Author's Note: I found out that I have another midterm next Friday, darn. But at least this one's math. I like math :)
Anyway, I'm really anxious to see what you guys think about this chapter. I wanted to reply to your reviews for the last chapter, but there are so many more than I'm used to. Thank you so much!
Chapter 37
I appear in the cavernous room, enchanted to accommodate all of the extra people in attendance today. Our numbers really have swelled enormously. I move swiftly to the table placed on a platform at one end of the room, where the Death Eaters closest to the Dark Lord sit. I take my place, standing behind my father, and nod to Theo, Vince, and Greg, all of whom have taken their places behind their fathers.
Aunt Bella sits to my father's left, in the first seat to the right of Voldemort's empty, high-backed chair. I look around at the members sitting at the table. To my father's right are Mulciber, Nott Sr., Avery, and Travers. Across the table, starting from Voldemort's left, are Macnair, Dolohov, Rowle, Crabbe Sr., Goyle Sr., and an empty chair that used to belong to Yaxley—as I think his name, I remember the moment when I took his life, in the Forbidden Forest.
The room is somewhat quiet, keeping to a low rumble as the occupants have their conversations.
"Where have you been?" Aunt Bella demands, turning her head to look at me. "I woke up in that cell and saw that you and the Mudblood were both gone. And I couldn't remember a damned thing."
I frown. "I woke up not an hour ago, same thing. Didn't remember a thing about what happened."
Aunt Bella looks worried, and I know that she believes me. Looks like the Memory Charm worked just fine.
"The Order must have come to rescue her," she says.
"I honestly can't see how they could have overpowered both of you without alerting the sentries outside. It'd take several very skilled duelists to defeat the two of you, and it's not easy to get past that many guards without being seen," Father says.
"A powerful Confundus Charm might have gotten them through. And Disillusionment Charms, of course," Aunt Bella theorizes.
"What did the sentries say?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "I haven't spoken to them yet."
"I have," Father says. "Their stories are inconsistent. I—"
His voice fades as a cloud of black smoke appears behind Voldemort's chair. The room rapidly falls silent as the Dark Lord materializes from the dark wisps. Impressive stillness fills the room—it's as though no one's even breathing anymore.
Voldemort looks around the table. "It's been some time since I summoned all of you here. Over a year, in fact. I still see you, some more than others, but it is… pleasant to have you all here. There are some arrangements to be made today, things that I should have dealt with some time ago. But first…"
He pauses and gets to his feet.
"…I want to see your faces."
As he finishes, he waves his hand once at the mass of Death Eaters standing at ground level in the crowded room, and their masks float away from their faces. Many Death Eaters look startled.
Then he's gliding down toward his followers.
"So many new faces. So many new recruits," he comments. "I am disappointed that so many, however, did not answer the call of the Mark. Take note of who among you is missing. Each absentee is to be executed on sight."
He strides fluidly among the crowd, looking at their faces. He pauses in front of one man.
"Why do you tremble?" he asks. When he receives no response, he says, "I asked you a question."
"I-I-I'm inti-ti-timidated, sir."
"Stuttering, gutless imbecile," Voldemort hisses, sneering.
He takes the man's wrist, draws up the sleeve, and presses his thumb to the Mark. The man gasps, terrified. Then the light fades from his eyes, and he falls to the ground.
"I have no use for him," Voldemort says, continuing his pace.
I notice two men moving through the crowd, trying to get to the exits—they must have realized by now that there is no way to Disapparate from this room.
"Leaving so soon, gentlemen?" the Dark Lord says in a low whisper that still echoes around the room.
Before there's any sort of response, a cloud of black smoke envelops one man, and then moves on to the other. They both crumple to the floor, lifeless.
"That is to remind you all of my presence," Voldemort says, reappearing at the head of the table.
Heads whip around to face him when they find the source of his voice.
He continues, "Let those three deaths remind you that though your Marks may not have been drawn by my own hand, once Marked, your lives belong to me."
The sea of Death Eaters falls to its knees as one.
"Yes, My Lord," the crowd thunders.
Voldemort takes his seat and gives them permission to stand.
"Now that's out of the way," he says. "I heard of an unfortunate event that occurred early this morning, in the Dartmoor camp."
Again, tension in the room rises, and it seems that everyone has heard about the escape.
There's only been one other successful escape, also the result of an inside job. Some former Hogwarts students were smuggled out by Oliver Wood. I had been surprised and a little doubtful when I found out that the Gryffindor had gone dark side. Turns out that my doubts weren't unfounded.
About a year and a half ago, only a month after the first escape, Mulciber caught Wood trying to release a second group of prisoners. He turned him in to Voldemort, whose rage was uncontrollable. The Dark Lord called a meeting, similar to this one, and punished him in front of all of his followers.
The punishment was severe, almost legendary, supposed to serve as a warning to anyone who might be considering betrayal. Wood was skinned alive, slowly and painfully, kept alive and conscious by some horrid spell that I didn't even know existed. Then his body was ripped apart, limb from limb. Finally, Voldemort allowed two Acromantulas into the room to fight over and eat the pieces.
Thankfully, I had been recovering from a skirmish and was allowed to miss that meeting. Aunt Bella described the whole episode in great detail, but hearing about it was much better than having to see it first hand, I'm sure.
