Azkaban was not a nice place to visit.
Tonks had done her tour as part of Auror training. Azkaban was a punishment duty, and trainees were shown firsthand. She had resolved never to get stationed at the prison, thankful that her high marks in Disguise and Concealment ensured her usefulness to the Corps and guaranteed that she would never pull such duty. Now she'd volunteered to go undercover on the inside.
I must be out of my mind.
Voldemort had seized the prison two years ago, with the dementors defecting to his cause in exchange for promises of new, rich feeding grounds. He had turned it into his personal fortress and directed his war against the forces of the Light from his throne.
The war was going well, from his perspective. There had been some setbacks, to be sure, but despite the Ministry's best efforts, the Death Eaters had achieved many of their goals.
Or so they thought.
Snape bowed low before the throne. "Greetings, my Master. Behold! As you commanded: the Seer, Sybil Trelawney."
Voldemort leaned forward eagerly. "Well done, Severus. Of course you succeed. You always succeed. I am pleased with you."
Snape bowed again. "I serve you gladly, my lord."
"And you will be rewarded," Voldemort promised. "Seer!"
Tonks ignored him, studying the pattern of tiles in the floor.
"Seer!" He did not like being ignored. His tone was noticeably sterner.
Snape prodded her. "The Dark Lord speaks to you, Sybil. Be honoured. Answer him."
It was time to play her part. She put the back of one hand against her forehead. "Why, Severus? Why?" Tonks asked in tragic pose. "Why have you chosen to throw away your shining career to serve the choking darkness? The children adore you so. You inspire them."
Voldemort stood up from his throne and strode towards her. "Seer!"
Tonks deigned to look at the hideous thing.
"I am Lord Voldemort." He had a deep, theatrical, and charismatic voice.
She frowned slightly. "Who?"
"Lord Voldemort!" he yelled.
She seized his hand and shook it vigorously. "How do you do, my Lord Vol? I am Sybil Trelawney. No title, I'm afraid. Well, I am formerly a Professor at Hogwarts, so I suppose you could call me that. Where is Mort, anyway? I'm not familiar with it. Is it a duchy? An earldom, perhaps?"
"You will tell me the prophecy!" he demanded.
"Well, of course I will, dearie!"
She dared to reach up and patted his cheek. Go bold or you might as well fold. His eyes bulged with outrage at her temerity.
"I'm a Seer, don't you know? I've given many prophecies, and they've all come true." She managed not to sound too smug about it.
"Tell me now!" he roared. Reflexively, the assembled Death Eaters flinched back from their master's anger.
She harrumphed. "The Inner Eye does not See upon command, O Impatient One. Only when the voice of prophecy chooses to speak will the future be revealed to us."
Voldemort's red eyes glittered. "You gave a prophecy about me and Harry Potter. You will tell me now."
"I do not retain the words of prophecy," she said scornfully. "I am but a humble vessel for the divine guidance we receive. If you wish to know what was said, go to the Hall of Prophecy."
"The record has been destroyed." His tone was hard, and he glared at his followers.
"Consult him to whom it was spoken." She said it as though it were obvious.
He did not like her answer. "That's Albus Dumbledore, you stupid hag! He'll never give up the words."
"Then forever wonder, my lord! The words of prophecy, once uttered, are gone forever."
Voldemort fell silent for a long moment. When he spoke again, his tone was quiet and firm. "I dare not risk missing a vital warning. Seer, you will attend me at all times."
"Yes, my Lord Vol." She bowed deeply to avoid eye contact.
It was exactly what they had hoped for. She would hear everything he heard, and every now and then she would be able to spout some mumbo-jumbo. With luck, she could have him chasing moonbeams while the Order or the Ministry tracked him down.
"Bring a chair for my Seer," he ordered.
The Death Eaters hurried to obey. They brought a plain wooden chair and set it next to his throne.
"Sit," Voldemort commanded.
"It looks most uncomfortable," she complained.
He waved his wand, and the chair was decorated with multiple soft cushions.
"Yes, that's much better," she said with satisfaction. "Thank you, my Lord Vol."
