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The Shadow of Death
Chapter 13: Broken Chains
Moans and screams vibrated through her body in the perpetual darkness. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun, felt its warmth against her skin.
Instead, all she knew was the biting cold and unrelenting stone digging into her bones. Dreams teased her, reminding her of her miserable existence. It didn't matter if she was asleep or awake.
Shivers wracked her thin, ragged body. Muscles seizing, she brought her clawed hands to her chest. Nary a sound left her lips. She couldn't show weakness, not here.
'They'd know.'
Robes flapped, striking out at her through the inky black. She covered her ears and rocked against the hard, wet stone. Rattling breath struck her ears and the wails reached a fever-pitch.
So she dove, losing herself in the cold, dark empty void. Names had no meaning here. She'd long since forgotten her own. Yet, she held on, embracing the frugal comfort that it brought.
Dry, rattling breaths forced her back.
It'd be easy to let go, even if she'd lose everything. The shackles bore down, chafing her spirit. The metallic cold stung her and she slumped under their weight.
Her bones creaked, protesting each small motion. She curled in on herself, though it provided her no warmth. Images of murder, mayhem, and a writhing green snake filled her mind. Chapped lips cracked and bled over her smile.
The pain reminded her that she lived, that she still had her mind. The rattlers couldn't take that. She'd hidden it, protected it from them.
She spat the blood on the ground and cackled.
'Oh, how they believe I've fallen,' her mind crowed. 'But they're wrong. I'll be back.'
And they'd pay in blood. They'd writhe beneath her wand once more.
Curly, black hair fell over her eyes. She frowned at the lacklustre strands. They were matted, dishevelled. Her eyes took in her hands. The skin had cracked and stretched over bone.
They'd taken much from her, but not her mind. Never her mind.
She'd been an important person once. She remembered that. Her family had run the country from the shadows. And they'd cast her aside.
They'd married her off into a less important family. She'd been bound to him. Where she'd once been free as a bird in the sky, they'd shackled her to the ground. She cursed them, dry, heaving coughs tearing her throat.
It hadn't been until she'd met him that her life changed for the better. She'd been hesitant at first, but she'd grown to love him for the freedom he offered. He'd severed her chains. And so she followed him, adored him.
Insane, they'd called her. A dreadnought of destruction. Death incarnate. She was most of those things, true. But not insane.
She tittered. Never insane.
She'd not diabused them of the notion. They'd underestimate her and then they'd die. Simple and clean.
They said the Dark Arts would twist her mind, would leave her a shell of what she'd been. They'd been wrong. It'd freed her.
She kicked her legs and laughed. She'd been free to impose her will on others, just as had been done to her. She'd created masterful symphonies with them.
Their screams echoed in her mind. Her lips stretched across her face and she stilled.
Their screams kept the rattlers at bay. They couldn't take the screams from her, nor the blood. Their cold bit at her, but they couldn't touch her.
She was safe. So she waited.
He would save her. His name was the only one she could recall. He was her haven, her rock. He'd save her from this wretched place.
Her ears twitched. The rattlers. The wails. Gone.
Warmth flooded her bones. The skin of her left forearm writhed. Her very bones vibrated.
Bones popped and protested as she stood. She swayed as she walked to the front of her cell. Her hands blistered over cold metal bars, but she didn't care.
A manic grin crossed her face.
He'd finally come.
*****BREAK*****
Cold wind sliced at his robes and black water foamed beneath him. The roar of the waves drowned out his followers' muttering. A wide smile broke out on his face.
He could feel them.
Lord Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He could just make out the silhouette of a battered castle through the thick fog. Unnatural cold washed over him, though his smile never broke.
A black cloak fluttered in the distance.
"Agnello." The white mask covering his face muffled his words. "At my side."
The recruit flew to him. The Dark Lord saw the trepidation in his eyes through the white mask.
He looked to his left. Barty wore a serious expression, a rarity for the man. He was the only person present bereft of a mask.
"You remember your role, Barty?"
The blonde man looked at him and nodded. "Of course, my lord. Only one auror is allowed to escape. I'll make sure he sees me before he escapes."
"Once the assault begins I will break off from the rest." He ran a finger over his yew wand. "You will lead them in my stead. The dementors will aid you."
