
"Wait, sir, Mr. Crouch, I can't let you do this."
"And why not? He deserves what punishment he gets, an there isn't anything you can....."
"But there is. Becuase he wasn't there. He didn't do it."
Some were beside her a old, silver haired wizard with half moon spectacles smiled to himself.
She came up with an elaborate lie, an alaby of sorts. It took her the good part of an hour to explain it, but when she was done no one could dispute it, especially since part of it was true.
The morning before Mark had been found Numair had been at Mungo's sitting with their mother. Ani took that and fashioned a story out of it. A believable story since there was a nurse who could vouch for part of it being true.
Numair just sat there, staring at his sister, wondering what he'd done to deserve this.
It took
Chapter Five:
Pain. There was a whole lot of pain. Numair didn't even remember what happened. All he could recall was a scarlet eyed figure, talking to him,
pleased by him he imagined from the tone. And then there was pain. Burning terrible agony.
When he woke up, safe at home in his bed, he thought it was surely all just some wild nightmare. And then he'd felt it. Burning on his left forarm. The Dark Mark.
For days on end it seemed like it would never stop. The mark was bright on his skin, dark, terrible...... but he'd wanted it. And now he had it.
It was oddly thrilling, like he was in on some kind of secret. A horrible secret.
Eventually the pain died down to a mere easily ignored throbbing, except on the few occasions when the Dark Lord called his servants to him. Then the pain was worse.
Numair eventually got used to it. And while he did he spent all his free time hunting a certain auror.....
It didn't take long. The mud-blood and his family were painfully easy to find. Especially his family. Numair had no intentions of just killing him.
Oh no, that was to good for the vermin. He wanted him to suffer. Wanted him to feel the pain that he himself was feeling. He started with the young man's dear sister.
She was just a muggle. A poor, defenceless muggle. Catching her was almost to easy. Years later he'd hear her screams in his nightmares and be haunted all the things he did, but at the time it didn't effect him one bit, beyond making him want revenge even more.
He was so filled with hurt, with anger, with pain. The girls pain didn't make it go away. It made it stronger. And the need to be rid of it stronger.
That was why he was so careless in getting the auror. He wanted him to suffer physicaly now. And he did. Oh he did.
The mud-blood had thought himself skilled at battleing the dark arts. He'd never before had to face someone quite like Numair though. You couldn't take away one of the things a man held terribly dear to him and expect him not to come after you. It was a lesson he learned the hard way.
Numair kept him alive for days. It was dificult. The Cruciactus curse was hard on a person after a while, and muggle forms of torture weren't any kinder. When he finally allowed the wretch to die, it was with small satisfaction. He found the man's death didn't make him feel any better about what happened to his father. It gave him no satisfaction.
So he was careless. He made a mistake. Leaving the remains in the home of the mud-blood's muggle parents wasn't the wisest idea he'd ever made.
He'd been the only wizard seen in the area for ages, so naturally all fingers were pointed at him.
That's how he'd ended up were he was now, in a small cell surounded by dementors, awaiting the day of his trial. They were slow about it, but he didn't care. The dementors didn't have much effect on him. Because he knew he was guilty. He knew and he didn't want to fight it. He deserved, wanted, no, -needed- punishment. He didn't care if he died.
It gave the vile creatures nothing to feed off of. It was amazing how disapointed a unseeable face could seem.
Anika was in shock. Complete shock. The auror had turned up dead in a most gruesome fashion, and now her brother was being blamed for it. And the dead auror hadn't been just any old auror, not to her.
She'd known him well. Very well. They'd met when she went in to auror training, and become friends. More than friends. A year and they'd planned to marry. The event with her father hadn't changed her affection for him in the slightest- it had been her who'd given him the tip after all.
The way she saw it, it had been an accident. The auror, Mark as he was called, had done his job. She couldn't hold it against him, loving him the way she did.
She'd been planning on telling him something most important when she'd gotten the news. She was just getting over the initial shock when she heard who'd they'd picked up as the killer.
And now here she was, waiting patiently to get into his holding cell to see him.
He couldn't have possibly done it. There was some mistake. Her precious little Numie could never have done something so horrible. That's what her heart kept telling her. Her brain was saying that it was all to true,
and it was all her fault.
Numair looked up curiously as all the dementors went away. Someone was standing there at his cell door, looking at him, but he couldn't see who it was.
"Numie?"
"Ani? Is that you?"
"Of course silly. They've told me the most aweful thing....."
He cut her off. "Oh dear sister, it's the truth, how terrible could it be? You always knew were I was heading didn't you? And yet here you are,
shocked." he laughed softly. "Look at me, I'm a complete reck. And whatever they decide to do to me, I deserve it. I'm not even going to bother defending myself, no point. They won't believe me."
Ani stared at him, fighting tears. This was all her fault. She should have payed more attention to him. Should have been there. Shouldn't have ever spoken to Mark, or told him about there father. Shouldn't have.......
"Oh Numie, how could you?" she felt like breaking down in tears. It was to much. "How could you?"
"Oh it was quite easy really. I could give you all the details if you'd like."
She nearly gagged. Ani looked at him for a moment. Really looked at him.
It wasn't the brother she knew. He had a bit of beard from not being allowed to shave for quite some time, and he'd let his hair grow long.
It was a bit on the dirty side at the moment. But what was most differnet was his eyes. Before they'd been so beautiful, filled with a child-like innocence, even when he was older. It had always made her think of a over happy puppy. And now..... now they were empty. Haunted. Dull.
How could this man be were sweet brother? It didn't seem possible.
"What's the matter lovie, don't like how I've turned out?" Numair flashed her a smile. "I'm rather proud of it myself."
He turned so his back was facing her and curled up in a corner. "Now,
if you don't mind I'm going to get some sleep. Some time withing the next century I'm going to have a trial and I want to have some dignity when I admit to guilt."
Then he was silent. Ani watched him for a moment more, then turned away.
The trial was held the next day, in the Ministry dungeon and led by the infamous Barty Crouch.
Ani debated not going. She knew how it would end. But she couldn't live with herself if she didn't. And besides, she'd come up with a plan of sorts. It may or may not work, she wasn't sure. But it was worth a try.
She tried hard, but she couldn't hate him for what he'd done. He was her brother. As she'd said before, her 'other half'. It was her duty to do something for him, anything. And then she could settle into despising him. He had to be alive and well for her to do so though.
It was a tough choice to make, as she sat in the top row, watching as the dementors brought him in and he was chained to the chair. Crouch started in on him. He opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to declair his guilt, but any stood up.
"Wait, sir, Mr. Crouch, I can't let you do this."
"And why not? He deserves what punishment he gets, an there isn't anything you can....."
"But there is. Becuase he wasn't there. He didn't do it."
Some were beside her a old, silver haired wizard with half moon spectacles smiled to himself.
She came up with an elaborate lie, an alaby of sorts. It took her the good part of an hour to explain it, but when she was done no one could dispute it, especially since part of it was true.
The morning before Mark had been found Numair had been at Mungo's sitting with their mother. Ani took that and fashioned a story out of it. A believable story since there was a nurse who could vouch for part of it being true.
Numair just sat there, staring at his sister, wondering what he'd done to deserve this.
It took
