Chapter 2: A Lifetime of Servitude

I woke up as suddenly as if someone had poured cold water on me. I was in a different place, and my hand was clutching the map.

Much like the time I had woken up in the field, I had no idea how I had gotten there. But I knew what I had to do. After my recent experience with the Dark Lord's wishes, I knew I had to gather more information. Surely I couldn't make my decision yet.

I knew so clearly that I wasn't ready to choose. I needed more time. Joining the Dark Lord didn't seem preferable to death, yet. Perhaps someday it would, but I had to find that out on my own.

Forcing my thoughts away, I focused on the map. This was the first time I had examined it closely. I noticed a small red dot, that stuck out so clearly because it was the only coloured piece. But, no, that wasn't true. I looked harder and noticed many green blotches, so dark they looked almost black, especially in the dim light – the sun was setting.

I was again placed in such a generic spot I had no idea where I could have been. As I lurched a few steps forward, I noticed the dot move as well. Was… was I the dot?

I looked for the nearest green blotch, and saw that it was very near. Barely looking where I was going, I followed the dot's path to the green mark. I arrived, but there was nothing. I sighed and sunk to the ground as I had so many times in the last few hours.

The world was getting bleaker and darker every moment. There was definitely more to it than the setting sun. Perhaps I was feeling hopeless, and… ready?

No, never! I couldn't believe that – not now, especially not now. Hadn't I truly felt remorse after killing Isabelle? I couldn't get over that feeling, and I couldn't turn away from it that quickly. Surely… surely I couldn't join with the Dark Lord after that. After all, I knew he could search my mind, and he definitely wouldn't be finding the thoughts he wanted.

It was the easy way out in a way, but so difficult in another. I barely wanted to think it, but maybe – just maybe – dying was preferable.

The sky was very dark now, but I just closed my eyes, very still.

I woke up slowly, but stood abruptly, aware that it was light out. In front of me stood a man who looked so familiar. I couldn't help but feel glad that someone was there, when before it had been so empty.

"Vaughn Rosier," he answered in response to my curious look.

I blinked. Did he really just say who he was? Evan Rosier's younger brother, of course… But he had been killed just a couple years ago.

"You can't be Vaughn," I said reasonably, shaking my head. "I mean, Vaughn died–"

He sighed sharply, cutting off my speech. "Don't you see? This is a dream." He rolled his eyes as if I should have known that, and then sat on the ground. I followed swiftly.

Now that I knew things were allowed to be illogical, I launched into speech: "Well, I heard that you were killed by the Dark Lord, and that it was because… because…" My words faltered as I thought. Slowly, I began again, "You were in the same situation I am, weren't you?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I was."

I waited for him to speak, but he didn't continue. "Please, won't you tell me?"

"There's not much to tell. I was expected to join the Death Eaters, but I didn't want to. I was given an ultimatum, but I couldn't bring myself to join, so I refused. I was killed soon thereafter, so here I am."

"Why am I here? Talking to you? Aren't you supposed to give me advice or something?"

"What do you need advice on?"

I stumbled into a question, "Why did you… choose not to? Do you ever think that it might have been better if you had just agreed?"

"If you agree without being fully certain, he'll kill you anyway. I had no way to be certain, since I never wanted that life for myself. Either way would lead to my death, so I chose the more direct route."

"So I can't just agree so that I don't get killed?" I stated flatly.

"Self-preservation seems wonderful, but sometimes there has to be another reason. In this case, there has to be loyalty. If you don't have it, there is no way you'll walk away alive."

I nodded.

"And, Rodolphus?"

"What?"

"Once he's targeted you, you can't escape."

I had known that all along, but hearing him say it was so much worse.

"Say… you could have become a Death Eater without the Dark Lord knowing you really didn't want to be there. Would you have chosen that path instead of death?"

He shrugged slightly. "Yes, I believe I would have. But I think eventually there comes a time when – if you weren't certain in the first place – you stop living. You don't die, but to an extent you do… If that makes sense."

