9Serpents Rose
Chapter 7
Riddle Manor?... Unknown
Standing still, he was quiet and for once he preferred to be just one in the crowd. There were hundreds around him that were also just being another follower in a mass of them, a cog on the wheel, a single grain in a salt shaker. The elder blonde with long hair and a dark walking stick made from lacquered cherry wood stood with some others near the throne. In Draco Malfoy's mind, his father wasn't what he had expected; bowing under the cruciatus curse in what he could tell was extreme pain.
Draco's father may have done his best to ride out the pain but the man still withered, still felt the immense pain, still suffered beneath a cruel master. Lucius's screams were minimal compared to some of the other minions, but that didn't mean much; the years of this treatment must have either lessened his bladder control because of the intense pain and magical attack or strengthened it, and the smell of urine and wastes had belonged to one of the other Death Eaters was a pungent ferment that combined with everything else.
It was a complete madhouse.
This meeting was a test, to see who was worthy to be one of his followers or not. This was a test for him as well as them, their future choices laid before them in a light. Voldemort had put the cruciatus on one of his followers, one of the upper echeolons in fact, to show the new recruits and possible followers of Voldemort how they would be treated for failure. If they didn't join they would probably be killed anyways, but the less smarter ones really weren't thinking that.
He watched some of them scream and he knew he would become a Death Eater, the pure blood in his veins attesting to his upbringing and the Malfoy line. It was expected of him from early on. There was no other choice. He watched completely blank as many were tortured and ordered around. There were over twenty possible recruits standing around him, having immersed himself in the middle. He fought not to recognize some of the faces lest he blanch too noticeably. He was naturally pale but the color of his skin was almost sickly in his shock, the horror that this place was.
Weeks back, he had received a letter. It had been quietly sent and received, left no trace as to who it was from, and hinted at a number of uncomfortable things he may end up doing in the course of having the Dark Mark. In the back of his mind, in that hind brain that many of the magical population did not seem to listen to, he seriously considered owning up to it.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap. Tap, tap.
The cold liquid that felt like needles slowly dropping in a tied manner along her spine remained and her mind was wild. She couldn't really think but nonsense flowed through her Occlumency shields. This didn't really hurt at first but she didn't know that now. Once she knew how to enjoy the pain, it had felt that it was the only way to go. Once, she had believed that her only joy was in pain.
Tap, tap. Tap…tap…tap.
She was so far gone that there was no difference only some madness that was worse than usual and deeper and darker than what her average bi polar state of mind was. Her black hair had been chopped short just in case and the itch of her strings were not felt against her milky skin. The pigments were too far under a spell that she wouldn't have known anyway.
There was no tapping anymore.
She didn't feel the difference at first. But then time fell into eternity and it seemed at as there was nothing there she was just waiting, waiting for the next drop to touch her as the ritual torture had begun. It seemed to be far worse torture in not falling then when the drops were hitting her.
She couldn't move on her own, open an eye half way maybe, but it was dark around her. There was no light and her skin felt dead. She couldn't move her arms and the hair there wouldn't stick up. It was as if her body had fallen asleep and left her awake and aware but not truly awake.
Bellatrix enjoyed handing out torture and a little pain for herself, but until now nothing had truly scared her.
A Serpent Rose HQ
In a room resembling a police interrogation watch, there were three people, not street kids any longer though all three had once been long ago. There was a one-way window in front of them with a dark room on view that didn't look dark to them. There was a woman being slowly tortured with the infamous 'Chinese dragon torture'. She was laid under a spell, her legs simply held down by a sheet of fabric clasping her feet together. Her arms were underneath her, effectively keeping her down. Her skin and muscles had been put to sleep, though her organs were working fine. She was effectively rendered helpless, though her mind was fully awake. Her body just wasn't working on command.
A shower head was one, though it was put in a funnel reed charmed to let out a charmed drop of water at certain times.
"Any idea what she wanted us to test for?" one of the researchers asked another.
"No, but Davy is just giving her a full scan with the Technomancy medical thingy that Shadow cooked up. It'll take a few hours to fully set up and test, but we'll get what we need." the second researcher replied.
Leaning in a reclined way against the wall, Marty watched the slow torture. He'd never been much for torture himself, and neither had most of the members, but when he heard what she had done to some of their members… he didn't really have anything to say against it. It wasn't as if she was being beaten to death. He was sure that Shadow could have taken care of that just fine. This was a mental thing, not that she had been all there in the first place, but now she definitely wouldn't be able to focus and act as a normal person in society.
The three waited until the one they knew as Davy, with long dirty brown hair and grey eyes came in. There was nothing noticeable off about him but he twitched a lot. He had been a victim of child abuse early on before moving to the streets. Here with the Serpents Rose he could put his brain to use. It lessened his small convulsions noticeably and he was much better than he had been at the age of nine. At fifteen, he was a prime medical researcher and currently in charge of one of the many projects going on in the small independent society. He was also a wizard, not found by any of the schools; or if he had been than he hadn't been found.
