The dark abides.
Magic is power, true. Pure and pristine energy, unsullied by the touch of animal impulses or emotions. It's when a living, breathing human tries to use it, attempts to channel all that power through a body of blood and bone, then we have a problem. Any magical being that uses his conscious mind to control magic inevitably stains it with his own hungers, own desires, own joys and sorrows. No spell is, thus, neutral… but a curse cast by one might very well be a harmless charm when emitted from the wand of another.
Paranoids and fools like the members of the vaunted Dark Force Defense League have maintained through the centuries an idea of a war… continuous, never-ending, the sides always finding one champion after another to carry on the good fight. A war between the twin aspects of the power that is magic, magics Light and Dark.
Bloody fools. Bloody, damned fools. Damned in their ignorance, if not in their inexcusable stupidity.
There is no light or dark magic in and of itself. The intent is only what we make of it. The caster demands, and his power answers. That is all there is to it.
And at the core of a human heart, when all the illusions and ambitions are stripped away, the darkness still rests mindful and eager for a wild unleashing, its only chains the timid consciousness and the suffocating rules of society. The dark abides. No force or charm or curse can cleanse it from our hearts. There is no innocence in the world. No true Light.
There never was.
All we can do is to keep the Dark away, as long as we can. Till the final darkness comes, the flood of the midnight tides.
“I don't know anything.” The young man said quietly as we two stood looking at him. I continued to stare at him, but he didn't meet my gaze, choosing to look about him instead, as if the bare little room held something very interesting. I didn't sigh, very carefully, and raised an eyebrow.
“Pity.” My voice didn't suggest anything of the sort. “We had a few questions for you.”
“I don't know anything,” He stubbornly repeated. I looked at him, sitting tied to a chair. He looked average, brown hair, brown eyes, reasonably athletic. Not someone you'd expect to jump up and try to rip your throat out with his teeth. Not unless you know what he is. Then it's understandable, though admittedly not perfectly reasonable. I myself sprout fur every full moon, but it's rare that I attempt that kind of thing on anybody.
I grimaced, shaking my head a little to clear it of a distant memory of teeth and blood and fear that still retained a little of its intensity after all these years. I stole a glance at my companion, who had begun to smile quietly. All that beard and the shallow paleness in his face made it a rather disturbing sight.
“Don't you even want to know what those questions are?” I asked. The young man shook his head, setting his mouth in a firm straight line. “I want to return to my pack,” He said. “The alpha wouldn't like it if you keep me here.” He gave me a venomous look.
“The alpha,” Sirius spoke up. His tone was contemplative. “That would be Fenrir Greyback, yes?”
“Why ask me?” The youth returned. “He,” He jerked his head towards me, “knows as much about it as I do. He ran with us for a week.”
“We want to hear it from you.” Sirius said mildly. “Is Fenrir the pack leader?”
“Anybody could've told you that.” The werewolf shrugged. “Yes.”
“What's your name?” I asked.
He narrowed his eyes. “What's it to you?”
I shrugged, feeling a little stab of pain as my shoulder joints creaked in protest. “I'm curious. Besides, I saved your life. I carried you from the forest, when you were dying. You could at least tell me your name.”
“Saved my life?” He bared his teeth. “Funny. Wasn't it you who injured me in the first place?”
“After you were trying to take advantage of a woman - ”
“Taking advantage?” He interrupted me incredulously. “She was running with us. She wanted it. I found her first, it was my right.”
“She wasn't… in heat.” I replied coldly, a little distaste colouring my words. “You were going to rape her. I saw fit to intervene.”
“Rape?” The werewolf laughed. “Which pack are you from? Werewolves don't rape.” He quieted, the look in his eyes a little disturbing. “True werewolves take what they wish to take. If you'd wanted the bitch so hard, you should've waited after the finder and the alpha, and then fought for the chance…”
“I don't care about your pack traditions,” I interrupted. “She wasn't willing. That's enough for me.”
