Disclaimer: This story and characters do not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.
Warning: Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrance in the dark side, please keep that in mind.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the chapter!
I am the son
and the heir
of a shyness
that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
of nothing in particular.
Chapter 2
Nobody noticed the cautious and silent steps that were walking toward the meeting room. However, when seeing the arrogant figure of the most loyal of all death eaters, everyone would stop without looking at him, turning their paths or simply ignoring him. Some would dare throw looks of resentment and envy, though only those who did not possess a brain to ponder on what they were doing.
The figure smiled with insolence to the curtseys given to him by the useless apprentices. They admired him and adopted him as a kind of… example to follow in their path of loyalty to the Dark Lord. He hated the mere idea of being admired because of simple rumors that spread across the hallways of the fortress of the Dark Order. Filldeserp wanted respect by those who could consider themselves as equals to him, and to provoke intimidation to the weak. He had power over them, and in that way everything was much easier. He did not wish to be admired by weak, only they would allow themselves to be surprised by the most basic. Idiots.
His elegant silver robe fluttered dramatically behind him. One of the high death eaters groaned because of this, upset because of what he considered ridicule. Filldeserp dedicated him a mocking smile, but always maintaining his proud pose. The death eater held his gaze for a couple of seconds, before drifting his eyes nervously toward anything that could be remotely interesting. To this, the Dark Lord's protégé laughed softly and continued his walk to the meeting room.
Why was that death eater not able to hold visual contact? It was obvious. No one could resist those dark green eyes staring with authority to their person. It made them feel invaded, even spied upon, as if Filldeserp always knew what they were thinking, or if they were hiding something. As much as they knew they had not failed at anything, it incited a feeling of… insecurity… No. Weakness.
Only the Dark Lord could respond to the intensity of those eyes. None had any reason to fear the other, they owed each other trust and respect, and that is what made Potter an incomparable death eater. It did not matter how much effort anyone put into it, they would never catch Voldemort's attention the same way as the brat who had done it from the beginning. They would never reach such familiarity. Because that was what held together those two old enemies, Potter was the perfect heir according to the Lord… Similar pasts, simultaneous presents, and parallel futures.
The mere idea of having to venerate Filldeserp as a "young" master altered the mood of the most veteran death eaters. But they could do nothing about it. It was a direct order from the Dark Lord. Besides, those who dared defy the orders of Dumbledore's previous golden boy suffered severe consequences. Many still remembered when the boy, of only nineteen years old, was baptized as Filldeserp five years previously, and how there had been one person who had opposed to his title. He was punished in front of everyone so they would learn not to defy the Dark lord… Tortured, humiliated and murdered in the bloodiest way that Potter could think of at that moment.
It was that image of torture what stopped the death eaters of even thinking on betraying Voldemort. They knew there was no person who could escape the punishment. However, that was discovered throughout the years, nothing was immediate.
Filldeserp entered the room stealthily, although, as he was expected, his entrance did not go unnoticed. He received four looks filled with hatred and a pleased smile. He bowed slightly to his Lord before placing himself on the privileged spot: on the chair to the right of the Dark Lord. He browsed the table, recognizing the four death eaters present. Bellatrix Lestrange (to his sorrow, he had never been able to take full revenge, although he did enjoy several torture sessions to the bitch by his own hand, given to him by his Lord), Draco Malfoy (who had dignifiedly followed the –contaminated- steps of his father), Anthony Goldstein (a Ravenclaw fanatic of the Dark Arts, if asked), and Megan Jones (her specialty? Being the spy to the Order of the Phoenix).
The only Gryffindor present knew very well the topic of discussion of that private meeting: a revision of the plans on the attack to Diagon Alley, which would be executed that same evening. For him, it would be his first public appearance since May. He was anxious to let out all his adrenaline on those useless and stubborn people who still believed in Dumbledore's words. He also thought it would be fun to see again the faces of those pathetic aurors. As if they could be defied…!
In the end, the five death eaters present would be leaders of five planned attack groups, which would then spread throughout the area. The most experienced group would be led by Harry, and it would handle the central area of Diagon Alley; the most difficult of all the divisions. The other four would place themselves on the four cardinal directions. There would be no way for anyone to escape, as it was well known that nobody could apparate or disapparate from the area, although everything was possible with the Dark Arts.
"Well, since we are all present, we can begin…" Voldemort proposed, fixing his red eyes upon each of his five followers.
