The Seers' Truth: Beyond the Darkness
By Lady Lestrange
Chapter 5
Visions of Voldemort
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor the characters nor the world created by JK Rowlings. No infringement is meant or implied. Thanks JK.
THANKS: To my faithful and hardworking beta, ennui de Morte.
(Author's note: In the previous chapter, Draco sent an owl dated for December 23, asking the trio to meet him on December 24. The trio is still meeting him on the 24th, but the date of the note should correctly read, December 22. Even though the trio is good, they can't possibly squeeze the amount of action coming into such a short time. Sorry for the error. -LL)
"Severus' Office," said Ginny. The sound of her voice calling one of the most feared and respected teacher at Hogwarts by his first name, still echoed in her ears as she tumbled through the floo network. When she arrived, sooty and disheveled, that same teacher was standing at the fireplace with his wand trained on her.
"Miss Weasley?" he said in surprise.
She took one look at him and all the resolve that she had when she left the Snow Castle melted into tears. She found herself burying her head on his shoulder while he stood unmoving, still holding his wand behind her back. "I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "Poor Beatrice—she—she—"
After his initial moment of shock, he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "You didn't leave him?" he said worriedly. A large black dog barked once and bounded forward. For just a moment, Ginny thought it was Sirius, but with a wave of his wand, Snape silenced it, saying "Mutus, Somnus!" and Ginny realized that the dog was a little smaller than Sirius.
Ginny looked at it but it didn't quite register the fact that Snape actually had a dog in his office. "Yes—I—" Ginny stuttered.
Severus sucked in his breath. "You got past his wards…" he said incredulously, but Ginny found it hard to concentrate, her brain feeling like wet sand.
"She didn't," said Tom. "I probably could have."
"You have to go back," Snape snapped, shoving her away from him and simultaneously drying her eyes and doing a glamour charm on her. "Get control of yourself this instant, Miss Weasley."
"He sent me," Ginny hiccupped, and Snape was suddenly not so anxious to return her to the Snow Castle.
Her voice came in a rush. "He said I have three days to find his emerald, but I can't." The tears started to fall again and she explained between sobs. "I have to get it, but it's given to me and no one gave it to me yet and there are no students here now, so how can anyone—" she sobbed and sniffled against his shoulder again.
"Just stop," said Snape irritably, pushing her to arm's length. "I refuse to allow my robe to become your handkerchief." He held out his hand and conjured one from thin air with a snap of his fingers. He gave her the handkerchief with the order, "Blow your nose and wipe your eyes."
She did.
"Good," said Snape. "Now take a couple deep breaths and get yourself under control before you try to speak. Better?"
Ginny nodded.
"Sit down."
Ginny perched on the edge of a hard back chair usually reserved for miscreants who were summoned to Snape's office. Her stomach immediately knotted up again.
"Now answer my questions."
"Yes Sir," said Ginny. "But he—"
"Did he send you to me?" interrupted Snape.
"To Hogwarts to find his emerald," said Ginny.
"The emerald he's been looking for since the beginning? The one Helga took?"
Tom gasped, but Ginny pushed on.
She nodded. "He knows I am supposed to give it to him—"
"It never says you're supposed to give it to him. It says you're supposed to get it."
"There's another prophecy," Ginny continued. "It was in his book. He has to know this. I can't—I can't get the emerald and he's just going to hurt Beatrice—" Ginny started to cry again. "And–And—"
Snape whirled around, his robe swirling. He gripped Ginny's shoulders tightly. "He has Beatrice?"
Ginny nodded miserably. "He did Crucio, and she's still a bunny. He said she'll be a bunny forever, and he'll feed her to Nagini—" Ginny sobbed aloud.
Snape's pale skin turned even paler than usual, and he clenched his fists tighter on Ginny's shoulders.
"Sir?" said Ginny, attempting to pull away from his grip.
He released her and paced away muttering a line of swear words that turned Ginny's ears red. "Couldn't you have kept her hidden for just a little while? And even if he saw her, couldn't you have passed her off as being from Durmstrang or Beauxbatons?"
"I didn't think of it," said Ginny weakly.
"Gryffindors. Don't think at all," muttered Snape.
"My sentiments exactly," said Tom.
"Shut up, Tom," she muttered. "I was trying to get her home."
Snape frowned. "How?"
"Did I just say that aloud?" thought Ginny. "Oh Merlin—"
"I think so," said Tom. "Better talk to him before he thinks about it too much."
"Alvin Nott was going to take her through the floo when he left," said Ginny.
"Nott?" said Snape incredulous. "Alvin Nott?"
"Yes, but he didn't know. I told Him that Alvin didn't know, but he—he—" Ginny broke off, cringing with the memory.
Snape rubbed his head. "How many?" he asked.
"How many?" said Ginny confusedly.
