Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK.
Thankyou once again to my star reviewer, Whiskey in the Impala, who's in depth analysis makes this all worthwhile.
Please remember to review, readers! The story is finished and will be updated weekly but I'd be very grateful for reviews! Enjoy Chapter Three!
Chapter Three- Progression of Power
Sunday came and went and yet nearing midnight there was still no sign of the Dark Lord's arrival. Marla had spent the day, along with the other Death Eaters, eagerly awaiting his return, and so by eleven that night they found themselves gathered in the house's main parlour on the ground floor, huddled together in silence- waiting.
This room was the largest of the house's four drawing rooms. Marla recognised it as the one she had been brought to for her audience with the Dark Lord on her first night. She moved over to the ornate fireplace and lit up a cigarette. Everyone was here tonight, with the exception of Macnair who had been summoned by Lord Voldemort's patronus the previous day. Abraxas, Crabbe, Lowman and Locke sat in silence and Lestrange and Avery stood by one of the large windows, peering outside. Marla watched the Death Eaters, noting their apparent dread and apprehension. She smiled inwardly- they really feared the Dark Lord. Well good, she thought, it would be an insult to him if they didn't.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the double doors leading into the parlour burst open and the Dark Lord strode through, furious. Macnair entered hurriedly after him, and shut the doors behind him. He had the distinct look of a man hexed. His huge figure flinched in pain as he moved over to lean on the back of Abraxas's armchair. The Death Eaters were all standing, heads bowed and eyes directed pointedly at the floor. Marla watched her master move over to the fireplace so she threw in her cigarette and moved away to give him space.
"Fuck!" he roared, slamming his palm into the wall. He spun around and caught Marla's eye. She looked at him in alarm.
"What happened?" she asked, starting to move towards him but thinking better of it.
But instead of answering, he drew out a cigarette and lit up. Marla understood the why the Death Eaters had been apprehensive- he had a look of desperation etched on his face that made Marla so uneasy, she may as well have been standing by a ticking bomb. "They recognised my Patronus." He breathed, shooting Macnair a dirty glance. Macnair cowered slightly under his gaze. "They were waiting for me- the bastards! I didn't manage to retrieve the item I wanted." He shook his head again and Marla watched his hands form white knuckled fists. Curiosity took over, and throwing caution to the wind, she asked, "And what was the item? Where were you trying to retrieve it from?" The moment the words had left her mouth, she regretted them. He shot her a filthy look and left the room without another word. The other Death Eaters stirred slightly.
A moment passed in a silence, which was broken by Locke moving over to her looking furious. Without warning, she smacked Marla forcefully and waiting till she had composed herself again sneered "You do not speak out of line- not to the Dark Lord." She left the room too, and the other Death Eaters followed her. Abraxas moved to leave, then reconsidering it, sat back down.
"I know you used to work with him," he said after a moment of gathering his thoughts, "but the only way to stay safe now will be if you learn your place. Nothing good can come of insolence."
Marla shook her head. "I can't believe this," she said, "why are you all afraid of him? How can you expect him to respect you if you cower in his presence?"
Abraxas smiled at her naivety. "He respects our loyalty. That's all that matters."
"Yeah well it's not good enough," Marla spat, "Macnair had to be summoned and he lost the Dark Lord something that could have helped us all. We should do something about that at least."
"I think by the look of Macnair, the Dark Lord has already seen to that." Abraxas's eyes sparkled at the thought.
"That's not what I meant. Here we are- an organisation where discretion is crucial and we have no subtle method of communication." She lit up a cigarette.
"We could do with phones," said Abraxas, then looking at her confused face explained "They're devices that ring so muggles can communicate with each other." She raised an eyebrow at his suggestion.
"I meant discreet, Abraxas." She said, beginning to pace, "we don't need ringing, we need something silent, something we can feel!" She looked at Abraxas who was frowning in thought. "We need something that will signal to us when the Dark Lord wants us- and I know a charm like that could exist! At the shop, all of our darker items were jinxed so that if we needed to hide them, we had only to charm one to invisibility and all of them would be charmed."
"That's the Protean Charm," Abraxas said slowly.
"-Never heard of it."
"Well that's what it is. I don't know if it'll work with humans... and it only works with dead objects... won't work on human flesh..."
"Why not?"
"I don't know, because human flesh isn't a dead object, it's alive." He said irritably, wringing his hands, trying to think of a way around this, but Marla was already there.
"Then we kill a small part of us," she said grinning, "just a small wound... burn it so it can never heal, and we'll have our dead flesh. The Dark Lord touches one and we all know we're being summoned."
Abraxas looked up at her, eyes sparkling. "That might actually work." he said moving towards her. His face slowly changed as he examined her. He put his hands on each of her arms and Marla felt herself shrink under his penetrating gaze. She hesitated before trying to pull her arm away but before she could, Abraxas had effortlessly restrained her and whipped out his wand. Muttering at her left forearm, he held her still while her skin began burning and fizzing. She cried out in pain, unable to look away from the mark appearing on her skin. The blood was replaced by open flesh which began to heal itself around the form of a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth. Abraxas let go, and Marla fell to her knees, breathless. She examined her arm- "This- argh... it hurts- ... but ... it's ... wow," she breathed, "Your turn now."
Abraxas nodded and rolled up his sleeve. Pointing the wand at his arm, he muttered the same incantation and barely winced as the mark formed on his forearm. Marla examined her own- "What is this?" she asked.
"The Dark Mark," he replied, calmly inspecting his own. "We made it up at Hogwarts."
"It's scary," Marla said, impressed. "I like it."
Abraxas grinned at her. "When do we tell the Dark Lord?" he asked.
"Now," Marla replied eyeing the door. "I want to tell him now. On my own if you don't mind Abraxas."
