The Black Sheep

Chapter three

Macula Morsmordre

When Bo woke the next morning, it took her a few moments to remember where she was. The moment after she recognized where she was and why, she quelled the surge of nerves that arose in her stomach at the thought of what this new day held for her. It would serve no purpose to speculate, other than to weaken her resolve, and that was something she would not allow herself to do. She dressed quickly and made her way down to the kitchen.

Bo had been inside the Malfoy's manor home on a handful of occasions, and she now noted the changes which she had failed to notice in the darkness of the previous night. Many of the large portraits of Malfoy ancestors had been draped with velvet coverings. She could hear a low, muffled muttering coming from one such covered painting as she passed it on her way down the staircase. A large silver cup bearing the Malfoy coat of arms was missing from its usual place of honor beneath a huge golden-framed mirror in the foyer. The rosewood trestle table on which it usually sat was barren, except for the fine film of dust that seemed to lay over everything. The entire house had a strange feeling about it, as if it had been abandoned for weeks.

When she entered the kitchen, Bo saw that both her aunts had arisen before her. In fact, one look at Narcissa caused Bo to doubt that she even slept at all. There were large, dark circles under her eyes, and she looked pale and exhausted. Bellatrix, on the other hand, looked positively giddy. She smiled widely at Bo as she approached the kitchen table, and pushed the chair next to her toward her niece. Cissy stood and busied herself at the stove as Bo sat.

"Cissy found the gown I wore to my own Ceremony of Allegiance. She had it in storage. It will be perfect for you; the white will play nicely against your dark hair. Ah," she sighed, reaching out a hand to stroke Bo's hair lightly, "I'm so glad you gained the Black family attractiveness. When I heard about your sister and her abnormality, I feared that both of Andromeda's children could have been so tainted by the Mudblood she married." Bella continued running her fingers down Bo's long hair, almost absentmindedly. Cissy placed a hot cup of tea and a plate of dry toast before the other two, which seemed to bring Bella out of her momentary reverie.

"Where did you say that house elf of yours is, Cissy?" She eyed the meager breakfast with a slight wrinkling of her nose.

"He--Lucius presented him with clothes. I haven't had time to find another."

Bo cast an appraising glance at Cissy, who avoided looking at either of them and went back to the stove with a dishtowel in her hand. Bella watched her sister's back with pursed lips and then turned back to Bo, her dark eyes glittering.

"You aren't nervous, are you?'

"No," said Bo, hoping she had not replied too quickly. She took a piece of toast and bit off one corner, counting on the business of chewing to give her enough time to calculate her answers.

"That is good," said Bella, pleased. "You have no reason to be. You cannot be faulted for your mother's mistakes. The Dark Lord favors the confident." Again, Bo stole a glance at Cissy, but she was still bustling about the stove, her back to them. "Now, you must remember, when the Dark Lord is speaking, you must always look him in the eyes, and the same when you answer his questions. It is a grave dishonor to look away from him, and he does not tolerate rudeness of any kind. If he is pleased with you, he may decide to give you the Mark right there." Bella caressed the sleeve of her robes where they covered her left arm, and Bo took another, larger bite of toast, quickly subduing another surge of trepidation. When she could no longer pretend to be chewing the same piece of toast, she swallowed and slowly asked,

"When shall we leave?"

"Later this evening. Night is the proper time for such things; the darkness holds a power all its own. But I'm sure it won't take long for the Dark Lord to accept you, so we may be back in time to tell your Aunt Cissy all about it before bed."

Bo looked over at Cissy in surprise.

"You're not coming?"

Cissy turned around, the dishtowel still in her hand, and when she spoke, her eyes flickered to Bo's face for only a moment.

"No, I--I'm sorry Bo, I can't. There is...so much to do here, I am sure you've noticed."

Bo could think of nothing to say that would not sound impolite, so she resorted to taking another bite of toast. Bella was watching Cissy now with something very close to a sneer threatening to curl her lips. She looked as though she desperately wanted to say something to her sister, but turned back to Bo instead.

"I suggest that you take a nice, long bath this afternoon, and I will lay out the gown in the guest room for you. Then we can figure out what we want to do with your hair, and what you will say to the Dark Lord as you are paying your respects." She stared deeply into Bo's eyes, and the younger witch was not caught off-guard. After several silent moments had passed, Bella spoke softly. "How I wish I had had someone to guide me as I now guide you, Boadicea. I hope you truly appreciate all that I am doing for you."