She sat and looked around the room. None of the Death Eaters were masked, so she set to memorising faces. There were more of them than the Ministry thought.
"Now then," Voldemort said. "Bellatrix, it is time for your report. Where are the others I sent with you?"
"Captured or killed, my Master." Her voice quavered. She clearly knew the consequences of giving Voldemort bad news.
"What?" He did not raise his voice. Somehow that made it more awful.
She quailed further. "Potter's little army is better than we knew, and somehow they were expecting us. We were headed up to Dumbledore's office when two groups of students attacked us and pinned us down on the stairs."
"You were thwarted by mere students?" Voldemort sounded like he couldn't believe it. Tonks could barely believe it herself. She felt a swell of pride, for she had done her part to prepare them. Only with the help of her Metamorphmagus talents did she conceal a smirk.
"They did not fight like students," Bellatrix protested. "They have been training. They used deadly magic. Rodolphus was the first to die, by suffocation. They cut Jugson's throat."
If Voldemort was bothered by the death of one of his Inner Circle, he did not express it.
"Continue," he said flatly.
"Our spy managed to ambush one group, and we got off the stairs," she reported. "I sent the other team to cause chaos in the castle and keep Potter busy. We did not lose sight of our goal, but the gargoyle that guards the entrance to the headmaster's office proved troublesome. We were dealing with that when Potter's army came up behind us. From Potter himself I learned that Dumbledore wasn't even in the castle tonight."
Voldemort frowned. "How unfortunate. So he is not dead?"
"No, Master."
"You failed me, Bellatrix." His tone contained unmistakeable disappointment.
She pressed her face to the floor. "Yes, Master. I have let you down. Please give me another chance!"
"I am not in a giving vein this day."
He cast Cruciatus. Her shrieks echoed around the room. Already on her knees, she flopped to the floor. The torture went on and on. When at last it seemed she could take no more, it ended.
"I do not tolerate failure, Bellatrix," he said acerbically. "You do not seem to remember. You have failed me so often since I rescued you from this place."
He put her under the Cruciatus again and again. She writhed on the stone floor. Her voice broke, and only inhuman sounds came out. So dispassionate before, now Voldemort seemed to be enjoying himself. He was actually smiling, an evil smile full of cruelty. He would take the spell off, just for a moment or two, long enough for her to realise she was no longer being tortured, and then cast it again with a vicious incantation.
It went on for hours. The other Death Eaters had no choice but to stand and watch. They had surely witnessed this sort of punishment many times before and probably endured it as well, but most of them looked ill at ease as it went on and on.
Tonks let her disgust show, as she was sure Professor Trelawney would have done. In truth, she sympathised with her aunt only on the most basic, human level. She knew without question that Bellatrix would gleefully do the same to her and her entire family.
While Bellatrix received her punishment, another Death Eater entered the room. When she lowered her hood, Tonks fought back a stab of surprise as she recognized Jamie Davis.
There's only one explanation here. Mother is going to go spare when she learns that her trainee serves the Dark.
Davis waited for a pause, a lull. She stepped forward boldly. "Master," she said, kneeling at his feet. She brought the hem of his robe up to her lips and kissed it reverently. She bowed her head.
He spoke in a cold, dispassionate voice, dusty and almost serpentine. "Welcome back, my dear Jamie. Bellatrix was just telling me about her failed attack on Hogwarts. Perhaps you could shed some enlightenment on one or two of the finer details."
"Of course, my Master. By your order, I repaired the collapsed tunnel to allow your strike force to enter the castle without alerting the staff. Over the course of the year, I acquired two doses of the luck potion Felix Felicis, awarded to students by Professor Slughorn. When the hour arrived, I quaffed them both and went where I was needed to do what needed doing. I ambushed a group of Gryffindors to allow the strike force to get off the staircase. I said what was needed to convince Potter not to question my sudden appearance. I roamed the castle helping injured students get to the hospital ward to continue my cover. I saw many Death Eaters dead or captured but could do nothing for them. I found Bellatrix cornered by Potter and Longbottom and took Potter from behind. Bellatrix wanted to stay and fight, but the others had already been defeated. I urged her to flee. I brought her to the Vanishing Cabinet where Professor Snape waited with the Seer. She accused me of not giving good information and cast Cruciatus on me. They escaped, and I returned to the hospital ward. I helped to treat the students and get them back to their dormitories. I thought all was well until Dumbledore and Potter approached me outside of Ravenclaw tower. I knew then that I had been found out. I duelled with Dumbledore and managed to get away. I ran for the Vanishing Cabinet and made my own escape."
