Chapter Three: The Wrath of Arawn Travers

I widened my stance, wand aimed at my uncle's puffed out chest as I readied myself for another fight.

Arawn Travers gave a mirthless laugh. "You wish to fight me, niece? Do not get overly confident in yourself," he said in a dismissive tone.

The temperature seemed to have fallen at least another few dozen degrees. I could not silence a whimper as a shiver spasmed from my toes up through my spine, though from the unbidden dread that had settled into my chest or from the biting cold, it was impossible to say.

My uncle's gaze traveled to his restrained cronies, who each wore mirrored looks of satisfaction. "I thought I told you only to summon me once she had been captured," he said with an edge of irritation, and I could have slapped myself. That dusty vapor Snyde had cast wasn't a blundered spell, but a message, calling Arawn to this location.

Snyde fidgeted his legs, avoiding eye contact, while Fellwood's lips twisted into a half-smile. "She's just as good as, now, isn't she," he croaked assuredly.

Arawn gave an exasperated sigh, rubbing a temple as he shook his head. "I have to do everything myself, don't I," he mumbled, then turned his attention back on me, my wand still pointed and poised to attack. "You may be talented… powerful, even, despite your tainted blood, but I assure you, it would not be sensible to challenge me. The pure Travers blood is potent in you, it would be a shame to have to end you."

"That's funny. I would feel no shame at all in ending you," I said, conjuring up the most cutting response possible, but it felt as if the thick fog had absorbed through my skin and into my brain, clouding my thoughts. "If I'm so tainted, why have you been trying to capture me? What do you want with me!?"

"It is quite simple, niece. The Dark Lord has advised that we of pure blood prune our family trees, ridding ourselves of the rotten branches that threaten to infect the rest. But now that I am older with no children of my own, I value legacy, the notion of ensuring my bloodline continues, especially after witnessing the strength of your magical blood. Your mother had to pay for her choices, there was no other way. That is why I ordered her death! But you may yet be salvageable."

Nothing of what he had said mattered except for that final detail. "You… ordered Carrow to kill my mom? To kill your own sister!?" I said in a kind of hysterical whisper. My body ached so fiercely it was as though there was a great hollow inside of me.

He fired up at once, face contorting into something that was equal parts fury and disgust. "Why not!? I murdered my own parents, after all. My sister was a blemish on the Travers legacy! A traitor! She could have joined me but instead she ran off to America. She was dead to me the moment she married that half-breed!" His lip curled as he spat the word like it was laced with poison. "I would have killed her myself if I had not been sent back to Azkaban after that little mishap between Potter and the Dark Lord at the Ministry! I did what was necessary! But you… three quarters magical blood… forsaken only by birth and not by your choices… you need not die. So instead of snuffing out the final disgrace on our family's name, I decided to provide you with an opportunity to absolve the transgressions of your mother – a chance to join me in the Dark Lord's favor! And with a proper teacher guiding you, you would be an unstoppable force in the Dark Arts. The Dark Lord may even demand for you to be at his right hand! Come with me, niece. Choose right where your mother chose wrong."

My uncle moved several steps closer, hand outstretched in invitation, as the dense fog, now thicker than ever, caressed his ankles. Two more shapes arose from the darkness soundlessly, flanking him on either side. At first I thought he had been accompanied by two more Death Eaters, and my stomach rolled as the idea flickered that one of them may be Carrow. But that presumption vanished on the spot as the two nebulous forms drifted weightlessly into view. They were not people at all; they were creatures (though even "creature" may have been too generous of a term) covered almost entirely by hooded, decomposing cloaks. Meeting the colorless, skeletal face of one, I gasped when I found two sunken sockets where I'd expected to find eyes. They were more grotesque than if the darkest of shadows had come to life; as if they were decaying corpses risen from the grave.

Dementors.

I'd read about them. Snape had taught me about them in my private lessons. But never had I encountered a real one.

My breath turned to mist in the frozen air. "You're a lunatic! You killed my mother! I could not care less about your bloodline, and I would rather die than become your pawn. My mother was the bravest witch I've ever known. She was right to deny you. You are the tainted one, Uncle Arawn. And by the way, I've already been trained by a teacher far more powerful than you! Stupefy!"

He deflected the spell with a miniscule flick of his wand. "I made some friends during my second trip to Azkaban. It so happens that dementors are happy to ally themselves with whomever offers them the most victims to satiate their hunger," he said darkly, and both dementors simultaneously rose to life, making a horrible, inhuman sound from the gaping, rotted hollows that took the place of their mouths. It was a sucking, pulsating, hissing breath that tore at my very skin… my veins… my core. A frost seemed to have encompassed me from the inside out. I felt my wand arm drop to my side, weighty and numb as I swayed on my feet.

