Harry Potter and the Crystal Mandala
By Vernificus
The Mind of a Traitor
Fingers of lighting tore holes in the black cloud filled sky as the angry sound of a cloud burst filled the ears of Igor Karkaroff. He was stumbling across the outskirts of Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria. The surrealistic landscape did nothing to improve the state of contained panic Karkaroff was in. It was three in the morning; cold, wet, and in mid July of 1997. The houses scattered along the narrow twisty road winding through the hills were all dark. Some seemed unoccupied and in the last stages of decay. Others were unpainted, neglected, and forlorn. The place had a sinister feeling to it.
Karkaroff staggered and stumbled as he nearly fell. He was tired and hungry; he hadn't eaten anything but a few mouldy pieces of bread for the past two days. His broken right leg was swollen...badly. The pain was almost unbearable, he didn't know much about healing but he knew that the leg was infected. He needed to rest. At least he knew that. The fact that he had kept on going for the last two days despite his condition was a miracle in its self. He had no idea how he had run from his enemies with a broken leg. Fear was what had Karkaroff running for the last two years. Although, deep down inside he knew that there was no point. He knew that eventually he would be caught and that he would eventually be killed. It's said fear gives men wings. It seemed to be true in Karkaroff's case.
Karkaroff walked up to the front door of a crumbling farmhouse and hammered on the ancient looking door. After a long moment, a light blinked on somewhere in the house. All of the sudden an old lady appeared. As he looked at her he registered in his mind that she had a comforting motherly feel to her. She also reminded him of his mother. Of his younger days, the days that were carefree and death free. He stared at her, lost in his own thoughts. Her grisly cough broke the memories.
"Can I have something to - eat please?" he asked completely aware how weird this must seem to the old lady.
The woman looked at him from head to toe. Karkaroff shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He was completely aware that he didn't look all that polite and gentlemanly. His trousers were torn, there were bloodstains on his shirt, his hands and face had several scratches and the area around his eye was swollen.
"No," she said aggressively, "there is no food here! Go away!" she slammed the door in his face.
Karkaroff could feel his anger growing. He was getting desperate.
"Please ma'Am. I'll go away. Just give me some food."
There was no answer. He had had enough; he took out his wand and used magic to burst the door open. The old lady was sat in an old rotting chair and looked up scared.
"Give me some food, NOW!"
The old lady was now shivering in fear and she was crying.
"There is nothing to fear, ma'Am." said Karkaroff.
"Just give me some food and I'll go away, please ma'Am."
The old lady got up and went to the kitchen. She's probably planning something. She returned from the kitchen with a knife.
"Go Away!"
"Please, ma'Am, just give me some food. I beg you."
"Go away or I'll - I'll kill you!" she slashed the knife at him.
He was just able to step away from the knife, but his arm was bleeding.
He took out his wand and yelled, "Avada Kedavra!"
A brilliant green light shot out of his wand and hit her. She was dead before she got to the floor. Stupid old hag, why couldn't she just give me some food? He went to the kitchen and searched the larder; there was some stale old bread left. It wasn't great but considering his situation, the meal was one of the best in his life. Unknown to him it was to be his last too.
Once he finished his meal he stumbled on to the old ladies chair and sat down gingerly. His leg was giving him hell, utter hell. He had to rest for now, no mater what the dangers, he had to take his chances; he had to rest, he was too tired.
"Igor Karkaroff, Headmaster of Durmstrang School of Magic." he said in a singsong voice full of bitterness.
Life's been hell since the return of The Dark Lord, thought Karkaroff. I've been on the run since then. After the fall of Voldemort he had managed to weasel free. The fool, Crouch, had actually let him free in exchange for the name of some Death Eaters. He had managed to use his links and his ability to lie to obtain the position of "Headmaster of Durmstrang". My life crumbled the night he returned...the night I felt the mark burn again, he shuddered, but I have a chance. I have information about the scroll. Maybe I can weasel out if this too. He had found his father's diary in their old mansion. It had seemed like a bad idea at first to go to their mansion. It was the first place Voldemort and his supporters would search for him, but he had found his fathers old diary there and it was just dumb luck he had accidentally dislodged the painting of his Grandfather and the diary had fallen out. Just about the only piece of luck I'd had, thought Karkaroff bitterly, but I have a chance now. All his life he had managed to crawl his way out of difficult circumstances and he was determined escape this time too. I have a chance - a chance, he desperately kept on saying this to himself and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Unknown to him, outside, four Death Eaters were heading up to the cottage he was staying in.
"Careful Rosewood." whispered Severus Snape.
"Shut up, Snape! What can he possibly do to us?" Rosewood replied.
"He's cornered fool! Do you think he is going to give in easily!" Snape countered.
They crept up to the cottage slowly; once they reached the cottage they arranged themselves in preconceived positions. Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange covered the front door, while Rosewood and Lucius Malfoy covered the back of the cottage. Lestrange suddenly blasted through the flimsily held door and strode inside the house. Snape stayed outside and held watch at the entrance and Malfoy blasted through the back doors. Karkaroff was jolted out of his sleep; he desperately looked at the front and back entrances and saw that the two cunning Death Eaters blocked it.