Something flashed behind Abraxas's eyes but he acquiesced and she took the staircase two at a time, reaching the double doors leading to Lord Voldemort's chambers. She grinned inwardly as she knocked on the door. It opened in silence and she walked in tentatively. The room was much like hers but bigger and darker, lit by two dim wall lamps. Her master stood by the window, in long bottoms and an untied dressing robe. Marla smiled sadly at the sight of the Dark Lord in such normal attire, with a look of anguish on his face. He turned to her, expectantly.
"We've done something for you." She said, eyeing his expression. "Something I think you'll appreciate."
The Dark Lord shook his head and scowled. "I doubt that very much," he muttered darkly. His face suddenly resembled the 17 year old Tom she remembered so well.
Undeterred, Marla showed him her bare forearm. "It's for you."
He walked over to her, and took her arm. Holding it up to his face, he registered the Dark Mark. "You've branded yourself?" he asked.
"No, we all have," she said enthusiastically, "well, what I mean to say is that we all will. My mark has been charmed with the Protean Charm-"
"Just tell me later," he cut in, and sat on his bed. There was something in the way his feet were planted firmly on the floor, in the way his legs were separated, in the way his dressing robe fell open exposing his chest that made Marla smile appreciatively to herself. His face was in his hands and as she moved over to sit by him, he lay back, closing his eyes. Marla lay down next to him, propping herself up on her elbow. Looking down at his face, she realised how far away he seemed, though there was barely three inches between their noses. She inhaled deeply, intoxicated by his presence.
"You know, Burke was devastated when you left," Marla said to his closed lids, "said he'd offer you the world to come back to us. We never did make quite as much without you." She paused for a reaction and when it didn't come, she added "You have a gift about you- you can make people give up things for you." Tom stirred and opened his eyes and Marla felt, as she so often used to feel when he looked at her like that, as though he was stripping her down to just her thoughts. He turned his face to hers.
"Is that what you're doing here then?" he asked, his expression softening. "Are you here to give up your life for me?" He smiled and Marla knew she saw her old colleague return to the weary face. She carefully worded her answer.
"It's more like," she said slowly, "like I'm giving up a drab life for something worth fighting for." She relaxed her arm and lay down, eyes pointed to the ceiling but not seeing it. Her master looked incredulously at her.
"You don't really give a damn about the cause." He said bluntly. "You never really have- but then why is it that you've been here for four days and you've still not dug through Hephzibah's collection." He lifted himself to look down at her. His eyes were earnest and searching.
"What makes you think all I care about is treasure?" she asked, mock affronted. She had originally bonded with her master over their mutual obsession and he would tease her good naturedly at how little gold her passion earned her.
"So why are you here then?" he asked without hesitation. Marla looked at him and he seemed too serious for her to feel entirely comfortable.
"At first, it was Hephzibah's house..." she said slowly.
"-but you haven't touched a thing." His tone was accusatory but Marla decidedly missed it.
"No but I got distracted. Malfoy has been on my back all week anyway so I've not had a chance to do much."
"What have you been doing?"
"What have you been doing?" Marla shot back.
Her master rolled his eyes. "I asked first. What have you done all week?"
Marla collected her thoughts. "After seeing you again, I've just waited for you to return. I want to know what you've been doing and how you've been- and why you disappeared without a word of goodbye." She paused but he stayed silent, watching her. "All I've been doing is talking about you, hearing about you, "-she lifted her forearm so the Dark Mark was visible "- trying helping you. Malfoy's told me stuff about the Death Eaters and what you've all done and I've just been trying to find my place in it."
"-and?" Voldemort asked.
"I don't know- I think the others resent my being here. They don't feel I'm much use to them. Malfoy says you've to just grit your teeth and tolerate it but I wouldn't be surprised if Locke hexed me anytime soon. I only speak to Malfoy."
Her master nodded and seemed deep in thought as he looked away.
"My Lord?" she asked tentatively.
He grunted in response. Carefully, she asked "Why did you want me to be here?"
He rolled over onto his side, then sat up. She followed him up, stretched her arms and lit a cigarette.
"I've got an assignment for you but now isn't the time for it."
Marla's eyes widened in excitement. "What kind of assignment?" she asked. Her master shook his head and asked her to leave but she refused to.
"Marla-"he said exasperatedly and she realised she had overstepped the boundary. "-Marla you have to stop this- I can't be the boy I was when we worked together. We're on the brink of a war and if you don't accept my authority, I can't protect you."
Marla didn't understand what was going on. What war? Who did she need protecting from? She stopped herself from asking the endless list of questions that were forming in her mind and instead sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clutching the sheets, mouth gaping slightly trying to form words she hadn't formulated yet. Her master put a cold hand on her shoulder and got up to stand in front of her.
"I'm leaving for a while," he said resolutely, "I don't know how long for but there are things I need to prepare before we can make our next move." Marla looked up at him, appalled. He continued, slightly put off. "I need a second in charge and it is you I had in mind."
Marla's eyes widened. "Why?" she asked incredulously.
Her master smiled sadly at her. "Who else do I know takes care of treasures that don't belong to her out of duty to magic?" He squeezed her shoulder slightly. "I need you to build me an army of capable wizards- from all decent walks of magic. Malfoy has the mind of a general, even in his private life- he'll help you on the force front but I need you to protect my work till I return."
Marla nodded wordlessly and made to leave the room.
"Marla," Voldemort said as an afterthought, "Tell no one but Malfoy. There is treachery among the Death Eaters. "
Marla nodded and left the room, her mind reeling.
Abraxas was at the top of the staircase. Noticing the look on her face, he nodded over to the direction of her room. She followed him there in silence.
What do we think of Marla Voltaire's character? Should Voldemort trust her? Review please!