"Your wand." Venom dripped from his tongue as he voiced the order. The man spoke fast, impatient, holding out his hand.

The second that the wand was placed into his left, his right hand swung towards the girl's face, only to hit the air as she took half a step back. There was a significant height difference, as Annelyse was now almost two heads taller than her father. Unphased, the man turned her own wand against her.

"Crucio!" he yelled, only for nothing to happen. Gritted teeth, he shook the wand a few times. "I said, Crucio!"

The idea of faking it crossed her mind, but Anna knew it won't get her far as there was no light or faint buzzing emitted from the wand.

Enraged, Siberius snapped the wand in two. The wood ran through his fingers as it turned to dust.

"You think I'm a fool?! You dare give me a fake!" He reached for the girl's arm.

Anna avoided his grasp gracefully stepping away. "You have no legal right or reason to confiscate my wand."

The man let out a furious scream. "That's it!" Since he had no wand of his own yet, he grabbed the one he had taken from his wife.

"I can't! I broke it," she blurted out when the curse struck her. She dropped to the ground, her hand still clutching the handle of her luggage. Anna tried to keep her mouth open in hopes this time, she won't be biting into her tongue or cheeks.

"Lies!" the man yelled. "Give me your wand!" He kept casting the torture curse over and over until the wand began to shake and wail in his hand. The core was twisting and withering, emitting less magic with every use. "It's all his fault! That wretched man! Made you read too much - you have rights, Annelyse?! I'll tell you your rights! You have the right to listen to your father! To shut up when a man speaks! Not to answer me back!"

The ringing in her ears muffled his voice. As her body contorted in spasms, her mind drifted away. Severus had invented many spells before. If she couldn't tell what combination was used to create the amulet, it was probably because it had never been used before - or at least, not that she has ever come across a documented example. Documents... Books, so many books... The smell of old leather and rusty metal corners, of old ink, dust, wood polish, the night she nearly ended it with a potion she found so beautiful, so intricate... So deadly... He realized. Somehow, Severus knew what poison she was brewing and where, and he came to stop her. The first time he held her like the world was going to end, and it hurt, it hurt as it did now, but it was sweet, mellow...

There was nobody coming to soothe her heart now. That's alright, it will be over soon. He will soon become frustrated with her lack of reaction. She realized that night when she found a black kitten outside and her father tortured it to the verge of death. He loved to hear his victims scream and wail in agony. It made him ecstatic, his eyes would light up, and he would go on for hours. That's right... she gave Selena that kitten. She named it Hades because of how dark its coat was. Selena was the only one Hades tolerated beside him, the only one who could pet him, feed him by hand, or be in the same space as him. That poor soul hated men with a passion; and wands...

But it did enjoy music. Ah, yes, Hades loved to sit on the piano when somebody played. Anna's mind wandered to the time Selena convinced Severus to bring the piano into the Great Hall when everyone had given up. Severus also said there had been a piano at the Chat Gris, from the door to the right, tucked in a corner between windows... The piano Regulus Black played. The place Sirius Black never saw... There was this unwritten rule that only Slytherins could go there, and only the elite, and one had to first be invited and shown the way there because spells and illusions hid the streets and alleys leading to the Chat Gris. Severus had the seat by the door, his back constantly exposed to the cold air whenever it opened, while he wrote the essays and assignments of her brother...

Evan Rosier, the brother her father had erased from their family history. Had Severus not told her about him, Anna would have been caught off-guard when Crouch Junior, disguised as Alastor Moody brought up their physical resemblance in class. Black, wide curls, electrifying blue eyes, and long, dark lashes... She remembered how dazed Theodore seemed when Crounch Junior said that her brother had the plump, rosy lips of a girl. Anna had seen him through Legillimency in the memories of Severus. Voldemort's rabid dog, Moody called him... Passionate, athletic, absolutely brilliant... 'Took part of me with him.'

A heavy hand wrapped around her arm and so, she let go of her luggage. Her body was still struggling. Her throat was dry, her head was light, and there was a taste of blood on her tongue. Anna tried to cling to her memories, refusing to live in the present; there was nothing good waiting for her there. Almost entirely limp, she allowed her father to drag her up the stairs, but then, her foot slipped and she fell back. When they were still so young, Selena wanted to play the trust fall game in the rose garden. Anna thought of the moment she first allowed herself to fall back.

This time, the sharp edges of the stairs were the ones to catch her, not her friend's arms. Siberius stumbled over her but managed to grab onto the railway in time. Anna lay on the ground with no will to stand. Any move she made for the first twelve hours after Crucio was going to reenact the effects of the curse. It had been one of the topics in her exam, the one that granted her the Apprentice position... A strange fog blurred the images of the cherubs and doves painted on the ceiling. She couldn't remember exactly the ratio. Sleeping Draught could be used to soothe the muscles after exposure to the torture curse, double distilled, yes, that was the word, and then diluted... What was the ratio...?

"You've killed her," Evelyn gasped between her hands as she saw her daughter at the bottom of the stairs, motionless and pale.

Frowning, Siberius rushed back to the ground floor. "Are you accusing me?!"

"No!" his wive yelped. "No, not at all!"

"House elf!" the man called. As soon as the words were off his tongue, two elves appeared in the lobby. "Take her to her room! Then, take her things to mine! I'm going to take that wand myself," the man stomped past her. "You!" he turned towards his wife. "You've spoiled her in my absence! This rebellious phase of hers is your fault!"

