Music for writing : Vampire Journals - Movie Sountrack
2013 – Malfoy Manor
The boy started to feel it again. His breathing quickened as he buried his face in his neck.
"You smell… good," he heard him murmur.
Sila! Come to the sitting room, please!
Scorpius heard his father's voice from the terrace. The boy let him go and emerged from the grove where they had both been hiding.
Scorpius ran after him but was stopped by his mother, who prevented him from entering the small sitting room.
"Can Sila come and play?" asked the boy, at seven years old.
"Sila is resting, my love," his mother replied gently. "Daddy is taking care of him."
He waited until she walked away with a book in hand, and once she was settled on the lounge chair, he sneaked over to the small sitting room and cracked open the door. He knew he wasn't allowed in when his father was examining the boy. But Sila wouldn't tell him anything, and it wasn't fair!
"This will help you," Draco said, handing him a potion.
"I'm not normal."
"Your results are excellent, though."
"I can hear the blood coursing through your veins, the beating of your heart… I'm like a dog that will go mad once it tastes blood."
"Don't say that," Draco said gently, stroking his hair. "I'm very confident. Do you think I would let you be around Scorpius if I had any doubt?"
Draco took notes in his notebook and applied his wand to the boy's arms.
"I'm treating your fears more than any potential illness," he said, placing a pendulum on his forehead. "Having heightened senses compared to ours isn't surprising. That doesn't make you abnormal."
"I want you to lock my bedroom door tonight."
"Sila, nothing will happen tonight…"
"Please. It's the full moon. Lock the door!"
1997 – Malfoy Manor
Dawn was close now, but Scorpius had refused to go to the room assigned to him.
He needed to reach the old chapel, abandoned for many years—perhaps centuries. It had been built when wizards and Muggles were still one and the same community. So as not to arouse suspicion, the Malfoys had constructed this chapel on the manor grounds, like all English nobility. Scorpius doubted a single mass had ever been celebrated within these stone walls. But the building was solid, and the wooden door was difficult to open.
A thick iron gate closed off the crypt. That was where Scorpius was heading.
He was cold; the wind was icy and damp. He crossed the northern garden, illuminated by the moon, whose light was fading as dawn approached. This gloomy spring, drenched in rain, made for cold nights. His feet sank into the muddy ground, and the wind whipped his face before making the trees shudder in a sinister dance. He circled the chapel and reached the gate of the crypt.
He hated this place; it had always scared him. He'd never been able to go inside, nor had anyone else. Only Dorian Nott had been brave enough to descend. Dorian was always the bravest. They waited for him at the top of the stairs, trembling, until he ran back up, saying he'd seen a monster, and all the children fled, screaming.
Those were the days of terrible children's games. Today, he would be a man.
A heavy chain and a padlock sealed the bars. The locking system was simple, but the true fear wasn't someone getting in—it was something getting out.
Scorpius exhaled softly, trying to ignore the fear spreading in his stomach. He unlocked the padlock effortlessly with a flick of his wand, removed the chain, and pulled open the heavy gate, which creaked painfully, a mournful cry echoing against the cold stone.
Before descending the stairs, he made sure to close it and replace the chain and padlock. Then he went down into the darkness, holding his lit wand in front of his face, his heart pounding. The stench of rot and dampness filled his nostrils as he sank deeper underground. He reached a room with a ceiling supported by large columns.
"Sila?" he called softly. But no answer came.
He swept his wandlight through the darkness. His heart pounded in his ears. The sound of water dripping and the scurrying of rats frayed his nerves.
Suddenly, he saw something on the floor in the light of his wand and clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry. It was just a bowl placed on the ground, but inside was a bloody mass. Raw meat soaked in a thick pool of blood.
Scorpius passed the macabre feast, his hand still over his mouth to avoid retching. He took a few more steps and saw him.
Sila was there, dozing on a pallet against the stone. His black hair, too long, covered his face. He was bundled in a thick fur and slept peacefully, seemingly unfazed by the cold while Scorpius could barely keep from chattering his teeth.
"Sila," he said, leaning over him, but the boy was fast asleep. "Sila," he said a bit louder, reaching a hand toward him.