She fell silent, and for a long moment not a sound was heard other than Bellatrix's laboured breathing. Then Voldemort reached down and lifted her chin with one finger.
"You did well, Jamie," he said with evident satisfaction. "You completed your mission. You repaired the tunnel so that my Death Eaters might penetrate the castle, and you ensured that they were able to escape. During your time in the castle, you also managed to cause a great deal of mischief without being detected. I am well pleased with you."
"Thank you, Master." Her tone bordered on adoration.
His eyes blazed as he looked down at Bellatrix. "You are the only one to return, Bella. The only one of fourteen. Some captured, many dead. Yet Dumbledore is not dead. What do you have to say about your failure?"
Bellatrix prostrated herself and pleaded. "Master! Please give me another chance! I will kill Potter. I have been so faithful for so long." Her voice rose to a sob. "Please let me continue to serve you. I will prove my worth." She seized the hem of Voldemort's robes.
Voldemort looked down at her prone form with no emotion. "See that you do. Crucio!"
This time lasted an eternity. At last Voldemort removed the curse and looked away from the weeping witch.
"All of you out. All except the Inner Circle."
The Death Eaters hurried to comply, lest their lord turn his wand on them. Only two remained. Bellatrix still lay motionless on the floor.
"Severus, step forward."
The Potions Master knelt respectfully.
"You have performed many services for me without complaint or excuse. I would bestow upon you a sign of my favour."
Snape bowed his head. "I am not worthy, my lord."
Voldemort held out a golden cup, decorated with badgers. "Take this cup. I took it away from Bellatrix when she failed me so spectacularly in the Ministry, and her failure again tonight confirms my decision. You, who have never failed me, who have served me faithfully, I now grant this cup. Keep it protected at all costs."
"You honour me, my lord. Thank you."
Lightning flashed through the windows and the thunder crash echoed all around them. The rain poured down, adding a roar to the cacophony.
Snape allowed a small smile. "I know exactly what to do with it."
Voldemort arched his fingers. "The Inner Circle has been virtually annihilated. Rabastan!"
The other Lestrange approached and knelt. "Yes, my lord?"
"You may now thank me for your life."
"I am eternally grateful, my lord!" he gushed. "You were wise to keep me here. Had I gone with my brother, I too might be dead."
"I put your brother's widow in your hands. Perhaps you can teach her some small measure of competence," he said dismissively.
"I shall try, my lord."
"You shall lead the Inner Circle now. Severus, you have earned the right, but you are still needed as my agent in Hogwarts. You were not forced to compromise yourself during the battle. Your public reputation is not tainted. You will be able to return to Hogwarts in September to continue your post in the cursed position."
Snape bowed again. "As you command, my lord. If I may ask, the curse is well-known. How am I to explain the fact that it has not claimed me?"
Voldemort frowned. "A fair question. I will think on it."
"I know your reasoning will be flawless, my lord."
"Rabastan, get her out of my sight." It would have been difficult for him to inject any more disdain into his tone.
"At once, my lord."
The man waved his wand and levitated a still-sobbing Bellatrix. He left the throne room with her, the doors thudding closed behind them.
Voldemort arched his fingers again. "The cost was high but well worth it, Severus. In truth, I did not expect her to succeed, but it was a most excellent distraction from your own mission."
"Your plan was exquisite, my lord."
"I will retire now. Seer, let us go."
Tonks rose to her feet and followed Voldemort as he left the throne room. Perhaps twenty metres down the hall was a plain and simple door. It opened at their approach.
It was a bedroom, and not a terribly elaborate one at that. There was a bed that looked on the comfortable side, a desk with what looked like a Pensieve on it, a chair, and a small table to seat two.