Tears rolled down Evelyn's cheeks. She fell to her knees, mumbling apologies, confused about the hows and whys, but well aware that asking anything would only worsen her punishment. The moment Siberius pointed his wand at her, faint silver sparks flew from its tip. The core died.

Nervously digging his thumb's nail into the end of his unicorn hair core wand, Draco watched the reunion unfolding before his eyes, unable to respond. A tall and slender woman in rags and torn-off lace was embracing his mother. He noticed the stranger's nails were overgrown and chipped around the edges like the claws of a beast on his mother's velvet coat.

"Is that...?" the stranger locked eyes with him. "Is it Draco?" she mumbled, her hands trying to grasp from her memories the size of the boy as a baby, wrapped up to his chin.

The boy almost denied his identity there and then. He swallowed hard. Unsure, he nodded. He had only known her face from photographs and portraits and her infamous mugshot.

"Draco!" The witch threw her arms into the air and ran to him while the boy stood frozen. He had just arrived home for the summer, a dark and dreary one this year. "Come here! Merlin, how have you grown!"

"Y-yeah," he mumbled through the bone-crushing embrace. His aunt still had the smell of humidity and saltwater, of mold, rust, and death. He tried several times to take a step back, but couldn't escape until he returned the hug for a few moments.

Through the rags, he caught a glimpse of the mark. Although his mother had told him about Voldemort and how his father was a Death Eater, he had never seen the Dark Mark before. The ink and the swollen skin around it, combined with the image of a woman's emaciated arm made him want to gag. There was something absolutely hideous about it.

"Does he know?" Bella twisted her head back to her sister. "Have you told him?"

Draco bit his tongue to keep from reacting to the sound of her neck cracking. His mind associated what was happening with a nightmare. This was a corpse revived from the grave. It couldn't be anything else. The unkempt hair, the dry skin peeling off, the bruises, the sickly gray color, the smell-! Merlin, the smell!

His mother nodded slowly. "I've told him," she said. Draco couldn't read her expression.

As soon as he arrived home, Theodore was informed by an elf that they were going to the Malfoy residence. He had about half an hour to leave his things and change into a suit for the visit.

"Make it an hour," a voice he knew well said from one of the salons. Barty was lighting his pipe.

Theodore turned his pipe into a frog. "Don't you ever smoke inside the manor again!" His father's collections were exposed through the many rooms of their manor. The boy had learned from a young age that smoke, humidity, and a general lack of care could damage them.

"Ooh! Edgy," Bary laughed. "Your dad left you with me. He's already there. Who's gonna tell him?"

"He will notice the scent, you primitive."

Amused, Barty turned the frog back into a pipe and put it out. "Primitive, eh? The Dark Lord wouldn't say that. I think he'd call me brilliant! Truly, I am a genius! Second only to him."

Theodore rolled his eyes. "We're leaving in half an hour. Don't touch or ruin anything!"

"Mm, yeah, not like I revived our Dark Lord, not at all. Barty, don't do this! Barty, don't do that!" The man paced around the salon, looking at Osborn Nott's hunting trophies and artifacts exposed all around. "Not my fault your pops turned this place into a museum."

Climbing the stairs and levitating his chest, Theodore rolled his eyes at every word. He couldn't wait to be rid of their guest. He had been living in their house ever since he managed to run away from home. At the time, following Crouch to the ball with a Demisuise cloak seemed brilliant to him. Now, the boy could think of so many other alternatives which did not involve Barty Jr. living with them.

The sound of something falling and shattering caught his attention. The manor had an amazing acoustic to it, his father had modified it this way for Theodore's mother, who loved music and would often play an instrument. Now, the same characteristic of the building made the hairs stand up on his back.

"What did you break?!" the boy stomped back down.

"Nothing! Relax!" Barty cast Reparo and put the statue back on its shelf.

"I heard something! I swear if you're lying to me-!"

"You'll what? Huh? You've got no power over me! Are you gonna cry to your papa? Wait until my father hears about this, was it? Sounds familiar," the wizard mocked him. "It must be nice having someone to cry to. Well, I don't. And I'm positive I owe my achievements to that!"

"I'm not Malfoy!" Theodore clenched his fist around his wand.

"You look like one, and right now, you sound like one, too." Barty played with his wand around his fingers before pointing it at Theodore. "Go run upstairs and change. I've got no one to impress - I have revived the Dark Lord! You, on the other hand, better make a good impression."

Severus watched Lucius throw an entire pile of ties on the ground. There were subtle differences between them, but he didn't seem to like any at that time. Frustration made him throw his hands over his head and down through his hair. He sat down on the damask pouf by the entrance to the dressing room.

"Perhaps a simple one, without any patterns?" Severus tried to reason with his friend.

"I'm suffocating. It feels like a rope! He's going to give him the mark, he'll ask for Draco..."

He looked carefully through the curtain to the terrace underneath. Bellatrix was laughing too loudly; Draco looked uncomfortable. A peacock flew away in a hurry, startled by Bellatrix. Severus signed. He wished he could have said something to ease his friend's mind, but the truth was that Voldemort expected something, and at the time, they had nothing to give.

"He's not ready," Lucius looked up.

"...Maybe you could speak to Bellatrix. Even if he receives the Mark, that doesn't mean he will have something specific to do right away."

"Bellatrix has hated me for years."

Because of me, Severus thought. "She seems very affectionate towards Draco. You could also ask Narcissa to speak to her."

"Another option would be to find that cursed piece of evidence to show Him who really killed his prodigy!" Lucius sighed. "I don't want to depend on Bellatrix."

Severus leaned away from the window as Bellatrix looked up. "Right now, it might be the only viable option."


Author's notes:

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