“You are no pack wolf, wizard.” He sneered at me. “Should've figured it out sooner.”
“I'm good at seeming to be what people want me to be,” I shrugged. “Nobody did suspect me, which wasn't what I'd anticipated.” I smiled at him. “Not even your alpha. So much for the famous Greyback.”
“He'll kill you once he finds out all that you've done, traitor.” The werewolf snarled the last word out. I chuckled.
“What's he going to find out? That a couple of his pack had vanished? Happens every so often. He'll just assume we've killed each other. The girl would tell them that we were fighting for her as she fled, if he starts to ask questions, and that'd be that.” I smiled affably. “Face the facts. He isn't going to concern himself about a couple of unimportant pack members much. Even if he did, there's no chance of your ever going back to the pack anyway.”
“There are things we want to know,” Sirius said. “General stuff. How many permanent members, hangers-on, the primary running areas. What packs you're allied with. How you took over those three packs in the last couple o'months. Stuff like that.”
“I won't tell you anything!” The werewolf half-shouted. “Anything!”
“Oh, you will.” Sirius took out his wand slowly. The werewolf barely flinched, but the fear was creeping into his eyes. His breathing quickened, almost imperceptibly, as Sirius began to trace a line on his cheek with the tip of his wand. Blood welled up, a thin red line that trailed the path of the sharp point.
“The Cruciatus doesn't do as much mental damage as quickly to the weres as it does to us wizards,” Sirius murmured absently. “But they cause just as much pain, I have that on good authority. Do you know what that means?”
The werewolf said nothing.
“It means,” Sirius flicked his wand, sealing up the shallow cut, “that I can cause you as much pain as it takes, before you start babbling everything. Though I suppose that could take days. On the other hand, we have a vial or two of veritaserum - ” The werewolf flinched. “I'm impressed. Not many know about its effects on werewolves. I've heard that the silver in it goes to the bloodstream and reaches the heart in minutes. Then dissolves it from within. Very painfully, I've heard… Do you think that'd be enough time for us to get the information we want?”
“On the other hand,” I supplied helpfully, “You could just answer our questions. You don't know anything much that can be a threat to the pack, do you? So it won't hurt the pack. Everyone's much happier, this way.”
“Of course, if you deceive us, I won't hesitate to slowly rip you bones out,” Sirius informed him. “Try to lie your way out of it, and… well, let's just say that I'll let you live, werewolf, and you'll curse me for it.”
The werewolf swallowed. “You're going to kill me anyway, once I've told you what I know.”
“We won't.” I spoke up, letting the man see me throw a venomous glance towards his tormentor. “I am in charge of this operation, sanctioned by the Ministry to investigate the recent werewolf attacks. I'm not a sadist and I don't enjoy torture.” I didn't smile as he nervously glanced at Sirius. “Speak up, and we'll send you to a holding facility after we're finished. You'll be there only till this mess sorts itself out. Who knows, you might get out in a year or two, if you're lucky.”
“The alpha will kill me if I betrayed the pack's secrets,” He shook his head nervously. “I… I can't.”
“He isn't going to know, for Merlin's sake,” I snapped. “Co-operate, and I promise you security.”
“Besides,” Sirius interrupted, “Fenrir isn't here. I am. And I promise you that I can kill you in an infinitely more inventive way. I know this curse that leaves your nerves fresh as it flays your skin -”
“Albert, please.” I frowned at Sirius, my eyes narrowed with distaste. “Keep your curse repertoire to yourself. I have full confidence that our young friend here will recognize the wiser course of action.”
“Oh, very well.” Sirius shrugged, looking disappointed. I hoped he was faking his expressions just as I myself was.
I faced the werewolf again, who was by now looking almost as pale as Sirius. “You don't have to answer right now. We'll check on you tonight. Think about it.” He nodded, faintly.
