Prologue
"What news do you have for me, my servant?" a whispering voice hissed from under a hood in the broken down building. A lithe figure slinked forward, gliding in her death eater's robes towards the Dark Lord.
"You know where I've been my Lord. You sent me there. These girls have potential, and may yet be turned to the Dark. But if we failed…" her voice turned to a scream as the Cruciatus curse hit her.
"Do not speak of failure. You know what the penalty for failing me again is, you pretentious little child." Voldemort hissed, venomous anger filling his voice.
"All I'm saying is that they have great power, perhaps too great to risk." The girl said, her voice breaking from time to time from aftershocks of the curse.
"Perhaps you are right. I leave the decision to you, kill them or try to turn them. But should you fail me, there will be no mercy this time."
"Very well, my Lord. So shall it be."