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"I don't know about this," Alecto whispers, and the admission makes her face burn as her stomach twists itself into knots. Saying something like that to her brother is not good; Alecto learned at a young age that she must never question or doubt Amycus.

Sure enough, her brother comes to a stop, rounding on her, his fist raised. When Alecto flinches and tries so desperately to make herself small, Amycus laughs. "Pathetic little bitch, aren't you?" He lowers his fist and shoves her roughly. "You'll follow me, and you won't ask any questions. Understood?"

Before Alecto can respond, a shadow falls upon them. Bellatrix Lestrange stands before them, arms folded over her chest, dark eyes narrowing. "Is there a problem, Amycus?" she asks, her voice cold. "Are you okay, Alecto?"

"F-fine," Alecto murmurs.

"Not that it's any of your business," Amycus adds, but he doesn't speak to Bellatrix with the sort of nastiness when he speaks to his sister. Alecto wonders if it's fear or respect that she hears in her brother's voice, but she doesn't dare question it. "Alecto has cold feet, is all. Was just trying to remind her what she's meant to be doing."

"You can come with me," Bellatrix says, holding out her hand. She looks at Amycus like she's daring him to challenge her; he doesn't.

Alecto trembles as she takes Bellatrix's hand and allows the older witch to lead her into the stone grey building. "Thank you," she whispers.

"I assure you, it was my pleasure. I never cared much for your brother."

Alecto wants to say that she doesn't either, but fear keeps her jaw clenched. If Amycus heard her… She already knows she will have to face terrible consequences for following Bellatrix and abandoning him, and she doesn't want to make her upcoming punishment worse.

Bellatrix guides into a room, pausing only to obscure her face with her mask. "Whatever you do," Bellatrix says, "don't look away. You aren't a Death Eater yet. The Dark Lord will have no reason to forgive your weakness.$

Alecto swallows dryly. She doesn't know what's waiting for her once the meeting begins, and the fear of it makes her blood run cold. She manages a weak smile, painfully aware of how forced it is. "Understood."

"Good girl."

With that, Alecto takes her place among the masked men and women in the room. She seems to be the only recruit, and that only terrifies her even further. Still, she knows she cannot show her fear. Amycus has made it crystal clear that he will make her regret it if she embarasses him.

The Dark Lord enters the room. Only when he stands in the center does Alecto notice the quivering figure hunched on the floor at his feet.

"Muggle," Bellatrix whispers in Alecto's ear, the disgust clear and heavy in those two syllables.

"We have a special guest with us tonight. Amycus, why is your sister not standing with you? Have you frightened her away?" the Dark Lord asks.

Around her, the Death Eaters all laugh. Alecto imagines her brother's face turning beet-red beneath his mask. Alecto is certain she'll be punished for this later.

The Dark Lord stops in front of her, regarding her with a cold smile. "So, you want to join us, Alecto?"

No, she doesn't. Not really. Maybe she believes in their cause, but that doesn't mean she wants to be part of it. Alecto has never been much of a fighter, and she isn't the most skilled witch around. What could she offer the Dark Lord? Nothing. She is useless.

But she can't say that. Amycus might actually kill her if she does. So she nods. "Yes, my Lord."

"Then prove it." He gestures toward the man with auburn hair. With a flick of his wand, the Silencing Charm lifts, and the man's pleas fill the air.

"Pl-please! I have a wife! We're having a kid this September. I… What are you? Some kind of cult?"

Alecto feels sick to her stomach. She knows she can't turn back now, so she draws her wand. Beside her, Bellatrix nods her approval and encouragement.

"This man is a Muggle. Filth. Absolutely disgusting," the Dark Lord says. "Thanks to people like him, our bloodlines are becoming polluted. What should we do about that, Alecto?"

"Make… Make him pay," Alecto says, her words trembling almost violently as her hand.

"Very good. Teach him a lesson."

Alecto has never used an Unforgivable. She knows you have to mean it, and that only makes her heart ache. Amycus always used the Cruciatus Curse on her with absolute ease. Alecto wonders if that means her brother really does hate her.

She wants to raise her wand, to cast the spell, but she's petrified, frozen in fear. She can't do this. But she has to; she has no other choice.

Don't look away.

The man's face reminds her a bit of Amycus. They have the same eyes, though his is kinder than her brother's could ever be. How dare he look like that? She deserves that kindness. Why doesn't Amycus ever look so kind? Why is this man all gentleness and care when her brother has only ever been all pain and hatred?

She can almost imagine it's Amycus at her feet. Part of her would love that. Why can't she make her brother suffer the way he's made her suffer? She never deserved any of that.

"Crucio!"

The man's screams fill the air. Would Amycus sound so pathetic? She thinks he might. She's seen the way Bellatrix can make him cower.

"Crucio!"

She watches the way he twists and contorts, delighting in the way his screams grow louder and louder with each curse.

She doesn't know how long it lasts, how long she casts curse after curse. By the time the Dark Lord stops her, the Muggle's screams have faded to pitiful sobs and nonsensical mumbling. "Well done," the Dark Lord praises. "I was a bit concerned, but you really proved your worth."

That night, Alecto stands in front of the mirror, admiring the Dark Mark that has been branded into her arm. The skull and serpent make her feel powerful, invincible, like nothing could ever touch her. Not even Amycus.

As if summoned by her thoughts, her brother enters her room, nostrils flared. "Have a good little time with Bellatrix, you bitch?" he demands.

For once, Alecto is not afraid of him. He doesn't make her tremble or try to hide. The Dark Lord chose her. She has proven her worth, and even Amycus cannot take that away from her. "Leave," she says.

"You think you're so tough now."

Alecto pulls out her wand. "Leave."

"Just because you could hurt a Muggle, you think you can actually do something to me? You pathetic little-"

"Crucio!"

Amycus drops to the floor, screaming. He does sound as pitiful as the Muggle. Alecto laughs.

"You won't be hurting me anymore," she tells him. "I won't tell you again. Get out."

Now he listens. Now he stands, glaring at her one last time before stalking off.

Alecto shuts and locks her door, smiling to herself. So this is what freedom feels like.