Then, abruptly, the pull ceased. A flit of warmth spread over me momentarily as one of the dementors was driven back by the twinkling silver doe who had barreled into the creature, sending his twin into a hissing rage. Charged with newfound adrenaline, I shouted "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A radiant, celestial wolf identical in beauty to Snape's doe burst from my wand and jolted into the second dementor. The two Patronuses now in mirrored battles with the dementors, I turned my wand on my uncle. To my surprise, Arawn's pallid face was not contorted in anger; on the contrary, he was shaking with chilling laughter, thoroughly entertained.

'Expelliarmus!' I shot the brilliant ruby flash bounding past his shoulder, but he was left unphased; I was still quivering and unsteady from the effects of the dementors.

"So much raw power! I knew it was worth convincing the Dark Lord to let you live," he said, and though he was no longer hysterical with delight, his vicious smile was still wide as he shot a yellow spark back in my direction. I had been caught so off guard, not expecting an attack in the midst of his amusement, that I almost missed blocking it.

"Do not test me, niece. I knew it would take some work to convince you to join me but my patience will only last for so long," said Arawn. His curses were now coming in rapid succession, but I was detrimentally sluggish and growing fainter by the moment, my reflexes halting as the tingling frost in my veins fought to take over. I was entirely on the defensive, unable to find the strength to fight back. It wasn't long before the rattling sound of the dementors returned. This time it seemed to be coming from somewhere within my own head. Blackness framed my vision. And then, my knees buckled.

My first instinct when I woke up was to look for my wand. In the forest, I would sleep with it tucked into my pants leg, because I was terrified it would roll away or get picked up by a wandering gnome. It was as essential to my survival as air and water.

And now, as I patted the space around me, the awful truth registered. It was definitely gone, as was my bag.

I snapped up out of bed.

Out of bed?

It was several long seconds before the memory of my fight with Arawn and the dementors clunked back into place. I didn't know what had happened to my wolf – maybe he hadn't been strong enough after all – but one of the dementors had definitely come back into the fight, returning to my uncle's side and ripping the life from my body.

I had been entirely unprepared to fight off two dementors plus my uncle.

Looking around, I tried to make sense of my newest accommodations. I had been laid on a thin cot that was the sole fixture in the vast, concrete room aside from a black toilet, a wooden bucket, a very small mouse who was incessantly running back and forth along the length of the room, and what appeared to be a cardboard box tied shut with a bit of fraying twine. The box was situated on the dust-coated floor just inside a set of metal bars that filled the frame of a doorway. Three half-burnt candles mounted high on the walls were the only source of light, and the mustiness in the hot, sticky air was so potent I could taste it when I swallowed. The room was cast in a silence as total as it was eerie, permeated solely by the occasional chirping of the mouse and a thump-thump-thumping that I assumed was my own heart beating in a staggered, uneven pattern. If I had to guess, I was probably in a cellar, though whether it was typical for Death Eaters to keep jail cells in their basements was unknown to me.

"Quit that!" I whispered to the mouse. His ceaseless scampering was not helping to quell my anxiety. Getting to my feet, I went to assess the rusted iron bars, startling the mouse into the space between the toilet and the wall. Peering out, I found nothing but a continuation of my own quarters – more concrete walls stretching down into a long, empty corridor. "Hello?" I shouted to no one in particular. The sound of my voice bounced off the smoke-gray walls and right back at me. Unsure whether I had even wanted someone to respond, I flopped back down on the bed and tried to subdue the nausea that was churning in my stomach. Was this going to be the end? Arawn had my mother killed without a second thought. Not to mention my grandparents. Once he accepted that I was not going to join him, he was going to kill me too.

"I could always pretend to become a Death Eater," I said to the mouse, who stood up on his hind legs and twitched an interested ear in my direction. "Then, when I have my wand back I'll just… fight my way through him and his army of dementors... and his Death Eater pals…"

I dropped my forehead against my knees as the mouse made an aggravated clicking sound in response. "You're right, that will never work," I sighed, unsticking my sweaty forehead from the skin of my knees. Then, the most obvious idea struck me. "Wait! I know how to apparate!"

I jolted up, eager with hopefulness. I could apparate just a few feet into the hallway, then try to sneak upstairs and find my belongings. Closing my eyes, I concentrated hard on my desired destination and turned on the spot. The loud 'pop' sent the mouse into a squealing hysteria, but when I opened my eyes… I was still on the wrong side of the cell bars.

My shoulders slumped. Why hadn't it worked? I'd heard the 'pop' clear as ever!

