Given
"Trust me"
AN It's been a looong time since I've updated. My files got deleted, I got viruses, and all sorts of nasty things happened until I gave up. Yet, I missed you guys! So, I'm getting back into the habit.
Even chalk is darker than my hands. Bending down-It is not something I would usually do, but the magic requires me to be the one drawing-I sketch a pentagram on the black marble. Bellatrix, a saffron piece in her grasp, traces over my markings. Then, I come to the center and use my wand to trace over the pattern. From the wand comes a beam of black light, in that it seems to eat the illumination from it's path. From the outside, Bellatrix orbits the pentagram, using the same spell on the circle, and an even older one on the star's sides. The entire figure glows like embers for almost a full minute, and then the magicked chalk cools, leaving behind a smooth, shiny material resembling iron.
From the gathered ring outside, five figures in their masks move forward, each setting a green taper on the points. The smoke rises, pungent, and thickens until a screen is surrounding the pentagram. Bellatrix enters the middle, careful not to step upon the lines. The woman kneels down on her knees. Before her, I place a heavy bowl of cut crystal, with quicksilver filling an inch or so. I instruct the other Death Eaters to leave the chamber, and when I am sure they have all gone, I produce a crystal dagger from the folds of my robe.
Unlike the bowl, this blade is carnelian, inlaid with lapis lazuli runes. Gazing steadily at Bellatrix and focusing on her face, I slash that area of the hand which palm-readers see one's length of life with. Although most modern palm-readers have long ago forgotten the true art, it is a real means of judging the future.
Holding my palm over the bowl, I keep it there until the blood finally stops falling. Without bothering to wipe the blade clean, I pass the dagger to Bellatrix and instruct her to do as I did. Her dark, heavy-lidded eyes are puzzled, likely at the intimacy of blood-mingling. It is no concern though, for I have no doubt that she lacks the knowledge of how to manipulate this. After the shortest moment of hesitation, she brings her blood to the surface and lifts her palm over the mixture, allowing it to pour out as I had.
"Good," I murmur, taking a leather pouch from my pocket. Pulling the drawstrings open, I add a pinch of fine-ground oak bark to the solution. Quietly, I invoke the name of the nymph which had dwelt within the tree. Although most of the Druid secrets and lore have been lost with the domination of Christianity, the power of oak has been remembered.
Bellatrix brings a similar purse from her pocket, pouring powdered agate on top of the dark potion. She mutters a blessing in Old English as the liquid changes to a swirling violet.
At last, the most difficult task comes. A third bag, emblazoned with symbols to make it resist combustion, I open and whisper the spell in a rush, and then rapidly toss the entire contents into the bowl. Silver-grey phoenix ashes fall onto the surface, sparking white with soft pops. I had put a suspending spell on the bird so it would remain as just ashes, and the hard part was getting it to the bowl before it could assume another form. Still, I succeed.
"Almost done now..." I say and pick up four of the five green candles. In a specific order, I touch the flame to the potion. They flash in rainbow hues before dying away. With the red stick of chalk, I stir the mixture, speaking the final incantation with Bellatrix repeating my words.
"Drink," I command.
She looks dubious. Her delicate hands raise the bowl parallel her lips, but they do not part. Needing reassurance, she looks up again at me. Irritated, I demand again "Drink it. Do you think I would let you come to harm?"
"No, of course not, my lord. I trust you wholly. Please forgive me."
I dismiss the plea for pardon and gesture for her to swallow the liquid. Eventually, she consumes it all and places the empty bowl aside. The completion is incipient. For this last stage, I give her the talisman which has been resting over my heart through this ritual.
She wraps it about her wrists as priorly instructed, so it looks as though she is praying. The remaining candle lights the area, though it fails to permeate the dense smoke hanging about the pentagram. After ascertaining that everything has been performed correctly, I leave her to meditate.
Three hours pass and I walk into the chamber to see how she fares. To my surprise, the smoke has cleared, the taper just normal wax and a burnt wick, the pentagram now ordinary chalk. Moonlight falls through a window near the ceiling, encircling Bellatrix.
Her head is bowed yet, her posture immaculately the exact way it was when I left, her long hair hiding her face. If not for everything else, I might have thought she was in a trance still, but she would be aware of when the spell had reached its goal.
"It is done then?"
"Yes," she says without moving whatsoever.
"Are you well?" Not that I care for her especially, but it would be a loss if she was rendered blind, as is the most common effect.
Suddenly, her shoulders begin trembling and I hear that she stifles a sob. Drawing in a shuddering breath, she cants her head and her tresses fall away, revealing tear-lined cheeks.
"What is it?"
"My lord...I can do no magic."
