Death Eaters... Forever?

“The Dark Lord requests your presence in the dungeon,” Lucius told me as I finished changing after having a cold shower. I nodded and followed. I wondered why he didn’t just interrupt my sleep pattern again.

“Thank you, Lucius,” Tom said (I liked to think of the Dark Lord as Tom – it wasn’t quite so intimidating). I walked into the dungeon as Lucius closed the door, leaving me alone again with Tom, who was in his teenage form.

“Why don’t you just visit me in my dreams?” I asked him. He raised one delicate eyebrow, as though I’d missed something important.

“When was the last time I did so?” He asked me. I thought about it; then I had an epiphany.

“Oh – so, when I threw you out of my dream, I prevented you from returning…?”

“Yes. And from reading your mind.”

“You can’t get past my barriers?” He shook his head, and I could see the frustration in his dark eyes.

“But… you read my mind before-” He only shook his head again. Am I that easy to read?

“So, uh, what do you want…?” I didn’t even have the heart to snap at him this time.

“Barty Crouch Jr is the one you will be helping,” he replied. Oh hell no.

“What?”

“You will help him to find one of my enemies and get information from them,” he continued as if I hadn’t interrupted him.

“Bu-” I cut myself off. I really did want to, and the reason scared me; I wanted to make Tom happy. “Fine.” He smiled at me then, that heart-stopping smile, and I felt as though he’d just given me something amazingly precious.

“So have you considered my offer?” He asked.

“What offer? Becoming your friend?”

“Yes.”

“Well, uh, I can’t just say ‘yes, I’ll be your friend’ – we have to actually get to know each other first. I mean, from what I’ve heard, you’re a heartless murderer who only cares about himself.” He chuckled.

“There’s more to me than that.” Did he just admit to being a heartless murderer?

“Right. Well, organise a tea party and I’ll be there,” I said sarcastically. He looked clueless, and I repressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry.”

XXX
The following week, Barty forced me to go with him to find the Dark Lord’s enemy. His name was Allen Worvle, and he was a Mudblood Auror. I was given a small picture of him, and was surprised to see a rather handsome young man waving at me. I felt a twinge of sympathy for him; I knew what would happen once we’d taken the information from him.

“He’s been holed up near George’s Town for the past few weeks, but I’d bet anything that he won’t be there now,” Barty informed me as we Apparated.

The town in question was a small huddle of huts in the middle of nowhere, and it seemed to be abandoned. Barty immediately took me to one of these huts, which was in the best repair. Opening the door with a simple unlocking charm I learnt in first year, he stepped inside the shambles, followed by me.

“Damn it!” Barty shouted, and I walked around him to get a look at what had caused his outburst. There, still limp, was the corpse of Allen Worvle.

“He took his own life,” I whispered to myself in horror.

“What do we do now?” I asked Barty once he’d calmed down.

“We report to the Dark Lord that we failed and beg for mercy,” he said dryly. I could tell that he was being serious.

“Oh.” Was all I said.

We Apparated from that ghost town, returning to Malfoy Manor.

“When will he Call us?” I need not have asked; both Barty and I gasped in pain when our left arms flared up.

We Apparated again, and when we got to the source of the Call, I could see Barty shaking out of the corner of my eye.

“Lord, we failed. We got there too late – he’d already administered his own poison. I beg your forgiveness.” I sighed as Barty threw himself to the forest floor.

“Tom, don’t kill him – it’s not his fault we got there too late. If I hadn’t been looking for my wand-” The Dark Lord held up his hand, looking bemused.

“Luckily for you, I was able to read his mind before he died.” I had the feeling that Tom was talking only to Barty.

“Oh, my Lord!” Barty looked ecstatic; I would be too if I was saved from an early ‘retirement’ like he would’ve been. I looked at the Dark Lord, and knew why Barty wasn’t dead anyway; I wondered if he was trying to impress me with his 'mercy'.

XXX
“We are having a meeting here tonight; I suggest you either stay out of the way, or stay close to me. Sometimes the Death Eaters get out of hand.” Lucius told me the next morning at breakfast.