They discussed for over half an hour the different possibilities and situations that could present during the attack, the best ways to set the alarms and disapparate, and of course, the panic strategy. They discussed what would be the best curses and spells that they could use, being the unforgivable curses their favorites, and which members of the Ministry they would attempt to kidnap. The list of people who opposed the Dark Lord decreased every time, although those who remained unperturbed were the most dangerous. The main ones being obviously Dumbledore and Longbottom, together with some aurors…
Nevertheless, they would not last much longer. They did not possess the means to win the war. Longbottom, the great auror? Filldeserp had to held back a chuckle. In all of their years at Hogwarts, he would not have expected that of poor Neville. The way things changed… He was equally sure that Longbottom had no idea what he was in for. He would soon discover it and the magical community would fall. Neville Longbottom, the hero? Ha! The trash people had in their heads!
"You know when and where to go, and you also know what you have to do not to disappoint me." Voldemort expressed his warning in each of his words. He would not tolerate any mistakes on the actual attack. "You may all leave, except for you, Filldeserp."
He nodded with obedience while the rest took the reports and parchments from the table and left the room without making a sound. They had learned not to disturb the peacefulness of the place, and Harry smiled satisfied with the notion. That day he was in a bright mood, something that Voldemort did not take long noticing.
"I see you carry good news, Harry." The young Potter raised his eyebrows, but he made no comment. He did not like to hear his real name, but coming from his Lord, it lacked importance.
"I do not think so, my Lord." He sighed, resigned, letting go of his cheerfulness and now facing Voldemort with seriousness. "Three death eaters were captured by the Ministry during the last attack." Voldemort's eyes flashed with hatred. "However, the number is very… ideal considering what it could have been."
"What are you saying, Filldeserp?"
"Ten death eaters more were about to be captured by the Ministry, but they managed to escape thanks to the cooperation of Gilbert Whimple from the inside."
"Who were the ones captured?" Harry hesitated in responding.
"Jugson, Cornfoot, and Branstone…"
"Cornfoot?" Repeated Voldemort slowly.
"According to the information I received from the Ministry, Jugson and Branstone have refused to make any statement." Filldeserp continued, choosing to first deliver the "good" news. "They have most likely been made prisoners by now… But Cornfoot, the coward, has accepted a deal."
"And when is his statement being taken?"
"Tomorrow. First appointment of the day." Voldemort looked at his apprentice thoughtful, and he held his gaze, showing respect at the same time.
"Do you think you can eliminate him before that time, Filldeserp?"
The dark green eyes shined strangely to the proposal. Maybe because of the pleasure or because of the challenge that the mission meant: To sneak into the hallways of the Ministry toward the provisional cell of the death eater, and sanction him for his betrayal. He had done it a couple times, although in most cases Voldemort preferred to be present during the torture, so he usually would send one of his loyal death eaters on a kidnapping assignment. To send Filldeserp directly would mean to assassinate the man right in the heart of the Ministry without them noticing it until the next morning. Voldemort most likely wanted the affair to be dealt quickly because of how close the statement time was to the attack to Diagon Alley on that same night.
"Do you doubt the perfect outcome of my missions, my Lord?" Answered Filldeserp with a prideful smile that indirectly informed Voldemort of how pleased he was by the order he was given.
"Of course not, my heir." Voldemort returned the smile. "Just be careful. We do not need any inconveniences before the attack tonight, understood?"
"I will be on time, Tom. I do not know what you are worrying about…"
There were certain occasions when 'my Lord' sounded too formal to speak in private with Voldemort, knowing how much trust there was between the two of them. It was during their old night conversations while at Hogwarts, around the time when Harry finally began fixing his loyalty to the Dark Side, when 'Voldemort' began breaking down to 'Tom.' He only used it when the situation was not serious and obviously, when he was sure nobody was listening. He did not want to humiliate his Lord.
"Do not disappoint me, Filldeserp. If you fail, I do not know in who else I could trust with such a vital mission…"
The young man nodded serenely and when he showed signs of standing up and do the usual curtsy, Voldemort put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Green eyes observed him, surprised and then patiently.
"Happy birthday, Harry."
He stared at Voldemort intensely, mentally choosing his response to the congratulations. He really was not expecting a reminder of it. It was true that his Lord had always remembered in previous occasions, but he thought this year would be different considering all the complications that the 31st of July was bringing.
Nevertheless, when he finally decided to respond, his lord interrupted him again.
"You deserve a present, just as in previous occasions. The first time, I gave you the link with Nagini, with all of its properties." The Dark Lord began listing. "The second time, your official designation… The third and fourth, I granted you special access to the libraries in the fortress, where you perfected your training." He smiled with pride. "During the fifth time, I granted you the execution of Wormtail; and last year, you earned the legendary sword of the Slytherin family…"
Harry remembered each one of those presents. Since his eighteenth birthday, Nagini had become his inseparable companion in missions like the one he would have to accomplish that same afternoon at the ministry, when team work and stealth were essential. His official designation (when he had also done his first punishment to death eaters) was a great ceremony and a pleasant surprise. It gave him the respect that he had longed for from the death eaters and the Magical Community, that did not take long in discovering that the Boy Who Lived was now the legitimate heir of the Dark Lord.
