Disclaimer: still don't own anything.
Summary: Voldemort starts to build his army.
Warnings: Murder, death, zombies (or rather inferis), torture
Chapter 12: The harvest
„Inferius"
A blinding white light illuminated the Park street for a short moment, revealing a standing man and two lying bodies on the ground.
„Inferius"
Again the bright white light illuminated the scene. This time it shone above two standing man and one lying body.
„Lumos"
A much weaker light now enveloped the three standing man in a much friendlier but also bright white glow. The tallest of them held his wand higher as to inspect the other two men. He walked around them with a sincere, concentrated expression. In fact, he looked just like a man who was about to buy a very expensive item and wanted to judge its value first with his own eyes. After a moment he nodded satisfied.
And then he spoke. His voice was high and icy cold like the winter wind. It echoed through the deserted street, granting it a dangerous aura.
„You two now belong to Lord Voldemort. I do not allow you any will of your own. I do command you to act only under my will. I took your life, I gave you life. It is mine to take it again. Do you obey?"
There was no answer of the two men he spoke to. Both of them looked into the darkness with a dull expression in their black eyes. Neither of them moved. But the man with the crimson eyes seemed satisfied and gave them the command to walk to a certain place he only called the gathering point. The two men turned around and walked into the darkness. Voldemort knew they would go directly to the destined place and wait there as still as statues.
He turned around and walked along the dark street. He had to find more suitable material. Not that he had particularly high standards for this kind of soldiers.
„Nox"
And the only light at the Park Street went out. About a minute later, the street lights, which were supposed to shine through the night, lit the now empty street again.
XXX
„My Lord" Dolohov greeted him with a respectful bow. Next to him stood nine men. Voldemort frowned briefly. He was glad the streets were empty thanks to the coldness, otherwise even the Muggles would have figured out that something was off about this particular group. The nine persons stood in a perfect line, completely ignoring their surroundings. While some of them stood on the street, others stood in the flowerbeds or even on park-benches. Voldemort sighed, so much for the intended inconspicuousness. Seriously, there is no task easy enough that someone like Dolohov cant mess it up.
With a short wave of his wand the nine statue-like persons started to move. They gathered in a loose group on the walkway on the other side of the street. Instead of a greeting, Voldemort only snarled:" Get them out of here and deliver them to Lestrange. He is already waiting." Dolohov stared at him for a second but decided not to ask one of his stupid questions. He bowed and hurried over to the other side of the street. By the time he reached the inferis, Voldemort had already disappeared into thin air.
XXX
He reappeared before an old worn down building. It must have been closed for many years now. Some of the windows were shattered and a part of the low entrance roof has sunken in dangerously to the extent where you would expect it to break completely at any moment. The entrance itself was sealed off and a red sign before the rust stained door read "Entrance prohibited. Life danger. Do not cross under any circumstances."
Needless to say that the Dark Lord passed the sign without even a single glance on the bright red letters. He swiftly took the seven steps of the crumbling staircase and did not even reduce his pace as he approached the locked and sealed door. With a quick wave of his right hand, or rather his wand, the door silently swung open letting the intruder pass before closing as silently as it had opened. The seals on it were as unbroken as before.
The crimson eyes were fixed upon the door at the end of the shabby looking dark floor, which was only lit by the moon occasionally shining through the dirt stained and half broken windows on the right wall.
Another flick of the wand and the door opened as noiseless as the first one, leading the dark wizard into a long abandoned sport hall. In here it was not quite as dark as it had been in the floor ahead thanks to a bubble of white light floating in mid-air right in the centre of the hall.
The air smelled of dust and ... something else, something ... evil.
For those who have never smelled this particular odour it is hard to describe, but for those who actually have, it will definitely be recognised for what it is and means.
It can best be described as the scent coming from a body that had died only a few hours ago. When the warmth is fading but still there and the blood is gathering wherever gravitation commands it to be, causing red spots on the otherwise yellowish pale skin. When you can still move the body and hear the air escaping the lungs from the shift of pressure like a last desperate husky breath for life. When the fingers and tows slowly start to grow stiff but still can be moved. It has nothing to do with the slightly sweet and nauseating smell of rotten flesh. It is the shy scent of life fleeing before death, so delicate and faint that it is hard to recognize at all.
In this hall you definitely would have recognised it. You would have heard the husky unnatural breathing. You would have seen the yellowish pale skin.
