Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or ideas which you recognise as being from JK Rowling's Harry Potter series or any other trademarked or copyrighted work. The plot of this story is my own, but I have no intention of making any money from it.
WARNING:
THIS IS THE DARKEST CHAPTER IN THE STORY. IF YOU DISLIKE EXPLICIT TORTURE, ESPECIALLY OF CHILDREN, DO NOT READ PAST THE WARNING PART WAY THROUGH THIS CHAPTER. CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 17. YOU WILL NOT MISS MUCH PLOT-WISE - IT'S MORE FOR EXTRANEOUS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT.
I cannot emphasise this enough. This is not going to be pretty. You might have noticed that I've changed the rating on this story. I wasn't expecting it to get quite this dark until I suddenly found myself writing it. Please, please, take this warning. Don't flame me if you don't like it.
Chapter 16
Saturday evening, 11:45 pm. Helena (as she was now thinking of herself) and Severus sat together on her settee, mindlessly watching some sort of comedy show. The man on the television was garnering giggles aplenty from the audience in the auditorium where he stood, but the audience in this particular flat was silent and tense. Occasionally, their eyes would meet, and one or the other of them would relax their posture slightly, before slowly tensing up again.
Helena glanced occasionally at the clock on the wall. Supposedly, they were to have been summoned by 10:30.
"Is it usual for him to be this late?"
"Yes. He doesn't believe in being predictable."
"All right."
Silence reigned once more.
It was almost one in the morning when Severus suddenly winced, and clutched his arm. All traces of the tiredness which had been creeping over Helena vanished suddenly as she jumped to her feet.
"It's time?" she asked.
He nodded. "We'll be all right, I promise. Just keep calm. Your occlumency is good, and my barriers will hold."
She nodded. "I trust you."
They clasped hands, and Severus shut his eyes. Suddenly they found themselves on the crest of a grey hill. Helena shivered, but not from the cold, though it was a chilly night. They were surrounded by black robed figures, hoods pulled over their heads, though they wore no masks. Each cloak had a very fine green trim around the hood and edge of the cloak.
"The inner circle," whispered Severus.
In front of them stood the ugliest, most terrifying creature Helena had ever seen. Lord Voldemort's eyes were blood red, his limbs long and ungainly, and his skin as grey and mottled as a snake's. He sat on some sort of throne, which appeared to be made out of some sort of blackened wood, matching the long, dark wand which he clutched in one spindly hand. The part of Helena which used to be known as Hermione (deeply buried, hidden behind layers and layers of her own and Severus' barriers) had a sudden incongruous thought - Dictators and kitsch. Why? - but she suppressed it.
She could not, however, suppress the shudder of revulsion and fear which passed through her at the sight of Lord Voldemort. However, following Severus' example, she prostrated herself before him (though she felt very uncomfortable baring her neck to this monster) and murmured "My lord."
"Ssso, Ssseverus," he hissed. "You have brought me the girl."
Snape stood. "My lord, she wishes to serve you as well as she is able."
"Do you?"
Realising that this was addressed to her, Helena began to speak, without looking up. (This was partly to appear subservient, but more to put off the dreaded moment of Legilimency as long as possible.) She hardly knew what she was saying, but then, ad-libbing impromptu speeches in the House of Commons had always been her speciality.
"My lord, I wish to serve you in any way I can. I know that your cause is to rid the world of Muggle scum, and I feel that this is good. Yes, my mother polluted the purity of my bloodline by mating with a Muggle, but I wish to recant that wrong, get rid of all the Mudbloods who are stealing magic from rightful witches and wizards. Muggles must be put into their place, below wizards. I know that my blood makes me unworthy to serve, which is why I did not come forward before, but please, allow me to help in any way which I may be able."
There was a pause. "Look at me."
Hermione looked up, into those terrifying red eyes.
She screamed, suddenly, as she felt his invasion into her mind with all the customary pain which a hostile search implied, but her barriers held. She felt as Voldemort rifled through, searching for signs of betrayal. He found only the frustration and contempt she felt as she sat at work (entirely real), the anger which suffused her entire being (also very real, though not usually directed at Muggles) and a fabricated backstory of a lonely child who had learned magic only to be kicked out by magical relations for being impure, and spurned by Muggles because she could never fit in. She had tried to gain power by another means, working for the Muggle government because she had no connections in Wizarding London, but was failing, finding herself frustrated and angry. So much anger... She showed him the entire process of creating golems in order to destroy them to assuage her anger, using her Muggle knowledge to destroy them... false memories of sending Golems onto the streets, killing unsuspecting Muggles late at night...