Bo held her aunt's gaze for a few seconds longer before she answered with assurance. "I do, Aunt Bella. I appreciate everything very much."

Bo soon realized how lucky it was that the manor and its grounds were in as sorry condition as they were, since she had a prearranged excuse to wander off by herself for most of the day, cleaning and repairing as she explored the property on her own. She did not let herself think about Snape until she was soaking in the porcelain claw-foot tub with the steaming, scented water swirling around her. The Snape she knew from Hogwarts had never so much as scowled in her direction. Perhaps, in her dream, he had been speaking to someone else? But if that was so, why had his expression filled her with such dread? Whatever the dream had meant, if it meant anything at all, she reminded herself finally, it changed nothing. When she left the bath and went back to the guest room, she found Bella there, sitting on the bed next to a white satin gown, and running a silver-handled boar-bristle brush through her hair. She was gazing blankly out the window, which glowed a deep pink from the setting sun. She turned when she heard Bo enter, and smiled.

"I remember the night I dedicated myself to the Dark Lord," she said softly, reverently, as though reciting a prayer. "I wore my hair down--it was longer then, and darker. It was a full moon that night, and the gown shone in the moonlight as bright as a unicorn's hide. He looked into my eyes and saw that I was his, that I belonged to him, and that I always will. He gave me his Mark without asking a single question. It was the most beautiful night of my life."

Bo was caught between a strong sense of embarrassment and one of discomfort at this information. Whatever the coming hours held for her, she was fairly certain that they would not amount to the most beautiful night of her life. She removed her bathrobe, slipped the gown over her head and removed the towel from her hair. Except for being two or three inches too long, the gown fit her perfectly. Bella let out a soft sigh when Bo turned to face her.

"Ah, Boadicea...you look...like royalty."

Bo looked at her reflection in the full-length gilt mirror in the corner of the room. The gown was indeed beautiful, but for some reason, the sight of herself dressed in something that suddenly felt dangerously like bridal raiment caused her stomach to lurch unpleasantly. Bo watched in the mirror as Bella came up behind her, and began brushing the damp locks of her hair in long, slow strokes.

"You know," Bella said after a moment, speaking with the air of someone choosing words with extra care, "For the longest time, it was the greatest sorrow of my heart that your mother turned her back on the family. I do not deny that I was angry at her, very angry. I did not understand how she could dismiss our birthright as if it meant nothing, and speak of our ancestors, even our own parents, with such disrespect. And then to marry a Mudblood, the ultimate dishonor! Mother and Father nearly died of shame. But you." Bella lowered the brush and gazed into Bo's eyes through the mirror. "They would be so proud of you. I know they would, because I am proud of you."

Again, Bo felt an uncomfortable swelling of embarrassment, and had to force herself to smile at Bella's reflection in the mirror. Bo feared the smile was too artificial, but Bella seemed not to notice. She reached for Bo's cloak, which was hung on a hook on the door, and draped it over her niece's shoulders.

"It is time. Are you ready?"

Bo nodded once, and drew her cloak more securely around herself. She followed Bella down the stairs to find Cissy, looking pale and slightly bleary-eyed, waiting at the door. She cast a fleeting look at Bo, and then said to them both,
"May the Dark Lord favor you."

"I'm sure we'll be back soon, Cissy," said Bella, pulling on her own cloak, "But you need not wait up for us. You look like you could use some sleep."

Again Cissy looked at Bo, who got the impression that her aunt wanted to tell her something. But whatever it was, she did not say it. She held the door open as the other two left, watching them as they disappeared into the newly-fallen darkness.