Voldemort flourished his wand in complex patterns. The ward containing the dementors had been passed a kilometre back.
The lone dementor stopped in front of him, its head cocked. Rattling breaths rasped beneath its hood. Agnello twitched at his side but remained silent.
"An offering." Voldemort indicated Agnello. "For you."
The man's head shot around. He turned his trembling gaze back to the dementor. A fine black mist issued from its mouth. The mist coalesced into a shapeless miasma and shot forward.
Agnello's screams turned to violent retching as black ichor forced its way down his throat. The mask dropped, fluttering to the foam below. Tears streamed down his face. His eyes and throat bulged like a toad.
Stiff fingers clawed at his face, tearing strips of flesh from his cheeks. Black, spidery veins crept up his neck.
Agnello fell still, slumping on his broom.
Clouded, white eyes turned to Voldemort.
"We thank you for your gift." The words scraped from his throat between rattling breaths. Agnello's body twitched, jerking like a caricature.
"Tonight, and many nights henceforth, your kind shall feast." Voldemort inclined his head.
Agnello licked his lips. "Then we shall serve, so long as we continue to feed. What is your command?"
A wicked smile situated itself on his pale visage. "Leave the prisoners. Leave only one guard. Allow him to escape. You will know when to act."
"It shall be done."
Agnello writhed as the ichor sprang in streams from his throat. He blinked back tears when the last of it had left him. His shaking form turned to the Dark Lord.
"M-Mi'lord?"
"A lamb," he whispered. "A gift."
The dementor surged forward and yanked the Death Eater from his broom. Agnello's screams were muffled as the dementor feasted upon his soul. Scabbed, grey hands released the Death Eater after several seconds.
Agnello's soulless body splashed amongst the waves.
Black cloaks floated across stone in the distance.
"Await my signal."
He disappeared into a cloud of black mist and crossed the wards unhindered. A light in the distance stood out amongst the drab grey. Voldemort flew toward it.
Black mist buzzed outside of the window akin to the low drone of a cloud of flies.
The warden was bent over a stack of ledgers. He was alone.
Black mist formed into a body. Blood hammered through his veins. Lord Voldemort had finally made his triumphant return.
A piercing hex shot from his yew wand. The spell drilled a gaping hole through the back of the warden's head. His mangled head thumped against the ledgers, staining them red.
Pointing his wand down, Voldemort cast a flare into the craggy rockbed below. He waited, ears primed for any noise that should not be heard.
Seconds passed and his lips turned in a frown. Waves crashed against Azkaban. Salt plastered itself on his tongue. His eye twitched.
'It's been too long,' he thought. 'Perhaps they did not see…'
Shouts and spellfire met his ears. His lips curled in a smile and he floated through the window. The din lasted a few scant seconds and all fell silent again.
"Barty shall see to the rest." Voldemort cast spells over the desk. He perused its contents for a few minutes.
A thump at the door drew his attention, his wand at the ready.
"Imperio." Barty's muffled voice sounded through the door. "You will stay in a muggle hotel tonight. Tomorrow, you will report that Barty Crouch Junior freed the prisoners here."
"Of course," the auror replied, his tone devoid of inflection . "That's reasonable."
A sharp crack rent the air and the Dark Lord returned to the desk. He pulled out a thick leaflet. Blood rushed through his body as he thumbed through the document.
He took a golden ring from a chain around the warden's neck and walked to a pedestal that sat in the corner of the room. He placed the ring on his right index finger and placed it atop the stone on the pedestal.
Magic erupted through the room, violently ruffling his robes. The wards groaned and cracked as they fell.
"This will only work once." Voldemort channelled his magic into the stone through the ring.
The leaflet fell from his hand as he chanted.
Stone groaned and cracked. The prison quaked. The surrounding sea hissed in displeasure, waves swirling and slamming against ancient stone. Surprised shouts sounded amid the cracks.
And the fortress moved.
Voldemort looked out the window. He smirked at the rapidly passing waves.
Azkaban had once been a fortress for a middling dark lord when the Ministry was still young. That dark lord had attempted to summon devils in a ritual after the Ministry had tried and failed to breach its walls.
