Disclaimer: The world of magic might be ours, but Harry Potter belongs to JK.
Thanks, lovely readers, hope you are enjoying this. Thank you Dark Phoenix-24, but you're only on chapter 2! Keep reading to uncover the actual plot! Also, thanks to those who've put me on their favourites list- am honoured.
Chapter Nine- Doubt and Reason
"Tom, I'm going to get fired!" Marla repeated tersely as she watched Tom pace their rented lodgings. "Three weeks past the deadline Tom, I'm going to lose my job."
He disregarded her. It seemed as though her inability to cope under the Cruciatus Curse had caused her to deflate slightly in his opinion, though he had not mentioned the incident since. Marla watched him, growing increasingly impatient. Night after night they had combed the hills under the Disillusionment Charm, never getting any closer to the Scrolls.
"They're there..." he had been muttering to himself, "I can feel them... I can feel the magic."
Again and again Marla had tried to reason with him to no avail. "You can't sense magic, Tom," she had argued but he had protested continually.
"I can," he said, over and over, "I can feel it."
It took another week for them to make a move on the scrolls. Tom had barely explained their strategy but urged her to follow his orders without question. Marla did not take to following orders blindly.
"Damn it, Marla!" he had yelled at her, "Just do as I say. There is a magical block on the caves. I know it. Only the right sort of magic can penetrate it. We just need to find the key."
"How can you be sure?" she pleaded with him to explain but he refrained from doing so and against her better judgement, she once again fell back into silence.
OOO
For the next two weeks, the atmosphere at Hephzibah's manor was tense. Everybody, including Abraxas had their doubts as to the outcome of the raid on Azkaban but Marla's sudden short temper caused Abraxas's constant protests on the suicidal nature of her plan to cease. She spoke little to the others, preferring to spend most of her time pouring over the prison layout plans, creating back-up plan after back-up plan. Abraxas had stopped questioning her sanity, trusting that at the failure of her strategy, they could use brute force as a means to secure an exit.
"Marla," he said in the doorway of her bedchambers the night before the raid, "can I come in?"
Assured she wasn't in for another list of cautions, she nodded and he slowly closed the door behind him.
"I couldn't sleep." He said and she could hear the slur in his speech. He sat in an armchair by the fire, looking exhausted. Unsure of the unexpected nature of his visit, she watched as he summoned wine and glasses from the cupboard and made himself a drink.
"Been a while since we've done this, hasn't it?" he asked with forced levity. She eyed him warily, irritation growing at his flippant nature.
"To tomorrow night," he toasted weakly, and drained his glass. He refilled it as Marla moved to take the bottle from him.
"You're already drunk-"
"No," he said, cutting her off. "Yes- lets... lets just drink..." He lit a cigarette and drained his second glass.
"We're in charge, Abraxas," she snapped at him, "You and I! We need to be keeping on top of things, keeping planning, keeping-"
"I'll follow whatever you say, Marla," he shrugged, "might as well enjoy one last night of sanity before tomorrow's-"
Fuming, Marla strode over to the door and held in open for him. "Not in here, you don't! I don't know what's wrong with you but... I can't... I can't believe what you're becoming!"
"What I'm becoming?" yelled Abraxas, throwing his cigarette into the fire, "Is this not what you want from me? For me to agree with every desperate plan you dream up?"
"No," she said, exasperatedly, "From you, I just want..." Marla trailed off, but Abraxas understood.
Abraxas scoffed. "You lost that when you took over this assignment. You're your own worst enemy, Voltaire." His cold tone hit her like ice and she glared pointedly away. As he was leaving, he slowed down as he walked past her and for a moment she thought that... perhaps... maybe his hand had flinched towards hers... but he strode out without a glance back leaving Marla with pangs of loneliness for the first time since before she had arrived at Hephzibah's manor.
OOO
Marla didn't sleep well that night. She eventually gave up and made for the pantry downstairs, but even the thought of food did little to stop her mind racing. She knew she ought to think of their looming venture but Abraxas's behaviour had unsettled her. Something had changed in Abraxas and she didn't know what.
