School: Ilvermorny Year 5
Theme: Death of a Leader - Write about how the disappearance of a role model impacts people.
Main prompt: [Object] Heart-shaped sunglasses
Additional prompt: [Quote] "The only important elements in any society are the artistic and the criminal, because they alone, by questioning the society's values, can force it to change."—Samuel R. Delany
WC: 1417
TW: None
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"Our Lord will come back to us." Bellatrix slammed her hand onto the pitted surface of the table, her eyes alight with unholy fire as she stared out at her huddled co-conspirators. "We will be the faithful, and we will be exalted amongst all others. We will—"
She stopped, her eyes locked on one figure sitting slightly further down the table, her nostrils flaring as she drew in a deliberate breath. "Rabastan, will you take those ridiculous things off?"
Rabastan sighed, drawing himself up to his full height in one sinuous roll of his shoulders. The offending object — a set of cheap Muggle sunglasses made from a disgusting lurid shade of bright pink plastic formed into the shapes of hearts — was pushed up onto his forehead with a single finger as he glared at her. With the sunglasses removed, Bellatrix could see the heavy bruises that curled beneath his deep-set eyes, their edges red-rimmed and painful.
"No," Rabastan stated, sliding them back down with a wince. He pinched the bridge of his nose, fingers smoothing over the pink indentations before standing. "These were the first things I could grab — you know I enjoy remembering our past missions — and I'm not torturing myself for your amusement, darling Bella, so I'm getting a drink."
Rodolphus sighed, but made no motion to stop his brother or to support Bellatrix as they geared up for yet another argument. Ever since they had heard the news of the Dark Lord's disappearance, he seemed to have retreated into himself, watching and waiting. Bellatrix turned her head to check on his reaction before she returned her glare to Rastaban. His gaze didn't move from his hands, carefully twisting his family ring round and round on his finger, his arm turned to reveal the Dark Mark. The brand was no longer the deep rich black it had been only a few days prior. Instead, it had faded to a pale white like an old burn scar.
"Our Lord," Bellatrix spat out, trembling with anger, "Our reason for being, the man we pledged to follow to the ends of the earth and beyond that, is missing. And you are drinking?"
"The Dark Lord is missing," Rabastan confirmed, swaying slightly as he stumbled towards the bar set into one wall of the room. "You are dealing with this problem with wild anger. I am choosing to try drinking." He turned, hidden gaze locking on the other person in the room. "I'm curious to see how you approach this."
Barty Crouch Jr raised his head slowly. His eyes darted between them, one side of his face twitching as he tried to gather his words. His tongue darted out, passing over his lips like the dying spasm of a snake.
"He can't be gone." His words were ragged, pulled out of him, and he spat them onto the table. "Our Lord wouldn't leave us like that."
Bellatrix shrieked her agreement, her nails scoring huge gouges in the wood, her decaying mind latched onto the statement with a vengeance. Splinters dug beneath her nails, but she ignored them, flicking her hand out to punctuate his point. "You see? Our Lord wouldn't leave us. He wouldn't abandon us like the witless fools who are betraying him even now."
"Should you even be drinking?" Bellatrix continued, hissing at Rabastan. She couldn't read his expression fully, half-hidden behind the sunglasses, couldn't even be sure he was looking at her as he carefully picked his way back to the table. His steps were still uneven, liquid sloshing over the side of the over-full glass and leaving a spotted trail on the floor.
"Hair of the dog that bit me." He raised the glass to her in a mock salute, but all Bellatrix could see was her own expression in the distorted glass of the sunglasses: eyes wide and wild, her hair a storm around her face of cascading curls, and furious.
"Speaking of dogs," Barty said, glancing at the door despite the attempt at bravado as he sat back in his chair, "where's the mutt?"
"Better not let Greyback hear you call him that," Rastaban muttered into his drink. Barty turned to glare at him, full of youthful indignant, but Rastaban merely lowered his sunglasses to wink at him, before pushing them back up his nose.
"Why are you wearing them still?" Bellatrix cried, rising from her chair, which toppled over with the sudden motion. "They're Muggle garbage. You're meant to be a Pureblood wizard! Act like it!"
"Greyback may have had the right idea," Rastaban said, his tone level, a faint current of amusement running through it as he ignored her outburst. "He's gone into hiding, much like our Lord has rumoured to have done. But what the other cowards don't realise—" Rastaban paused, downing the last of his drink and pulling a face at the sour taste. He pulled the sunglasses free from his face and inspected them, running his thumb along the point of one of the hearts. "They don't realise that I, we, cannot be seen as working against them when they return."
He placed the sunglasses back over his eyes, face turned in the direction of Barty, but his expression was once again nearly unreadable.
Greyback was an enigma, loyal enough to learn from their Lord and use his expertise to expand his own brand of cruelty, but there had always been something else to the werewolf. None of them asked, but they all could see the brief moments of hesitation when he was first confronted with something magical. Having Muggle heritage was a stain, but it also made him unpredictable and dangerous. Bellatrix felt a snarl slip onto her face at the mere thought of the werewolf being welcomed back into the Dark Lord's company with open arms when he had fled into the night like a coward.
Rodolphus raised his head, Bellatrix's heartbeat increasing in her chest as she watched him, catching Rastaban's hidden gaze and his younger brother sunk back into his chair, ducking his head to get away from the glare.
"No more arguments," Rodolphus rasped, reaching a hand out to Bellatrix and drawing her closer, smoothing a kiss over the beads of blood on the tips of her fingers. "We need to work towards finding our Lord."
"We will be the faithful," Bellatrix cackled, swinging her free hand through the air, drawing her skirt close to her body then flicking it out once more. "We will be His true supporters."
"Yes, my love," Rodolphus murmured. "But we need a plan. We need a place to start that's not going to bring the Ministry down on us."
"I think you might need a pair of these," Rastaban said, tapping a finger against the heart-shaped glass in his sunglasses, grinning at Barty as if enjoying a new show.
Barty snarled at him, a wordless animalistic sound, but that couldn't distract from the sudden bloodless pallor of his face.
"Our Lord," Bellatrix pulled her hand free and began to pace, the sounds of her steps echoing like a heartbeat. "Our Lord was on a glorious mission that I alone knew the details of." She grinned, the action almost a snarl, and she caught sight of it in Rastaban's glasses. She looked powerful, a Valkyrie filled with burning vengeance, and that thought only made her laugh harder. His frown was barely more than a twitch of his lips, but she advanced on him regardless.
Rastaban didn't move as she pulled the glasses from his face, inspecting her reflection in them. She was close enough that she could smell the sour bite of alcohol that clung to him, almost masking the fear she knew was there.
The Dark Lord was missing, so they would go and look for him. They would show their loyalty and gain the stability that had been ripped away from them when he vanished.
"First, the Potters," Bellatrix crooned, swaying and watching the change in light warp her reflection. "Then, the Longbottoms. The Potters are dead, but the Longbottoms are not."
"They must know something," Barty breathed, his eyes coming alight with the same devotional fire that Bellatrix nurtured.
"They must know where the Dark Lord is," Bellatrix confirmed, dropping the glasses to the floor. Rabastan didn't move as she deliberately raised her boot and slammed her heel on the frame, warping and distorting it, the glass shattering and cascading over the floor. "So we are going to find out."