I gave it another go. And another. I even tried apparating back to the forest, but each attempt yielded the same result, and I had to admit to myself the sickening truth. Of course it would have been much too easy if I could simply apparate away. The cell or maybe even the entire building must have been enchanted, just like Hogwarts, to stop anyone apparating in or out.

"That's just perfect," I said to the big-eared critter, who had now backed himself into a corner and was chattering his teeth nervously and scratching at his ears, anticipating another loud crack. Back onto the cot I plopped. "I don't suppose you have another plan, do you?"

He cocked his head, blinked at me several times, then skittered across the room, through the space between the bars, and disappeared down the hallway.

"I meant a plan for me to escape! Not you!" I called after him with a pout, then fell back onto the bed and curled myself into a tight ball, hugging my legs to my chest. My breath caught in my throat, and when it burst free, it was not just an exhalation but a sob. There could not have been a worse time for me to fall apart, but the absoluteness of my situation was paralyzing. I had gotten cocky. Arrogant. Snape had been, irrefutably, right. Picking a fight with the Death Eaters was a deadly mistake. And now, wandless and entirely alone, the hopelessness consuming me, there was nothing left to do but cry.

Hours passed. I couldn't say how many. It seemed to be getting hotter and harder to breathe with each passing moment. I went in and out of a haze, thoughts spiraling in circles as I tried to accept the fact that I was likely going to die. The mouse never returned, but after what could have possibly been as long as another whole day, the silence was broken by a new sound. Somewhere down the hallway outside of my cell, a door creaked open and then clicked shut.

I rose to my feet, feeling grateful that my tears had long since dried up. If I was going to be murdered, I was certainly not going to give my uncle the satisfaction of thinking I died a coward; of believing he had done right by his precious bloodline.

Arawn moved down the hallway almost soundlessly, materializing at the doorway with little warning. He wore the same black trench coat as he had in the woods, so long that it brushed the floor at the soles of his leather boots, and I wondered absently how he could stand wearing such a thing in this stifling weather.

"Good morning, niece. I do hope you slept well," he said as calmly as though he often kept people captive in his basement. He appeared much more composed and less… unhinged than he had been in the forest.

I scoffed. "You've locked me in a damp jail cell with no wand, no food, and no water. In fact, I think even the air down here is getting a little thin. I'm not sure what kind of conditions Death Eaters sleep in, given the whole doom-and-gloom, 'I'm-so-dark-and-dreary' persona, but honestly, you really expected me to sleep well?"

"It would give me absolutely no pleasure to starve or dehydrate you to death. You have been provided both food and water," he said, brows raised as he gestured to the bucket, which I now noticed was filled halfway with water, and to the unopened box that I had never bothered to examine.

My hollowed out stomach groaned at the realization that there was food in my midst this entire time, and I willed it to shut up. "Wow, you're just such a lovely host. Sure, I'm stuffed in a basement with a cot (that manages to be more uncomfortable than the ground in the forest by the way) and bars on the door, but at least there's food and a dirty old bucket of water!" I said, voice positively sagging with sarcasm.

"There is no need to be so hostile, niece. I am more than happy to provide much more pleasant accommodations soon. First, however, we must catch up. Seventeen years is a long time for an uncle to miss out on his niece's upbringing, do you not agree?"

"My mom kept me away from you on purpose. I trust her judgement," I said, crossing my arms stiffly.

Arawn reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, unlocking the barricade with a wave, and stepped inside the four concrete walls. He was still several feet away from me, cast almost wholly in shadows, but I could just make out the twitch of resentment in his eye. "Your mother was a fool with a death wish," he said, and though his words were harsh his tone was oddly smooth and matter-of-fact. "I did not hear of your existence until you were more than a year old, and when I learned that she was continuing to pollute our blood by reproducing… well, I vowed that I would purge the contamination from our family name at all costs. I spent years abhorring the idea of your presence in this world, resenting my sister even more for creating you. Do you not see? That is why she hid you from me, cowering in a hole in America, convincing our parents to keep her disgusting secrets. But now, my intentions have changed. If I can spare you, assist you in seeing reason, then I would much prefer to keep you alive."

"If she went through such measures to keep us safe, then why would she have agreed to move to England last year? If she avoided it for so long… I know it was for dad's job but still, why didn't she refuse?" I questioned, though not entirely expecting him to have an answer.