“I’ll stay in my room,” I replied. I didn’t want to be in the way when Fenrir Greyback – the only werewolf Death Eater – got ‘out of hand’. And it was nearly full moon.

It was a humid day, so I decided to go out. I didn’t bother telling Lucius, who’d probably forbid me to, and simply donned some summer Muggle clothes and walked out onto the street. I didn’t bother bringing my wand; I couldn’t use magic around Muggles anyway, but if I had to, I wouldn’t need my wand. I also didn’t bother to hide my Dark Mark; it wasn’t as if the Muggles would know what it was, and there were no witches or wizards around here that I knew wouldn’t like my apparent allegiance to Voldemort.

After walking quite a way (practically running, actually – and it still took me almost an hour), I encountered some rather normal houses, and realised this was a normal Muggle road. Many kids were out, along with some friendly-looking adults. The sign at the end of the street pointed to a park, so I decided to follow it. I sat on a swing – a strange Muggle contraption on which you sat and swung yourself to and fro for mild entertainment – and watched as the sun rose to its zenith.

I was startled out of my reverie by the cry of a little kid. Looking over to the source of the cry, I saw a small girl – about thirteen or fourteen – being pushed to the ground by a group of three guys – who might’ve been seventeen, or might’ve been twenty-something.

“Not so tough now, are you, baby?” I realised with a sick feeling what was going to happen to her. Sleazy bastards. Standing up, I walked over to them as one of the men with a mop of black hair and an unshaved face pulled the poor girl off the ground again by her shirt.

“Come on, now, don’t be like that,” the man said as his cronies laughed. He pulled her close roughly, and put his hands under her top.

“Hey, get away from her!” I shouted at them in disgust. Some Muggles were just as bad as Voldemort made them out to be, but the simple reason that these were Muggles was enough to give me pause; I wasn’t able to use magic where they were concerned, it was too risky. I knew how to defend myself to an extent, but I knew these ugly brutes were all brawn, and I wasn’t so confident. However, I couldn’t just stand by as they raped an innocent young girl.

“What did you say?” The foremost man – who’d taken his hands from under the girl’s top – asked me as though he were deaf.

“You heard me! I’ll call the cops if you’re not careful!” I’d taken Muggle Studies in my first year, in which I’d learnt that policemen – more commonly known as ‘cops’ – held the peace in the Muggle world. Although in this instance, I wasn’t so sure they were at all effective.
“Why don’t you come and play? I’m sure we have room,” one of the other men replied, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Just because you aren’t able to pick up a girl at the bar doesn’t mean you need to force one to…” I couldn’t even finish my sentence; I was so sickened by them. I could feel their horrid thoughts on the edge of my mind, but refused to look on their minds; it was bad enough as it was.

They looked at me furiously, and the two men not holding onto the other girl launched themselves at me. I was unprepared, and was caught by them both. Their fetid breath burned my eyes and nose, and I turned my face away from them as they half-dragged me toward the bushes. What have I got myself into?

One of the men holding me whispered something to the other, and he burst out laughing. I wished I hadn’t worn short shorts (Muggle pants which were made of minimal material but generally cost more than other clothes); I felt all exposed.

I managed to kick one of the men in the knee, and he collapsed with a curse. Before I knew what hit me, my head exploded, and the world spun sickeningly. I felt bile rise in my mouth, and fell to the ground shuddering. It was worse than the Cruciatus Curse simply because I knew that the kicks they were now administering to me were doing serious damage. I curled up in a foetal position as they kicked me in the head, chest, legs, anywhere. I hoped that the other girl had managed to escape, but forgot about this as a sudden crack resonated from my leg. The pain immediately followed, and I couldn’t help but let out a scream. They’d broken my leg!

My head exploded again as another kick glanced off my skull. I desperately held onto consciousness, but I could see the darkness at the edge of my vision beginning to creep across my eyes. I heard faint laughter, and the nausea was overwhelming. I was kicked in the ribs, and another faint crack was heard before more pain found me. I screamed again, but it was fainter this time, and when I was kicked again in the head, the darkness claimed me.

XXX
I woke up unable to take a breath without sharp pain piercing me, and I couldn’t feel my left leg. I’ll heal soon, I promised myself, but as the memories came back, I knew that this would take a while.

