Chapter Six

Ron had no idea what was happening or where he was, but he did know that for some reason, his body refused to move. His head swam in a thick mixture of pain and confusion, his heart pumping wildly and his eyes squinting as tightly as possible while still allowing him to see his surroundings. His arms seemed glued to the floor beneath him, and when he finally looked at them he was able to see why: his right arm, resting close to his chest, was trickling blood in every direction which was, in turn, mixing with the sweat and tears and was beginning to dry on the ground, creating a sticky substance that, for Ron's current state of weakness, was too thick to defeat. The blood, at this point, he was able to handle. When he caught a glimpse of his left wrist, however, he nearly fainted—the sight of the Dark Mark anywhere in close proximity to his person, let alone burned irrevocably into his skin, was complete and utter devastation.

He let out a soft moan as he attempted to shift his legs. Finally, after several tries—and several painful grunts—he was able to persuade himself to believe that the pain was not real, that he was simply imagining it, and that soon enough he would be done with this, this game, and he would be home with Hermione and Harry and his sister and all of this would fade into a horrible nightmare. The more he kept telling himself this, the more it became true. He was fine, he was fine, he was fine…

The cold sound of metal reverberated throughout the room as the harsh, swift footsteps Ron was getting so used to swept toward him.

"Ah, you've risen, I see. Very good, very good. Now, if you'll be so kind as to follow me, we have places to be…"

Malfoy threw him his signature smile, full of pomposity and malice and all things Malfoy. Ron felt his face contort into disgust without him even trying, but Malfoy just laughed appreciatively.

"Ron Weasley, I never thought there was any way to make you look more unattractive, but you just showed me how very wrong I was. Now, either you can get yourself up, or I can have someone twice your size do it for you. And trust me, the latter is not going to be very pleasant, although…now that I think about it, I don't exactly have your comfort in mind, do I?" He laughed another mirthless laugh and took two steps toward the door behind him, still facing Ron and watching him imperiously.

Ron, realizing there was no way to avoid the current situation, decided it would be in his best interest to remove himself from the floor on his own. It's just a game, it's just a game…soon…soon…he told himself, and with a heavy heave he kept his pain to himself—to prevent any kind of satisfaction from displaying itself on Draco's smarmy face—and lifted his tired body into a standing position. Malfoy snapped his fingers and two men twice Ron's size entered the room and took to each side of Ron, taking his arms and leading him out of the room. Ron felt his feet drag against the cold stone and it suddenly hit him that he was leaving the safety of his cell—the safety? He contemplated this as he realized he had left safety a long time back. He tried not to feel fear as his body weightlessly glided down a dark, torch-lit hallway that seemed endless. The only thing Ron could focus on was the distant tap of Malfoy's footsteps, which were leading ten feet ahead. With every step Ron felt as though the walls would consume him, swallow him whole, and in those moments of desperation he wished they would.

Just as soon as the thought had crossed his mind, all light disappeared into nothingness and Ron reconsidered his wish as a cold, inescapable chill overtook him and his feet became the only thing to guide him. He remembered the large men at his sides and secretly wondered if they too were ever weary of the darkness. Ron began to feel the darkness was carrying on too long and his stomach grew uneasy; soon enough, however, he was tossed into what seemed like yet another cell, and the two men stepped back as Malfoy, who had disappeared briefly, stood in front of him, wand at the ready. A dim light seeped into the room from a small iron-barred window about ten feet above Malfoy's head, casting him in a rather wicked shadow. With a flick, a chair appeared as though out of thin air and Malfoy motioned for him to sit. Ron looked at him defiantly.

"Weasley, for all the pain you've already endured, I would think that by now you'd be a little more cooperative. However, if that's how you're going to be, then you know I won't hesitate to play this little game with you. It seems highly unlike you to not realize that I am most certainly going to win," he said with a smirk, "but then again, you always have been a bit foolishly defiant—something you've always thought as courageous, I suppose, but that too is explained by your sheer idiocy. So, Weasley, you want to butt heads with me, that's absolutely fine. Would you like another one of those on your left arm?" he asked slickly, looking pointedly at the still open wound on his right arm. Ron swallowed. He wanted to fight Draco, wanted to destroy him so badly that he could feel the hatred rising quickly in his bones. But he knew that the way out of here—if there was one—was not present at this particular moment. For one, he had no wand. There were the two large men outside the door. Also, he couldn't quite move his body on his own accord. His only options were incredible pain, pain he wasn't sure he could survive, or…surrender.