"Well, Karkaroff, the games are up. I'm glad you finally decided to join us," said Malfoy with the trademark family smirk on his face.
Karkaroff reached for his wand but Lestrange who had been watching him from the other side of the room reacted fast.
"Crucio!" she said forcefully before he could react.
It was the third time that week he had been subjected to the curse. Even with the other occurrences, it didn't dim the pain. His agonized screams pierced the building. It seemed that the intense pain went on for hours in his mind, but of course, it had only been going on for a few minutes.
"How?" he managed to croak.
"You weren't able to crawl away this time, could you?" said Lestrange rhetorically.
"You left your blood all over the floor of your old mansion." said Malfoy glancing at his leg.
Lestrange smiled, "The Dark Lord has been able to create a new tracking spell. You see we just needed your blood and the next time you used your wand we'd be able to locate you."
Karkaroff started speaking, "I have infor..."
Only to be cut off by a very angry Lestrange, "Enough you piece of filth! You thought you could get away with betraying our Lord? You said our name in court Igor. I remember, it's because of you we spent eleven years in Azkaban. CRUCIO!"
"That's enough Bella, I'll deal with him now." came the hissing voice of Voldemort.
As planned, Voldemort had been notified as soon as Karkaroff was in the clutches of his Death Eaters.
"So Karkaroff ... we meet again. Its been more than 15 years since we last met hasn't it?" said Voldemort calmly.
"Master, I tried to – " started Karkaroff only to be cut of byVoldemort.
"You tried to what, Karkaroff? Help me? Save me perhaps. If so, I have to say your way of helping has even me baffled"
"Master I –"
"Enough Karkaroff! I do not have the time or the patience to listen to your pity little explanations. What you did Karkaroff, was betray me. I can still see the Dark mark on your arm. You know what that mark means? ... Perhaps you don't. Then let me enlighten you. It means an oath Karkaroff, an oath according to which you were willing to serve me for the rest of your life, worship me for the rest of your life. It meant you were willing to give me your life. But you broke the oath Karkaroff, and breaking the oath isn't something that can go unpunished."
"L-Lord I have –" tried Karkaroff, only to be once again cut off by Voldemort.
"No Karkaroff, there is nothing you can do to save yourself. Lord Voldemort, Karkaroff does not show mercy to traitors ... Now, Karkaroff lets play a little game," hissed Voldemort with a sinister smile, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
Karkaroff was lifted off the ground instantly. Voldemort let him hover eight feet above the ground as the Death Eaters began to gather around, laughing psychotically. Voldemort then slammed Karkaroff into the sidewall. As Karkaroff heard the sickening crunch he felt his ribs breaking. When he fell down and tried to breath he noticed that he was barely able to sustain a breath because of the blood gathering in his throat. As he attempted another breath he could hear his own blood gurgling in the depths of his throat. The landing against the wall had punctured his lung. Before he had time to think, he was once again hit by the Crucio curse. Except this time, it was dealt by Voldemort. This was no ordinary Unforgivable; it felt hundreds of times worse than any Crucio he had ever felt. Thus, it made it nearly unbearable to do anything but shake violently. He couldn't hear, see, or feel anything except the pain on every inch of his body. He was screaming without even being conscious of his actions. Voldemort lifted the curse suddenly. Karkaroff could no longer move, but twitch erratically.
"Please master -" Karkaroff begged.
"CRUCIO!"
Voldemort lifted the curse and Karkaroffs' surroundings came into focus again.
"Master, I can...I c - can...I know about the Valiturus Scrolls! My Lord please..."
Voldemort looked at him calculatingly, "Go on Igor, I am listening."
"Master the location of the scrolls -" he began but was interrupted.
"Lord, the Muggle police are here, the neighbours must have heard his screams." A faceless Death Eater supplied.
"DON'T interrupt me fool! You know what to do with them," Voldemort replied hotly, "continue Karkaroff."
"...The scrolls...s - scrolls..." came a gurgled whisper from Karkaroff.
He was having trouble speaking; his mouth was full of his own blood, leaking out of the sides of his lips.
"The scrolls may be found in the relations -."
Suddenly, he was hit in the chest with a bullet. Surprised, Voldemort looked up to see a Muggle police officer stepping into the cottage. The police officer scanned the faces of the people in the room and recoiled at the site of Voldemort. Before he could register anything else, he was hit by the killing curse from behind. Voldemort looked down to see that Karkaroff was dead.
"How did he get in here?" he whispered dangerously.
The Death Eaters shuffled uncomfortably.
"L – L - Lord," stuttered a lone Death Eater, "he slipped past me." said Dolohov, the skin marred Death Eater.
"He slipped past you now did he? You have just cost me a great deal of information, Dolohov." he whispered calmly.
"It won't happen again master." returned his shaky voice.
"Oh, I know it won't Doholov, I am sure it won't," replied Voldemort looking directly into Doholovs' scared eyes, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
There was a flash of green light and Doholov knew life no more.
Thousands of miles away in Surrey, England, Harry Potter woke with a start