I waited till Sirius was gone, then followed. I stopped at the door, looking back at our prisoner. “You didn't tell me your name.”
“Martin,” He lied. His voice was faint. I didn't say anything for a moment, then repeated it in a soft voice. “Martin. Well, Martin, think abut what you've heard, all right? Think hard.” I didn't look back as the door shut and locked itself behind me. Sirius was waiting for me in the corridor.
“Think he fell for it?” He asked as we weaved our way through the old house.
“I think so,” I shrugged. “He's young enough to believe all that secret Ministry agent stuff, anyway. Think he's going to spill?”
“You know what to do, if he doesn't.” Sirius said. I frowned.
“Doesn't seem right, you know.”
“He tried to rape a girl, Remus.” Sirius shrugged uncomfortably. “He's no innocent.”
“He's too young to die.” I shook my head.
“Everybody's too young to die, if you ask them.” Sirius said. “It's a war. People will get killed.”
“I wish there was a holding cell we could send him to.”
“Albus says they're all compromised. Infiltrated.”
“And we can't even keep him here.”
“Security risk. You know as much about it as I do. We've talked about this before.”
“Yeah.” I sighed. “You remember when we first started at this? We wouldn't have done something like this, those days.”
“We weren't what we are now, those days.” Sirius pointed out. “We were losing, Remus. Maybe we were better men, then. That doesn't change the fact that we were losing.”
“So we must kill when we must, even in cold blood? Is that it? Is that the key to winning?” I asked softly, more to myself than to anyone else. The words hovered in my ears, ugly as something can only be ugly when it reflects an ugly truth.
“You know what they did to us.” Sirius hissed. “You know, Remus. You know. What they did to our friends. What they did to me. I'll see Voldemort and his lapdogs dead, Remus - ” His voice stood at the verge of trembling, steadied, its cadence hinting at a chilling determination. Azkaban was in his eyes as they rested on mine. “I'll do what I must.”
I looked away. He was right, in a way. He was right.
We were better men, once. All of us. Together.
But it doesn't matter how long you fight, in the end. Or how hard. The darkness always wins. One way, or another.
“As you said, Sirius. It's a war.” I conceded, closing my eyes for a brief moment to jerk myself away from the memories. “Let's go have some lunch.”
“Mercy?” I smiled, and lifted the sniveling young man off his feet in a gesture with the crooked index finger of my right hand, my robes fluttering a breeze unseen and unfelt by the thirty-odd shadowed figures kneeling in obeisance over the gravel and hard stone. The cavern walls were lightless black, the darkness absolute. One single torch spat out a gout of flame behind me, its light a yellow haze that etched the fear in the youth's face in sharp relief. He was trying to scream, suspended in air, my power coiled around him and choking his life out.
My followers watched. In silence, every breath held and carefully muted.
Red rage simmered beneath my shield, sudden shivers of emotion and power trying to burst free from my control. I did not let it. It would be so sweet, just to make him die here, the revolting scent of life banished with one simple spell.
So easy, and so hard to resist. And yet, and yet… he had erred, and he would bleed before he ceased. Just to make it clear to my faithless servants, one more time. We are united in a common cause.
Mistakes cannot be tolerated. They will not be.
I spread my palm out, loosening the bonds on my servant. He had time to let out a choked scream before another wave of magic slammed him on the hard stone, the crack of breaking bone satisfactorily loud. He whimpered, for a moment, before a Silencio paralyzed his vocal cords.
I looked at Bella, her wand still out. She smiled at me, returning it to her sleeves. She could not have seen my expression, and yet looked strangely serene.
I could not abide my servants groveling at my feet. That is weakness, and weakness I despise.
She knew me well.
Well enough to know that whimpering and crying for mercy would have availed the youth nothing but pain.