Sitting up, I found myself in an ugly room with peeling grey wallpaper and a stale smell, like someone had forgotten to take out the trash. I wrinkled my nose, but a sudden wave of vertigo forced me to fall back down with a groan.

“She’s awake,” a man said roughly from the door. “More to the point, she’s alive,” he added, and I wondered just how bad my injuries were. Suddenly, I heard a familiar cry – the girl didn’t get away, after all. At least she’s not dead, a small voice argued. I couldn’t agree more.
I set my jaw and got out of bed. I had a huge headache, which intensified as I sat on the edge of the bed, almost making me throw up. I went to stand up, but nearly screamed as I put weight on my left leg. Broken. Still? I must’ve been really hurt if my Elvin blood hadn’t already healed it. Of course, nothing would kill me unless I did it to myself, but nevertheless, I was worried about permanent damage.

I tried again, this time putting all my weight on my right leg. It gave a twinge of pain, but I stayed upright, so I half-hopped to the door, stopping every two steps or so to prevent the scream building up as my broken leg was jolted.

Before I managed to walk out into the hallway – which was in almost as bad repair as the room I’d been in – one of the men who had hurt me came over. His eyes widened as he saw that I was up and about, but I couldn’t concentrate on his face because it only intensified my splitting headache.

“What are you doing up?” I winced with the noise.

“Getting you away from that girl,” I hissed back, barely whispering. He gave a bark of laughter, which caused me to gasp with pain, and picked me up unceremoniously. Bridal style, he carried me downstairs, ignoring my whimpers of pain as my leg swung limply.

He dumped me painfully on a couch, in front of which the young girl was trembling, her clothes in disarray. Oh, god, I was too late. They’d already raped her who knew how many times, I could see it in her haunted eyes. I tried to concentrate on a spell which would kill the bastards, but couldn’t think past my headache.

“Look who we ‘ave here,” one of the other men leaned over me. At least he seemed to have brushed his teeth; his breath didn’t smell as bad now.

“Piss off,” I croaked, then winced as more pain shot through my skull. He only laughed at me.

“You know you want me,” he said with a grin, and slid his rough hands under my shirt. I felt sick, but remembered a small spell Severus had taught me.

“Sectumsempra,” I whispered under my breath, slashing my free hand in a downward motion. Warm blood sprayed on me as the man screamed in agony. A large bloody gash crossed his face and neck, diagonally from his left ear to his right shoulder.

“She’s got a knife!” One of the other men said, staying far back. However, that one spell had intensified the pain in my head so much that I could barely hold onto my consciousness.

Suddenly, a loud pop signalled an Apparation in the room, and after the vertigo had gone, I turned my head to see Tom Riddle – in his young body – standing there, eyes bright red with fury, wand raised.

“Don’t kill ‘em,” I mumbled, too low for anyone to hear. However, he obviously did hear me, and lowered his wand, never taking his eyes off the three men in front of him.

I heard faint sirens, and was surprised that Tom had called the Muggle cops; however, I couldn’t help but feel grateful that he was taking the non-violent approach.

“Freeze!” A door banged open, and I looked over to see a troop of policemen in vests pointing their guns at the three men. Riddle had deftly slipped his wand away before they could see, and while the men were arrested, he walked over to me.

“Are you ok?” He asked in a low voice, concern evident in his handsome face.

“I’ll live,” I croaked, and he cracked a smile, although I could still see his concern. “Look after the girl,” I said, and he looked toward where the young kid was huddling, abandoned. He nodded once and went over to her.

I listened to the low mumbling of everyone, unable to concentrate on words any longer. A Muggle doctor came over to me, but Tom stopped him with a word.

I could see that Tom held the girls’ hand, but he let her go to pick me up gently.

“I’ll take you to the hospital,” he said. I knew that there was a huge chance someone might recognise him, but then, as his features blurred before my eyes and shifted slightly, I realised his Elvin blood would allow him to be undetected.

“And I’ll bring the girl,” he continued as I opened my mouth. I gave him a weak smile, and with one last look, let my consciousness go.