The connection broke. "I see your fear, but also your anger, child." That endearment coming from the lips of the Dark Lord was almost scarier than if he had shouted.
There was a sudden infringement from the circle. Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, golden hair glowing in the light from the glittering moon which illuminated the night sky.
"My lord, how can she serve? She is but a foolish, impure Mudblood. Just because Severus is sleeping with her..."
"Crucio." Voldemort hissed, and suddenly Malfoy was on the floor, face contorting with pain. Ignoring his whimpers, Voldemort turned back to Helena. "However unwise his speaking out of turn may have been, Lucius has a point. What can you offer me?"
Knowing what he wanted to see, she stood up, taking with her a clod of earth in her left hand. Taking a deep breath to clear her mind of her growing headache, she removed the memory of Malfoy Sr. convulsing on the ground from her mind with the tip of her wand, and combined it with the earth. Muttering under her breath, she set the earth to spinning in mid-air, growing and pulsing all the while until a perfect replica of Malfoy, groaning and crying, lay on the ground at the feet of the Dark Lord. The real Malfoy, who by now had regained his feet and his place in the circle, looked murderous. A chorus of evil laughter went around the circle, as Malfoy-on-the-floor gave a particularly pathetic whimper.
"He cries like a girl," called a voice, but whose, Helena could not discern.
The laughter intensified, to the rage and shame of Malfoy, until Voldemort, who was still staring at the golem with something like calculation on his snakelike face, silently held up a hand and it stopped instantaneously, leaving a ringing silence in its place.
"Interesting," said the Dark Lord.
Helena felt Severus tense from where he stood beside her. Clearly, that could be either good or bad.
Voldemort's eyes met Helena's. "How far can you manipulate this creature?"
Somehow knowing what she wanted, Helena waved her wand at the Malfoy golem. It stood, suddenly, raising a facsimile wand and shouting "Pyrros!". A bush nearby caught fire.
"Interesting," was all the response she got.
"My Lord, I have studied the technique in Helena's mind, and I cannot replicate it."
"Silence, Severus." There was a note of warning in the tone, but Voldemort did sound interested nonetheless. "Is this true, Helena?"
"My Lord, I do not know why, but apparently it is my affinity for Mud through my Mudblood heritage which allows me this control. I know that this makes them unworthy tools of an unworthy creature in your employ, but please allow me to use these to destroy the Muggles."
There was some chuckling from the circle at this.
"My dear, your creatures may prove very useful indeed." Two endearments from Voldemort in the space of ten minutes! Helena suppressed another shudder. "How many can you control at once?"
"Twenty seven, my Lord. But with the correct pre-programming, telling them what to do in advance, I can control up to two hundred using a pensive." He knew all this from her memories anyway – what was the harm?
Voldemort nodded. "I know, you speak the truth. I saw it in your mind."
There was a pause. The twenty or so people surrounding them were silent as the grave, though as the pause lengthened, Helena was aware of wands being very quietly drawn, in preparation for what they felt sure was to come next.
Voldemort rose from his chair, clearly ready to make an announcement. "I have looked into Helena's mind, and found her worthy. She will therefore join our brethren."
The woman sighed with relief, pasting a smile onto her face.
There was an intake of breath from the circle, but no-one interrupted. Voldemort nodded to Bellatrix Lestrange, who gave a sort of half curtsey, sneered at Hermione and Severus, then disapparated.
"Severus, you may act as her sponsor."
"Thank you, my Lord." He stepped forward from his place in the circle, to which he had retreated during the golem demonstrations.
"Kneel," said the Dark Lord.
Helena knelt on the ground. She had been instructed on the ritual by Severus beforehand, so knew what her responses should be.
"Do you wish to join the circle of Death Eaters?" asked Voldemort, standing before her.
"I do."
Severus raised his wand, and a circle of white light surrounded her left wrist, which she held aloft, palm up.
"Will you follow the orders of Lord Voldemort, for the advancement of his cause, at all times?"
"I will." A circle of red light surrounded the white.
"Would you die for Lord Voldemort?"
"I would." A green band completed the perverse halo.
Severus then tapped his wand to Helena's wrist, making a shallow cut of about an inch just above the vein. The blood welling up was held in place by the circles of light.
It was at that moment that there was a crack of Apparition and Bellatrix returned, dragging with her a small boy of about ten years old, wrapped in black ropes. He was screaming silently, obviously having been spelled quiet, but the fear in his eyes was real.
