Prompts:
1. The Lord of the Rings - Write about a character taking a journey. (could be an actual journey or a mental journey or metaphorical one)
2. (song) AHazy Shade of Winter from The Umbrella Academy Soundtrack
3. (emotion) trepidation
4. (word) abject
Warnings: major character death, minor mention of blood
A/N: while I'm aware that the Lestranges were unforgivable villains I've always loved to see Rabastan as a gentle soul who was wronged by an older brother he trusted dearly. This was the backstory I gave him when I imagined him as a character. Simply a boy who put his trust in his brother, not thinking Rodolphus would do anything to get him hurt.
Rabastan Lestrange was six when he rst saw him. His brother had pulled him from the spot on the couch where he was reading and dragged him to the entrance hall where the man stood speaking to their father.
While his father spoke kind words, Rabastan could tell that he was tense, as though he had not expected this visitor.
Suddenly, the man's eyes turned to the two boys, causing their father to turn around also. When he saw the boys peeking out from behind a column, he closed his eyes for a second before walking over and picking up Rabastan and taking Rodolphus's hand, leading them over to the man.
His father introduced the man to them as Uncle Tom, an old friend fromHogwarts who had just returned from a long trip. His father was smiling but Rabastan could sense his father's abject displeasure with the man being there.
He couldn't explain it, but he didn't want the man there either.
When he turned to acknowledge Rabastan, the boy instead chose to turn to safety from the man, burying his face into the crook of his father's neck.
His father simply assured 'Uncle Tom' that Rabastan was shy and would warm up sooner or later.
~~~
Rabastan was ten when his father kicked Uncle Tom out of the manor. Rodolphus had snuck into his room and had shaken him awake, informing him that his father was arguing with someone in his o ce before grabbing Rabastan and running o , dragging him along. They stood behind the o ce door, ears pressed to the wood, listening to their normally calm father yell.
"I do not want my boys involved in your nonsense, Tom!"
"Rasalas, my old friend, don't you see what an opportunity this is for them? Your family will be a great-"
"I said I don't want to hear it! I have a duty as a father and as Lord of this house to protect this family. And this little offer of yours is something I want neither my name nor my boys involved in!"
"You will regret this, old friend," drawled the smooth voice. Rabastan couldn't help but shiver at the cold tone of the man.
"Are you threatening me, Tom?" his father responded with a low growl.
"I am simply stating a fact."
"Well, you can rest assured I won't regret anything, Tom. I will kindly ask you to leave one last time."
"Of course." The voice remained cool, yet even the children noticed the venom beneath.
A chair scraped and footsteps approached the door.
Rodolphus seemed to realize what was happening faster than Rabastan, grabbing the younger boy who softly yelped as he got dragged away to safety.
They did not stop running until they were in Rabastan's room. They waited for what felt like an eternity in silence to see if their father had seen them and would come to scold them for being out of bed so late at night or perhaps for eavesdropping. But no one came.
Finally, once Rodolphus was sure the coast was clear, he ran back to his room, leaving Rabastan to go back to sleep. But Rabastan only tossed and turned the rest of the night, wondering what Uncle Tom could have possibly o ered his father that had been so displeasing.
At breakfast, his father mentioned that Uncle Tom was no longer their uncle and that all connections with him would be cut.
~~~
Rabastan Lestrange was thirteen when he learned of the Death Eaters. The Prophet had reported on aMuggle hospital burning to the ground, leaving no survivors. Rabastan could not take his eyes o the picture taken on
where the building used to stand, now a pile of ash and rubble, a menacing cloud formed above, clearly altered by magic to look like a skull with a snake escaping its mouth.
Rodolphus called them the Death Eaters and told him that he had heard some of the older Slytherins speaking about the movement.
The Prophet called them a dangerous group capable of destroying the wizarding world.
Rodolphus called them heroes capable of changing the world.
Rabastan didn't dare disagree with his brother.
~~~
Rabastan was sixteen when he saw the Cruciatus rst used. His brother, with the help of his friends, had cornered twoMuggle-borns fromHu epu and was tormenting them while Rabastan stood guard.
His back was turned, checking down the hallway to make sure no professor approached—though they rarely patrolled the dungeons during the day—when Bellatrix took it too far.
Rabastan spun around as he heard Bellatrix utter the incantation, and he watched the fourteen-year-old crumple to the ground and start thrashing. The boy's screams seemed to echo all around Rabastan, surrounded by the sound of his friends' laughter.
He forgot all about his guarding duties as he watched the thrashing child in abject horror.
The sight before him consumed all his senses and, as such, he did not hear the running footsteps behind him. Nor the professor's yells.
They'd all been dragged to Slughorn's o ce and thoroughly scolded. One month of detention was handed out and they were sent o to their common room. Slughorn clearly wished to do more but he knew better than to displease such powerful pureblood families, especially over a Muggle-born. It was best to just sweep it under the rug.
His friends laughed and complained about the detention they had received, saying how unfair it was. It had only been a mudblood after all.
