Memento

Memento

Prologue

Rain pounded on the windows. The cold wind swept through the long empty corridors. A tall figure in a white coat was walking swiftly, paying no attention to the thunderstorm outside. He turned a corner and faced a stone wall. Extending a long pale arm, he touched one of the river stones, and a doorway opened. Glancing behind him, as if looking for intruders, he continued walking and reached a long narrow staircase.

The dungeons were full of torches that cast an eerie blue light upon the walls. No tapestries or paintings hung on the walls...just doors that led to some God forsaken torture chamber...Smiling, he pushed open a nearby door and stepped into a white room with chains and manacles dangling from the walls. There was a long table in the middle of the room and another figure in a white coat was burning incense in a corner. Candles were lit around a body sitting on the table. The scene resembled a funeral...

"Is everything ready?"

The man in the corner rose and bowed to the newcomer. He nodded slowly and a wicked grin spread across his face. The smell of incense was stronger now. A third man seemed to appear out of nowhere and started playing a slow tune on a piano that had appeared with him.

"Wake him."

The second man walked to the table and injected the body with a translucent liquid. The arms and legs twitched spasmodically and his eyes shot open. He had such brilliant eyes...grey...an unusual colour.

"Wake up."

The boy rose slowly, like a vampire awakening from his slumber. He looked around a few times, trying to match the faces with names. They all seemed very familiar...The man that smelled of incense backed away, all the while smiling wickedly. The boy threw his legs over the side of the table, knocking over a few candles. He tried to stand up on his own, but his knees buckled and he fell. The incense burner caught him and tried to help him to his feet.

"Stand up. Extend your arm."

The grey-eyed boy did as he was told. The room became unfocused. He saw the newcomer approaching and he almost screamed in horror: face as white as a skull, red eyes and slits for nostrils. His skin was serpent-like and his lips were pale. Long fingered hands reached out for him and the boy backed away. It was then that he realised he was naked. So cold, so vulnerable...

"Give me your hand, boy!"

The incense burner went back to his corner and returned with a mark. Bowing, he gave it to the red-eyed man. The song died away and the third man rose from his seat and grabbed the boy's left arm, thrusting it to the executioner.

The boy closed his eyes and his muscles tensed.

"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me." The man's voice was wicked and cold. The boy did as he was told and seconds later, he was rolling on the floor, screaming in agony. The red-eyed man threw the mark away and kicked the boy's contorted body.

"Put him back on the table."

The men did as they were told. The boy kicked and screamed, but an injection with a bluish liquid calmed him down gradually. The red-eyed man extended a long skeletal finger and touched the boy's Mark. The wound was still red and painful. For the first time that evening, Voldemort smiled: a new Death Eater had joined his ranks.

"Dress him. You know where to take him."

"Master, will it work? Will he fall for it?" the incense burner asked.

"Dolohov, I'd stick to fumes and poisons if I were you. You are meddling in affairs that do not concern you."

Dolohov bowed and tightened the leather straps around the boy's ankles and wrists. The piano player had brought clothes that could fit the boy. Dolohov did not care where the clothes came from, but judging by their state, their last owner had been either a beggar or a runaway.

"Shall we dress him now, Master?"

"Actually, I think you should keep him here for a few days. The effects of the sedative will wear off in a couple of hours. Don't let him fall asleep. Give him neither food nor water. Tie him to one of the walls. Let him go only when he screams for death."

"What if he dies?" the piano player asked.

"You will see to it that he doesn't, Wormtail."

"Yes, Master."

Voldemort handed them their wands and left. He knew Wormtail would not disappoint him. And Dolohov...Dolohov was too much indebted to Voldemort to try and do anything foolish...The Dark Lord knew that when Draco Malfoy woke up, he would journey into the deepest pits of Hell, return alive and destroy Harry Potter...