Suddenly, Sila grabbed his fingers, and Malfoy cried out, raising his wand to his face. The large blue eyes recognized him, and Sila let go.
"It's you! Don't ever scare me like that again—I nearly broke your hand!"
Scorpius rubbed his fingers. He knew the boy's strength and was aware of how lucky he was to have his knuckles intact.
"I called you several times; I've never seen anyone sleep so soundly. Pass me some straw—it's too cold in here."
Sila hadn't been allowed to keep his wand, unlike Scorpius, so they set about preparing a small fire of straw and twigs surrounded by stones.
"I came as soon as I heard you were here," Scorpius said, sitting beside the small pile before lighting it.
"Who told you?" Sila asked. He'd draped one of his furs over Scorpius before placing a thick animal skin over his own shoulders and sitting across from him by the fire.
"Severus Snape. He just spent the night turning my brain into mush. But at least we know Dumbledore's spell holds up to attacks."
"Well, that's something," the boy murmured without conviction.
"Sila, why are you here? Why weren't you locked up in the manor's dungeons with me and the other prisoners?"
The young man ran a hand through his black hair, revealing a striking face with high, sharp features.
"The moment they captured me, they brought me here and put me on a carnivorous diet."
"Who?"
"The werewolves," Sila replied without emotion. "The Voracious Ones led by Fenrir. They… sensed it."
"That's impossible," Scorpius whispered, shaking his head.
Sila clicked his tongue sharply.
"You sound just like your father. You refuse to believe me too! But I know what I feel, Scorpius; I've always sensed it. Lycanthropy is a curse that sleeps within me, and they know it. They've smelled the wolf."
Scorpius refused to believe it. Lycanthropy was an illness transmitted by an infected carrier and only by a bite—not a curse. Genetics had no effect except in the development of certain gifts. These men were as mad as the Death Eaters with their deadly ideology. Mad and dangerous. He knew Sila. He wasn't afraid of him.
"Let's assume that's true," he said. "And now?"
"Werewolves have their own hierarchy and their own Purebloods," Sila explained, watching the fire lick at the meager wood. "They hope my instinct will awaken and that I'll transform without even being bitten. And this instinct is called by blood. Hence this delightful meal that I won't eat."
Scorpius knew he was starving, though, by the way he clutched his arm around his stomach and looked at the dish with a mixture of disgust and longing.
"Maybe we can improve your meal," he said, standing and approaching the plate, careful not to show his own aversion.
On closer inspection, the meat—thick and large—was fresh. He picked up the plate, taking care not to spill any blood, and brought it toward the fire.
"Cooked, it should be delicious. Even I'd eat a slice. What is it? Venison?"
"They told me it was doe," Sila said, eyeing it skeptically. "But from the way they laughed at their own joke, I wouldn't touch it, even if you made me the best dish in a sauce."
Scorpius froze, holding the plate in his hands, his face pale.
"You think… it's human?" he asked in a weak voice, unlike himself.
Sila shook his head grimly.
"A woman."
Scorpius let out a small laugh, but it turned into a retch of disgust, and he felt his knees give out. He set the bowl down awkwardly, spilling blood onto the floor, and sat on the stone, his hands trembling. He heard Sila's voice near his ear before realizing that Sila had followed him down and was now sitting beside him.
"I'm sorry, Sila," he said, tears in his eyes, feeling the boy pat his back to comfort him.
"It's not your fault."
"Of course it is, it's my fault you're here. It should have been only me!"
"You were lagging behind; I wanted to save you."
"You shouldn't have come back for me. I couldn't keep up with you, so I wanted to make them chase after me. That was my stupid plan. You shouldn't be here!"
He heard Sila sigh.
"Why couldn't you keep up with us?"
Scorpius looked up at Sila, uncertain, and the boy insisted,
"We grew up together, Scorpius, you run faster than me. Like a real gazelle. And even that fool Weasley left you in the dust."
"I was injured," said Scorpius, not wanting to go into details. "I thought I was healed, but while running, my leg started giving out."
Sila let out a small hiss, gritting his teeth.