"Rabastan?"
His head snapped to his brother who was staring at him, an eyebrow raised in question.
"Are you alright?"
Rabastan nodded, giving his brother a tight smile.
But Rodolphus didn't look convinced. "Don't tell me you actually care for the mudblood back there. Besides, I'm sure it's ne. They took it to Saint Mungo's."
Rabastan nodded, giving a more convincing smile. His brother sco ed and walked away shaking his head, leaving Rabastan to sink back into his thoughts. The image of the thrashing body played in a loop in his mind while screams echoed in his ear.
~~~
Rabastan Lestrange was seventeen when he was given the mark. Rodolphus had joined the Death Eaters the year prior and he had told the Dark Lord that Rabastan would be joining this year.
He had informed Rabastan of this promise a little over an hour ago when he had dragged him out of bed and told him to dress.
Rodolphus had apparated Rabastan to an unknown area and Rabastan had kneeled immediately before the Dark Lord, as his brother had instructed. It was a pathetic showing, an abject self-abasement that he resented, but Rodolphus had told him to keep his head down and his mouth shut, so he did. A familiar drawling voice Rabastan could not quite place addressed the room but Rabastan tuned it out.
He did not understand why Rodolphus had promised his loyalty to the Dark Lord. Rodolphus had informed him that the Dark Lord had referred to them as great assets and that they would be highly valued for their skills among his members. But Rabastan had never cared for the Dark Lord's agenda. He hated muggles as much as the next pureblood but he did not wish them death and he certainly did not think this was the correct approach to disbanding the Statute of Secrecy. But, of course, his brother thought this was the way, so he remained silent and obeyed.
The Dark Lord nally turned his attention to Rabastan, who had continued to kneel, ignoring the ache in his knees, and asked him to o er his arm.
Rabastan immediately rolled his sleeve up, presenting his left forearm to the man before him. The man pressed the tip of his wand unto Rabastan's skin and spoke the incantation. Pain instantly overtook his senses as his vision went white yet he maintained his posture. Rodolphus had told him the pain was a test. He had told Rabastan not to show a sign of pain as the Dark Lord saw that as weakness. And so Rabastan sat still, eyes xed on the oor before him. He let the taste of copper ll his mouth as he bit the inside of his cheek with the full force that his jaw would allow him.
Finally, the pain seemed to fade and, suddenly, a hand was o ered to him, pulling him to his feet. He nally looked up at the Dark Lord before him and, as he was greeted by the cold blue eyes, recognition dawned on him.
"Welcome, brother." His Uncle Tom placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and Rabastan nodded before turning to face the rest of the Death Eaters, his brother grinning at him from his spot at the table.
~~~
Rabastan was twenty-eight when he was captured by Aurors. After the Dark Lord's disappearance, Bellatrix insisted that the Longbottoms would have information on his location and Rodolphus had agreed.
Barty Crouch Jr had agreed to stand guard as the rest interrogated the house's residents and had remained outside the front door.
Disarming and binding them had been an easy task. The two may have been Aurors but they had not been expecting an attack – and, even if they had, they were no match for the three of them.
Rodolphus had told Rabastan to go search the rest of the house just in case, so Rabastan had gone.
Which is how, on the second oor in the left-farthest bedroom, he had found the house's third resident.
He stared at the child sitting up, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand as he curiously stared at the new visitor in his bedroom with the other.
Before Rabastan could think of what to do, a scream rose from below, startling the child who started to cry.
Rabastan put up silencing charms around the bedroom to block out the noises from downstairs and to prevent the sound of the child crying from reaching his brother and sister-in-law.
He picked up the babe and bounced him until he calmed down, bottom lip quivering as he clung to Rabastan's robe.
Rabastan couldn't help but smile at the young boy in his arms. He had always loved children. Surely Bellatrix and Rodolphus would come up to take care of the child once they were done with their interrogation, but that didn't mean he couldn't keep the child company.
He placed the small boy brie y on the ground as he picked a few toys before sitting before the child who immediately crawled to what Rabastan assumed to be his favorite toy, placing it in his mouth and chewing on it as he looked up at Rabastan with his big eyes.
A part of Rabastan's soul ached for the boy but he knew there was no reasoning with Rodolphus. The least he could do was make the boy's last minutes fun.
And so they played on the oor. Their room was guarded from the screams of tortured souls.
They remained oblivious to it all until Aurors came upstairs and found them. Rabastan, who had let his guard down and had placed his wand away, barely got to react before he was Stupe ed.
When he woke up, he was already halfway to Azkaban, Bellatrix apparently having admitted to everything proudly during interrogation.
~~~
Rabastan was….30… 40… he had long since lost track of time, of ction and reality when the Dark Lord broke them out of Azkaban.
He called it a reward for being some of his most loyal followers, for attempting to look for him. To prove that he was merciful and rewarded true loyalty.
Rabastan was far too dazed to remember most of the meeting, as were most of the Azkaban escapees.