"I dealt with the Muggle scum parents," she cackled evilly. "Thought I'd leave the kid for Andrews. See how real all that devotion is, hah!"
"Thank you, Bella," said Voldemort icily. Cowed, she returned to her place, but not before removing the silencing charm.
The boy's screams rent the air, before Severus, with a nonchalant wave of his wand, silenced them again. Tears ran down the chubby little face.
"I dislike scenes. Kill it," said Severus, with less emotion than she had ever seen on his narrow face.
WARNING: IF YOU ARE AT ALL OF A NERVOUS DISPOSITION OR DISLIKE TORTURE OR BLOOD, DO NOT READ THIS NEXT PART. CONTINUE TO THE NEXT CHAPTER. I CANNOT EMPHASISE STRONGLY ENOUGH THAT THIS IS NOT NICE. AND DEFINITELY NOT FOR CHILDREN.
"No," interrupted Voldemort. Hermione looked at him in shock: this interruption had not been expected. "I want to see how deep that loyalty really runs," continued the Dark Lord. "Cast the Cruciatus Curse."
Helena looked at the boy. He was blonde, blue eyed. Beautiful, innocent. How could she? She had been trying for the past week to get herself to accept the idea of murdering quickly another human being in order to complete the ritual, but torture? Of this small, innocent boy?
If she did not, then Voldemort would suspect her of treachery, and kill her. Severus, too, would be punished severely for having brought him a traitor. Even if Voldemort did not plunder her mind of its secrets, the Order would never be able to find the others in time for Election Night.
On the other hand, there was the life of this beautiful, golden boy. Could she really, even for all that, torture him because he had the misfortune to be born without magic? Surely, that would tear her soul more certainly than a simple murder.
There was a sudden high-pitched cackle from Lestrange. "She can't do it! My Lord, she does not truly serve!"
Helena found, suddenly, that there was no choice at all.
"Crucio!"
In that second, Hermione chose her cause over her soul.
The boy's pain broke suddenly through the silencing charms. The screaming once again filled her ears.
It seemed to go on and on for hours. Only the solidity of Severus next to her kept Helena upright. As she cast with her right, wand hand, she felt her left arm burning, but it was nothing to the physical pain she felt throughout herself at this atrocity.
"Enough," said Voldemort, holding up a hand. She stopped the curse, panting. The ropes around the boy dissolved at a wave of the Dark Lord's hand, and he lay in a cowering, catatonic heap. "Well done, Helena. Now, you may kill it. Do it inventively, if you please. Or perhaps, I should give it to my loyal Death Eaters. Rodolphus, I know that you enjoy making Muggle children scream, perhaps you would like to show Helena your knives?"
"With pleasure, my Lord," said a short, lean man, stepping forward with an expression of lust and depravity, opening his cloak to reveal a set of sharp looking instruments. "This one's skin would go so beautifully bruised, so easily! The blood, so red, and young and glorious! And I could keep him alive for days!"
Helena knew, all of a sudden, that she was not letting this paedophilic sadist anywhere near that poor boy, whatever she had to do.
"My Lord, please, allow me to finish the show! I believe that I can be inventive enough to entertain, given the chance." Helena felt, rather than saw, Severus stiffen.
"Go on, then," said Lord Voldemort, raising one eyebrow. Rodolphus stepped back, looking rather put out.
Hermione raised her wand, begging the forgiveness of any deities which might still hear her. "Imperio!"
She did her best to make the boy's brain as fogged up and fuzzy as possible as she cast.
The golden haired child sat up, eyes blank.
He picked up a rock from the floor next to him. It was about the size of Hermione's fist, too big for one little hand so he held it in both.
The blue eyes remained blank as the toddler hit himself in the head with the rock.
Again.
His nose broke.
And again.
The golden curls were stained a dark, accusatory red.
And again.
The Death Eaters jeered as the blood ran down his face. "Good show," called one.
"Aim for lower down," called another.
Hermione winced, but motioned with her wand.
The boy began to hit not only his head.
A sharp blow to the stomach had him splitting blood.
Severus took her hand and squeezed it.
The small boy hit himself in the groin, muffling his own scream of pain with a hit to the mouth which knocked out his few teeth.
It took far too little time for his skull to give in.
Vaguely, as through through a distant haze, Hermione heard Voldemort declaim the final words of the ritual, binding her to him forever through the Dark Mark.
"So be it," he said.
Helena didn't recall any more, but that was a blessing. As she closed her eyes and succumbed to the blackness of magical exhaustion, she tried to blank out those accusatory blue eyes.