He had been consumed by the dementors he had summoned and the Ministry had taken control of the island, converting it to a prison soon after.
"This will suit my purposes," he whispered.
Placing his own wards around Azkaban would wait until they had stopped.
Voldemort exited the office. Barty bowed before him.
"The aurors are dead, save one, my lord." Mania crept into his tone. "The dementors are freeing the prisoners as we speak. They'll await you in the courtyard."
"I will personally see to my most faithful," he replied. Barty nodded. "I assume they are in the lowest levels?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Call a dementor to lead me." He walked down the hall, Barty following at his side. "We will be here for some time yet."
Moments later, a dementor floated to his side and led him through the winding maze. Wind and water struck his robes as they passed by the courtyard. A gaggle of malformed skeletons clamoured against one another.
Light filled their eyes for the first time in years, hopeful for their freedom. And free them he would, in a sense. They would trade one set of shackles for another.
The door the dementor led them through creaked on salt-rusted hinges. His enhanced eyes adjusted to the dark space contained within. Rot and human filth filled his nostrils.
Voldemort smiled as they descended into the void.
Barty shivered against the icy cocoon. Faint moans echoed up the stone stairwell.
They followed the dementors' rattling breaths, the moans now a veritable din. The dementor stopped at the bottom of the stairs and indicated a rune cluster to his right.
"Leave us." The dementor glided back up the stairs as the Dark Lord pressed the warden's ring against the runes. "Barty, go to the courtyard."
Flames burst to life in the dust-covered sconces along the hall. Fevered whispers broke out through the enclosure. Cell doors rattled and groaned before opening with metallic screeches.
But none entered the hall.
Lord Voldemort walked down the hall, peering into each of the cells. Prisoners laid in grey heaps within each of the small rooms. Their dull eyes protruded from their emaciated faces.
He stopped at a cell halfway down the hall. Its occupant had once been a strong, clean cut man. Now all that remained was a skeletal figure wreathed in lank, white hair.
"Antonin," he whispered. The figure stirred in its pool of filth. "I have returned and you are free."
Dolohov coughed. "I-it is g-good to see you again, my l-lord, even if only in a d-dream."
Green flames streamed from his wand. The fire broke apart and entered each of the cells, stopping to hover at the ceiling. Warmth flooded the hall, but his breath still came out in puffs of fog.
"Where is Bellatrix?" Voldemort's voice bounced around the cell.
Antonin stirred, his dark, bloodshot eyes glimmering in the firelight. "At t-the end, my l-lord."
The emaciated man's body was wracked by coughs. Voldemort nodded and left the cell.
Stopping at the end of the hall, the Dark Lord listened. There were no sounds coming from Bellatrix's cell.
"Bella?"
Fabric scratching against rock met his ears. He peered into the cell. His nostrils flared, his mind roaring at the sight that met him.
"They will all pay for what they have done to you," Voldemort murmured.
His most loyal follower stumbled along the stone wall of her cell. Her once lustrous black hair had begun to grey. Her fanatical violet eyes had sunk into her skull and her skin had cracked from the cold.
She hardly resembled anything nearing a human.
"My… my lord," she rasped. Her shaking hand reached toward him. Life breathed into her eyes and she stumbled toward him before collapsing to a bow.
Her sharp laughs echoed down the hall. The other prisoners stirred.
"You're here," she croaked between laughs. "I knew you'd come. I am ready to serve. Point me, my lord, and your enemies' blood shall flow at your feet."
"Stay." She looked up at his command, her violet eyes alight. Voldemort reached down and cupped her face. "Recover, Bella. You are the most important person to my plans. I will need you at your best."
Bellatrix shook her head. "B-but, my lord-"
"There will be time… later." The Dark Lord waved his wand. A small bed with clean linens appeared in the corner of the cell. "You are far too important to lose, Bella."
A ruddy blush covered her face and she nodded. Bellatrix walked over to the bed and looked at him over her shoulder.
"I knew you'd come," she breathed. A wicked smile, dotted with rotten teeth, crossed her face. "I'll be awaiting your command… my lord."
He left her in the cell, a sadistic grin covered by shadows adorning his features. Prisoners gawked at him and called for him as he passed their cells. He ignored them.