Voldemort took a deep breath, scanning over the countless men and women standing unmoving in the hall with their black eyes staring forlornly at the centre of the room. A nasty smile appeared on the dark wizards face. His subordinates had harvested the streets well tonight. With another flick of his wand the inferis before him moved simultaneously, opening a path to the middle of the hall and Voldemort walked to the only other living person in this place full of dead people.
Lestrange bowed low when he noticed his approaching master, mumbling humbly: " My Lord." His curly black hair falling over his face and blocking his slightly few.
"How many?", the high voice asked coldly without bothering to greet the other.
"315, my Lord."
"From where?"
"South-east, mostly Sussex, Kent and Surrey. Never more than ten per city."
"Any incidents?"
"A police officer saw Avery in Littlehampton, West Sussex."
"And?"
As an answer Lestrange indicated to his left. a young man in a police uniform was staring at him with a blank expression. Voldemort rolled his eyes. Seriously, was he surrounded by idiots?
"Where is he now?", he demanded to know.
"I sent him to the Cottage. I thought it best to exclude him from this nights mission. Also, I have send a message to everyone not to harvest any other crops than explicitly ordered."
"With owls?"
"As well as ravens, my Lord. But the message did not contain anything else. It should be save."
Voldemort nodded: "Good. Take Dolohov off as well and explain it to him in all detail again or he will bring us the Muggle prime-minister or someone as equally important."
He swiftly turned around and walked back though the alley between the inferis, calling back: "Store them as usual."
"Yes, my Lord", Lestrange bowed again.
XXX
The Cottage, as anyone had started to call this place, was an old family house of the Nott family and nothing like a cottage at all. It had a huge overgrown front garden and an enormous jungle-like backyard. Its door, as well as its window-frames were painted in a dark green. The walls and the roof were either painted in a muddy dark brown or earned this colouring after generations of neglect. The two-storey building must have at least fifteen rooms judging by the size of it, but compared to the Malfoy manor or the current residence of the Nott family, it definitely was only a small cottage.
It would have been a peaceful sight if not for the screams occasionally echoing through the night.
Avery knelt on the floor of the dusty living room. His blond hair covering his eyes, though his sobbing and whimpering revealed his emotional state.
Voldemort paced slowly around him, his red eyes promising pain as he spoke: "Do you even understand the meaning of the word inconspicuous? Why do you think I ordered you all to only recruit the homeless and forgotten Muggles? Why do you think I explicitly ordered you not to kill more than a minor number in each city?"
A whimper escaped the crouching man.
"What? Speak up, dear Avery, I cannot hear you.", the high voice mocked in an amused tone.
"I...m... sorry, my Lord, please... I am sorry..."
Voldemort flicked his wand and the shrunken down body of the blond got lifted up to the air and straightened itself in an unhealthy way, his limbs were bend excruciatingly to the back. The Dark Lord quickly closed the gap between them, nearly touching the face of the other with his own nose.
"Being sorry is not enough.", he hissed every word, fixating the scared blue eyes with his own merciless red ones.
Silence fell between the two, only disrupted by the shaken breaths of the agonised man.
After about a minute the expression on Voldemorts face changed. A warm smile curled upon his lips. A smile that did not reach his evil eyes. With another flick of his wand Avery was freed from the spell binding him and he fell to the ground with a low bumping sound, dispersing dust from the carpet underneath him. Voldemort turned around facing the dusty window. He did not want Avery to read his face. Although he was sure he would not be able to anyway.
"Well, Avery, what's done is done and I cannot undo your fault. I will have to carry its consequences, which you graciously laid upon my shoulders alone. But as your friend it is only natural for me to protect the weak you, I suppose.", he mused in a casual tone just as though he was talking about the weather.
"Thank you my Lord. Thank you.", Avery stammered in a weak voice, bowing again and again, "I will make up for my mistake. I promise, my Lord, I promise."
"I am sure you will." The cold voice interrupted him, indicating the end of the conversation. Avery, still bowing again and again, slowly walked backwards to the door.
Voldemort waited until he heard the creaking door open.
"Ah... Avery, one thing."
"Yes, my Lord?
"Clean up this dusty mess here."
"Yes, my Lord."
bold talk in 3...2...1
Hello!
It took a while but I am already halfway through the next chapter which I hope to finish next week.
I hope the description of the "scent" wasn't to hard to read or to nasty. I try to write Voldemorts chapters in a different and darker style than Severus chapters. I want you to have a different feeling when reading his chapters. I would have described it better, but I still have trouble writing it in English (although I do enjoy it very much).
Comments would be nice. ;)