"How many Crucios did Alvin take?" Snape asked. "Is he conscious?"
"Three," answered Ginny. "He said he wasn't allowed to breathe, even after he lifted the curse and—"
"Breathe?" interrupted Snape urgently. "Do you know if he used Breathe on Beatrice too?"
"I—I don't," said Ginny. "Maybe. Does it make a difference?" She brightened, "Will she be alright?"
"No," said Snape shortly. "She will not be alright." He lifted her face and looked into her eyes. "You weren't Crucioed were you?"
"No."
"I didn't think so. It's something else—"
"He touched me. It felt like fire and then afterwards I was so tired, as if I had been swimming all day in a sucking bog."
"Did he say a spell?"
Ginny shook her head. "He threatened to, but he only touched me."
Snape nodded. "Just the Legilimency then. Which no doubt was bad enough." Snape pulled a chair next to hers and looked directly into her face. "Virginia, I have a very important question to ask you. I need you to remember what you were thinking of when he touched you."
"I don't know. I was frightened."
"It's important," said Snape.
"He touched me more than once. When I told him about the prophecy—the one about Bea and the one about his emerald." Ginny sniffed. "He seemed to think there was more. Or—or that I was lying. He—He—hurt me—"
Snape closed his eyes. "So he wasn't pleased with what he saw?" Snape asked.
"No. Then he pushed me away. I hit my head." She felt the lump with the drying blood self consciously, "And then after he Ennervated me—"
"You were unconscious? You were unconscious in his presence?" Snape interrupted, the tone of fear undisguised in his voice.
"Only for a moment, I'm sure," said Ginny.
Snape ran a hand through his lank hair and grabbed her hand pulling her to her feet.
"Come on. You'll stay here in Slytherin. That way we won't have to explain your absence to Professor McGonagall when you have to go back."
"Here?" said Ginny
"Yes, come on. There are quite a number of rooms which are empty. You can choose. We need to stop off in the potions room though. I need a draught for you."
"What kind of draught?" asked Ginny.
"For your headache," said Snape. "I presume you have one, after being knocked unconscious…nothing too strong with a head injury; you'll be awake in time for lunch."
"Yes, but—"
"Just something to neutralize the feeling that your thoughts have been sifted through and dumped back haphazardly into your head."
"It's not that bad," said Ginny. "My thoughts have been rather haphazard for a while now."
"What do you mean for a while, Ginny Love. Your thoughts have always been haphazard. Mine are well organized."
Snape raised an eyebrow.
"I'm just worried about Beatrice," she said
Snape looked at her speculatively. "Stay in the room." he said, "Rest."
"Yes. I will. I'm okay now."
"Good girl," said Snape succinctly and gesturing to a corridor, he said, "Choose a room. Except for the third door on the right. We don't use it. It's haunted and the ghost is rather nasty."
"You have a haunted dorm room?" said Ginny looking down the corridor at the indicated door as she opened the one closest to the corner.
"Ward your door however you like," said Snape. He peered into the room and frowned at the unmade beds. He raised a hand and without even speaking the word Accio, several blankets and sheets flew from the direction of his rooms. He thrust them at her and turned into the corridor, stating, "I'll have a house elf pop some lunch up to you."
"Wait," she said looking at the sheets. "I'm not staying here over night—"
"I thought he said three days," replied Snape. "That would be two nights."
"But—
"Rest," he said. "Stay here. I have something I have to do. I'll be back shortly, and then we'll talk."
"Sir," she asked suddenly, "what if he—he—calls me?"
Snape shook his head. "He won't. He said three days, it will be three days." He gestured behind them. "I have something I have to take care of first—and then I'll be in my rooms behind my office." Snape continued down the hall to the potions dungeon. Ginny watched him go.
When she entered the room, she realized she didn't have a single thing with her that was her own. She had forgotten her shoes at the Snow Castle. The sheets and blankets in her hands were Snape's, or Hogwarts'. The handkerchief was Snape's. The robe was His. Even her undergarments were not hers. They were probably Maura's or conjured. She didn't know.
"{I'm yoursss, Missstresss,}" said a small voice near her ear.
"You stupid Gryffindor, stop feeling sorry for yourself. All of your stuff is up in Gryffindor Tower. You can go get it after lunch."
"I hate it when you're right," said Ginny as she put the sheets on the bed.
"I know," said Tom. "Go to sleep."
Ginny lay down on the bed, but although she felt exhausted by her ordeal, she couldn't possibly sleep. It was the middle of the day, and Beatrice was in trouble, possibly dead. Tears leaked from her eyes onto the crisp white pillowcase. She stared at the ceiling and tried to remember exactly when Voldemort touched her.
It seemed so important to Snape—when she first told of the prophecy about Beatrice and when he wanted to know about the emerald and when he said to stay out of Dumbledore's way or Bea would suffer, and right before she left, when he said, Of course, none of his Death Eaters had ever left him except through death.