The Dark Arts that he learned between his twentieth and twenty-first birthdays were exclusive and incomparable knowledge. It was possible that only the Dark Lord and he knew of the existence of those charms, rituals and potions. Pure gems of dark magic. And then, Wormtail's torture and his following assassination under his hand were exquisite revenge. When the betraying rat gave its final breath, a fantastic delight pervaded Harry. He would soon get Bellatrix, but he would have to wait until his Lord did not need her anymore in his plans.
Nobody would doubt of the good use that Filldeserp gave to the sword of Slytherin. During his first year in the fortress, he was trained for all kinds of defense and attack. Thus, he was able to handle his sword perfectly… Although seeing his ferocious movements in person was a privilege that only certain enemies (now dead) had. He carried it with him at all times, though nobody knew it. Well, almost no one. Voldemort did.
What other gift could his Lord give him beyond what he already had?
"You have given great use to each one of them." Voldemort smiled. "I am sure you will to this year's as well…"
"What is it?"
Voldemort stood up and walked slowly to the old shelves in the back, to which many death eaters usually went to whenever they needed information for strategies. The Dark Lord directed his attention to the highest shelf and, after extending his right hand, a book with crimson cover made its way to him. It had an old and delicate aspect, as if it needed to be treated with care because it could fall apart if treated too harshly. By its cover, Harry could assume that nobody had read it in a long time.
Finally, Voldemort sat down again and gave the book to his protégé, who was looking at him questioning his gift.
"The eyes have mystical powers, Harry." The Lord explained. "You know how to handle most charms without a wand, and that could not be done without having developed a skill with the power in the eyes. In the old ages, the power in the pupils was referred to as Sharingan. With it, it can be seen through spells that change looks, invisibility, etcetera… and cancel them. Not only that, but techniques of your opponents can also be understood and imitated at the same time."
"All with your eyes?" Voldemort nodded, seeing that Harry understood.
"In this book the most effective and archaic techniques are revealed. Some very complicated, but I do not doubt you will be able to acquire them with ease. You should also perfect the powers of hypnosis, confusion, amnesia, incapacitation, and recovery. It is necessary not only to know how to damage physically, but also with the mind."
"I will take advantage of all this knowledge, Tom. You will see." Filldeserp stood up, holding the book with his right hand. Voldemort nodded with conformity.
After his bow, Voldemort's heir left the room, beginning to plan in his head his infiltration to the Ministry. It would be a very entertaining afternoon.
Filldeserp entered an old red phone booth with a lot of missing glass panels. He took the muggle phone that hanged twisted in the wall and began dialing a warped series of numbers. The usual female voice sounded inside the booth, questioning his identity and the reason for his visit. Smiling mockingly, he identified himself as Draco Malfoy, Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation.
The Ministry never learned… Security in the booth did not possess a good lie or advanced dark spells detector. They also had not improved their muggle technology, which could be noticed in the old aspect that the phone showed.
"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a good day."
Ha! More proof that they had no idea what awaited them… The 31st of July would never be a peaceful day, he had promised it on his seventeenth birthday.
He took the distinctive badge and placed it on his delicate robe. He rejoiced in the idea of getting Malfoy into trouble by entering under his name during unsuitable hours for his department, although he had to be careful. After they found the death eater's corpse, they would examine all the registered names that had entered during the day. Each one of them would be looked into and blah, blah, blah… The Lord did not want known where Malfoy's loyalty truly lied.
After exiting the booth and observing his reflection at one of the walls in the Atrium, he applied on himself the provisional invisibility charms over his wand and weapons, and nullifying all abrupt sounds. Not that they were necessary, but it would be a catastrophe if a Head of Department burst into the ministry with a dagger in his hand. He also had the feeling that this afternoon would turn out very interesting for the espionage theme… He could take a trip to the aurors department…
He had to move naturally if he did not want to raise suspicion among the aurors patrolling. Certainly everyone knew the inexpressive and political attitude of Malfoy, and suddenly seeing him interested in an environment he rarely frequented would be… odd. More strange than it was for him to work camouflaged as Malfoy. He was disgusted by the idea of looking at himself in a mirror and seeing his reflection as a Malfoy. He was only doing it for the greatness of the Cause… Otherwise, he would have refused to apply a mirror spell on himself. Ugh…
The clone of Draco walked calmly to the elevator knowing beforehand that the boy pretending to play in the middle of the Atrium, stopping every now and then to contemplate the statues that decorated the place, was actually an auror disguised with polyjuice potion who observed every person entering and exiting the ministry. It was extremely obvious, because his brown eyes would notice every movement and had a glow of inevitable worry. Since when were four year old kids worried about death eaters? That was something he did not remember seeing the last time he had gone outside…
Once inside the elevator, he waited for it to stop on the second floor. There was not much time. If he wanted to get some information out of the Auror Department he would have to do it now as otherwise, after his return, everyone would most likely be gone for the day. Some people stopped to greet him, but Filldeserp ignored them. Hopefully he was not ruining Malfoy's fabulous contacts…
He turned at a corner, passed by a set of thick double oak doors, and exited to a spacious and messy area divided in cubicles. All the doors were closed because the silence charms would not take effect otherwise. Filldeserp smiled instantly when he thought of how to overcome that small problem. He turned around to see if anyone was walking toward him. No one.
