Death to Belladonna's Enemies

Harry was back chez Dursleys for the summer. He found it curious that despite her effort to ignore him, Petunia did have non-loathing feelings for him. After all, they were related. She was her awful self towards him as she has been her whole life, but he could catch her eyes briefly sometimes, gazing concernedly at him. Of course, Dudley and Vernon were anything but compassionate towards Harry's situation. They seemed glad that his good-for-nothing godfather ended up that way.

Dudley continued his 'Big D' routine, concealing his vandalistic and heathenish behaviour with his dumb gang from his parents. They believed their son was that perfect little gentleman who would get invited for tea every night at his friends' houses.

Harry did not bother with that fat slob, certainly glad Dudley was always out. He took an advice from Hermione and used his free time to read school textbooks. Being an Auror was what he really wanted and he had a lot to learn. It was not studying, as he told Ron in his letter, it was more like leisure reading. In the reply, Ron accused him of Hermione Syndrome and swore that if Harry was engulfed by being like Hermione, he'll have to go seek some less academic friends. Less academic friends such as Neville.

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Speaking of less academic people, Goyle Senior was getting ready to execute Lucretia's rescue plan. She did not need much to persuade him to do it.

He walked right up to the two sentinels standing in front of the ugly slab of stone called Azkaban. Azkaban really was a rock and a hard place.

Sentinels looked over the Ministry permission that allowed Goyle to pay a visit to Lucius Malfoy. The signature on it was forged - Lucretia, who was in position to issue such a permit could not risk her calling and credibility, so she she got someone to forge signature of one of her colleagues.

Sentinels held onto Goyle's wand so they would be sure he could not aid anyone in breaking out. In normal circumstances, he would be escorted to the cell by a Dementor. In this case, since Dementors were nearly gone, he was to find the way himself.

He knew where to go, Lucretia went through every pebble of Azkaban with him.

He found his damsels in distress on the top floor.

"Is that what she sent to get us out?" came a mocking voice from a nearby cell. Goyle did not have to second-guess that it belonged to Antonin Dolohov. Next moment, all of the Death Eaters, who knew that they will be liberated, rose up, peering curiously through the bars of their separate cells at Goyle.

"I have a wand."

"Where?" laughed Dolohov out loud.

"It's quite tricky; you Eastern Europeans can't grasp it," sneered Jugson from the opposite cell.

Goyle begun undressing his robes, averting everybody's attention from Dolohov's attemp to make a wreakful comeback at Jugson. Lucretia figured out that the only way for him to sneak in a wand was that she hides it inside his flesh. It would go undetected to the security sensors not because of the fat that was excess on Goyle's body, but because a lotion spread over his skin that Severus Snape brewed up. Severus was not aware what his concoction was going to be used for.

When he had his shirt off, he extracted wand out of his stomach. It was quite nasty sight to watch; him, inserting his fingers into his flesh and painlessly pulling a wooden object out.

He carelessly placed the garments back on, and then stood motionlessly, trying to remember the spell to open the cell doors.

"Just give the wand to me," said a tired voice, fed up with Goyle's stupidity. Goyle obeyed.

Rodolphus Lestrange, who was a specialist for Charms, grabbed the wand through the bars, and got himself out in one swish and flick. Several more times action repeated and they were all out.

"This is life."

"To get back to Dumbledore and his brainless puppets..."

"I wonder if we could have some fun with the sentries."

"They're Mudbloods," spoke Rabastan Lestrange for the first time, "they worked for me 18 years ago."

Bellatrix let some of her evil hollow laugh, and Rodolphus handed wand over to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius specialized in Muggle Torture.

Lucius summoned their bodies over with a spell.

They came flying hither, bewildered expressions on their faces upon realizing what is happening. Quickly, Lucius disarmed them, and Bellatrix and Antonin grabbed two spare wands. After closing scared sentinels inside a cell in which five minutes ago Jugson resided, Lucius bewitched the walls, so they would close in on them, crushing them to death.

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Lucretia has prepared an unplottable castle that has been in her family since the existence of William the Conqueror, that he built to keep Wales down. Trents, roughly a millenium ago, thought that they particularly liked that one, and from their home, a great castle close to Retford, overtook it.