But that wasn't true, she thought, there was Snape—
Fear pierced through her like a river of ice. "Oh Tom! Did I think that? Did I think about Snape while he was touching me?"
++
When the trio returned to Hermione's house, after their conversation with Grandma Lori and Samara's brothers, Pig was contentedly nibbling the owl snacks in the kitchen.
"This came for you," said Hermione's Mum, holding out a letter. It was addressed to Ron from the twins.
"You stupid bird," complained Ron. "You're supposed to deliver the letter to a person, not a house. What if this were urgent?"
Pig gave a little hoot and pounced on a treat. Ron sighed and opened the letter.
Ron,
We were going to pop right over and tell you, but Hermione said to owl first, so we won't be coming after all. Got the clock fixed. It says "Hogwarts" so we're going after her. We will portkey over as soon as we get back.
Fred and George
"It's Ginny," muttered Ron. "Ginny's at Hogwarts."
"Let's go," said Harry.
"Wait. We can't. We don't have a portkey. We're not connected to the floo."
"Apparate?" suggested Ron.
"Right," spat Hermione. "It's one thing to Apparate across the room or across the school grounds, it's quite another to Apparate across the country."
"No, it's not," said Ron.
"On the contrary," said Hermione. "There might be some hope of the Ministry finding the pieces if you splinch across the school grounds, but if you splinch across the country—"
"I'm not going to splinch!" said Ron. "I didn't even think of splinching until you put the vision of body parts half way across England into my head. Well, now I can't Apparate, can I?" Ron got such a look of revulsion on his face that Harry laughed.
"It doesn't matter," said Harry, "unless you think you could manage that Apparition wandlessly. We'd have the Ministry officials down on us so fast—"
"You're right," said Hermione. "I just wasn't thinking."
Harry, Ron and Hermione spent the next few hours decorating for Christmas with Hermione's Mum and Dad. Actually, Harry thought it was fun, or rather, it would have been fun if he wasn't so worried about Ginny, Samara and Beatrice. Hermione's parents had a lot of old decorations that belonged to Hermione's grandparents and great grandparents. It made Harry feel connected to the past to see the old hand painted Muggle decorations, some of which Hermione said her great grandmother had made.
"I made this one," she said, holding up a little Christmas tree that twinkled every color imaginable.
"A Lumos charm," said Harry.
"Right," Hermione laughed. "I made it first year. I was so proud of myself."
Only Hermione could have managed that charm in first year, thought Harry, examining yet another Muggle doll made of glue and sticks.
"Great Grandma Granger made that," Hermione told him.
It made him feel rather sad that he had nothing of this sort from his own mum and dad or their parents. Everything that belonged to his grandparents seemed to have been lost in the time of Voldemort's reign. Probably burned their houses too, thought Harry sadly thinking of what he had seen in the pensieve with the Doogle sisters and the Bones. He turned the doll over in his hand.
"Hey Mate," said Ron, punching his arm. "You look a million miles away. How about some eggnog? Hermione's pouring."
"Oh yeah. Sure," said Harry, putting the fragile doll on the tree and following Ron into the kitchen.
++
After Virginia left, Voldemort sat thoughtfully looking at the fire, holding the terrified bunny in his lap.
"{Was I wrong to let her go, Nagini?}" he asked in parseltongue. "{If she's the prophecy child, and I lose her—}"
"{She will be back, Sisshauss-A-Sisshauss,}" Nagini predicted. "{She will not want to lose the hisssus.}"
"{Perhaps,}" said Voldemort. "{But I want her loyalty, not just her obedience.}"
"{Where's bitemate?}" asked one of the young basilisks, poking its head out and looking at the fire. Voldemort shushed it, pushing its head back under his robe sleeve.
"{Be still,}" Volemort hissed.
"{What is the difference?}" asked Nagini.
"{Between loyalty and obedience? Perhaps nothing,}" said Voldemort, stroking Nagini's head with his opposite hand.
"Loyalty is something you will never have from her," contradicted the voice of Tom Riddle in his head. "She hates you."
"You may be right," Voldemort replied, "But she will do nothing to harm this body, because she thinks it is yours." Voldemort smiled at the licking flames as he continued to stroke Nagini.
"Thinks? It is mine, more's the pity," said Tom.
"Do you need reminded who is in control of this body?" Voldemort asked his nemesis, while reaching for his wand.
Tom didn't answer, and Voldemort went back to his musing. It bothered him that Virginia was able to resist his Legilimency. She shouldn't have been that strong. He knew he hadn't been gentle with her, and yet, she still resisted. How? The question nagged at him and forced him to rethink decisions already made. She should have cowered and cried before him, but she didn't.