"You will live here with me," he declared.
She was about to inquire of the sleeping arrangements - she desperately didn't want to share his bed - when he waved his wand and duplicated it.
"Yours."
"Thank you, my Lord Vol. It seems lovely."
"I do enjoy some bit of comfort," he said. "I grew up with nothing, so I am used to it, but I always wanted some of the finer things in life."
Tonks had no real reply to that. It was quite revealing.
"Does the voice of prophecy ever come upon you in the night?" he inquired.
"Not as far as I am aware, my lord. For me or any other Seer, for that matter."
He nodded. "Good. I will wake before you wake, and I will not sleep until you do. I dare not miss hearing a vital prophecy."
"That is wise, my lord. I must say it is nice to be taken seriously for a change. My poor, misguided colleagues hold the fine art of Divination in contempt. Professor McGonagall in particular has never had a kind word for me." Sybil herself could not have said it better.
He sneered. "Fools they all be, to discount the words of prophecy."
She marvelled, "You really do appreciate me. I could get used to that."
"Do you require food or refreshment?"
"How about a nice cup of tea?" she suggested.
Voldemort went to the door and opened it. There were two Death Eaters standing guard.
"Bring us hot tea and sandwiches," he ordered. "My Seer is thirsty."
"At once, my lord!"
He closed the door again and faced her.
"The bathroom and water closet are through that door," Voldemort said. "You will have no privacy."
"You mean you will even be in there with me?" This was not expected.
"I dare not miss anything," he said, his tone flat.
The idea of Voldemort watching her take a shower was creepy and made her feel violated, even if she wasn't wearing her own appearance.
"I never would have taken you for someone who likes to watch, my lord." Sarcasm and dark humour were her only defence.
He waved a hand dismissively. "Your body holds no interest for me. I will not be looking at you. If it will make you more comfortable, I will remain outside the door, but the door must remain open."
He would always be listening. That was slightly less disturbing but still not very comforting.
"Any sort of attention would be a welcome change, my lord. I have never had any gentlemen callers. My Sight is too intimidating for them all."
"I have never had much use for women," he declared. "Nor for men, in case you would ask. You are impertinent, Seer, a trait I normally do not tolerate. See that you do not abuse the privilege of your position."
"As you command, my Lord Vol," she said, inclining her head. His jaw clenched, but at that moment there was a timid knock on the door.
"Enter."
A Death Eater opened the door and brought in a tray of tea and sandwiches.
"My lord, your tea."
"Leave it on the table and remove yourself."
The Death Eater did as he was ordered. Tonks sat down and poured two cups of tea and offered one to Voldemort.
"Will you join me?"
Voldemort stared at her, and for a moment she worried that he was about to probe her mind. Then he sat in the opposite chair and accepted the cup. "No one has invited me to sit with them in a very long time."
Though not unexpected, it was still sad. "What a terrible shame, my lord. Pleasant company is often absent from my life as well. Let us correct that situation now. Tell me about yourself."
He said nothing. His red eyes studied her, unblinking.
"Oh come now," she chided him. "We're going to be spending every moment together, aren't we? Are we supposed to be silent? Let us talk of things that are not war, or blood, or prophecy. Do you enjoy music, my lord?"
"Some," he admitted.
"I can't abide most new music. One of my students tried to tell me about a band called Wand Smasher, but it was much too fast and loud for me. I prefer classical music. It's so neat and orderly. I'm particularly fond of Brahms."
To her surprise, Voldemort did not immediately denounce the man as only a mere Muggle. He said, "Brahms was a perfectionist. I respect that he destroyed works he felt were unworthy."
At last she had cracked his mask!
"Wizards were able to record sounds in those days. Have you ever heard his violin sonata?"
"It was beautiful," he said quietly. "A true loss."
She pressed her advantage. "Perhaps some day, the magic will be found that can translate the recording in the crystal to a proper score. You are a powerful wizard, my lord. Wouldn't it be nice to create something - recreate it! - instead of destroying things all the time?"
"When I rule the world, there will be time for such things."
"I hope so, my lord. Not much point to forging a new future if there is no place for music and art, is there?"