Since it dated from such ancient time, it did not have numerous fancy rooms. It contained thick stone wall enfolding the establishment, a humble courtyard (with a well), one luxarious bathroom (ornated in Peruvian marble), and quite a few chambers. The Great Hall was turned into a leisure living room space, with Mille Fleurs-inspired tapestries (preserved by magic, of course), and roof re-thatched. As their family banner changed through time, they would hang up each new one on the wall. The newest one, dating from 1888, was two crossed swords impaled through eagle's heart, over water-blue background.

Comfortable seating space was scarce. The Great Hall was mostly furnished with rough wooden chairs and few tables with oil lamps on.

Narcissa and Draco Malfoy were there, waiting for their husband and father. Close relations of all the other Death-Eaters-soon-to-arrive-free was either non-existent or could not be there for a certain reason.

Draco was nervously drumming his hand on his thigh, while Narcissa was holding Lucius' prized cane. Lucretia was pacing up and down the empty space, her black coat trailing after her steps. Her cigarette rested between her fingers, stroking the tip of the butt with her thumb.

"You know, you can always call all this off. There is no need for you to become a Death Eater - they will all finish Dumbledore and that Potter boy off one day. You can aid them in different ways," Narcissa said.

Draco, who stood leaning on the arched mantelpiece, made a face at mention of Harry's name. His face expression was vacant, his eyes gazing through the narrow stained glass windows.

Lucretia took a final puff, putting the cigarette out on the floor with the sole of her shoe. She had another one lit in no time.

"I know. I mean, I will be required to kill, won't I?" replied Lucretia coming to a halt in front of Narcissa.

"Of course you will. Why do you think I never joined? 'Tis true that traitors to our blood and Mudbloods should be drowned in dirty blood, but there are other perfectly willing people to annihilate them. Like my husband, or my sister, or their friends... I can always keep my hands clean," smiled Narcissa, motheringly looking at Lucretia who was few years younger than her.

"I always knew you love my ne'er-do-well cousin, and I guess he should't have died, but why don't you just stab a knife in Dumbledore's back? That would work out perfectly?" laughed Narcissa. Lucretia laughed back, almost choking onto nicotine she had in her lungs at that very moment.

"Maybe I could, but I'd prefer if they see my betrayal," she painfully responded through a fit of coughing.

"They're here; Father!"

Draco got up while his father, who just entered the room, gave him an approving smile. Draco received a privilege from Lucius - a reserved one-arm hug that Lucius saved just for most special occasions to give his son.

The other Death Eaters looked around the room, sitting down.

"So you did go through with this," said Antonin looking around.

"I am on your side now," Lucretia responded, concluding her struggle; she won't question her decision ever again.

On the other end of the room, Mulciber was too quick to locate the bar, and start handing out fire-whiskey to everyone. Antonin raised his glass and said: "To Lucretia, for coming over to the dark side and getting us out of Azkaban!"

"To Lucretia," everyone said and drunk, while Lucretia flushed slightly. Antonin noticed that and put his arm around her, telling her how she really deserved praise because she is benighted now.

Draco, who was allowed to drink alcohol, brought clean clothes up to his father, which got him another endorsing smile, and went off to his Aunt Bella for a drink. He enjoyed her presence ever since he met her, which was fairly recently, upon her her break out from Azkaban. She would do nothing but compliment him.

In the meantime, Narcissa was taking care of Lucius.

"You'll need help with putting that on. And you need to take a shower, look at your hair," she sighed, taking a strand of Lucius hair with her delicate hand. She had French manicure.

"You can't imagine how dirty that place is. I feel like that giant Hagrid, the Hogwarts buffoon - he probably doesn't ever know what baths are," he said. Then he noticed Narcissa holding his cane.

"I had to steal it from the Department for Confiscated Goods, darling," she commented, handing the prized object over to him. Lucius gaped at it, satisfied, and drew the wand out of it.

"It's all dusty and deprived of luster. I'll need help polishing it..."

"Of course," she giggled and they left the Great Hall.

Draco was sitting in the corner of the room, smiling in self-pleased manner, listening to Bella's praise of him.

"You're such a fine boy, Draco. You got smarts from your mother, and good looks and shrewdness from your father. I am sure there is no finer boy currently attending Hogwarts..."

Draco was finding it too hard to cover how truthful he was finding what Bella's was saying, when her husband arrived.

"Stop talking, woman, you'll spoil the boy."

"Be useful and get us another drink, Rodolphus!," replied Bella without even looking at her husband. When he was gone, before she continued telling praises, Bella said in whisper:

"If you marry, make sure you marry a mute."

