Disclaimer: : This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Authors notes: I'm really not abandoning my other story. I've has this in My Documents for a very long time, two years, and it was just begging to be posted today! It is a one shot and will not have a sequel or a second, third, fourth, or fifth chapter. I hope you like it!
Cheers, Jen
The Very Bitter End.
I suppose I followed the wrong path. Purity of blood marking my future with its arrogance.
Future.
What a novelty the future has become to me. Before the war it was filled with dreams and high hopes of victory and power.
But now?
I laugh bitterly.
My wife?
Dead, says a horrible little voice.
My estate?
Given to your son, says the voice.
I look madly around the dank cell seeing no one. Just my own hollowed reflection in the chipped mirror.
I lay back down on the mattress.
"How can that be?" I mutter madly. "He was disinherited"
Neville Longbottom set it up for him.
"Longbottom," I say pensively. "Do I know that name?"
Yes, the voice replies think hard.
"Longbottom… Longbottom"
You've only met him once before says the voice
"Have I?"
Yes, but I believe that your late sister in-law was better acquainted with him
"Bellatrix?" I ask
Or rather, she was acquainted with his parents.
"Oh…"
Yes says the voice so are you going to ask me about your son?
"Do I dare?"
I would
"Fine," I reply nastily. "What of my worthless, turncoat of a son?"
He married her, you know says the voice.
"No" I say "I did not know"
Oh yes, says the voice, your wife was so furious that tripped over her own cloak and fell down the stairs
"Am I to assume that is how she died?" I ask painfully
She broke her neck
"Ahh" I say, quite unaffected "And am I also to assume when you say her, you mean the mudblood?"
Interesting thing, dirty blood, says the voice
"Interesting how?" I say.
The disembodied voice says nothing for a moment. So I wait. I have learned impeccable patience.
Interesting, it begins, because it is running about your family home in the form of half blooded two year olds.
I groan.
"He did marry the muggle," I state unnecessarily.
Muggle, the voice says, hardly. Still clinging to your ideas of pure bloodlines? You know she's just as much of a witch as you are a wizard
"No," I snap. "She is much more than that!"
And what exactly is she?
I take a deep seething breath before I answer.
"She is the downfall of a thousand years of untainted blood. She is a filthy, no talent, muggle!" I grit out.
I wouldn't say untalented. The voice is patronizing me. She is, after all, the reason you are here, it taunts.
"I will have my revenge," I promise.
Revenge is futile here.
"Existence is futile here,"I say tonelessly.
You think so? comes the reply. Well you'll have a lifetime to figure it out. Won't you?
"I won't be here that long" I say contemptuously.
Just then a bitter wind blows through my cell and the voice is gone once again. I can here the guards patrolling the cell block and I let my trademark smirk play at my lips. If they only knew…
I slip a hand beneath the moulding mattress and extract what is hidden there. Mahogany, eleven inches, dragon heart string.
But I will wait, I have learned impeccable patience.