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.
Title: Harry Potter and the Flaming Soul(Unfortunately, I have no title-writing skills, sorry about that.)
Rating: M (Just to be on the safe side because there are some slightly Mature themes)
Summary: Book 7 as I see it, with a twist: there are more perspectives than just Harry's
A/N: CH 3! Thank you for the reviews, and I hope you'll review some more! This is a little different, so you can get some perspective as to what is happening with Voldemort (happy and carefree can't last forever!). Very short, I know, but there is more to come. So enjoy, and review…
The anxious expectancy was palpable as the death eaters waited for their master to speak. Voldemort's expression spoke of pure loathing, but his distorted smile did not falter as Lucius Malfoy entered the room, followed by his wife and son. The room was comfortable and a warm fire blazed in the grate, but the air was chilled by the unbridled rage of the dark lord. Bellatrix, who had waited for over a month in the strange town of Little Hangleton for this moment, not knowing what was to come, gasped as her sister entered. She fell to the ground, twitching and screaming, as Voldemort's wand flicked lazily above her.
"Dear Bellatrix," he spoke scathingly, "If you were truly my favorite, as you tell your fellow death eaters, you would know this moment was coming."
She rose, still twitching slightly, as he relinquished his hold on her and kissed the hem of his robes. "Forgive me, master, I have done wrong."
Voldemort's smile stretched across his waxy, white face. Lucius did not look to his master's face, but at his own feet. His skin was pallid and he had a hollowed look about him.
"Lucius, Azkaban has not been good to you… but I digress, for Azkaban was no payment for your mistake."
Lucius looked up, fear etched in every wrinkle of his lined face. He pleaded, "Master, forgive me! Dumbledore was –"
Voldemort interrupted, his reddened eyes blazing, "Dumbledore is dead, at last, but your dear son has failed to bring this about…" he stopped for a moment, twirling his wand between his fingers deftly, "And Narcissa," he spat, turning to her cowering form, "has betrayed my trust, and partly made payment for her mistake… but my trust is something that is not so easily forgiven."
Narcissa looked up with fear, trying to defend her actions, "Master, Snape knew of the plan… he made the unbreakable vow for Draco's sake…"
Voldemort swept his wand arm down upon her. She lay on the floor, her eyes closed, but moving rapidly under her taut eyelids. She screamed, "NO… NO… NOT DRACO," apparently in a horrible nightmare. She clawed at the ground with her long, white fingers and tossed her whole body back and forth, fighting against the terror that consumed her. After a few moments, her eyes opened, and she rushed to Voldemort's feet, kissing the hem of his robes, as was custom among the death eaters.
Draco's normally elegant hair hung in filthy ropes, which he tried to push out of his face. His movement caught Voldemort's attention.
"Draco… I have not forgotten you; I suppose you've enjoyed your latest assignment? Perhaps convincing Fenrir to not tear at your throat has been pressing you?" he spoke derisively. "You will be punished, but it will not be I who does the punishing this time… perhaps your father," his attention turned to Lucius, whose eyes were wide with shock.
"I… what… I couldn't –" he started, but he was cut off by a blood-curdling stare from Voldemort.
"I, yes… of course, master," he finished lamely.
"A punishment carried out once already by your wife, I daresay… Crucio will suffice, Lucius," Voldemort laughed.
Regret lingered in Lucius' gaze as he turned to his terrified son. "Crucio," he exclaimed, not daring to attempt to spare Draco any pain. His son fell, breaking his leg on contact with the already bloody carpet. He twitched and groaned. Narcissa watched in horror as her son was tortured.
After a few agonizing minutes, Voldemort said, "That is adequate," and added nastily, "… for now." He turned to the waiting figures beside him and addressed them each with questions about their mission, then said, "Perhaps I will spare you, Lucius, but you haven't been useful as of yet," and he disapparated with a crack.
Bellatrix, who could no longer contain herself, ran to her sister's side crying maternally, "Cissy!" Snape caught her by the neck, choking her and entangling her in her death eater's robes.
"Perhaps," he started with a hiss, "You misunderstood your master."
Bellatrix tore herself from his grasp and slapped his face. "You are not my master… and you are lucky that it was you that killed Dumbledore, I still do not believe your allegiance to the dark lord."
Snape looked dumbstruck for a moment, but pulled himself together, "You, wouldn't, would you? Fortunately, it is not your belief that is important." He disapparated, leaving a thunderstruck Bellatrix behind. The death eaters fell silent, staring at Bellatrix.
Draco groaned, his leg was split in half, the bone protruding from his papery skin. Lucius used a spell to heal his son's leg, while his mother cradled his head near her breast.
Draco sat up slowly, rubbing his head. "I'm fine mother…" he yelled as she attempted to coddle him. He stared at his father's hollowed cheeks then tore his gaze away and said, "I've got to get back to… Fenrir…" Instead of disapparating, he limped to the rotting door, and then slowly, agonizingly crept through the house.
The death eaters listened until his uneven footsteps reached the garden before moving. Narcissa was crying silently in a corner, being held by her husband.
"You should all be ashamed – the dark lord has given us assignments!" Avery accused, followed by a thunder of disapparation cracks as the death eaters left.