Bo Apparated at their destination barely a foot away from Bella, and found herself looking up at a large brick building in the middle of a clearing in a densely wooded area. There were lights in every window, most of which were glowing like the light cast from a fireplace. Bella knocked on the door, and it was immediately opened by a squat, lumpy man who, at catching sight of Bella, replaced his drawn wand back inside his robes, and opened the door wider to admit the two women. He ogled Bo unabashedly as she passed him and continued staring as he shut the door. Bella did not stop to talk to the man, nor even offer him a greeting, and so Bo followed her in silence through the hall and into a large, open room. The building seemed to be decorated like a hunting lodge or a mountain retreat. It might have once been a very warm, cozy place. Now, it merely felt imposing and drafty. There were massive river-rock fireplaces on either side of the room, which was twice as long as it was wide, and each fireplace was adorned by a huge set of antlers. Wooden rafters ran across the high ceiling, and there were a number of sofas and upholstered chairs set in a large circle in the middle of the room. Most of these were empty, except one chair that was occupied by a dumpy-looking witch who bore the same lopsided features as the man at the door, and a huge blonde-haired wizard who took up an entire sofa almost completely by himself. Both of them looked up as the women entered and watched as Bella directed Bo to a chair. Bella stooped next to the chair and said softly, "I'll inform the Dark Lord that you're here." Bo watched her aunt vanish down the hall opposite the one from which they had entered and then turned her attention back onto the others. The blonde-haired man went back to reading the newspaper in his hands. The woman simply stared at Bo, her expression almost identical to the squat, lumpy man who now shuffled over to sit in the chair directly beside the woman. Sitting together, watching her closely, their similarities were even more pronounced. Bo avoided looking in their direction by feigning an interest in the carpet. She could not pretend that she was not nervous, and extremely so. But Voldemort would need to see true confidence, not the false bravado of a frightened young witch. As she had done so many times before, she pushed down her anxiety, her fear, and her doubt. She forced them all into a tiny corner of her mind, and then thrust that corner into the darkest, most forgotten recesses of her consciousness. The effort did not leave her that much calmer, but she could feel that her self-assuredness had greatly increased. She felt prepared.

Every occupant of the room looked around as three figures entered from the hall down which Bella had disappeared. The first to enter was a tall, thin man whose face was deathly pale and whose nose had shrunken back into his face until it resembled the slit-nostril snout of a snake. His eyes, so red that they nearly seemed to glow, fell on Bo, who was last to stand in his presence, the others having immediately jumped from their seats into low bows. Bo quickly followed their example. She knew at once that this man could be no other but Voldemort himself. Quite apart from his intimidating appearance, the power she felt flowing from him was incredible; she felt that if she opened her mouth, she might even be able to taste it in the air around her. She was first to rise from her bow, and remembering Bella's instructions, she gazed directly into the fierce red eyes. What happened then nearly made her falter.

Bo was more than familiar with the sensation of Legilimency used against her. She encountered it on an almost daily basis during the regular Dueling season. She often likened it to someone leaning heavily against her shoulder, a weight pressing on her, the strength of that pressure varying from person to person. This was nothing like anything she had ever experienced before. It was like being suffocated; like she was drowning in a bottomless pool of blackness. Her legs nearly buckled as she used every ounce of concentration she had to hold his gaze, not even daring to blink. He was probing her thoughts. Each entry into her mind was like the burning lash of a whip, and with each lash, Bo found it harder to keep eye contact. Just before she felt she could take no more, the overwhelming presence abruptly left her mind and she nearly gasped with relief, only just managing to stifle it. Voldemort spoke, and though they were words of greeting, each one sounded cold and lifeless.

"Welcome, Boadicea. Your aunt Bella has told me a great deal about you."

It took Bo a moment to find her voice.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, recovering herself as quickly as she could. She stood slightly more erect, lifted her chin a bit, and continued. "I am most pleased to finally have the great honour of meeting you."

A sudden movement just behind Voldemort's right shoulder caught Bo's eye, and she saw with a rush of emotion (which she quickly subdued) that Severus Snape had moved to have a better view of her. His eyes swept over her once, and briefly locked with hers when they reached her face. There was no time for her to register what feeling, if any, lay behind them before he jerked his gaze away from her and his expression became quite closed. Voldemort looked over his shoulder at Snape, who stared back silently, and then turned back to Bo.

"I believe you have met Severus Snape?"

"Yes, he was a professor of mine at Hogwarts. Hello, Professor," she said, inclining her head in Snape's direction.

"Ah, I'm afraid our dear Severus is no longer welcome at Hogwarts. At least, not at present." Voldemort's thin mouth twisted slightly at the corners. "But no matter. You will not object if this young woman uses your given name, will you Severus?"

Snape jerked his head to one side, though he continued to avoid Bo's eyes.

"You see, we are all family here. Amycus and Alecto Carrows, Aurelius Burr, Severus, and your own Aunt Bellatrix; they are all my true family." Voldemort gestured toward the others in the room, who moved closer as he spoke, forming a loose circle around Bo. His eyes never left hers, and though she did not feel the incredible pressure of his previous attack, she was wary of it as he asked softly, "Do you wish to join my family, Boadicea?"

