[Chapter Five] Backbone

Landing on her feet at the edge of the circle, Lena watched as the circle filled quickly, wisps of ominous smoke snapping onto the ground with ease and expertise. Everyone wore a mask, though she knew everyone, from their eyes, their familiar forms, or their hair that peaked through the edges of their hoods.

Eyes darted around. They were at a new clearing, it was never the same place when they were called anymore. This particular clearing was heavily shrouded by thick forest, looming clouds above. The trees were tall with thick trunks. Her eyes moved upward, these threes were larger than any she had seen in her life. The Dark Lord was on the move...

Where is this place? Lena questioned in her mind, feeling the probing begin.

There was no immediate answer, and Lena continued to look around; It was beautiful. Gangly trees with gigantic knots and other imperfections. Endless woods of russet bark spanned the area for what seemed like many miles around, over hills, and snow capped peaks in the distance. Lena knew she had never been to this place before.

The Dark Lord took his place in the circle, stepping forward slightly. Lena felt his eyes piercing hers through the eyes of her mask. Her entire mind was vulnerable to his slit red eyes, to his will. Though her knees felt weak, she forced herself to remain strong. A flash entered her mind, of the night that the Dark Lord raped her; Unsure if her own thoughts had roused it, or the pestering probing from the Dark Lord had dislodged it, Lena's eyes met his.

Lena was sure he was looking at everyone, but in the darkness, why did it feel as though he only looked upon her? He spoke, finally:

"Welcome, welcome," his voice hissed, with a renewed strength. "Many of you are wondering where we are at. Welcome to America."

A sparse whisper echoed through the circle for a few seconds.

"Fortunately, I have located something very important that we need for our next step." The Dark Lord waved his hand behind him, to an especially large tree. "Sequoiadendron giganteum: It just so happens that this species of tree is one of the oldest in the world. It also happens to be one in the same with the tree's wood that made a very famous cabinet, now in Borgin and Burkes." His eyes darted around thirstily, searching for any smirk or reaction. Lena searched the faces with him, until her eyes landed on Lucius.

The Dark Lord continued after a moment, "Lucius, your son gave his life for our cause. Draco Malfoy was more than just an intelligent, clever young man." His eyes stopped on Lena. "Draco Malfoy is a heroic figure to us, and our plans. We cannot let this young man die in vein."

Biting the insides of her cheeks, Lena choked back a sob. I'm so sorry, Draco. Lucius showed no emotion, as always. The probing sensation began again as the Dark Lord spoke: Trying to distract Lena from covering her own thoughts, but in was no matter, thoughts of Draco were streaming freely now, thanks to the Dark Lord's comment, shrouding anything of Regulus.

"Just a day before his death, Draco Malfoy confessed something to me, you see." His eyes did not move from Lena's. "Having recently come to knowledge of several betrayals from a girl he loved, he asked me, most ardently, to give his life purpose. When I refused, letting the boy know that he was not yet ready to become a Death Eater, his defense had been that a younger apprentice had already been initiated. Finally, he confessed something. That he had discovered a cabinet, much like the one at Borgin and Burkes: though...this one is at Hogwarts."

Lena wasn't watching the Dark Lord; she watched Lucius. Wouldn't his expression be the one to betray the Dark Lord's words? To show care or concern for his only child? But even as the several gasps erupted at the Dark Lord's reference to Hogwarts, Lucius' face remained still. Emotionless. Cold.

Her eyes flickered back to the Dark Lord. His gaze still lurked upon her.

"Apparently, our young Mr. Malfoy discovered Montague, another Slytherin student, in the U-bend of a toilet. Montague had only been able to recall being pushed into a cabinet on the seventh floor of Hogwarts by a pair of blood traitors, the Weasley's." The Dark Lord paused, looking around. As far as Lena knew, this was new information for everybody, a new plan. "This led Draco Malfoy to believe that the Vanishing Cabinet inside of Hogwarts is broken, but not beyond repair. So yes, let's not let young Mr. Malfoy's death go in vein." There was a long pause. "That is all."

Another thought slipped into her mind as he spoke, Go see the wizard, ask for some backbone. And she wondered what he had found in her mind.

Lena felt herself being pushed into a vacuum of black smoke, but not upon her own will, she saw several other Death Eaters in similar situations. Seconds later, she landed back in her own room in her manor.

Rage boiled to the surface, and a vase on her desk exploded. She rushed out of her room, cooing herself to calm down. But her breath was unsteady and visions flashed beneath her eyes.

Draco.

Running down the stairs, Lena arrived in the main entrance hall, but before she could make it outside, a lash of invisible magic escaped from her chest, whipping against the gigantic mirror that hung above the hallway arch with a earsplitting clash. Several cracks told her than the house-elves had come to check on the commotion, but Lena felt herself losing control. Biting the inside of her cheek, Lena was hardly able to control her escalating emotions inside of her. Fury at herself, for killing Draco; but unclouded and pure wrath surged through her, as she thought of the Dark Lord, mocking Draco's death.

Every drop of blood in her veins boiled in rage; every hair stood on end, and every bone erupted with her impending fury. The high-vaulted ceilings and walls quivered again, as another whip of magic escaped, shattering the skylights and other windows. Glass rained down upon her, but Lena didn't look at the damage, the visions of Draco still clouded her mind; she felt his lips on hers, and a tiny breath crawled out of her lips. All of the rage she had been bottling inside of her exploded. The lashes began to swirl around her in a hurricane of glass. Lena ignored the sounds of wood splintering, glass shattering, allowing the pulsating tornado to destroy her home, hoping it would take her with it.

As the reverberations finally dampened, the cyclone of magic dimmed, and finally ceased. And suddenly the last breath of anger that she had fueled abated, until she was left...alone, a shell with no turtle, devoid and stripped bare.