"Because I ensured he would have no choice but to make her agree." Arawn's lip curled at one corner. He must have seen the bewilderment in my eyes. "Above all else, my duties serving the Dark Lord are priority. He would not have found it acceptable for me to leave at the height of his dominion to travel to America, so I knew I would have to find a way to lure you here. Of course, I had to delay my plans when Potter got in the way of the Dark Lord's rise to power all those years ago, and it was not long after I received news of your birth that I was sent to Azkaban to await his glorious return. The moment I was freed, I managed to make contact with your father. I sent him several letters urging his… cooperation. You see, he was under the impression that, if he came to work for the Ministry and provided me with invaluable information from within the Ministry itself, your life and your mother's life would be spared. He was a fool, naturally. I would have expected no different from a Mudblood. However, my years in Azkaban allotted me the time to reconsider my desires. While I still intended to rid the world of my sister, I recognized that I could overlook your Muggle blood if you would simply take your rightful place as a Travers descendent, in service of the Dark Lord!"

My jaw had been tight throughout his entire revelation. I swallowed down the multitude of questions that were now terrorizing my brain.

"Can you deny that the Dark Lord is growing in power?" he continued. "We have already taken the Ministry, and Hogwarts school as well. It is only a matter of time before we are divided into those who pledge to follow the Dark Lord, and those who die attempting to refuse him."

I sucked in an involuntary gasp. "What do you mean he has taken Hogwarts?"

"Ah, so you have not heard? No, I suppose the news has not yet been made public. Severus Snape has been appointed as the new headmaster of Hogwarts School," he said coolly, and my heart stuttered. I'd been caught so off guard that I nearly tripped where I stood. And his name… it sounded somehow wrong leaving the lips of this vile man. "And several others of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers will be teaching a considerably improved curriculum."

"So… Snape… he really is one of you?" I said, voice close to a whisper.

He grinned at my disbelief. "Ah, you admired your professor. I can see it in your eyes. Of course you did. He is the conqueror who murdered the 'all-powerful Albus Dumbledore.'" His tone turned mocking, eyes flashing with the wildness I had seen in his photo in 'The Pure-Blood Directory,' before he quickly collected himself. "You see, Rowan, even a professor you held in high regard knows that the Dark Lord's path is both noble and inevitable."

Despite the heat I felt my skin go cold. The painful crack down my center burst open wider as he confirmed what I had already known in my heart. Snape really, truly was a follower of Voldemort.

'But he loves me. I know he does. I could make him leave… I could change his mind,' said the angel-voice in my head. Then the devil-voice chimed in. 'He murdered Dumbledore. That's unforgivable. He chose them instead of me. He declared his allegiance loud and clear in that moment.'

The voices clashed in my head, electrifying me at once. "So what if I admired Snape! He betrayed me!" I blurted before I could stop myself, voice wavering out of control, though I knew without question I had not let go of the lingering hope that Snape would come back to me.

"'Betrayed you?'" he gave a singular laugh. "He did not betray you, niece. His loyalty has always been to the Dark Lord.

"Do you not see, Rowan? The Dark Lord will liberate us! We hide among the Muggles, oppressed… marginalized… forced to conceal our abilities and mask our true nature, that which makes us sovereign! We are powerful, and our existence in the world should be celebrated, not treated as though magical abilities are something to be ashamed of. And we, of the purest blood, should be proud of our lineage and honor our families by ensuring that our children's veins flow with blood free from contamination."

"Oh yeah? Were you honoring your family when you murdered your own parents?" I shot back cuttingly, though his words hung in my mind a moment longer than they should have. Not the part about blood purity, of course. That was nonsense. But in a way, it was a bit oppressive that we had to create this secret world, conducting our lives only in the shadows. Why should we have to be so secretive, as if we are embarrassed to have magic?

"I was honoring our legacy! Respecting the sacredness of our lineage necessitates eliminating anyone who challenges or defies our values. My mother and father were as treasonous as Amelie for keeping her secrets. They allowed her to stay hidden! They should have disowned her, and they refused. They were just as guilty!" My uncle's eyes bugged and I could see the revulsion and hatred etched in the dark lines of his face. He was losing his tact, his knuckles now white as he gripped his wand tightly, ready to strike me.

"You disgust me," I spat, pumping as much revulsion as I could into just four syllables. "Nothing… nothing you say can convince me to join you. You murdered your parents and sister with no remorse. So why don't you just get it over with and kill me?"

Arawn's throat vibrated with a guttural sound that built until it escaped his mouth in a roar. He shot a burning red flash so close to my face that my cheek ached from the heat. It decimated the concrete at my back, sending hard, sharp fragments into the air that nicked and scratched at my skin.

"You are as foolish as your mother. If it is death you seek, I will happily oblige," he growled through ragged breaths, then turned on his heel and left, slamming the bars shut behind him. Just before he disappeared beyond the hallway, he paused, his back to me. "Think on what I have said. Time in a cell helped me to reconsider my position. Perhaps you will change your mind as well. You have one week," he said, then left me standing in the settling dust.