He thought back to the moment in Hogwarts when he was standing with the two girls. He was quite certain that the spell shield originated from Samara, but then, when Ginny released her hand, she collapsed. He wished he had been watching them more closely when Samara collapsed. The question was, did Ginny support Samara, or did Samara support Ginny? It was imperative that he answer this question correctly. He thought it was Samara, but then, where did Ginny get the strength she had?
He thought back to the day she received her Dark Mark. Then, too, she exhibited uncommon strength. It was unusual for a Weasley to have such power, but he knew Molly was distantly related to the Oglesby's. It was a stretch, but he supposed the power could manifest that far. When he thought again of the prophecy, he knew that if the Hufflepuff in question was Cedric, then the prophecy child was Samara. If the Hufflepuff was Quirrel, then the prophecy child could be Ginny. No, he thought, shaking his head. Ginny was only important until she found his emerald. Samara was the prophecy child. She had said so.
After a moment, he began to second guess himself again. What if she believed she was the Prophecy Child because Dumbledore told her she was. Would Dumbledore have lied to Samara? If Dumbledore knew—Am I trusting Dumbledore's judgment? Blimey! Voldemort frowned. He didn't think Dumbledore lied, but then, he never thought that Dumbledore would have lied to Harry Potter and it was now obvious that he did, at least through omission. No, Dumbledore was a Gryffindor and, like Godric, he had that unshakeable honor. Lying through omission was one thing, but he would not sacrifice one child for another. Even if he would stoop to such ministrations, he would be afraid to sacrifice another child to save the prophecy child. It would affect the prophecy itself. The prophecy said, Do not sacrifice children or truth. Yes, there was the crux of the matter. Voldemort stood and began to pace. He had to answer this question correctly. Everything depended upon it. Had Dumbledore really respected the prophecy or did he try to manipulate it, if not through the child, through truth and half truths?
If only Samara would wake of her own accord and he could search her to know for sure. He could force her to use the magic, especially the healing magic, and see how powerful she really was. Draco was the key here. He was quite certain that she would heal Draco of any ills he suffered, even if it put her own life in peril. Women were weak that way. He would have to be careful, though. If she knew he was responsible for Draco's pain, she would mistrust him. There were others he could use to hurt Draco though. It didn't have to be by his own hand. Pity.
He sank back into the sofa and looked at the fire. He wondered if he dared use the Legilimency on her before she awoke, or if the pain would push her over into death. Well, he had risked dabbling on the edge of death before.
He would give Ginny her three days of freedom, and perhaps, when she returned, she would be more amenable to him. At the very least, he would see how loyal she really was, and when she came back, she may be persuaded to tell him what he wanted. One way or another, he thought, picking up the bunny by the scruff of its neck and peering into its unblinking brown eyes. Then, if he could not find out what he wanted to from Ginny's mind, he would search Samara's and death be damned. He had thwarted it before. He could do so again.
That decision made, he dropped the bunny into a conjured cage and stretched The vertebrae in his neck cracked relieving the tension.
"{Massster hurtsss,}" said Nagini. "{I will leave your shoulders.}"
"{It doesn't matter Nagini. Pain and I are old acquaintances,}" said Voldemort, stroking her scales where she lay across his shoulder.
"{At least when bones crack, Master, the trade should be the cracking of an overly large hisssuss' bones,}" said Nagini.
Volemort laughed, thinking of Nagini's comparison of his neck to her own jaw bones. "{Yes, well, I'm hoping there will be an overly large hisssuss in our midst soon.}"
"{Harry Potter?}" asked Nagini hopefully.
"{Perhaps,}" said Voldemort, "{But more importantly, Dumbledore.}"
"{Old and tough,}" observed Nagini. "{Young onesss sssoft. Digests better, making stronger.}"
The word Nagini used was sissshausss, to eat and make the prey part of your power. It was a particular snake word that Nagini often used to describe Voldemort himself: Great-One-Always-Hungry. Sissshausss-A -Sissshausss.
"{Yesss. They do, don't they.}" Voldemort agreed with a chuckle.
"{Hisssuss young serpents?}" asked Nagini.
"{No,}" said Voldemort sternly. "{Most certainly not. You will not kill my basilisks, and I've told you that once. I don't want to have to tell you again.}" His voice dropped to a whisper. "{You would get hurt—}"
"{Babies,}" scoffed Nagini. "{Stupid babies.}"
"{Hisssuss!}" hissed one of the basilisks, and the two he had on his arms began to move restlessly, speaking haughtily to Nagini.
"{Hush!}" Voldemort told the basilisks, thinking that they did seem rather slower to grasp simple concepts than the basilisks he had trained in the past, but Nagini didn't know that. They could be slow for many reasons though. It could be that he was spending much less time with each individual, trying to rotate them with Samara's group. Plus, the ones that were on Samara for so long were hesitant to bite him. He was worried that they had started to imprint on Samara, even though they had never bitten her. The excess Elemental magic that she was immersed in could have something to do with that. He saw how attracted to the magic they were with Wormtail. He hadn't realized that in the Chamber where the magic was so prolific.