Then Voldemort's voice reminds me of where I am.
"I'd hate to think that we have another traitor, but it's difficult to come to any other conclusion, given the circumstances," he says.
He snaps his fingers, and the eight sentries on duty this morning step out from the crowd and onto the platform, terrified that their bodies are moving without input from their minds. Then eight chairs appear, and they sit down facing the table, with their backs to the crowd. Chains extend from the back, arms, and legs of the chair, binding them in place.
"Bellatrix, Draco, the two of you were the last to enter the girl's cell, yes?"
Without any further prompting from Voldemort, I back away from the table and move around to stand in front of the eight sentries. Aunt Bella does the same, standing to my right. When we're strapped in as tightly as the guards behind us, Voldemort gives us a pained expression.
"It hurts me to even think that either of the two of you could possibly be involved in the Mudblood's escape. Zabini's disappearance is linked to hers, and as he was your best friend, the circumstances are not in your favor, Draco."
"I'm aware, My Lord," I say.
Voldemort nods. "Explain."
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves. I told Granger that I'd be back, so I will be back.
"Early this morning, my aunt and I went to torture Hermione Granger. When we arrived, nothing appeared out of the ordinary. I only got about one minute into torturing her, and that's all I can remember," I say, lying steadily.
I keep eye contact with Voldemort while I'm speaking, refusing to let my gaze waver. His expression is cold, calculating.
"Bellatrix, do you remember anything to the contrary?" he asks.
"No, My Lord."
After a brief pause, he addresses the leader of the sentries.
"Skellan, you were in charge yesterday. What do you remember?"
"I… I only remember rushing down and fighting. There were dozens—"
"Dozens?" he repeats softly, a mocking expression crossing his face. "And how, may I ask, did dozens of enemies slip by you and your team?"
"I… I don't know, My Lord. It's all I can remember," Skellan says.
"Clearly, someone in the Order is talented with Memory Charms," Voldemort muses. "Bellatrix, when you awoke, what did you see?"
Aunt Bella clears her throat before speaking. "There was blood all over the ground. My wand was discarded by my feet. I was alone in the cell—the Mudblood was already gone, as was Draco."
Hisses and murmurs sound throughout the crowd, but I can only pick out one word.
Traitor.
"Silence," Voldemort hisses, and the room quiets down obediently. "What was outside?"
"All of the sentries were unconscious, and the door to Zabini's cell was open," Aunt Bella reports. "I saw nothing else."
"It appears that all suspicion falls upon you, Draco," Voldemort says sternly. "Where did you go?"
"I didn't wake up in the cell—I was in the middle of a field. I don't remember how I got there," I lie. "I presume that I chased some member of the Order and may have been taken by Side-Along Apparition when they tried to escape."
Voldemort frowns at me, but I don't falter. His eyes shift to Aunt Bella, and they maintain eye contact for a long moment. A heavy silence falls over the room.
Finally, the chains around Aunt Bella retract into the chair, and she gets to her feet.
"Return to your seat," Voldemort commands.
She does so quickly and silently. I look up to meet the Dark Lord's eyes.
"You and your godfather may not be related by blood, but you possess the same talent. I cannot trust you to open your mind fully," he says, shaking his head.
"Is that your verdict, then?" I ask.
Another long, pregnant silence settles over the room. I force all doubtful thoughts out of my head, waiting for Voldemort to enter my mind. But although we keep eye contact, he stays out. I start to get the feeling that he's waiting for me to break or simply admit that I'm a traitor. Well fuck, he's not going to get the answer out of me that way.
Finally, almost three full minutes later, he answers my question.
"Fortunately, no."
A wave of relief washes over me, but I don't allow it to show.
"I have another way to test your loyalty," he says.
He waves his hand once, and the chains retract on my chair as well. I get to my feet but don't leave the spot, waiting for whatever test he has in store for me.
No fear. I must have no fear. Fear will prove that I have something to hide.
Voldemort nods to Macnair, who gets to his feet and exits the room. He returns not a minute later with a woman in tow, a bag over her head.
The glimmer of a gold chain around her neck catches my eye, a sharp contrast to the filthy rags that she's clothed in. Dread fills my gut, but my face remains a mask—it could have been carved of stone.
Macnair forces her down on her knees a few paces away from me and yanks the bag off her head.
Sure enough, Granger's wide, brown eyes stare up into mine before darting around the room, horrified by the mass of Death Eaters beyond the platform.
I manage a smirk. "You recaptured her so quickly, My Lord."
She's still looking around with wild eyes and a fear that's uncharacteristic of the Granger I know. It's clear that she can't move of her own volition.
"The easiest way to prove that you did not set her free is for you to kill her, right now," Voldemort says.
"Yes, My Lord."
Two steps bring me right in front of her. She's quaking with fear, but I maintain my dispassionate exterior, not allowing that frightened look on her face to affect me.
I reach down and tug the gold charm out from beneath her rags.
It's cold as ice.
I smirk.
"Surely, if your little trinket can't protect you from the Torture Curse, it won't do you much good against the Killing Curse."
I point my wand at her forehead.
"Avada Kedavra!"