He whispered some words that would confuse anyone who did not know the language. He focused his attention in the power he was calling over himself and let magic flow accordingly. A strong feeling of energy flowed through his veins in those few fractions of a second. Then it all stopped, but he knew he had achieved it, as with everything he propounded.
He had transformed himself into an invisible specter, with the power to walk through solid objects. He mentally smiled. The gems that Dark Magic always provided him…
He walked through the wall that separated the Auror Department. The indescribable sensation that overwhelmed him was uncanny. He felt both dead and alive at the same time, as if he was nothing and everything simultaneously, corporeal but ethereal… He could perceive how every single solid particle invisibly dispersed in his path. It was abnormal, but wonderful. He had power over it.
He focused again on the consistent reality. He noticed with surprise that he was now in front of Dumbledore's golden trio. Longbottom, Granger, and Weasley, arguing about something that, by the looks of it, made them feel very uncomfortable. He felt nothing when he saw his previous best friends. Absolutely nothing. As if he had never met them or knew anything about them
What he felt was rejoice in noticing that neither of the three had discerned his presence. Any powerful witch or wizard powerful enough should have noticed the change of air in the environment. They had to have noticed that it was contaminated by Dark Arts. That only showed that they were a group of incompetent aurors, dominated by the old geezer.
He listened to them talk about the attack on the muggle town, the death eaters they had captured, the fear he brought about in the death eaters (he smiled with pride) and what they thought about him… Bah. Mere nonsense. In the mean time, he had gone through the files they possessed there and the last suspects they had on dark activity. They did not possess even a fifth of the truth. Disappointing, as usual.
He left the Department, walking through the wall once more. He made the specter curse disappear and promptly placed again upon himself the mirror charms, his appearance showing a bored Draco Malfoy. He had thought that spying on the aurors would be more entertaining… Bah. He was about to get the real fun: take revenge on a traitor.
Once more he made his way to the elevator, ignoring the polite greetings from most. For a moment he thought Malfoy had some friendships that were rather… erm… unusual, because the warmest greetings came from extremely formal men. He had to hold back a mocking smile while leaning onto the elevator's wall. The notion of Malfoy being bisexual would not surprise him…
He waited about fifteen minutes until the muggle machine finally arrived to where he wanted to go: the forbidden dungeons. Once he exited the elevator, it immediately disappeared, leaving him theoretically without a way out. Interesting… As if he had not been there before.
There were no doors to the sides, only one long hallway, without any windows or light. Any ignorant would pull out their wand and call for a lumos spell, if it did not activate the alarms. The aurors that patrolled possessed a special object that would guide them through that particular darkness, though not an intruder.
Filldeserp walked along the hallway for several minutes. His steps were monotonous and did not produce any sound. He was not anxious or in a hurry; he knew he had more than enough time to finish the mission. The death eaters could begin the attack to Diagon Alley on their own, he would arrive to give the final strike; his Lord had authorized his delay.
He stopped in front of the oak door reinforced with magical shields of the lightest magic. When they clashed against his own (which were naturally active), there was no negative reaction, the door simply opened with a slight squeak. Before him was what the Ministry called the "death eaters prison," the recently added replacement for Azkaban. Ha.
He had to admit that from the inside of these cells it would be extremely difficult to escape. Magic was nullified for the prisoners and any muggle means of escape could be completely disregarded. However, it was more than easy to escape if someone from the outside, who knew where he was walking, cooperated with you. Nobody had escaped yet… Because nobody had deserved to be forgiven by the Lord. Nobody behind those bars was a transcendental death eater.
The first cells held new death eaters, condemned for trivial crimes. From there, the deeper you walked in, the more dangerous the person behind the bars. He knew were Cornfoot was: medium risk.
He went toward that section. He exchanged looks with several familiar faces, some bringing him back memories. He once more controlled his emotions behind his unaffected mask, preparing himself for the sweet torture he would execute just a few minutes later. Effectively. His grey eyes stopped looking around once they met with the black eyes of the traitor who was staring at him with interest.