Another reason for their sluggishness might be the lessening of magic in the world at large. It affected all magical animals. Since the Muggles dropped their Bomb in 1945, the magic had eroded faster than ever, and there were major breaks in the fabric of the magic. Wild herds of the Pegasus used to live on the Hillside above Hogsmeade as little as fifty years ago, but they were gone now. Dragons were absent entirely from England and he knew for a fact that Unicorns could no longer Apparate.
He smiled. It was a pleasant surprise five years ago when he needed Unicorn blood. It was entirely possible that these basilisks were simply not as magically advanced as the basilisks of a thousand years ago, or even of fifty years ago. Another difference was the increased physical stimuli of being out of the Chamber of Secrets, or it could be because the Chamber of Secrets itself was a magical environment.
The little basilisks were still hissing angrily and Nagini was still recounting the problems of children. "{The reason why I never bothered with young,}" she said.
"{Nagini,}" interrupted Voldemort with a wry smile. "{The reason you never bothered with young is because I never chose to obtain a mate for you.}" Voldemort pushed the noisy little basilisks under his sleeve and ordered them to be silent. "{Nagini,}" he said, "{I believe you are jealous.}"
"{They will grow,}" observed Nagini. "{Who will have the warmth of your shoulder?}"
"{You will, Nagini,}" said Voldemort, thinking indeed they would grow—too big for his shoulders.
A shiver of magic and a violet glow touched the warded door. It was one of his Death Eaters seeking access to him. He sighed, thinking of his stone basilisks who would tell him exactly who was at the door and what their intentions were. Basilisk sentries that used to guard The Slytherin Manor before it was destroyed, the likes of which were only present in the Chamber now, and he no longer had the magic to create sentient stone. Damn Muggles and their interference! Perhaps when they were all gone from the land, the magic would regenerate itself. One could hope. With a thought and a wave of his hand, he released the wards on the door.
Valeriana Lestrange stood on the threshold. "Master." She sank to her knees, her jet black hair streaked near the front with tiny bits of silver, fell about her face as she bowed her head. Azkaban had aged her, he thought. Her flesh, never particularly radiant like her sisters, now was a sallow grayish color, and her body, once strong and tempting, was now all angles and corners, but magic was the same. The magic never changed within her. He remembered when she was born, the last of Carman's children, the last and the best, he thought, motioning her into the room with him and moving Nagini off of his shoulder and onto the sofa next to him. Valeriana walked slowly into the room to face him and knelt to kiss his robe. He laid his hand on her head like a blessing, remembering her as a precocious toddler.
Andromeda had been Carman's first child, left too often with house elves and Hufflepuffs while He and Carman planned the domination of the world. Big plans often left little details unfinished. Andromeda was one of those. By the time Carman and her husband, Braen, realized what was happening, Andromeda was enamored of a Muggleborn. He and Carman had wanted to eliminate the little vermin. Braen disagreed.
"Funny thing to say when you, yourself are a half-blood."
"You are the half-blood, Tom. Not me."
"It's my body."
"Since I created a new body last year, it's no longer yours."
"You used bone of my father, a Muggle, as well as Harry Potter, another with tainted blood. And my mother," mocked Tom. "This body is still more mine than yours."
Salazar reached for his wand and silenced Tom. His thoughts went back to Carman, even though this daughter kneeling at his feet looked nothing like her. She had gained her tall stature and her dark hair from her father. He allowed his hand to move absently through her silky hair.
"It's just a phase," Braen had insisted. "Andromeda will get over him."
But Andromeda didn't get over him. She married him, and then it was too late to eliminate him. Andromeda was pregnant with his child. Perhaps it would be a Squib, they had hoped, and then killing it would be no problem. Unfortunately, it was a little witch. They named her Nymphadora. Carman had better luck with her next two daughters. Barely a year apart were the two who looked so much like his Carman, the brains and the beauty, Laurel and Narcissa. Well, he had told Carman, who had been named for the goddess of chaos, "You didn't get your three sons, but you do have three daughters."
"Yes," she had laughed as little Andromeda escaped her house elf and tripped around her mother, trying to avoid her two younger sisters combined efforts to get her to play with them. "Darkness, Evil and Violence."
"Go and play," snapped Carman shoving Andromeda from behind her.
"They're too rough," complained Andromeda.
"They're Slytherins," said Carman. "As are you."
"I don't want to hurt them," Andromeda returned. Narcissa and Laurel, however, had no such compunction and regularly joined forces against their older sister.
"You're the oldest," said Carman. "Act like it."