So, Bella, after all these years, have you found in yourself some small measure of mercy? A weakness, my dear. And yet I see no weakness in your eyes as I bore through them. Only devotion, to a degree almost mindless… but no, I see
I see
Family. Yes, I see. All dead or traitors to the True Cause. And now you see these as your own, do you? A Pureblood's view, the sense of belonging to a Family and the assurance of being protected by the Master… I see indeed. I did wonder how you survived your years in Azkaban, Bella. The Dementors delighted in taking you again and again, and they make no secret of it, the degenerate beasts. Was it faith, then? Faith, your sole power against mental invasions only a Master of his mind such as I can deflect?
Is that faith… faith that the old fool talked about? Can it be that it endows power beyond the sentimentality of fools… it cannot, no Law of Magic would have permitted it… and yet…
Something to consider.
But that is for some later time.
“You have failed,” I said dispassionately. “I gave you five a task. You have failed me.”
He tried to speak, could not. Air wheezed out of his lungs as I bunched my fingers, increasing the pressure.
“I gave your team command,” I continued. “Command of a full Hunter Squad. They were to be your eyes and ears in this mission. They were you responsibility. They died, protecting you. And you left their corpses behind.” I lifted the silencing charm from him with a simple effort of will. “Speak.”
“My Lord - My Lord - I am sorry - ”
“Speak,” He flinched at my tone, “but not of mercy. Who did this?”
“They attacked us, My Lord - they - ”
“You dare?” I hissed. “You dare lie to me? There was only one man. Speak the truth, my servant, or you shall live to regret it.”
“The Dark Lord always knows,” Bella whispered from my right. I smiled, and the youth flinched away.
“Always,” I agreed. “Speak.”
“We were - we were retrieving the objects you wanted, My Lord. The Hunters alerted us. We thought the Ministry Aurors had arrived - we didn't expect - fire, my Lord. It burned through our shields, it - it whispered, Master! We had to apparate out of the house. And then,” He took a deep breath, hissing quietly with pain and cradling his broken left elbow to his chest with his right hand, “Greengrass and David were badly burned, they left to summon assistance. Then he attacked us, my Lord.”
“He.” My lips curled up. “One man, against three of mine.”
“We had no chance, my Lord. He stunned me before I had any chance to defend myself. From the back.”
“And where are the objects I needed you to retrieve?” I asked.
“I - I do not know, my Lord. I had one in my possession before the Aurors took me. Others - ”
“Your comrades, Greengrass and David,” I interrupted, “died shortly after apparating to the Manor. The curse was too potent, it seems. The Aurors reached the location within minutes, retrieving your unconscious body and - ” I watched his face, “Avrust's corpse.”
The emotions flared in his eyes, anguish and weakness. So I was right. He didn't have any hand in killing his lover.
“Whitehall,” I continued, “is dead. The Hunters I sent with you are all dead. Of all of you, only you are alive. And you will have to answer for this failure.”
He breathed in, his panic and grief almost a tangible thing in the air. “My Lord - my Lord - I am yours.”
“Yes. You are mine, to do what I will.” I spoke, every note in my voice resonating against the shadowy crowded silence in the cavern, building upon each other. They listened, apprehension and terror clouding rational thought, until the stink of sweat and fear threatened to clog my superhuman senses. I waited, and watched the tension rise up and choke their minds.
Theatricality. Some call it cheap, but I know the truth. I have known all my life how powerful can it be, applied the right way. Guided by the right hands. To cajole, to push, to persuade. It is magic more fundamental that a flashy charm or spell. Those of us born with power enough can go beyond mere streams of light and power, and change the strides of the reality itself. We manipulate fate itself, not commanding it, but willing it to flow our way by simply existing.
I have felt its effects, the distortion in the universe that makes things happen. Unusual things. Incredible things. We cannot influence it consciously, but there are a number of events that I suspect would not have turned out the way they had, had I not been present.
That is what I do. That is what the old man does.
That is what, I suspect, Potter does -
This was not the time, however, for that. That particular consideration would have to wait for some other time.