'Of that I have no doubt, Bellatrix,' Voldemort thought. 'After all, you will see me ascend to greatness.'
Dull, grey light battered his eyes as he stepped into the courtyard. The ocean's roaring waves intermingled with darting whispers. Barty kneeled before him.
"They are all gathered," Barty murmured, his body quivering, "just as you commanded, my lord."
Voldemort walked past the man and eyed the gathered crowd. A scant few bowed before him. The rest stared. Some rattled with fear while others glared. They all fell silent when he raised his hands.
Yew pressed against his throat and he smiled.
"Friends," he called. "You have been chained by the very ministry who promised to protect you. Today, I would see those chains broken. I have returned for you."
The gathered Death Eaters cheered, their voices breaking through the grey heavens. Voldemort's smile broadened as he waited for the cheers to subside.
He caught the tail end of a few mutters.
"I understand some of you will not wish to follow me." The Death Eaters hissed. "That is fair, but you shall all be offered a chance, nonetheless. It is true that I came to free my followers, but I offer all of you the chance to be free of your yokes."
"And why should we follow you?" A grey-haired man with brown eyes glared at him. "You've brought nought but death in your war. We'd be trading one set of chains for another."
Barty surged forward, a mad gleam in his eye. "Know your place, worm. Cruci-"
His hand shot out and grasped Barty's wrist. The insane man looked like a kicked puppy. Voldemort shook his head.
"He raises a fair point, Barty." The Dark Lord turned to the crowd. "Stay your wand. Tell me your name, wizard. And how did you find yourself here?"
The man raised his thin face. "Matthias Bradleigh. I've been here for two years for bribing a Ministry official."
Voldemort nodded and looked out to the dozens of prisoners. "Mister Bradleigh issues a fair point. I offer you freedom from the Ministry, but I require your service. Tell me, how many here are thankful for your Ministry?"
Silence.
"I would see change brought to the Ministry." Voldemort looked back at Matthias. The man glowered at him, his thinning hair battered by the wind. "For too long have we all been oppressed. I would see us usher in a new era where we prosper. For too long have the mudbloods sought to change us. The Ministry bends to their whims at our own expense."
"And how would you do that?" Matthias scoffed. "The Ministry won't let you just waltz in and take over."
He walked toward the man. "We take it," he whispered.
Turning around, the Dark Lord gestured at the high walls of Azkaban. "See how easily I have taken their most secure fortress. Azkaban is mine. And the Ministry shall soon follow. You all can be free. All I require is that you kneel. The choice is yours."
Whispers broke out across the courtyard. Witches and wizards began to kneel before him. Voldemort smiled, his body abuzz. Most of the gathered had kneeled.
Voldemort walked up to the closest standing wizard. "You refuse, Mister Bradleigh?"
Matthias nodded. "You said we'd be free. You broke us out. Now let us walk free."
A sinister smile broke out on his face. Voldemort pointed to the crag below. Dark water thundered against the jagged rocks.
"I will, of course, do as I promised," he whispered. Matthias staggered back. "If you will not kneel then you are free to leave."
"I...You." Matthias and those who remained standing cried out as Death Eaters grabbed them. "You can't do this! We can't swim here. We'll die."
Voldemort followed behind them and chuckled. "So you shall die a free man, Mister Bradleigh. You were free to choose as you willed."
The Death Eaters pushed the handful of witches and wizards to the courtyard's edge. The Dark Lord waved his wand. An invisible force sent them reeling through the air.
Their screams echoed over the walls of Azkaban before they were silenced by the foaming water.
Turning, the Dark Lord looked at his newest followers.
"Today marks a change in our society." Voldemort slashed his wand into the air.
Waves rose high above him in time with his wand. The black waters twisted into a torrential dome over them. A dark, human-like shape fell from the crest of the roaring black waters.
Matthias's body crunched against the cold stone of the courtyard.
The Dark Lord yelled to be heard. "Today is the first step toward our victory. Today is the day we begin our march on Britain!"
Death Eaters, new and old, roared their approval and Voldemort smiled. He turned and walked back into the fortress.
'This is but the first step of many,' Voldemort thought. 'All of Britain shall kneel or be crushed beneath my heel. Soon.'