But Andromeda had never been a leader. The leader was born as the youngest, Valeriana. Valeriana who knelt before him now, Valeriana, who had taken every trick her older sisters ever knew and improved upon them and made them her own. Valeriana, who was faithful to him for thirteen years in Azkaban.
Her dark eyes were darting about the room, searching as if she expected some enemy in hiding. He wondered, not for the first time, if Azkaban had unhinged her.
"Thirteen years of loyalty to you?" questioned Tom. "She was unhinged before she went to Azkaban."
"Back so soon, Tom," thought Voldemort as he wrapped his hand around his wand and once again silenced the voice of his nemesis in his head.
"Valeriana," he said, and her focus came back to him.
"My lord."
"Sit and tell me your news." He indicated the chair opposite him.
She sat on the chair and put her hands on the armrests momentarily, but she jerked them away, as if she expected chains to erupt from them. When nothing happened and he silently awaited her report, she seemed to relax. "The Mulcibers have found the passwords to Amelia Bone's house," she said, but they are changed every four hours. They will have to gain them again, right before we go to retrieve Madam Bones.." As she spoke Valeriana seemed to relax a little more, and her eyes stayed on him instead of darting to the shadows.
Voldemort nodded glad that he had replaced the Scrimgoers with the Mulicibers. "The Minister of Magical Law is friends with the Scrimgoers, then?"
"Yes, my Lord. They have visited Madam Bones several times in the past few weeks. It shouldn't be a problem for them to get the passwords at any given time, but having only four hours will not allow them to babysit Moody."
"I see. I'll have to consider who will be best for that job," said Voldemort. "It's a great pity Barty Crouch is dead. He and Moody thought so alike it was uncanny."
"Yes, Master," said Valeriana hesitating.
"Is there something else?"
"No, Master." She looked down. Not at the shadows. Not at his face.
It was obvious to him that she was lying. "Come here."
She came a bit hesitantly and he stood, laying his hands upon her face, which was beginning to glow with a bit of color now. He wondered what it was that she, the most loyal of his loyal Death Eaters, was hiding from him. As he touched her, she hid nothing from him. Desire struck him full in the face. It was hot and insistent. She raised her smoky black eyes to his and parted her lips waiting.
Tom, in his head, broke into gales of uncontrollable laughter. "The snake and the ghoul. What a pair you two make! Pity the cost of immortality was so high, Salazar. You can't even enjoy it, can you?" Tom positively howled with mirth. The mockery that Tom was making of her loyalty angered him beyond belief, and he closed his fist on his wand, wanting with every fiber of his being to kill the owner of the annoying voice in his head.
The sudden scent of searing flesh filled the room, and Valeriana pulled away surprised. "My lord?"
He said nothing, trying to control the waves of pain emanating from his burned hand. "You should have a husband—" he began.
"I don't want a husband," Valeriana sneered. "I never wanted a husband." Boldly she laid her fingers on the skin at his neck, letting the magic flow. "Tell me when to quit," she cooed like a giddy school girl, pressing her lips against the dry scales that mingled with human skin on his neck.
He hesitated, exploring the feelings coursing though him. Surprise mostly, that anyone would in any way desire what he called his body now. Surprise and regret that her magic, which should have felt wonderful, felt like bugs crawling on his skin. Tom was right. He had traded pleasure for power and he felt no desire at all for her. The only feelings that moved him at all were those associated with death and pain.
"I want to feel—your magic," she whispered
He knew what he was missing and regret twisted inside of him, as he caught her hands and pushed her roughly away. "Do you think I care what you want?" he growled.
"Then kill me now," she shouted, flinging Laurel's wand to the ground and pacing away from him. "Do you think I waited all that time in Azkaban for a dream of wizard superiority? For Muggle killing and raids on Dumbledore and Aurors? Do you think I waited for that?"
Her outburst surprised him, excited him, angered him. She advanced on him as no other Death Eater would have, her black eyes flashing fire, and her angular body gaining some measure of grace with her emotion. "Go ahead then," she demanded, throwing her arms out to the side. "Kill me now. I have nothing left to live for." She threw her head back, dark eyes flashing, her red lips pulled back in a sneer.
He grabbed her hair and pushed her against the wall. "Be careful what you wish for, Valeriana. I could just as easily use Crucio as Avada."
"Do it then!" she said in a low voice. "After thirteen years without magic, there is nothing you can do to me that scares me. Nothing. The Dementors have done it all already." Her black eyes challenged him and mocked him and beckoned him. He wanted to protect her from the Dementors, to kiss her, to make her bend to his will. He wanted so much more than his snake body would give him.
He wrapped his hands more tightly in her hair and placed his fingers against her throat. He felt the bravado starting to slip from her and he smiled. "Crucio!" he said.