After the Dark Lord let them go, he, Rodolphus and Bellatrix instantly Apparated home. Their father jumped to his feet the moment he saw them. He had aged, white hairs slowly overtaking the ginger locks.
Rabastan and Rodolphus stumbled their way to their father's open arms, ready to hold them. Rabastan melted into the kind, familiar embrace.
~~~
Rabastan was…. It was nineteen ninety-seven when Rabastan watched his father die at Rodolphus's hands. He never thought Rodolphus would dare. Rodolphus had always argued with their father, they always quarrelled and duelled. It was how his family let o steam. It was never lethal. Never violent. But after Azkaban, Rodolphus seemed to have forgotten that.
Rabastan sat helplessly as they went at each other, throwing spell after spell at one another, lighting up the drawing room in a myriad of colors. The world seemed to move in slow motion when Rodolphus uttered the killing curse. Rabastan stood up from where he sat, knowing there was nothing he could do as the jet of green struck his father in the chest.
He watched the man fall onto his back, the life already gone before he even hit the oor.
Rabastan ran to him, despite knowing that he was too late. He picked up his father's lifeless form from the ground, drawing him to his chest as he stared at Rodolphus in horror— but his brother had simply walked away to go speak to his wife. As though he had not just taken the life of their father.
Rabastan could do nothing but stare.
~~~
It was nineteen ninety-eight when Rabastan nally stood up to his brother. He stood before Rodolphus shielding a group of Hogwarts rst years. Rabastan thought the rst years had been ushered from the castle since he had mostly seen older students, but he supposed this group had been left behind.
"Get out the way, Rabastan."
"No."
"What did you say to me?!"
"You heard me, Rodolphus."
Rodolphus growled, raising his wand. Rabastan raised his in response.
"I got you here, Rabastan, I did everything for you, and you turn into a lthy blood traitor just like our father."
"You're the blood traitor, Rodolphus," Rabastan replied, feeling oddly calm.
Rodolphus threw a spell at Rabastan, which he e ortlessly blocked. While his skills did not match his brother's, he wasn't useless either.
The rst years, seeing the attention was no longer on them, took the opportunity to run. Rabastan shielded them until they turned the corner and disappeared. Rabastan secretly hoped they would nd an escape.
"Sacri cing yourself for Mudbloods and halfbreeds now, brother?" Rodolphus spit at his feet.
"This isn't for them. It's for Father."
Now Rabastan could feel his heart beating in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He ignored the sense of trepidation threatening to paralyze every nerve, not allowing his hand to shake or let his fear show. He had always been good at burying his emotions. On the inside, he was in turmoil, on the outside, a marble statue.
He had always followed Rodolphus's lead. Simply trusting his older brother, which had brought him nothing but abject agony.
Rodolphus sent another spell sailing towards Rabastan, which Rabastan blocked before returning the favor, which Rodolphus ducked. The men started to circle one another, falling into a familiar dance.
Rabastan was good, but he had never won against Rodolphus, and he knew that today would not be the day. But he was buying time. Time for the students above. Time for people braver than him. He could not take out Rodolphus but he could tire him out for someone far stronger than himself.
Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as his dread overtook him for a second but he pushed it down. Now was not the time.
He would be remembered as a villain but in this moment, at this very second, he knew he was nally doing something right.
Rodolphus faked a move which Rabastan instinctually fell for even though he knew he was faking. It left his chest exposed for Rodolphus' cutting hex.
Pain shot through his body, causing his knees to buckle. Rodolphus walked over, grinning down at him, before kicking Rabastan's wand out of his reach. However, Rabastan did take pleasure in the fact that Rodolphus's side
was bleeding. It wasn't as deep a cut as the one on Rabastan's chest, but it would slow him down just enough. Rodolphus sneered at him for a moment, savouring his victory, before running o with his hand pressed to the wound at his side. Once he was sure he was alone, Rabastan let his mask fall as the last of his strength left him. He felt his shirt soak with his own blood.
He lay there, simply waiting for the cold embrace of death to take him. Allowing old, forgotten memories to overcome him, his regrets and mistakes washed over him.
He ignored the mu ed voices all around him as people ran past. Perhaps they already assumed he was dead. He didn't have the strength to open his eyes. Not when he felt a utter of someone touching his neck, nor when they picked him up to carry him o .
He felt as though he was on a cloud. Simply oating.
He felt his body be placed down once again and out of curiosity he let his eyes utter open. He was greeted by the sky. He gasped softly as he stared at the deep blue sky, which was starting to slowly transition to yellow as the sun began to rise over a horizon he could not see.
"Sir?" A voice spoke through the fog and his eyes involuntarily searched for the owner of the voice. His eyes connected with a pair of blue ones.
The eyes of the plump babe he had played with brie y. The Longbottom boy was frowning at him, as though remembering a very distant memory. He wanted to keep staring at the boy. But the rays from the rising sun behind him, casting a golden haze around the boy, were far too blinding after so long in the darkness.
He allowed his eyes to fall shut.