Chapter 43

The chill of the late winter wind pierced me through my heavy black robes, and I walked more swiftly, determined to ignore it. I had more on my mind tonight than wind.

I had death.

The short journey to the Forbidden Forest and beyond seemed much longer than it had with Lily beside me. But I didn't want to think about her now.

"Tonight, Lucius. It's a full moon. A blood moon. Be ready."

That had been Garadnon's cryptic message. Yes, it was happening earlier than I had expected, but I had been expecting it nonetheless. I would have to get it over with.

Lily, I'd managed to avoid after the train station incident. I hoped she hadn't noticed. I'd given the pre-brewed potion, with a single, silver blonde strand of my hair, to Severus. He would do his part.

"Don't do it, Lucius. Please don't."

Her words came back to me a whisper, her touch, a phantom caress on my lips.

No, I would do it. I pushed all thoughts of her the very back of my mind, boxed up along with my conscience. I wouldn't need those tonight.

Tonight, I would need hatred, and cold, hard cruelty. I wouldn't need anger—I wouldn't need emotion. Killing with emotion would be killing with passion. And killing with passion would destroy me, for passion would melt the heart I'd spent so much time hardening.

If my father had taught me anything, at least he'd taught me that.

The forest made all kinds of noises at night. A herd of Thestrals rested on the clearing to my right.

Iole.

I could see them because of her.

What would she think of me?

I shook my head, as if to shake the thoughts away.

Iole was dead. Dead people didn't care about the living. At least I wouldn't care about the living, if I were dead. Unless I wanted to plague them. But that dwelled too far from the topic.

The orange glow of firelight shone through a gap in the bushes. I veered to the left. Dense thorns tore at the expensive fabric of my cloak and all skin I'd left exposed.

But that didn't matter either.

What mattered was the figure, standing before me. Lord Voldemort?

No. Garednon.

"Portkey. Touch the fire."

I knew better than to ask questions. If the fire burned me, I would only suffer very little, compared to the suffering I would surely endure if I didn't touch it.

So I did—touch it, I mean.

I felt nothing, save for the familiar pulling sensation one experiences during portkey travel.

Rows and rows of black cloaked people were present when I felt the ground slam back onto my feet. They would watch my initiation.

The Dark Lord himself was standing, brown eyes glittering red in the light of the fire. A slow smile appeared on his face, when he saw me.

"Lucius. You have come. Are you ready?"

"I am ready."

"You are to purge dirty blood, and purify through pain. At the same time, you will show us your extensive knowledge on curses, hexes, jinxes, but keep the—subject—alive until the last curse, where it will be exterminated. Are you ready?"

"I am ready."

Unless the subject was—

Lily.

Long hair, as red as blood, shone just as bright as the eyes of my future Master.   

Eyelashes, matted with tears, fluttered open with a rough kick from one of the dark robed minions.

Lily.

How had they taken her? Had Severus let her go? What could I do now—kill her? Kill her, and save myself.

The moment I'd been dreading for months had finally come.

Lily had known. Hadn't she told me of a dream, where I'd killed her? I'd just laughed nervously. I would never let that happen, I said. But now, was I going to let it?

"L-Lucius? Is that you?" She said my name differently. Then I saw the blue eyes, and the long hair.

Lily had cut her hair—and her eyes were green. Not blue.

This wasn't Lily. This was Madeleine. I ignored her.

"Nobody I know is going—they're all busy. . .Nad's gone off somewhere. . . I think I'll sleep early tonight. . ."

Her words came back to me.

"Garednon tells me you're rather. . .fond of this mudblood. Am I correct?"

Garednon had told Lord Voldemort, and they'd taken the wrong girl. I would have to make them believe they'd taken the right one.

"That, my Lord, is half true. Fond? Slightly. She'd been my little whore for a while now, but I've never developed any real feelings for this piece of trash." It stung my soul to say it—but I did. To keep Lily safe. That was what I had to do. That was my main goal.

Madeleine was nothing.

"Ah, but killing her will bring you more pleasure, will it not?"

I grinned, with the ease of a practiced liar.

"Of course it will."

I raised my wand to begin my task.

"A moment, if you please, Lucius. As I've previously mentioned, you will have to use as many curses as possible, without killing the girl, until the last, which will be the Killing Curse. I trust you know that?" I nodded.

He continued.

"The higher the number of curses you know, the higher your rank, and the deeper your ties go, with this group. Garadnon is, at present, the highest, with a little over nine-hundred different curses. See if you can do better. Begin."

I took a deep breath, and raised my wand again. I would start with the Jelly-Legs jinx—it was simplest. Then the Leg-Locking Spell, with the Full Body Bind afterwards, and then maybe I could do Severus' Hang-nail Hex. The Subfauceaiam (Suffocating) curse would do for a while, but not too long. . .I could always place a Pyresium spell (that induced high fever), if that wasn't too risky.

I sped through my mental arsenal of curses.

My ears were met with pleas, and punctuated with screams. They did nothing. My mind was on what I had to do, and I did it.

Sweat beaded on my forehead, despite the coldness of the night.

My arm stung the entire time, burning from the exertion of holding my wand up for so long.

All the while, Lord Voldemort sat, and watched me. That didn't bother my concentration—I was used to being watched. I kept my expression closed.

Time and time again, I've tried to remember what I felt then—the first time I'd killed a human being. But, to tell the truth, I believe I felt nothing. It was like torturing a stone that screamed and begged.

I didn't enjoy the screaming—it hurt my ears. But the begging—ah, it was bliss. I felt like a god. It was a rush of power that put me on a high.

"Avada Kedavra." A flash of green light, and the screaming stopped.

I inhaled deeply the heady smell of blood and death.

It wasn't the most fragrant perfume, I must admit, but it wasn't all that bad either.

"Two-thousand-five-hundred-and-sixty-eight."

The numbers meant nothing to me. I stood still, and stared at the dead woman before me. It could have been Lily. But it hadn't been.