"Anything important going on, Davy?" one of the other researchers asked?
"Turn off the water." Davy said, firmly without explanation, not bothering to look up from the clipboard that seemed to make its way into every research area and medical center. At least his wasn't the brown cardboard, but a bright lime green, see-through plastic that they used for color. The Serpents Rose were nothing but practical, and with wide budgets, they could actually afford things when they wanted them mostly, living in a dorm style life where the world was their dorm. Even the medical beds were furnished better than usual. Instead of white plasticky sheets there were comfortable light colors that were charmed to clean themselves.
Marty did so, not really needing one. The nozzle went off with a little squeak and the small amount of water falling front of the faucet in front of them slowed, and then stopped.
"What's up? Why'd you quit?"
"Mrs. Lestrange is pregnant."
At the announcement, there was a small silence and then they rushed to alert some of the other members in the need-to-know.
It was quickly decided that they'd hold her somewhere unconscious until the baby was born. Many could kill when the situation counted for it, but an innocent child? It would be a long few months before they would send the mad woman into premature labor after milking her for milk and any information, before someone with less of a hard conscience would kill her. And they'd raise the child as one of them, independent from the crazy world that had corrupted his, or her, mother.
Gringotts Bank. Diagon Alley
.
He'd made it into the bank and through the alley without anyone really noticing him. It was a relief. Although he was patched with plenty of magics that weren't notice-me-nots (as they were easy to spot if you knew how and what to look for) Harry couldn't help but be really paranoid. It came with his life style.
The large golden doorway that was the entrance to the only Gringotts in England was there for his entrance. He was careful not to look near the sign on the wall magicked to read whoever read it. It was an interesting piece that he himself had studied a long time ago.
His feet made no sound as they walked on the stone tiles that were this banks decor. Four desk spots were amused by lines of witches and wizards waiting for their chance to remove currency from their vaults. Funny; one would think with the experience that these people would get used to waiting for these things. On the other side of the four podiums were goblins with indifferent looks upon their faces and their eyes trained down on the numbers in books at their station.
He lined up in the shortest of the lines, his dark pointed hood not brought down. It might have been disrespectful in wizarding manors and muggle homes but there was nothing that spoke of it in the goblin lore books he had read and the instructing he had taken. He could see many witches frowning at his 'indecency.' He snorted to himself at his choice of words. It wasn't like he was naked or anything.
The Burrow,
She'd been on edge all day. She didn't know why. The reports came in as usual only when she was in her room alone and ready to receive them. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on edge; something was up. Dumbledore had been around more than lately, though her mother seemed to be agreeable with it as she got another mouth to feed. Her father had just nodded, respecting the old man too much to think odd of him.
Ginny M. Weasley loved her Weasley family but sometimes they were so naïve even after everything they'd been through that it wasn't even funny. Of course, sometimes her brothers did make her laugh.
Dumbledore came by this morning though, and didn't eat despite the protests. Coming to talk to her parents about the Order of the Phoenix he had restarted up last year wasn't as big a secret as her parents were deceived it to be, but they kept quiet about it. She knew Bill and Charlie were part of the organization, as well as her parents. Molly Weasley was still protesting her babies being part of anything real but as time went on the seven Weasley children-now-adults learned how to tune it out and actually be part of society not as children.
Her question now was why Dumbledore wanted her mother to call a family meeting, and why he chose not to eat. She'd have to check to food. In the meantime, she held her necklace/portkey close, her days in the SR paying off with a paranoia reminiscent of Mad-eye Moody.
Gringotts Bank. Diagon Alley
.
He'd made it up to the podium at the front of the second line. The being looking tall nearly showing his feet at how high the bench was placed stood behind it, not paying him hardly any attention. The goblin's face looked at him though when Harry whispered something at him in gobbledygook. They stood there, mouthing meaningless words under their breaths at one another; Harry telling him what was going on, the goblin listening to the orders.
The stamped paper slid onto the desk where he could see it and check it for authenticity practically screamed 'goblin friend.'
From somewhere behind him, he felt a little connection slide out from one of the rooms. He made sure not to cause notice to fall on the departing figure but was extra careful not to actually turn around and take notice, reflex or not. He couldn't be aware of the problems if such a thing had happened. When the figure was gone from the bank, the goblin at the podium in front of him watched and sent him on his way.
As instructed, Harry slipped into the room that the figure from before had come from, already knowing and anticipating what was occurring. He had an appointment with The Goblin Committee of Inheritances and after that, he'd be having a talk with Griphook over how he wanted to run the Investigation and the following prosecutions.
Leaving Gringotts Bank. Diagon Alley.