"No." He paused for a moment. "Do you appreciate art, Seer?"
It was quite the experience living with Voldemort.
True to his word, she had no privacy except in her own mind. She kept her thoughts occluded at all times, but he never tried to use Legilimency against her. He was always with her. When she woke up, he was watching her. When she went to sleep, he was watching her. When she used the toilet, he waited outside the open door. He had decided matters would be simpler if they bathed together in the bathtub he enlarged.
He bathed every other day, and she was called upon to scrub his back. Tonks knew she would be going to the Obliviators to have the sight of naked Voldemort blasted out of her brain. He had appropriated the body of Peter Pettigrew, but he had used the past two years to sculpt it into a more suitable form. He was muscular, even handsome. The only hair on his body was the black hair on his head. He admired snakes very much, and snakes were hairless.
I must be out of my mind.
She had that thought several times an hour. She maintained her calm exterior through liberal use of her Metamorphmagus skills and by calculating how much overtime and hazard pay she was banking.
If I live through this, I'll be rich. I won't need to inherit the Black fortune.
She was also gathering incredible amounts of intelligence. She sat in her chair beside Voldemort's throne for hours at a time and heard all the reports. When Azkaban was busted open and all these Death Eaters arrested, doubtless many would try to claim bewitchment or coercion. She was probably going to have to spend a month or more testifying on the witness stand. At least no one would be able to buy his way off this time. She heard far too many casual conversations to let her believe Imperius.
To Tonks' intense shock, she had discovered that Barty Crouch, Junior was still alive. How, she could only guess, but she would have wagered her hazard pay that his father had some involvement. This revelation would ruin the remainder of the man's reputation.
Crouch was also in Voldemort's favour, having arranged for Harry Potter's abduction at the end of the Triwizard Tournament. With the aid of Polyjuice Potion, he had posed as Ludo Bagman and turned the trophy into a portkey. With some discreet help, Harry had finished first and been whisked away to Voldemort's coming out party.
Only Uncle Lucius' presence had prevented Harry's death that night. Voldemort had ranted several times about the man's betrayal and the extremely unpleasant doom that awaited him once he was finally captured. Thus far, he had managed to stay one step ahead of the Death Eaters, though he had been forced to Apparate every thirty-three minutes to do so. Only when he was in a place protected by the Fidelius Charm was he able to rest.
Crouch had been Voldemort's envoy to the nations of Europe. Every country had a Dark wizard or three with a fair bit of talent. Dozens more made perfect foot soldiers. It was Crouch's task to find them and bring them together under the Dark Mark. It was a patchy record, but ultimately a success.
The French were notoriously reluctant to fight, though if roused could be mighty. He had kept France talking when the British government asked for support in dealing with Voldemort. They still hadn't committed in any significant way, two years on. This was a win for the Dark.
He found no support in Germany, Austria, or Hungary. They remembered Grindelwald too well. He had stayed only a few days, moving south. He hadn't been chased out, per se, but his presence was definitely not wanted.
It was in Italy that he had his greatest success. He had invited the four strongest Dark wizards to a meeting and negotiated an agreement between them. Where no one of them could have defeated the others and then challenged the government, together they were a formidable threat. So formidable, in fact, that with Crouch as their adviser, they had managed to topple the government in less than a year.
Once they had taken over the government, they were able to stall any wider European action. Italy had become a Dark haven. They had set up camps for the remaining Light wizards. Brainwashing and psychological conditioning were ongoing.
Now Crouch had returned and brought with him some guests.
"My master," he said, kneeling in prostration. "Glad I am to be reunited with you. Allow me to introduce Santino Fredo Miguel Andolini, the most skilled of the Quartetto Scuro Italiano."
Andolini went to one knee. "Most powerful one, I pledge my loyalty to you and your cause. I have brought a dozen of my best fighters to swell the ranks of your Mangiamorte."
Voldemort smiled. "I accept your service, Santino. Bartemius has assured me that you are worthy. Present your left forearm to me."
Andolini pulled back his sleeve and exposed his arm. Voldemort placed the tip of his wand at the crook of the elbow.