“You failed me.” I announced over the hushed and waiting silence. “You failed your cause. You failed your blood. Your heritage.” I looked down on his kneeling form, flinching with every accusation like a stray leaf buffeted by a roaring wind.
A better stage I could never have asked for.
They watched. They watched. The faithless spineless fools who thought a line reaching through the ages gave them the power to lord their superiority over others.
They would learn.
There is no good and evil. There is only power, and those of us with will enough to seek it, instead of clinging to a higher authority like these blithering fools.
Bella I could, perhaps, understand. Or maybe not. But she had will enough. Power enough.
These I called my faithful did not. They had no faith in me, a miasma of a dark past they would have liked to forget, newly risen from decade-old ashes and whispering new promises of power. They had tasted blood, once. A revel that had abruptly been ended, a decade and a half ago. They were feeling the need, again.
They would learn.
“You have failed,” I said again to the kneeling youth who now raised his face to look at me. Thirty-odd skulls watched around the cavern, their white smiles veiled by the deepest black. “There is only one price of failure.”
“My Lord.” He swallowed, did not whimper. Did not beg. Some grief larger than self-preservation was gnawing at him, the pain in his eyes startlingly shocking. An image of a woman thrust itself at me, a memory of a joyful smile. It lost itself in the darkness.
He did not wish to live, anymore.
That was a request I had already granted.
“You were apprehended by the Aurors, yesternight.” I continued, softly. “You took a potion passed on by a believer in our cause. And then you died.”
“My Lord?” The man gasped, the strangled sound not quite masking the momentary murmur around the cavern. “I - ”
“You bear my mark,” I told him. “I summoned you. My Death Eaters are mine, servant. Even in death. You did not pass on, but were brought here.”
He said nothing, disbelieving. Yet the doubt was creeping into his face.
“Your flesh is just an illusion. A feeling, conjured with my power and what your mind imagined waited here to host it. You are dead, my servant.”
The eyes were wide, the panic in them a shriek to my reading gaze.
“I could make you stay here,” I spoke, taking care to send every seething syllable to the eager ears waiting. “I could trap your spirit, servant. You bear my mark, and Death itself is not enough to put you beyond my reach.”
His body was fading, the skin turning transparent, the muscle beneath shriveling away. The eyelids peeling back. The lips stretching and vanishing, the teeth bared into a skull's grin.
“But you were faithful to me, until the end.” I continued. “And may none say that Lord Voldemort is not generous to his faithful. You may leave.”
And he was gone, like that. An oath or two came from the audience, unaware of the shrieking vortex of power that I could almost feel in the room, wild and hungry. Bella shifted nervously behind me, but I did not put any mind to her. I waited a moment or two, and the power I was feeling dissipated.
“It is not in my nature to be tolerant,” I said. “You, my friends, know this. Our mission, such as it was, was successful to some extent. Yet we cannot condone mistakes in the course of our cause. Those who err,” My eyes glittered red as I forced power into my gaze, “will be punished. With death.”
They waited, perfectly still. Waited to hear condemnation. Waited for me.
“We have made mistakes before.” It was the truth, and this they had not expected.
There is no weapon more powerful than the truth.
“I admit it. We have all made mistakes. And we have suffered. How we have suffered.” I could hear Bella coming forward, taking her place beside me. A place she had earned, over and over. I was her Lord. Her true Lord, and hers alone.
“But we shall not suffer again, shall we, my friends? We shall not be defeated again, temporary or not - we shall not bear the ignominy the mudbloods place on our heritage in silence. No longer. No longer.”
They waited. Waited for me.
She waited.
“We have suffered, my friends, my faithful friends,” I whispered. “We have suffered. And we have made our mistakes.”
The light from the torch glanced along the grey-black shadows that slithered on the cavern floor.
“But this I swear to you,” I whispered. “This I swear, in the name of Salazar Slytherin. We shall make no more.”