It felt strange walking into the house I grew up in. It was unfamiliar to me, and I supposed then that it must have been so all those years, and I had never noticed it. With the Dark Lord at my back, he had promised me before we left his chamber that I would know vengeance, and my power would grow immeasurably once I took the soul of my own father inside myself. He said that even though he had assuredly approached his cause and begun formulating his plots before he'd taken the life of his father, that final act had catapulted him into a state of power from which there was no turning back.
"Imagine it, my Bella," he held a hand out to me and I took it without reluctance. "Imagine the power you possess inside you now and multiply that times ten, one hundred. . . You will be the most powerful witch, the most honored Death Eater among my ranks. All will bow to you after they bow to me."
I couldn't deny that the offer he made went beyond my capacity for refusal. My heart gave a fluttering spark, and I daydreamed all the possibilities of the power he promised me. Rodolphus would never walk away from me again. Snape would never doubt me. Narcissa would never feel sorrow again, not as long as I lived and even Lucius would be forced to respect me. My father. . . I paused and reflected on the one with the ultimate roll to play in this daydream. My father would never make another decision on my behalf. From that moment forward, I would be calling the shots in my life and just thinking on it evoked a delicious recognition in me that would linger with me for the rest of my days.
The Dark Lord and I slunk stealthily through the earliest hours of morning, the silence so thick I thought I'd have to peel it away in layers in some points, but then we arrived at the threshold of my father's chamber. I saw a flash of movement and looked down the hallway. My mother's ghost stood watching, smiling, nodding, and I reached for the cold knob of his door, turning it slowly in my hand. Even though it was barely a whisper, the sound of the lock clicking open was like gunshot, resonating for several seconds just beyond the reaches of my own heartbeat.
It had been years since I had been inside the room where my mother died, my father's bedroom, and though little more than seventeen years had passed since the night he had killed her, nothing had changed. Behind the curtains of his bed, he lie unsuspecting, the black-sheer curtains dancing in the breeze of our movement. I wasn't sure what plans the Dark Lord had made, for he had not fully shared them with me, so when he called out in his powerful intonation, "Cesaro Black, I call you forth from the clutches of sleep to face your final destiny," I was just as surprised as my father.
That lump in the middle of the bed shot forth into the darkness with a quick gasp, "Who's there?" Neither of us answered, but listened to his frenzied breath in the throws of darkness, anticipation budding like flower. "Who is it? Who's there?"
"What if it were your wife?" I asked him. My voice was like a razor's edge, slicing through the cold night. "What if she had come to claim vengeance for the life you stole from her?"
"Bellatrix!" There was no surprise in his voice, only scorn and expectation.
"That's right, Father. Your wife's vengeance was born in my blood and I have come to claim her dues." A light from the Dark Lord's wand flamed into existence, illuminating my father's face in tones of grey-ash and green.
"I should have strangled you in your bassinette," his wild eyes grew frantic as he flittered between the Dark Lord and myself. "You were an abomination who should have never been born!"
"No," I shook my head. "It was you who was the disgrace, Father. All those muggle women. . ."
He laughed, a slow, booming sound that echoed through the barren chamber, "Is that what this is all about? Muggle women?"
"You disgraced my mother's memory," I hissed. "Narcissa and I have both decided the time has come to avenge her, our mother."
He continued laughing and it unnerved me because it was the unhinged laughter of a man possessed with fearful anticipation. "Your mother was a whore!"
The Dark Lord touched my hand, and though he said nothing, through that touch, I felt his strength. A reminder flickered to life inside me, "I'm your father now," he seemed to say. "Take his life."
"By the decree of the Dark Lord Voldemort, I find you guilty," I said. "Guilty of consorting with mudbloods. Guilty of blood treason!"
"Blood treason?"
"Blood treason," I repeated. "The penalty for your crimes is death, Father, and I hope there is a hell for you to burn in."
I had no desire to torment him. His suffering would bring me no pleasure, for I felt he would enjoy it far too much. With a nod from my master, I released the death curse quickly and swallowed my father's soul.
Fin
Thank you all who have read and reviewed both this story and Courting Narcissa. It has been a real joy hearing your feedback! Please check out some of my other work. Right now I am very excited about a story I'm writing that was inspired by an amalgamation of Christina Rossetti's Poem "Goblin Market" and the 80's film featuring David Bowie as the Goblin King "Labyrinth." These two elements combined, a rather fantastic tale about a young woman named Meredith who bargains with the Goblin King in order to save her sister's soul emerges. Into the Underground world of Faerie, she befriends two of the most unlikely beings and for the first time in her life she starts to understand the meaning of true love. I'd love to have your feedback if you have a mind for adventure and fantasy. Join Me in the Goblin Market, Rated M for mature issues.