"Morsmordre!"
Andolini began to scream. The putrid scent of burning flesh filled the air. The skin began to turn black, settling into the twisted evil shape of the Dark Mark. His breathing grew ragged as he sought to master the pain.
Voldemort looked at the other Italians. "Who would be next?"
They were visibly nervous, but one stepped forward and knelt. He pulled up his sleeve and offered his arm.
"How bold. Your name?"
"James Santadio, my lord."
"With that sort of courage, you will go far. Morsmordre!"
One by one, all of the Italians received the Dark Mark. One fainted during it, to Voldemort's disdain.
"If he cannot handle this small measure of pain, how will he stand up to my enemies?" He turned to Santadio. "Kill him."
Santadio didn't hesitate for even a moment. The spell he used was foreign to Tonks, but a gleaming metal spear suddenly decorated the space between the failed man's shoulder blades. Blood began to leak across the floor.
"Well done. Someone will show you where to dispose of it."
"Thank you, my lord." Santadio bowed low.
Voldemort glanced over at Tonks. "Seer, do you think these new Death Eaters will boost my chances for victory?"
He asked questions like that fairly often. She would need to offer a fake prophecy soon.
"As I have told you, my Lord Vol, the Inner Eye does not open at will," she replied. "It opens only when it chooses. I can no more command the spirits to grace me than I could affix a gelatin mould to the wall with Spellotape. Patience! You will have your prophecy in the fullness of time."
As before, he was not satisfied with her answer.
"Soon, Seer. Soon."
He dismissed the Death Eaters and retired to his chambers. As always, she followed closely behind. He strode directly to the bathroom and began to draw water. He stripped off his robes, folded them carefully, then placed them in the hamper.
"Seer, attend me," he commanded.
"How many times must I ask you to call me Sybil, my lord? It's not a complicated name." She put the slightest bit of exasperation into her tone as she removed her own clothes and stepped into the steaming water. It felt wonderful.
"I call you Seer because I hope you will deliver a prophecy."
"Perhaps if you were more friendly, the spirits would be more comfortable approaching me," she retorted.
He considered her words for a long moment.
"Wash my back," he ordered quietly. "Please."
She nearly fainted. "I didn't even know you knew that word, my lord."
"I am not accustomed to having my will thwarted. If I must employ the niceties, I shall."
Tonks rolled her eyes back in her head, subtly using her skills to change the shape of her throat.
"Ice must pass through the fire. Love will unite the holy one and the dark one. The flame-haired daughter of war shall lead them. She will rise when the signs are right, and her number shall be three."
She picked up the washcloth. "I've always believed you can get more with a kind word than a threat," she said in her normal voice.
"What was that you said?" he demanded.
"I've always believed you can get more with a kind word than with threats."
He shook his head. "No. Before that. About the daughter of war."
"Daughter of war?" she said incredulously. "What a curious phrase. I certainly never said anything about it."
"What about ice? And fire?" He sounded like he was about to explode.
She peered at him. "Are you well, my lord? Such strange things you say."
Without another word, Voldemort abruptly rose from the bath, water streaming down his hairless body. He strode from the bathroom, grabbing his wand and extracting a silver tendril of memory from his temple. He deposited it in the Pensieve and tapped the rim with his wand.
A miniature Sybil Trelawney rose from the smooth surface.
"Ice must pass through the fire. Love will unite the holy one and the dark one. The flame-haired daughter of war shall lead them. She will rise when the signs are right, and her number shall be three."
The words began to repeat, and with a gentle shake the figure sank back into the Pensieve.
"Ah, so that is what a prophecy sounds like!" she marvelled. "I have always wondered. Well, you have your prophecy, my lord. Will you now put me to death?"
He laughed. It was a genuine, amused laugh. "Seer, I would sacrifice every one of my Death Eaters to keep you near me. Your usefulness has only begun."
Tonks concealed a smirk. "My name is Sybil."
Voldemort nodded. "Sybil. You are mine. I will take the best care of you, but you belong to me now."
Tonks bowed her head. "As you wish, Lord Vol."
Damn, I'm good.