Cornfoot looked depressing, although Harry did not stop to feel pity for him. On the floor, having lost all dignity and loyalty to his own, he was merely another pathetic rat who thought he could escape the Punishment. How naive. They underestimated the Dark Lord, a mistake which would always cost them their lives.
"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Did you come to mock me as if you were better than me?" The death eater whispered so that only Harry could hear him. The Dark Lord's protégé could not help a wicked smile.
"I would have wasted a lot of time for nothing if I had just come down here to mock you, don't you think?" He answered without moving from his spot.
"Then… Are you the one He sent to torture me?"
"Correct."
"You?" Cornfoot's voice could have had some irony, but he was too much of an idiot to accomplish it.
"Me."
Cornfoot frowned. That was not the usual way in which Draco Malfoy answered his insults. He always had a comeback, demanded respect he did not deserve, and boasted of having power over him. He would definitely not remain quiet to a direct insult. What was happening?
"Are you okay Malfoy? You seem different…"
"Is being locked affecting you or have you finally realized how blind you are?" Replied Harry under the blond's appearance.
"You are an idiot, Malfoy. Do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will give you a reward for this mission? We are only slaves, people who only do his dirty work. Nothing more."
"Just like the aurors who do the dirty work for Dumbledore. Tell me something I do not know, Cornfoot." Harry decided not to begin arguing ideas about the two remarkable figures in the magical world with that ungrateful man. It was not worth it.
"Well, I will tell you something you seem not to know. You are not armed. You cannot do anything to me."
"You underestimate me, traitor. "
"Really? Of what are you capable now, Malfoy? The last time I checked you could barely do a proper Expelliarmus…"
Harry placed all his attention on the facial expression of the death eater, he did not want to miss it. Smiling cynically, he got rid of all his mirror charms for the second time in the day. He stopped being the blond Draco Malfoy to be the authentic dark haired Harry Potter. His grey eyes took color and his facial features darkened more. During the process of transfiguration, that did not last more than fifteen seconds, Cornfoot recreated expressions of horror and panic. He could read in the eyes of Filldeserp his future; he did not need to be told. He was going to die.
"You said, Cornfoot?" Silence was his answer.
His pale lips curved in a smile full of evil, very similar to that often shown by Lord Voldemort. The death eater pulled back a couple of steps, until his back was against the back wall. Only a few feet separated him from his murderer, a distance that would not save him. He would have to be miles away from Filldeserp to even have a chance to restart everything…
With fear, he saw how Filldeserp pulled out his wand from his clothes. The detector in the door had not unfazed before his magical core; he was ready for that. The young man pointed with his wand directly at the traitor at the same time as the bars separating them disappeared as if they had never been there. A series of words in parselmouth and the world of the death eater broke into a thousand pieces.
Each part of his body began burning; his muscles contracted in anticipation to the pain. He began noticing how his main bones slowly broke. With legitimate weakness, he fell to his knees. But the pain that he was enduring was nothing to what awaited him.
His brain stopped thinking coherently (if it ever had done it). Nothing made any sense. His eyesight got blurry and cruel darkness embraced him. But something was keeping him conscious, or someone. He stopped listening and smelling. The only thing allowed was to feel.
Once his bones were rightly broken, he noticed that his pulse had accelerated. His heart was pumping more blood to his entire system because something was telling it that it was needed. In reality, he was just wasting energy because soon Cornfoot was covered by his own blood, with different wounds all over his body. Breathing became difficult because his longs were tired and bruised as they felt the pressure of his broken ribs.
But the worst came. The unimaginable. Cornfoot could not help but scream and scream of pain as he had never done before in his life. There was no way his body could stand so much torture and exhaustion. His broken bones, wounds all over his body, a massive blood loss, difficult breathing… Who could live much longer like that? WHO? Filldeserp was making sure that he was conscious until his last breath, the bastard…
'Overloaded' with blood, his veins and arteries began swelling. Little by little. It hurt, yes, it did… It felt as if his blood was leaving and oddly reentering again his system. It was suffocating. There was both more and less than enough liquid. Nevertheless, the Suffering went to the extreme when the first of his veins could not take it anymore and tore. Then the second, third… Fifth… Eight… He soon lost count.
The pain was uncomparable. It was as if teeth held unto his skin and pulled, tearing without mercy every inch of it. All of his body burned, it was insufferable. There was no position in which it did not hurt like hell. Numbness and sensations at the same time. He would have never imagined that his death would be so painful. Now he believed what death eaters said about Filldeserp capable of being worse than Voldemort. He did not even have consideration for the services of death eaters.
Filldeserp watched everything with pleasure and wickedness. Enjoying every expression of the traitor, every gasp, every plea that escaped his bruised lips… In normal conditions, he would have died already. But dark magic was favoring the Cause: a couple more minutes of life so that he could live longer than anyone had lasted. Cornfoot should feel flattered.