Lucius took quite some time to polish his wand, coming back in his common attire - black taffeta poet's shirt, with high collar and eyelet stitched sleeves. Black heavy robes was over it, with wide sleeves that opened at the elbow, releasing down feet of spare fabric. Legs were not seen behind the robes, but trousers he wore were boot-cut and feet had leather boots on.

He walked over to Lucretia who was on her second pack, in the corner sipping on her whiskey, while Antonin hang over her shoulder and tried to have a conversation with her. Lucius beckoned him to step aside, and sat opposite of her to have a small talk.

"I want to thank you," he begun, "for deciding to help us and seeing that our side is where you belong."

She nodded absently and took another sip of her drink. Lucius twiddled the glass in his hand, eyes preternaturally sleekit.

"Dark Lord will be very pleased for helping us out of that place... I appreciate Bella's and Rodolphus' nerve for spending fourteen years there."

She was still silent.

"Are you still determined to go through with this?"

"Yes," said Lucretia making sure her voice does not break.

"Are you absolutely sure?"

"Nothing is absolute," she said wisely. Lucius gave her a small smile.

Lucius suddenly took her hand and moved closer to her. When he spoke his voice was so quiet that it was barely a whisper.

"How are you at night? Do you still have those nightmares?"

Lucretia procrastinated the answer.

"They can only get worse when you kill someone," he said in his most caring voice, which was still very cold and impersonal.

"I'll deal with it on my own. My nightmares started with death, maybe they'll end with death," she said, bitterness etched in her sharp skin plicae, making them appear coarse.

Lucius chose not to reply.

"You don't know how it is," Lucretia continued, letting go of his hand and lighting another cigarette, "Waking up every night by your own screams, drenched in cold sweat. It hasn't improved by years. Every night the same."

"I could help you if you wanted me to..."

"Just leave me be..."

Discomforting silence proceeded. Lucius changed the theme not soon enough.

"You know which array we wear?"

Lucretia nodded again, "Black cape and a mask."

"And you've got it ready? Good. Mulciber and I will leave now to meet with the Dark Lord. He knows we're free, he's expecting us. I'll talk to him about you and I am sure he'll have you in, after I consulation with me. Be ready when I come to summon you."

Lucretia nodded for the last time and Lucius left. Next thing that she did, after taking a look around the room, was to finish off the rest of fire-whiskey that rested in her glass.

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Lucius' summon came quickly, maybe too quickly for Lucretia's expectations. Thoughts were going through her head so she did not even realize what she was doing to find herself in the middle of a circle of masked Death Eaters, illuminated by light coming out of nowhere, with Lord Voldemort standing in front of her.

"So this is her, Lucius," said a cold voice of Lord Voldemort. Lucretia had to constantly muster energy to keep looking into those serpentine red eyes.

"Name," the Dark Lord demanded.

"Lucretia Hyacinth Trent."

"Blood?"

"Sixteen generations of marrying nothing filthier than fourth generation of wizards and witches," she responded.

Lord Voldemort smiled contently.

"Why do you want to join?"

"I want revenge."

"You seem to have a lot of knowledge in Dark Arts, Lucius tells me. Is it power that you're seeking?"

"No, because knowledge and power directly imply one another."

Lord Voldemort gave a contended snort.

"Give my your left hand."

She obeyed.

He pulled back the black sleeve, pushing her down to kneel in front of him.

She did not have chance to to feel impact on her knees, because next moment Lord Voldemort pressed his wand under her elbow and burning sensation filled her body. Sadistically, Lord Voldemort took his time to carve the Dark Mark on her skin. Lucretia was too shocked by painful throe to scream or give any other response.

It seemed hours when the vile mark was done and she was tugged back to stand.

"You received the Dark Mark; hence, you've given yourself to me. Your loyalty belongs to me, now. You are to show utter obedience and never question my orders or of a superiour appointed by me. If you cross me, a proper punishment will find you. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she replied weakly.

That was a mistake.

"Crucio!" drawled the Dark Lord lazily.

When it was over, Lucretia was flat on her back, her tears quenching the incineration in her red eyes. She was roughly pushed foreword from behind, being back on her legs. She did not remember screaming, though her throat felt like someone scratched on it with a fork.

"You are to respond with 'Yes, my Master.' And you are never to say my name, Lord Voldemort. Do you understand?"

"Yes, my Master."

"Good."