"It does. Perfectly. Thanks." I knew his last words were true. If I didn't manage to find a reason to become a Death Eater soon, I would die.

But as I stared at the calm man sitting across from me, I couldn't help but feel that perhaps dying wasn't the worst way to go. But there were things that I didn't want to let go of yet… And, more importantly, someone.

That thought had come unbidden into my mind. Surely I wasn't… I didn't… She wasn't important to me.

"I think I'd like to wake up now," I said politely.

"Of course," he answered.

------------------------------------------------------

I sighed and looked at the map again. I was in what seemed like the middle of nowhere. There was nothing around, just a few trees. If I could go somewhere to think, I would. But something was pulling me, forcing me to go to the next green mark.

Again, I sighed, but I decided not to fight it. After all, I needed more time. Anything that would prevent the Dark Lord for asking for my answer was perfectly fine with me.

The red dot was at the new green mark, so I looked up, wondering if anything was there. I squinted off in the distance, but could hardly see anything through the darkness. Why was I wandering around at night? Maybe waiting until morning would have been better.

But, even as I thought that, I could clearly see the outline of a small building up ahead. I ran up to it, and I wrenched open the door, for some reason feeling like it was necessary to see what was inside.

The feeling of anxiety faltered as I looked around. It was just a tiny shed. It was dusty, abandoned. Surely there was no reason to be there, after all.

But I looked more closely at it. There was a tiny patch of the floor that wasn't dusty. And it looked like it was in the shape of a hand.

Curiosity overwhelming me, I walked up to the area. My nails scraped the floor, and I could barely feel an imperfection, a small crack, in the flooring. I got the feeling there was a trap door, and tried to place my hand directly over the dust-less area.

Sure enough, as I did so, my hand seemed to sink into the floor, and I grabbed what felt like a handle. I thrust my hand back, and the door swung open swiftly.

I lit my wand silently, and leaned into the hole. I found a ladder and climbed down, embarrassed I was so frightened.

I turned around as soon as my feet touched solid ground. It was a small room, lined with bookshelves. They were old, ancient books. But when I touched one, it didn't feel real. I tried to pull it out, but it wouldn't budge. There must have been a charm or something on it.

I sat down at the desk in the middle of the room. There was parchment piled all over it. I began leafing through them, entirely unconcerned. But I soon stumbled upon a small, brown book. I opened it up to the first yellow page, and began reading the faded words written in elegant script.

Today I was told that I had to become a Death Eater. It wasn't surprising – hadn't I known it for years? But there was something about the reality of it that made me turn to this little journal. I have the most certain feeling that I will have no one to tell this story to at any point in my life, and I feel that it may help to record my experience. I'm positive no one will ever read this book, because I have hidden it most securely in a shed far behind my home.

One eyebrow raised. Surely this couldn't be a journal of Vaughn Rosier? But as I began to read, I recognised his story, with a few noticeable changes.

He had told me that, if he had been able to, he would have become a Death Eater, but here he proclaimed, in bold, harsh lettering:

I never wanted that life for myself! Never did I desire to join the Dark Lord and follow him foolishly. I know so clearly that I could never join. Just because that damned Evan did doesn't mean that I am the same way! I can most definitely be my own person, can't I?

At first, he never mentioned why he didn't want to, but later he made his reasoning clear:

Evan told me today why I need to join. According to him, pureblood supremacy is just that important. But it truly doesn't matter to me. I've never cared about the difference between Muggle-borns and purebloods. Why would I care? Unlike Evan, being a pureblood is not my defining characteristic. Nor is the love of murder and torture, which I know I would never be fond of. How can I actively support a cause I abhor so much? Wouldn't it be worse to pretend?

Vaughn wasn't like me, I knew then. Only recently had I begun to think that purebloods might not be superior. His situation was beginning to seem more and more different.

I was almost finished with the slim volume, and I turned to the final page.