He walked the few steps that separated him from the death eater, looking at him with true hatred and repugnance while he saw him squirming on the floor. He pulled out a long and sharp dagger from his robes.
"Say goodbye to the world, Cornfoot. This is how someone pays treason, with blood and death." He grimed after saying such words.
His pulse did not shake when he stabbed the wizard right on the heart. The tip of it came out of the back. He remained for a few seconds admiring the blood that poured out of the body of his victim and then pulled back his favorite tool, the dagger bathed of purely red liquid. He observed Cornfoot give his last breath before falling to the ground. Lifeless.
With a simple spell, his dagger was clean of all evidence. He applied the mirror spells once more, and the dagger and his wand were both hidden again in his clothes. His bloody robes were transformed into new ones with a snap of his fingers, the original being sent back to the fortress where he would keep it as a souvenir of this mission.
He made his way to the elevator and decided to stop on the second floor. Everything seemed repetitive. He hated that the missions were so boring… Why couldn't the aurors discuss something that could have caught his attention? No, they had to talk of the past, mixing it with cheesiness.
The hallways were more deserted than the hour before. The attack to Diagon Alley had not begun, and if the aurors had already gone home, it would take them longer to attend the defense call. Everything was perfectly calculated.
Maybe only one fact had escaped his perfect equation. When he turned around the corner, he saw Hermione Granger walking toward him. Their gazes crossed each other. Hers examined him with disdain while his showed slight interest. He had to admit that his friend had a better look than before. Too bad she was wasted in the company of Longbottom and Weasley. Two real idiots. Only she was worthy on that trio; only she showed dignity, intelligence, and the courage necessary in the present.
Filldeserp decided to move a piece on that game: he smiled at Granger with a unique tone of wickedness. She looked at him oddly, picking up something unusual in the way in which he had smiled at her. That was not Malfoy's style. It was not his usual smile. But, then…
When Hermione followed him a couple of seconds later, Malfoy had already turned on the next corner. Instead of finding Draco walking in the direction of the cubicles, absolute nothingness welcomed her.
Malfoy had disapparated in the second floor of the Ministry, one of the most protected, and no alarms had gone off.
The sky was covered by black clouds that predicted a brutal storm. The wind was not very harsh, but it had its strength. It was a day too cold for it to be the middle of summer. Although perhaps not, if the events that would occur later in the day were taken into account. People walked into Diagon Alley without realizing the danger they were in; without feeling that the air they were breathing was impregnated with polluting expectation, foretelling destruction of innocent blood.
It was not until the attack order was given by the leaders of the five groups of death eaters that people began running in different directions and yelling in panic. Only a few brave pulled out their wands from their robes and began defending their people, but nobody came out of the initial shock fast enough. Thus, by the time retaliation began, they were strategically surrounded.
The Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix were informed of the attack immediately. However, reinforcement was late to arrive due to the barrier placed around the Alley.
Death eaters against aurors. Black and white robes stood out among the crowd, who attempted to shelter children with their own bodies, the weakest among those present. There was no exit, all had been blocked and it was impossible to disapparate. Not even portkeys could be used. Innocent people would to die, they all knew it.
Hermione, Ron and Neville were fighting shoulder to shoulder in the central area, the area where the Wizarding bank was located, among other important buildings, and where the main dark forces were concentrated. Beams of light went everywhere. They had to be very agile to avoid too powerful charms so that their shield would not stagger to the strength of their attack.
Soon the trio was surrounded by fifteen death eaters, whom had positioned them close together, leaving the three in the middle. They were together, each protecting the back of the other and with their wands pointing straight forward. Their white robes were stained with blood, both their own and of others. Bodies filled the ground of the Alley. The death eaters had gotten what they wanted: a massacre.
"Look who we have here… The golden trio." Mocked one of the death eaters. The voice was that of a female and it did not take them long to identify it as that of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Some death eaters had lost their masks, revealing their faces to the community. None was a real surprise, as obviously those who did not want to be registered guarded their masks.
"Save your words, Lestrange." Said Neville with defiance. The death eater laughed loudly.
"Do you think you can defeat us, Longbottom? You are either too powerful or too stupid to believe you can fight fifteen at the same time."
Right when Ron was about to respond, someone approached the circle of death eaters with arrogance. His robe was completely different compared to that of anyone else, in both sides. It was aristocratic, silver colored with decorations in green, in honor of Slytherin. His pale face was hidden behind no mask, he did not need it. His green eyes had a bitterly cold and threatening glow.
"How disappointing, Bella." Muttered Filldeserp in a mocking tone.