"I do, my Lord." Bo stared purposefully into Voldemort's eyes, preparing herself for a new assault on her mind. It did not come. Voldemort turned to Bella, whose eyes were shining brightly with unfallen tears.

"Do you vouch for this woman?" he asked Bella. Bella tore her eyes from Bo's face to look at Voldemort as she answered in a horrible, strangled sort of voice. "Yes, my Lord." Not trusting herself to watch her aunt's expression of ardent pride, Bo looked back at Voldemort. He seemed to appraise her silently for a moment. Then he approached her, pulling a wand from the inside of his robes. "Remove your cloak."

Bo tugged her cloak off rather unceremoniously and let it fall to the floor. This time she sensed, rather than saw, Snape make a sudden movement, though when she looked over at him, his expression had not changed, nor was he looking at her. She looked back into Voldemort's glowing red eyes, and again, readied herself for an intrusion into her thoughts that never came. "Hold out your left arm," said Voldemort conversationally. When she bared her arm, he placed the tip of his wand to her pale skin and said sharply, "Macula Morsmordre." A large, red, angry-looking welt immediately blossomed on her arm where the wand-tip had touched it. Had Bo's eyes not been watering from the excruciating pain, she would have seen that the burning mark was in the shape of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth. She had bitten her lip so hard to keep from crying out that she could taste blood. Voldemort reached inside his robes once again, and this time, drew out a sealed piece of parchment. He tapped the parchment three times with his wand and held it out for Bo, who took it with her right hand. When he spoke, Voldemort sounded almost bored, though he still studied her face as though evaluating every inch of her.

"These are your tasks, which you must perform if you are to be a Death Eater and a true member of my chosen family. Succeed, and you shall be rewarded. Fail, and you shall die. I will call you to me if ever I have need of you." And without another word, he turned and disappeared down the hall from where he had come.

The loose circle tightened as the unfamiliar Death Eaters stepped forward to shake Bo's hand, which she offered to each in turn. Aurelius Burr gripped her hand briefly without looking at her face and went back to his sofa and newspaper. Amycus Carrows took her hand into his own rather sweaty one and held it, staring into Bo's face with a disturbingly shrewd expression, until Alecto pushed him out of the way.

"What is your first task?" she asked brazenly as she shook Bo's hand.

"That is none of your business, Alecto!" hissed Bella, stepping up next to Bo.

"We'll find out soon enough anyway! I can ask if I want to," said Alecto, sneering at Bella, though she released Bo's hand and took the tiniest of steps backwards.

"Why don't you go play with the Muggles some more, Alecto? They are more appropriate company for you than the Dark Lord," spat Bella, drawing herself up to her full height until she was towering over the much shorter woman. "I heard about what you did to the Muggle who owned this house. Don't you have any sense of style at all?"
"Don't you talk to me about style! I know all about your ideas of Muggle-torture, Bellatrix, and style doesn't have a whole lot to do with it, from what I hear," blustered Alecto, while Bella's nostrils flared. She was about to retort when a voice just behind them caused all three women to turn.

"I believe there is somewhere you are supposed to be, Alecto, or am I mistaken?" Snape asked, his voice low and cold. "When you've all quite finished, of course," he added scathingly.

Bella glared from Snape back to Alecto, and then grasped Bo's shoulders, steering her back toward the exit. As Bella bent to scoop up Bo's cloak from the floor, Bo looked once more into Snape's face. This time, he returned her gaze. He stood almost as if rooted to the spot, and although it had changed, Bo could not interpret his new expression any more than the closed one from before. He did not look angry like he had in her dream, but neither did he look pleased, nor proud. She very much wanted to speak to him, but Bella did not give her the chance. She pushed Bo out of the room, back through the hallway, out the door, and into the darkness of the night.

"Let's go," she said, throwing Bo's cloak at her.

Bo hurriedly pulled her cloak on and watched as Bella disapparated before her. Bo hesitated. Could she risk going back to talk to Snape? Did she dare even attempt it, knowing that Voldemort was right there in the next room? The haunting image of those burning red eyes, and the fiery, throbbing pain in her left arm were quite enough to convince her that it was a bad idea. She drew the hood of her cloak over her head, and with one last fleeting look at the brick house, she followed her aunt back to Malfoy manor.