The room was almost completely black, save the lone white light that shone down on the mirror where Bellatrix Lestrange sat, brushing her charcoal-black hair, her dark hazel eyes lost in tunnels of thought.
On the table before her were only two things: her wand, and a long, curving knife. She sat on the edge of the chair, and even while appearing to relax, her body seemed tensed, like she was expecting at any moment to leap out of the chair and into action.
She had grown used to this kind of cat-like awareness. A stay in Azkaban would do that to a person, she remembered darkly. But I have gotten free of that cursed place, and at last was able to stand at the Dark Lord's side once again.
Until that filthy Potter brat and his friends put a stop to that, she thought, her thoughts broiling with anger. And now Rodolphus is in Azkaban, the Dark Lord is gone, and I'm forced to live here.
Here was on the rocky western coast of England, in the abandoned and crumbling ruins of an old castle. It was dank and drafty, but with some spells she had at least made it livable.
For the time being.
Until she was able to raise her army of Death Eaters and take revenge on Potter and the rest of the Wizarding world for the destruction of her master, the imprisonment of her husband, and forcing a pure-blood like her to live in a squalid hole of misery like this.
She was biting her lip so hard that she felt a small rivulet of blood run down her chin, but quickly licked it away. I will enjoy getting back at them for this, she told herself.
The completion of her plan was fast approaching. Daily, more and more Death Eaters filtered in, and most of them submitted to following her. After all, she had been one of the Dark Lord's most trusted servants - who better to lead them? Some were less willing than others, but she eventually convinced them; if she didn't, she killed them, which she regretted for no other reason than she needed as many supporters as she could get. Were it not for that fact, there would be a lot more bodies at her feet.
The number of her supporters had swelled large enough that using the now empty Malfoy Mansion was no longer a smart move: it would be an obvious place to look, and she didn't want to risk anything, now that she was getting so close. So after the meeting that night, she had ordered three of her Death Eaters to say behind and destroy the place, just so no one would know they had been there.
Just as her mind picked up on this thread of thought, there was a hesitant knock on the door. She set down the brush, next to her knife and wand, and said, "Enter."
She turned her chair around to see two the Death Eaters who were supposed to destroy the mansion enter, both covered in dirt and ash. That, at least, was a good sign.
She stood up, looking like a queen surveying her subjects, in her royal blue gown, and said, "I trust the demolition went well."
The larger of the two men took a small step forward, his heavily bearded face looking down, his grimy brown hair falling forward and covering his eyes.
"Yes, mistress, the mansion was destroyed, as you requested…" he answered in a deep voice, still not looking up.
She sensed the hesitation at the end of his sentence and harshly asked, "But?"
"A few members of those miserable DA were there. Caused a bit of a row," he said quietly.
"What?!" she shrieked, her hand flying to her silver knife as if on its own accord. The fiery hatred she felt for that whole pack of miserable brats rose up and threatened to consume her, and it was only the cool, calming feel of the blade in her hand that steadied her.
"We didn't know where the came from, mistress. We were in the second floor, doing a final sweep when they were suddenly coming down the hall towards us. We fired on them and they fired back, but we managed to destroy the place and get out."
"And the brats?" she snarled.
For the first time, the man looked up, and she saw a hairline scar running from his eye to the corner of his lip. His silver eyes were almost expressionless.
"I do not know, my lady. We got out before we could see what happened to them. Hopefully they were still in the house when it collapsed."
"Fool!" she yelled, taking a menacing step forward, and both men fell back. "Do you honestly think that the few you ran into were the only ones in the house. They were probably crawling all over the place like the vermin they are!" She kept reminding herself that she needed all the support she could get, else these two men would have already been dead.
"And where's the third one of you? Please do not tell me he allowed himself to be killed by one of those wretches?" She glared hard at both men, radiating pure anger.
The large men shook his head and said, "No, mistress. I killed him."
Bella's eyes snapped wide in shock, and all thoughts of how much support she needed melted from her mind. She pulled the knife back and moved forward. These two would die, and she would savour it.
The man fell back and pleaded, "Wait, mistress, please! Let me show you why!"
Something about the desperateness in his voice stopped her, and she glared hard at him for a moment. She lowered the knife a little, and nodded.
The man nodded to the other, and he left the room and came back in dragging the body of a dark-haired boy she initially took to be dead, but then noticed the faint rising and falling of his chest.
She looked up at the man, and he said, "One of the DA, mistress. I had a chance to stun him and grab him before we left."
She didn't say anything, just bore into him with her dark eyes, and so he continued to speak. "You see, if they knew he was captured, they would move or change the way they do things, but if they thought he was dead, there'd be no problem."
She had sudden appreciation for the man, and studied the boy curiously. It was a brilliant plan - if those filthy brats thought that this one was dead, they wouldn't be looking for an attack or betrayal.
She let the corner of her lips curve upward in a small smile, and suddenly asked, "What's your name?"
"Morder Pendrag," the man answered, clearly feeling proud of himself.
"Tell me Morder, why not just cast the spell at the wall? Why did you find it necessary to kill one of MY supporters?"
The pride quickly drained out of his face, but said in a steady voice, "Where's the fun in that?"
At that answer, she couldn't help but laugh. Here was a man after her own heart.
To the other Death Eater, she nodded to the boy and said, "Take him to one of the lower chambers. Don't give him any food or water. I'll deal with him in time."
"Yes, mistress," the man said, and picked up the boy and quickly made for the door, obviously glad to be out of her presence.
Morder was still standing there, and she said, "I'm making you my second in command for now, Morder. Return to your duties until I think up a suitable use for you."
The man smiled, bowed and walked out of the room, closing the door.
She sat back down, traded the knife in her hand for the brush, and went back to her hair.
Oh yes, she thought. Things are moving ahead perfectly.
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