Through his touch, he felt the hot smoke filled her lungs and she struggled for a moment to breathe, before she expertly switched to breathing magic. He felt her make the switch, and held his breath himself in concert with her for a moment and then drew heavily on the air Elemental. Her body quivered with the fear of death. Regardless to what she said, she was afraid. He felt the fear through the Legilimency. Fear, primal and stark within her, and the magic laced with pain and fear excited him like nothing else she could have done. He tightened his hands around her as she struggled against the pain and fear, both increasing until he felt her suddenly go limp in his arms and he released the Crucio, burying his face in her hair, and releasing to the air Elemental several shuddering breaths.
"That was supremely stupid," Tom commented dryly. "The one person you are sure of—the one person you can trust and you Crucio her into unconsciousness. I thought Gryffindors were the stupidest things alive, but I have to revise my opinion."
"Shut up, Tom," muttered Salazar, too preoccupied to reach for his wand.
But Tom continued berating him. "No wonder Helga left you, you stupid, sadistic, son of a—"
Salazar's fingers closed on the wand, and silenced the annoying prat.
Salazar re-warded the door and sat, holding her in the darkening room. He shifted her in his arms and pulled the container of Phoenix ointment from his robe. He rubbed the last dregs of the potion from the container, and shared it between his scarred and burning palms. He would have to tell Snape he needed more. The basilisks, confused and wary of the heightened emotion and smell of burnt flesh, stirred uncomfortably, hissing and tasting the air.
"{Hisssuss?}" one asked, confused.
"{Not hisssuss,}" answered Voldemort, "{But part of my power nonetheless.}"
Nagini moved close to his warmth, saying nothing.
"{She knows I didn't feel her magic,}" Voldemort hissed softly to Nagini, but still Nagini said nothing, and, at last, Valeriana drew a long breath into her lungs and opened her eyes. She seemed surprised to find herself held in the Dark Lord's arms and she struggled to a sitting position. A wrack of coughing assaulted her, and, eyes watering, she looked at him, her huge dark eyes full of questions.
He said nothing, only touched her face with a long finger. He dragged it down from the corner of her cheekbone to her chin, waiting for the thoughts to come. He was not disappointed, although he sensed that she was trying to hide these from him.
"He is as empty as I am," she thought. "Feeling nothing but the strongest emotions, death and fear and pain—" Pity. She pitied him. He clenched his fists. He would not have her pity. He would rather have her hate.
"I have a task for you, Valeriana," he said flatly. "Since your lack of a husband seems to have turned you into a slut." He felt the pity immediately disappear from her thoughts, replaced by a simmering anger and he met her cold dark eyes. "I want you to seduce Severus Snape."
She gaped at him open mouthed, and he traced a finger around her lips, sensing the anger in her thoughts. They were clear as a shout, "Go to hell!"
She wouldn't, of course, say the words out loud, but she knew he would sense them. "I'm already there," he said softly, "The question is, Valeriana, whether or not you are going to come with me—"
He remembered her saying that when she received her Dark Mark. "I'll follow you to hell and back, My Lord—" That's what she had said, with the Mark burning black on her skin, her eyes as black as the Mark, boring into him.
Valeriana stood to go without asking permission and he caught her shoulder. His basilisks hissed angrily at the sudden movement. "And," he said softly, "you can return to me tomorrow." He smiled thinly. "I rather enjoyed our little session."
She pulled out of his grasp and stalked to the door. He watched her go, wondering if he should summon her back just to make a point, but, in the end, he let her go. After all, he wanted her loyalty.
++
Nearly a thousand miles to the south west, Harry Potter sat up with a shudder. He pushed the damp bed sheets away and reminded himself that what he was feeling was not his—it belonged to Voldemort. After a few ragged breaths, he decided he needed a shower. He didn't care that Hermione's whole family was already in bed. He flung his legs out over the side of the bed and stood up.
Harry needed to wash the filth from the dream off of his body. He wished he could wash it from his mind. In the shower, Harry turned the water on hot, and scrubbed himself with soap as he thought about the implications of the dream. Voldemort had Crucioed Valeriana—for no reason. No, that wasn't right. There was a reason. It just wasn't immediately apparent to him. A part of him felt like he had done that Cruciatus Curse. Enjoyed that Cruciatus Curse. He recoiled from the thought.
Some people deserve it. No. He wouldn't. He remembered Valeriana coaxing baby Neville to break the ward, and he wondered, Could he? Would he? You can't take pleasure from hurting anyone. Not even Valeriana. When he was satisfied his own principles were solidly in head, he stepped from the shower, dressed and went back to the room he shared with Ron.
Ron was sitting awake on the next bed. "What's up, mate?" he asked. "Nightmare?"
Harry nodded.
"Want to talk about it?"
"Definitely not," said Harry lying back on the bed. But, after a moment, he said, "I cannot possibly describe to you how sick Voldemort and Valeriana are."
"Valeriana? Lestrange? As in Ethan and Edward's mother?" asked Ron.
"Yeah."