The trio of aurors placed their attention to the heir of Voldemort. It was obvious by his way of speaking and of confronting the death eater that he had confidence in himself and an odd authority over the death eaters. Some of them had stepped back in respect when they recognized him, while others observed him with apprehension. Both Neville and Ron held their wands more tightly, focusing on them all the hatred toward the person they had in front of them. Hermione could not believe what she was seeing. She could not believe what Harry had turned into.
"What is it that you want?" Bella glanced at Filldeser. "You always interfere in the fun, always ruining it…"
"You are a coward, Bella." Filldeserp said casually. "Fifteen against three, have you no dignity?"
"What do you know about dignity, traitor?!" Yelled Ron.
"We defend the honor of blood and power, and you go and round up three aurors just with numeric advantage… Disappointing." Said Filldeserp, ignoring Ron.
"It is not our problem if they don't have anyone to help them, Potter." Bellatrix counterattacked. "I think, instead, that the Lord will be very upset with you for defending your old friends. Because that's what they were, wasn't it?"
"I am not defending anyone, Bellatrix." Filldeserp muttered coldly. "I only protect the honor of the Dark Lord. I do not want rats like you dirtying it."
Filldeserp was not lying. In his mind there was no intention of saving the trio. Be the hero again? Ha! In their dreams… He only believed that if they were to be killed, it had to be with merit and not because they had abused of their ability and agility.
Harry did not feel anything when he exchanged looks with those who used to be his friends, just like in the ministry. There was no guilt or regret. Not even memories. They were no part of his current life, they were the stubborn element that opposed his Lord. In the past, they might have meant something to him, he would have died for them. But not anymore. In fact, killing them would not be such a bad idea…
"Do you think that the Dark Lord cares whether we have numeric advantage, Potter?" Spoke Bellatrix again, emphasizing once more on his real last name, something that extremely irritated Harry.
"You are a coward, Lestrange. Nothing more than that." Harry turned around to walk away from that place when Neville intervened in the conversation.
"And you are a hypocrite, Potter! You think you're better than Lestrange?" Harry turned to look at Neville right in the eyes.
"Yes, I do, Longbottom. I might by a hypocrite, but I do not hide behind a crowd of people nor am I dominated by the orders of a foolish old geezer."
"You are a bloody bastard! That's what you are! You obey a homicidal monster, who murdered your parents! Could you not have at least some guilt over that?! You betrayed your own blood!" Yelled Ron furious.
"The reasons why I betrayed my blood are of no concern of yours, Weasley. Besides, your small brain would not understand them. You are subdued to an illusion. Dumbledore will never win and his truth is only held by lies. The day you realize that I am right will be too late… You will see."
"You don't know what you're saying!" Squealed Granger, coming out of her reverie.
"Where is Dumbledore now, Hermione? Where is he? Do you see him fighting shoulder to shoulder with you, defending his people? Or is he in his pathetic headquarters, eating a lemon drop, waiting until you finish all the hard work, perhaps even dying to fulfill his tasks?" The death eaters laughed out loud at his speech.
"I do not see your Lord here either, Potter." Said Neville.
"He does not need to be here for such a simple attack." Filldeserp answered with ease. "Besides, he is always with us, even if you do not believe it." His green eyes glowed with slight insanity. "Only those who do not deserve his understanding ever die. But I do not think Dumbledore thinks anyone deserves his understanding, which is why there are less aurors, right?" With a mocking smile, he turned around and began walking on the opposite direction.
Neville could not take it any longer and threw a curse at Filldeserp, who did not even flinch to the attack on his back. A perfect shield of dark magic made the curse bounce. The dark wizard turned to face the auror, smiling viciously.
"An idealistic Gryffindor… How predictable…" Neville attacked again and his charms were avoided once more.
"Do you not think it is treacherous to attack from the back, Neville?" Said Harry.
There was no answer. The death eaters were eager for the duel to begin while Ron and Hermione observed the situation restless. Neville had not noticed yet, but Harry was doing magic without a wand.
"I will never be as treacherous as you. Heir to Voldemort? Is that where your ambition leads you, Potter?" The irony in Neville's voice was evident, but Harry showed no anger. He merely laughed. He laughed at Neville in an insolent way.
"Empty words, is that all you know how to say, Longbottom? I was hoping for something more from the star auror… From the hero who replaced me. You need more than endless chatter, Neville. You have much to learn. Hmm…" Filldeserp observed his surroundings thoughtfully. "I think we could start with the first lesson right now, don't you think?"
At the same time as Harry pulled his wand out of his robe, the death eaters moved around Ron and Hermione, keeping them away from Neville. The auror was in defensive position, focusing on predicting the first movement of his enemy. However, one thing he would learn that night was that Filldeserp was not predictable. Not anymore. The Dark Lord had taught him to be original with his movements and to change direction at the last second. To always play the element of surprise against his adversaries.