Evan has disappeared for too long. I know with certainty that he will be back soon to kill me. I refuse to allow him that pleasure. So, in a moment, I will be taking my own life. I also know that he will pretend to have killed me. No one will know the truth, but I am fine with that. All that matters now is what has to be done. I feel it proper to say goodbye to someone, but of course there is no one. So I will record the words here, where they will last forever.

Farewell,

Vaughn Rosier

I blinked, surprised. He had killed himself? That was was very… strange, somehow. I guess perhaps that was because I knew that could never be my own choice. If forced, I would have someone kill me than perform the deed upon myself.

But was that really the point? There had to be something else to this story. I looked at the small book in my hands, and knew that every word was truthful. But there was something else to it.

What was it?

Maybe, just maybe, it didn't apply to me. Maybe Vaughn and I were too fundamentally different to ever have the same ending to the situation. He chose death – whatever the means – and I chose…

Well, I hadn't chosen anything yet.

I sat there, moving the book back and forth between my hands in a nervous gesture. I felt like I should leave the shed. But I couldn't bring my legs to move, because – for the first time in what felt like years – I could just sit down and think without fear of anyone finding me.

Even as my mind drifted into that bliss, I heard a noise behind me, like someone landing. I turned around quickly, grabbing my wand in the process.

My heart jumped as I saw her.

"Bellatrix, why are you here?"

"Don't you know, Rodolphus? It's almost time for your decision."

She sat down casually in a chair that either hadn't been there or I hadn't noticed. "I don't know why my Lord sent me, though. But he says it's important for me to fetch you, and of course he is always right."

"Of course he is," I murmured almost unintelligibly.

"Have you made your decision?" she asked, her eyes turning large, eager.

I stared into them, and almost felt lost. I gaped slightly, and realised just how much I wished I could be like her. She was perfect, and of course the Dark Lord must have noticed and utilised that. She was everything a Death Eater should be.

I wished I could have her courage, her loyalty, her cruelty, her passion. But instead I was cowardly, unwilling, and tame.

Perhaps she was the one I should strive to be like. I picked the small brown journal up again, and flipped rapidly through the pages. He and I were different, and it wasn't right for me to compare us so unthinkingly. We were just as different as Bellatrix and I. Right?

No, not really. But perhaps I should try. I looked at her. She seemed elegant, even in the midst of a dusty cellar. She was beautiful, I noticed. Unbelievably so. And young, too, but not much younger than me. What difference was three years to a lifetime of servitude?

A lifetime of servitude. Just the words sounded awful. How could I desire that? Very little could be worse than serving the Dark Lord forever.

I shook the thought from my head. How disloyal. If I were going to join, no thoughts like that could never be in my mind.

The memory of being forced to kill the Muggle jumped unbidden into my thoughts. I closed my eyes, wincing, as I relived the experience. It had the same harsh edge, but I could tell that my opinion of Bellatrix was changing. Didn't I hate her just a couple days ago? And now I was wishing to be like her. Surely that wasn't normal.

In spite of myself, I watched her again, and her face was rapidly flickering from anger to pain.

For the first time in days I felt amusement. I could tell that she was trying to contain her anger, but failing miserably. I had been thinking far too long.

"I need more time," I said softly. A decision like this should develop slowly, over years of time. I was being forced to answer in only a couple days, and it felt too rushed. Far too rushed.

"More time? You've had enough time," she growled.

"Please," I begged. I couldn't answer yet.

"One day," she snapped. "But I have to stay with you until you make your decision, so hurry the bloody hell up."

I knew I should felt nervous at the ultimatum, but I could barely contain a smile as I looked at her, sitting there and not bothering to contain her anger any longer.

I wondered suddenly why Bellatrix had to stay with me. Did I need to be watched in case I showed any signs of disloyalty? Was she one who would kill me if I ran away? No, definitely not the latter, because she had told me that Rabastan was the one to murder me.

I sighed and asked her.