"And Voldemort? Ew!"
"Um," Harry shook his head. "He Crucioed her and—um—enjoyed it."
"I don't suppose you saw any landmarks, did you?" asked Ron. "Any way to tell where they were?"
"I was in Voldemort's head," said Harry, "and he wasn't looking for landmarks."
"Did Valeriana say any thing?" asked Ron.
"Well, um—she was angry," said Harry, sitting up again.
"Angry? At You-Know-Who?"
Harry nodded.
"Well, that's a good thing. What was she angry about?"
"Ah—er—" Harry struggled with the thoughts, and he suddenly knew Snape was in danger. Or was he? Knowing Snape—
"Well?" persisted Ron. "What was she angry about? What did she say?"
"Wait," said Harry. "Let me start from the beginning. He was thinking about Ginny, and we have to talk to the twins, because she's only going to be at Hogwarts until Christmas. He said, three days. We have to find her tomorrow if your brothers haven't found her already."
"Anything else?" asked Ron.
"I saw Beatrice," said Harry softly. "She's still a bunny. He put her in a cage."
"Oh—" said Ron.
After a while, Ron spoke again, "Anything about Samara?"
"Nothing new," Harry said, wondering if should tell Ron about Snape. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep, but he couldn't get the thought of Snape out of his head. Should he tell Snape?
"I'm not telling him about this dream," thought Harry furiously. "There is no way I'm telling Snape about this dream, not to save his life or mine. It's not like he's really in any danger—the slimy git."
Of course, with Snape being a Legilimens, he'll find out. This dream will no doubt be the first thing I'll think of the next time I see him. It will pop right into my mind and if he knows—Oh no, I wish I could just turn off my mind. That's it. I'll practice doing just that, but a stray thought kept coming back to Harry. He could imagine hearing Snape's sneering voice, "Well Potter, that shouldn't be too hard. You always turn off your mind in my class."
Harry groaned and Ron looked worriedly in his direction.
+++
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Answers to Reviews
Tiamat Warcraft: Glad to see you're back. Missed you. To the other readers, go checkout Tiamat's fics.
Reiven: Well, it's about time you found your way back. Sorry no Draco in the last chapter. Hope you –well—um—er—I'm not sure "liked" is the proper word, but for lack of a better one, hope you "liked" Snape, Valeriana and Voldemort in this chapter. Promise, more Draco before Christmas. Sorry can't kill Dumbledore right now. Glad you liked Ron too. And no Draco isn't a virgin, please re-read "The Chamber of Forever" in THE SEERS' TRUTH: THE BROKEN BEGINNING
Adaneth: Well, in the words of Tom, almost, something bad has already happened to Bea Bunny, the correct words are, "let's hope he doesn't kill her." Muwhahaha!
Trillium: OHMYGOSH. I can't believe you are going to name your bunny, Beatrice. Oh how wonderful. I'm excited. Bet you hate Volde even more after this last chapter. It was to convince all those who "like" him, that, well, he's not very likeable.
XASA: We already know Samara's ancestry. We learned that in THE SEERS' TRUTH: THE BROKEN BEGINNING.
Raven173: Sirius is still around. No plans to kill him in the immediate future, although who knows about later…
Sky: Yes, things don't look good for Bea Bunny, do they? Who know, though, with those indomitable Gryffs on her side, anything can happen.
Becky: Knockturn is coming soon—before Christmas.
Wesley Peppers: "great deceiver" implies that you deceived someone. You didn't. However, your heart was in the right place, so I'll forgive you this time. The solution is to find more people who actually want to read the story. That shouldn't be too hard. It's a fun read. If they are frightened of long books, send them to Fiction Alley (Snoogle), then they won't know how long it's going to be. Now, that's Slytherin deception! Thanks for being a faithful reader. AND HAPPY BIRTHDAYJ
Jager: Thanks for the kudos. And I will keep writing. Promise.
Silverfox1: Yes. Poor Bea. And Draco will manage. He always does, doesn't he? More Draco coming soon—and Knockturn.
Claret345: Koschei is Russian. It was the name of the snake in the Russian Ballet, THE FIREBIRD, which incidentally looks an aweful lot like the plot of JK's The Chamber of Secrets. I may have spelled it wrong—I think it has more letters than that. It's spelled correctly when Samara mentions the ballet in the first book. I'll have to look and change it, I think. I like Neville too. Always did. I wish I did know a wood which means the power of the light, but I don't. Maybe someone else does.
Ennui deMorte: Another Draco free chaper. Get ready though. Lots more Draco to come. And about Ginny's basilisk reprimanding Nagini. A basilisk is a higher order of creature, being magic isn't it? You were the one that got me thinking along those lines, and I appreciate it. Thanks for a great job betaing.
Emma-Trelawny: Lots more Ginny/Tom to come
Kemenran: Always insightful