The first minutes of the duel between the two leaders of the opposing forces in that attack were based on trivial charms. Both were moving with authentic agility and aimed with accuracy. Little by little, the death eaters and aurors were paying more attention to that duel that promised to be to the death than to their own missions. The magical skill of both was impressive, even if Filldeserp had the advantage. He would use his wand to attack while with his left hand he would take care of creating shields. The focus that his green eyes were showing was frightening, and it seemed as if he could predict and counterattack every move Neville made.
The gravity of the curses intensified every minute. Neville, who was only using his wand, was precluded in some occasions from defending himself and he was the more wounded of the two. Harry had some superficial wounds, caused by the brush of some beams. Soon Filldeserp began recurring to the advanced Dark Arts and in some instances he would put his wand away to do some difficult incantation maneuvers.
It was not long until Neville found himself without his wand, which lay on the ground, a few feet from him. But Harry, instead of taking advantage of his condition, stopped doing magic and pulled out the same dagger he had used to kill Cornfoot.
The dagger was thin and slightly long. It had a mount to cover the hilt and quillons for parrying. It could be used not only to stab and hurt, but also to repel sword attacks from the opponent, or to dull the blade of a weapon. It was the perfect combination with a sword, but Filldeserp did not think necessary to wield one against Longbottom. The dagger would be enough.
Death eaters and aurors around them kept fighting, although they remained attentive to the events of the duel. It was clear that the dark side had the advantage. Not even the reinforcements that were arriving little by little could succeed on reducing too much the number of dark wizards. Death eaters would create portkeys and help their fallen members disapparate before the aurors had the opportunity to catch any of them.
Many saw with astonishment how the protégé of Voldemort attacked Neville with precision and the auror made a strenuous effort not to be stabbed. Without a weapon to defend himself, he was just dodging. Finally he could not avoid the attacks much longer and the dagger wounded his right arm. He lost the rhythm and soon was immobilized, with the cold steel grazing his neck. He held his breath while staring at those murderous and unaffected green eyes.
The death eaters were showing their eager smiles while the aurors and the members of the light observed the scene with terror. Both Ron and Hermione kept trying to get closer, but they were afraid of not making it on time. Of losing Neville, their friend.
"Do you still think that I am a coward and unskillful, Longbottom?" Whispered Filldeserp softly. Neville did not reply, he was more concentrated on recovering his breath.
"Leave him!" Yelled Hermione a few feet away from them. Desperation and distress were more than recognizable in her voice. Harry glanced at the girl, to then turn his sight back at Neville. The dagger still on his neck.
"The mudblood begs me to leave you, do you think I should listen to her, Neville? Mercy has a price. You challenged me, not the opposite. Why should I leave you alive?"
"You are just like him." Neville muttered, with his lips slightly purple. "You are his equal… his heir. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Harry?"
"I am only ashamed of your stupidity, Longbottom. Just that."
Everything happened really fast. Hermione and Ron, each on their own end, raised their wands at the same time and invoked two powerful offensive spells against Fillsederp. He raised his left hand to make Ron's spell turn back to his caster while with his right hand, he removed the dagger from its position and pointed with it at the beam coming from Hermione's wand, which divided in two and changed directions, hurting two aurors. Neville, who suddenly found himself without a dagger on his neck, got his wand back and pointed it shakily at Harry.
Ron was on the ground on his knees while Hermione watched dazed what was happening. Potter was looking at Longbottom, as if he was planning on killing him just with his sight, his dagger pointing at the ground. Bellatrix yelled something that sounded like 'finish him already, Potter!' but nobody paid attention to her. Not even Harry, who was always ready to ridicule her. Silence seemed indestructible with the passing of minutes. Nobody was moving, all eyes looking at Filldeserp and Longbottom.
It was then than a bolt of lightning flashed on the dark sky and it started raining heavily. Neville could not help but moan because of the pain that the rain drops provoked on his wounds. He gasped because of the effort that was taking him keep standing and looked at his enemy with resentment, who did not seem to want to put an end to it all. As if killing him was not yet something he wanted to do. But that was not what was happening. Harry was merely waiting for the auror's weakness to be too much for him to keep standing. He wanted to see him on the floor, humiliated.
It worked. The members of the light observed the image with sorrow while the death eaters smiled with pleasure. There was the clear proof that nobody could go against the Dark Lord or Filldeserp. No one. Nevertheless, the death eaters had hoped that their leader would kill Longbottom next. To their surprise, he raised his right hand to the air: the sign to retreat.
Some allowed themselves to make sounds of disapproval and anger, which was a bad idea as Filldeserp registered each one of the names who dared defy his order. After a dangerous look from his part, the rest of the four leaders also raised their hands.
Five seconds later there was no death eater standing on Diagon Alley.