"When…?" he asked, and a cold anger resonated in his voice.
"It's unimportant," said Scorpius, moving closer to the fire to steer away from the topic. "But, unlike me, your name isn't written on your face. They don't know who you are. And aside from Snape, I haven't mentioned your name. You have to find a way to escape!"
Sila stood up, outraged.
"Leave without you? You can't be serious?"
"I'm not in danger."
Sila gave a sinister laugh.
"You think so? I heard Greyback talking about you."
Scorpius opened his mouth, then closed it, observing his friend. He felt terribly sad for him. This experience was indeed endlessly cruel.
"You met him?" he murmured, and Sila nodded quietly, lowering his head to hide his gaze with his hair, shoulders slumped. "And?"
The boy lifted his head, regaining an almost princely demeanor. He scanned the darkness of the crypt with his deep blue eyes, his breathing slow and deep. Only the tension in his jaw betrayed his anger.
His icy voice resonated in the shadows.
"I'm glad I look like my mother."
Scorpius nodded gently but said nothing. He didn't dare tell him that he resembled him too, that they shared a similar scent, that when Greyback had approached him, he had felt Sila's presence. He didn't want to hurt him. Sila pulled him from his thoughts.
"I don't know what you did, but he wants to tear out your throat."
"Voldemort won't let him."
"Are you seriously counting on Voldemort to save you?"
The idea seemed ironic but not foolish. The Dark Lord seemed to like him; he wouldn't let some underling lay hands on one of his toys, would he?
Scorpius grimaced at the thought.
"I don't know. Listen, dawn is breaking; I have to return to the manor. But what's certain is that you must leave here, today! I'll find a way."
"I won't leave you alone here!" protested Sila, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind.
"You can't help me!" Scorpius snapped. "You're more of a burden than anything else. Outside, you could be useful; you could even find Rose."
"There's nothing serious between Rose and me!"
But his cheeks flushed red, and Scorpius rolled his eyes at such pitiful denial.
"Fine, you can explain that to her yourself. But, take your chance! I'm exposed; I can't leave without putting my family at risk."
It was true; he was trapped now.
"And what if you don't survive?" Sila asked, desperate. "Did you think about that? I could never face your father, knowing I left you!"
Scorpius clenched his fists, wanting to scream in anger.
"Then stay! Stay, and they'll keep you here forever, feeding you corpses!"
He had shouted, and the echo of his voice sent a chill down his spine. He approached his friend and knelt before him to take his hand.
"Don't you understand, Sila? If they decide you're one of them, you'll finally have a real reason to fear the full moon."
Sila closed his eyes gently, and Scorpius knew he had struck him at the heart, where his long-held fear of becoming something other than himself resided, the fear that this thing would take over him forever.
Scorpius wrapped his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly, gripping his frail fingers against him. He held him to remind him of everything they were to each other, he also held him because soon, he too would leave him alone. Strong arms cradled him, and they remained this way until both of their anger had faded.
Scorpius eventually let go and returned the fur he had lent him.
"I'll come back before nightfall," he promised his friend. "In the meantime, I'll ask Billow to bring you something other than raw meat."
Sila nodded and sat back on his straw pallet.
Scorpius looked at his impassive face framed by long black hair, his slender, sturdy body wrapped in those thick skins and furs. The small fire reflected in his eyes, and suddenly Scorpius saw the singular shimmer of night vision, that twilight sight of creatures that see in the dark. He shuddered in horror. He had seen the wolf.
His heart tightened as a mix of sadness and fear numbed his limbs with every step he took to leave his friend.
At the bottom of the crypt's steps, a sound stopped him.
In the shadows, he heard a sinister chuckle, then Sila's cavernous voice piercing the darkness.
"The monster Dorian saw that day… maybe it was me."
Scorpius remained silent, communing with the darkness, then he ascended towards the light.
End of Chapter 8
For more chapters quickly (free!): My P.a.t.r.e.o.n: TiffanyBrd
Author Notes : There you have it! You've met Sila.
For those who know The Indefensible Ones, I couldn't resist bringing Dorian Nott back into the story.
In the next chapter, we'll return to Albus, James, and the others.