When she had met him, he had seemed haughty and cold but he had quickly become a good friend. His intellectual level mirrored hers and they shared genuine esteem for Lord Voldemort. It was true, she envied the proximity he had with the Dark Lord and believed that the position at Lord Voldemort's side was rightfully hers, but as a competitor, Abraxas was a worthy one.
The man she had admired and grown close to had now inexplicably become... different. She had noticed his drinking, his short temper and his constant air of discontent. He always seemed tired now and constantly despondent. She did not appreciate his change in demeanour and ardently wished her friend back, if not for the conversation then for the company they had become accustomed to enjoying together. And most of all, despite her resentment of his talent at leading, she knew she needed him as their General, as their most ruthless and focused Death Eater- and she didn't feel safe without him.
OOO
"I've worked it out." Tom whispered as they stood in front of yet another ordinary looking rocky steep.
Marla looked up from the patch of rock on which she had sat, watching his Disillusioned form for the past hour. "What did you say?" she asked, getting up awkwardly as her limbs had grown accustomed to immobility.
"I've worked it out" he said, still examining the vast expanse of rock.
Finally, thought Marla but she hid her exasperation at his trait of unhurried inspection. She approached him eagerly, her eyes resting on the area on which he was fixated.
"What?" she asked, glancing at him. His eyes bore into the rock and her gaze fleeted from him to the seemingly unremarkable vast stretch of stone.
"This is old magic, isn't it?" he asked, plunging his hand into his robe. Marla had expected him to draw out his wand but he withdrew a pack of cigarettes, offering Marla one. She took it appreciatively and he lit his own and hers. "Old magic..." he repeated as Marla listened attentively, "Old magic would require an old form of payment to be revealed... yes... payment..."
Marla frowned. "No, Tom," she reasoned. "If it wanted a deserving wizard, the wizards protecting it wouldn't be trying to prevent wizards from approaching it."
Tom nodded, deep in thought. "I considered that," he said, frowning, "but when we initially approached this area we were in full sight, and that's why they hexed us... you..."
"So what," Marla asked, confusion mounting, "Because we bothered to conceal ourselves for the past few weeks, they've let us carry on? Why would they?"
"That's just it," Tom said, "That must be why. They know we're looking for the Scrolls now. They know we haven't just wandered here by chance. They know-"
"-that we aren't tourists who might end up stumbling on the most important discovery in centuries with no concept of the power we're unleashing. They know we know exactly what we're looking for." Marla finished for him, completely in awe of what he was suggesting. "Then we just need to find these wizards and explain to them that..." but she trailed off, a new problem arising in her mind. "If it takes a wizard to find the scrolls, why would the wizards protecting it not have taken them ages ago?"
Tom looked at her, slightly exasperated. "Marla, they can't!" he said and Marla frowned.
"So..."
"So they are waiting for a wizard to come along who can!" He explained. Marla's eyes widened, realising a new dilemma.
"Shit, Tom!" she exclaimed, panic rising. "That means if we-" she looked around and began to whisper, paranoia setting in. "-if we find the Scrolls, we'll have a load of native wizards after us to claim them for themselves." Tom looked at her appalled.
"Hadn't thought of that." Tom admitted through gritted teeth. "Shit." He tossed his cigarette stub aside. "Shit." He also began to whisper, a hollow expression adorning his handsome face. "What do we do?"
Marla looked uneasy. "I suppose we could resort back to my tried and tested methods of protection..."
Tom examined her with a reluctant grin. "What?"
But a smirk from Marla reminded him. "Transfigure any opposition into rodents indefinitely. And with the two of us, it shouldn't be a problem- I don't think so anyway."
Tom scoffed ruthlessly and withdrew his wand. "Your charms wearing off, Marla," he said, smirking in mock annoyance and he recast the Disillusionment Charm, shaking his head at her shoddy wandwork.