Quiet and undetected by those he didn't trust, the shadowy figure kept himself to the brief lightless places within the magical bank, the door of galleons providing sufficient darkness to not be noticed for more then the shadows he was aptly named for. A scroll in hand was on his mind, practically lighting the path he was about to walk.
As survival oriented as he had always been, there was a nearly-solid persistence in his aura, a drive that said 'I am going to do this' and 'this is what I'm gonna do' that wouldn't be questioned even if there was a reason to do so. His walk was cat-like and if one were to see the look in his eyes, they would fear him.
Out of the bank he made his way, his steps precise as to not be seen, only a simple black cloak and silent walking boots to hide himself. He knew not to use spells on his things as aurors had been trained to spot such things. And he knew better not to go without his suspicions Dumbledore's Order members were quite easy to spot; the two Unspeakables scouting at the edge of Mademoiselle's Mystic Muses were at least normal-looking as to not be picked out by untrained eyes.
His presence made itself known in the darker parts of Knockturn Alley, the bums and old hags that lined random streets flinched when they saw the green lights from his hood come near. He wasn't evil or really even bad. But he was always persistent and now he was wary of all and everyone of the street vendors and shops in this other world away from that of which he raised himself in.
A fazed shimmer out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A shop resembling Borgin & Burkes was connected to a rundown wall with an empty old shack next to it; it was a rundown shop that looked undusted for years by the ones who didn't know what to look for. Not stopping, he made his way over and like the wall between the Hogwarts Express and the normal muggle world and 9 and 3/4, he made his way through the excellent illusion that the trained aurors had apparently missed and reminded himself to tell some of his coworkers about it.
Entering the place it was another shop to the eye. Shelves of many illegal and 'dark' artifacts lined three of the walls, and a doorway to the back spoke of secrets. A man at the counter didn't see him or look up. There was no registration of his identity like the door usually took as he did not walk through it. He slowly made rounds around the room, the voices in the back not as silenced as he would have thought they would have been.
The door at the back opened and a familiar face made his way out of the back room. The anticipation surrounding Shadow wasn't present as one might have expected it to be. But he didn't really enjoy killing, though he lusted somewhat for the end of the war where he could be himself, and the wizarding world would quit bothering his friends with the weight of the world. After all, knowing people in the 'Ministry Crew' that went into the DOM against Voldemort as some of Shadow's personal friends, he didn't like when one messed with His.
Antonin Dolohov's face was clear in the dim room. Shadow followed him onto the pathways of the alley, a personal vendetta held against him.
Dolohov met up with a friend, Lucius Malfoy, on his pureblooded stride. Both were supposed to be elsewhere, Dolohov in jail and the blonde working at the Ministry. Shadow gave a cold smirk and blocks away many flinched and huddled in the corners as to draw no attention to one self. He wouldn't kill them, yet. This was strictly information-gathering, attaching muggle 'bugs' to the purebloods magically so that, when they were near other Death Eaters or others of knowledge, the SR would be aware of it and gather more facts.
He enjoyed stalking them though. Mr. Borgin of Borgin & Burkes would need a new pair of pants though, as his own were drenched with urine. Shadow grinned sadistically and leapt through the shadows he was aptly named for, following his targets and stalking them, chills crawling up and down the spines of the senior Death Eaters.
Green eyes hooded left the main bank branch in England satisfied with his dealings. The shaggy black hair looked towards the abyss that was Knockturn and wondered what the counterpart was up to. He had to get back to the SR HQ soon though, so he didn't stick around long enough to be noticed by passersby. Both bodies smirked at their enemies and let the fear flow into the hearts of their new prey.
END of this chapter...
Author's Notes: Yes its been a while, but no I am not 'back' to looking very hard at this story. I have gotten into Naruto in the last few years if you have noticed the number of goodies in my favorites. However, this is one many interesting tidbits that lay dormant on my computer doing nothing but collecting comp virus ash. So, I'll put it out there for you to enjoy.
Also, I got a particularly rude review the other day about how I am an angst emo bitch. Erm. That kinda hurt. Right here. In that heart you can't see through a comp screen. So, if you are actually reading this note, plz know that I am not an emo, and am actually fairly happy floating in my life. I love humor in fact... I just cannot write it well. While it is true that I have a tiny bit of humor/parody out there, they are often from moments of writers hand where I imitate Idle Hands but in a good way. I also know that I am not alone in this. After all, we cannot all be the writers of awesomeness in humor like Rorschach's Blot, Nonjon, Jeconais, Chris Hill, Andrew Joshua Talon, Ozzallos, Metroanime, and many others.
Now, as to the story, I don't know when I'll come back to it. So just put a note on it and maybe one day you'll find an email in your mailbox with a happy little smiley face next to my name saying that there is a new bit of goody to get your grubby eyes on.