Ron's heart sank into his belly as he slowly lowered himself onto the chair in front of him, and at the sound of Malfoy's satisfied sigh he immediately regretted it. One thing he hated most was giving Malfoy any reason to be satisfied. But, as he had just decided, Ron had no other choice. He sat furiously, Malfoy strutting around the chair, surveying him. Ron felt his chest rise and fall and which each breath he felt closer and closer to succumbing to the weakness that so badly wished to take over his poor body. Finally, just as Ron's eyes closed softly, welcoming sleep, Malfoy stopped directly to his left and clapped his hands.

"Gentlemen, would you please bring in the others?"

Ron's head snapped up as the now familiar clank on cold steel slammed against the wall some thirty feet away. As his eyes popped open, his ears, straining tightly, could hear the soft pattering of feet from somewhere in front of him, and slowly they became a series of sunken, weathered faces as they entered the sullen light of the cell.

Ron's breathing became increasingly heavy as he took in all of the faces; more chairs appeared as each one entered and filed themselves next to Ron's, and as a stern look took on Malfoy's face, each chair became occupied one by one, each head lowering solemnly as its body sank downward into a pit of despair.

After a few minutes, all of the prisoners were seated, dishearteningly so, their heads sinking further and further into their slowly rising chests with every passing minute. Though Ron had been trying to avoid it as long as he could, he couldn't ignore the rising fear festering in the pit of his stomach and slowly crawling its way through his body, and with every footstep of Malfoy's as he paced calmly in front of all of them cause the hairs on the back of his neck to prickle and stand at full attention. Finally, after a silence that seemed to linger over them for an eternity, Malfoy parted his lips and made a small slick with his tongue.

"Now…you're probably wondering why you're all here. And lucky for you, I'm about to tell you, although once you know, I'm not so sure you'll be too pleased. However, I am looking forward to this quite a bit, quite a bit indeed…

"You're all here—there are 20 of you, in case you were curious—because I decided that each of you possesses a precarious strength. Perhaps none of you realized it, but when each of you began dismantling my brotherhood of Death Eaters it became painfully clear that you were too smart, too clever, and too strong for your own good. For two years I watched my plans become foiled, ruined, absolved, and I was at a complete loss as to what to do to end your reign. When suddenly, I had a brilliant idea…which is why I decided to pick the best of you and use you to my advantage. There's an old muggle saying—'if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.' Well, I've decided to…modify it to my liking. Since I couldn't possibly find a way to beat you, I simply decided to recruit you. Yesterday was a test…those who died were obviously not strong enough to take on such a duty as this. And now, as you all have probably noticed, you all bear the unmistakable mark of a Death Eater. Though you've spent your lives looking upon this mark with disgust and abhorrence, you will come to regard it with respect and admiration—"

"And what makes you think that's ever going to happen?" came a sudden interjection from somewhere on Ron's right. In one split second, the other nineteen heads snapped so sharply you could nearly hear the joints popping in every one of their necks. Ron's neck strained forward to look past the others and felt his breath catch painfully like a hook in his chest when he saw that everyone was staring at Fred, who was glaring intently at Malfoy with a look of utmost distaste on his face. Ron's face grew hot as his fear intensified—if Malfoy so much as touched his brother, all hell would break loose…

Malfoy's already smug grin became, though believed to be impossible, even smugger.

"Because, if you haven't noticed by now, at the moment you are completely helpless, which means I have complete power over you and I can do whatever I please."

Though Ron found his words thoroughly disdainful, he couldn't help but be engrossingly relieved that Malfoy hadn't ended Fred right then and there. He slowly accepted, however, that their current fate probably wasn't much better. Malfoy slowly began pacing back and forth in front of them once again, and Ron began to wonder how much longer of this bull they were going to have to bear through when suddenly, Malfoy stopped sharply and stomped his feet together.

"Enough of this," he said, with a surprising air of harsh severity none of them had expected. All this time he had been so cloyingly pompous, and suddenly he had shed that skin like a snake and become a venomous cobra. And suddenly, coming from a part of the room no one had known even existed, a single-file train of black cloaks entered the room and stood at Malfoy's side, a wicked grin playing on his lips. Ron shuddered at the presence of such evil, and the sinking feeling in his stomach grew more and more unbearable as he realized things were about to take a devastating turn for the worst.