"You cannot be trusted to remain on your own." she answered, rolling her eyes as if the answer were obvious. "After all, you did read Rosier's journal – who knows how much that could have changed you… Plus, my Lord feels I can influence you, I believe. But of course he has not confided completely in me."

"Yes, I read the journal. Why does the Dark Lord not want me to be affected by it?" I wondered.

"Have you been?"

I stared at her, not answering. I realised so clearly that I would never, ever be able to trust her or any other Death Eater, even if I decided to join their ranks. How could I trust them when I refused to have confidence in even my own inclinations? But the Dark Lord believed that she would help to change me, and for some reason I knew that to be true.

When had I decided that I wanted to be a Death Eater? Had I even decided that?

I could barely remember a time when I was so confused. But I knew one thing for certain: Bellatrix was the answer.

She repeated her question, her eyes flashing with impatience and anger as she did so.

"It made me realise that Vaughn and I are very different. We had different values to begin with, so I feel that we will not have the same ending."

She nodded.

"Do you want to prevent me from committing suicide as well?" I asked softly.

"We would rather kill you than have you kill yourself. It was an embarrassment when Rosier took his own life only moments before we had a chance."

"How long ago was it?"

"Two years, when I first started. I was the one to kill him, you know. It was my first assignment." Her eyes glowed with anger. It was so obvious she still held a grudge against Vaughn and personally took offence to his decision.

"Why do you enjoy killing?" I asked suddenly, leaning forward eagerly to hear the answer. Surely this was one thing that I would never be able to understand.

"Torture is preferable," she began, her eyes growing large with excitement as she launched into her story. "You have this knowledge that they deserve to die, and you want to make them suffer so, so much for it. Just using the Killing Curse isn't enough. Surely that isn't punishment for someone with tainted blood, or a traitor… And, as you torture, you get this energy, this indescribable but perfect feeling of power. And you never want to stop. And you don't – until they die."

Why was I nodding? Why wasn't I horrified? Surely that speech should not have made the least bit of sense. If I knew anything at all I should have stood up right that moment and refused to become a Death Eater. But something was pulling me forward, as depthless, eerie, and beautiful as Bella's eyes.

Bella? Where had that name come from? I blinked to clear my thoughts, but to no avail. I couldn't help but think she was right, in her own way. I knew she believed what she said completely.

"Why don't you want to become one of my Lord's followers?" she asked softly, her voice haunting.

I stared at her for a moment, and then slowly began to answer, "I don't think I completely believe in pureblood supremacy yet."

"You don't?" she said, her voice falsely calm. Her eyes flashed with anger, and I knew she felt I had said something terrible, treasonous. "Well, I can't imagine feeling that way myself. Surely Muggles don't deserve to live. They can't even do magic."

Her voice was hypnotic. I found myself nodding, understanding. I could understand everything when she said it, because I knew she believed it so fully.

"And Mudbloods are barely higher. They can't possibly really be magical, not if their parents are Muggles. How can a person of magical race be descended from one so impure?"

Nodding. It felt like all I could do. How could I disagree with her?

I forced the question out, since it was so incredibly vital, "What makes you loyal? Your beliefs?"

"I would die for my Lord's cause, and I would do anything for him. It isn't just what I believe in. It's so much more than that. You have to find someone or something you would do anything for, and then you'll never waver."

Her words clicked in my mind. Perhaps that was it. That was the way it would be possible. Because there was one single person who I would die for, although it might not have been the likeliest person.

I stared at her glowing, passionate eyes and knew just how much I should hate her. And yet there was an undeniable attraction, and I couldn't help think it was fate.

I thought carefully about my decision as I continued my scrutiny. Maybe I still couldn't be fully trusted, but if the Dark Lord searched my mind and found I was loyal to his most faithful servant – and thus to him – he might let that be enough.

I wouldn't stray, and I knew that completely. I had no idea how I had arrived at that decision. After hours and hours of pain and contemplation, the answer had come so clearly, as if it had been there all along.