Rating:
PG
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Bellatrix Lestrange Lord Voldemort
Genres:
Drama Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 12/05/2003
Updated: 12/05/2003
Words: 827
Chapters: 1
Hits: 854

The Faithful

Nineveh

Story Summary:
"The Dark Lord will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!" Four conspirators plot in the firelight. One brother urges caution, the other pursuit, and a boy is mad for his reward. All three know that the final decision will not rest with them, but with the dark-haired woman with her eyes half-closed who listens as they dream.

Posted:
12/05/2003
Hits:
854
Author's Note:
Not so much a sequel as a consequence of my fic


The Faithful

He who would valiant be

'Gainst all disaster

Let him in constancy

Follow the Master.

Four of them sat in the comfortable room, the fire crackling in the grate, a half-empty box of chocolates on a small side table.

'Where are the others?' asked Rabastan Lestrange. His brother raised his eyebrows, questioning.

'Where's Malfoy? Where is your brother-in-law? Where's MacNair? God, where's Avery? Don't tell me he isn't one of us, Rodolphus.'

'He is,' Rodolphus answered, stretching out his long legs towards the fire. 'And he's also being watched, as is anyone who was suspected, accused, or came forward voluntarily to, how should I put it, clear his name.'

'That would cover most people we know, wouldn't it?'

'Most. Not all. Not Barty.' Rodolphus flashed a pointed smile at the tow-headed boy sunk deep in a leather armchair. 'But most people, yes.'

'The Ministry can hardly watch them all the time,' Rabastan protested.

'Maybe not, but any risk is too great in this endeavour.' Rabastan shook his head. He was not a tall man, and only his hair brushed the metal beading along the chair back.

'I still wish we could have Malfoy with us. He knew...Or even Rookwood. He's in the Department of Mysteries itself! Why go to all the risk of torturing Aurors when Rookwood can just hang around until he hears what we need?'

'Hang around? You think we should wait, Rabastan? You think that the return of the Dark Lord is something we can take our time over, do you?'

'I think it is something we should take care over.'

'Oh, I'm sure you do.'

'Don't doubt my loyalty, brother.' Rabastan looked around the room. Young Barty Crouch was watching them with an almost unclean fascination as he and his brother wore over the arguments again and again. In the fourth chair, the other member of the party; the one with whom, he knew, lay the ultimate decision. Firelight shone off thick dark hair as she listened, eyes half-closed under heavy lids in that beautiful, haughty face. 'Don't doubt me. But we won't be much use to him in Azkaban.'

'He will reward us for our service.' Barty Crouch's boyish voice rang out eagerly. 'We who prove our loyalty will be his dearest companions, when he should rise again.' The pale freckled face twisted in its fervour.

'He will reward,' Rodolphus repeated flatly. 'He will reward fidelity. He will reward success. And I want him to reward us.'

'Oh, we all want that,' said Rabastan.

'The Longbottoms know something. She mentioned Albania. The four of us can handle them easily; we'll be away before anyone can guess.'

'They'll fight. They're Aurors; they'll use the Unforgiveables.'

'We'll use them first.' Rodolphus glanced over at their fourth companion with a flare of pride and, yes, Rabastan saw, even desire. 'Do you think they'll be in any condition to fight after a taste of Bella?'

'Oh, no one would fight Bella.' He certainly wouldn't, but he wouldn't get a taste, either.

'So Barty, you're in?'

'Yes!' The almost adolescent voice. A flickering glance, oh yes, him too, at Bellatrix sitting impassively with her hands in her lap. Poor boy, thought Rabastan. Not a chance in Azkaban.

'Well, brother, what's your decision. With us or against us?'

'Grow up, Rodolphus. I'm with you. I've always been with you. I'd like to stay with you, that's all. The cells in Azkaban are single occupancy and rather cold. Wizarding Albania would be much more clement, and I'd rather get their slowly than not at all.'

'We'll get there.' The voice was low, but all three men turned to listen. She was looking at them through those enchanted eyes, Bellatrix Lestrange, taller and more cunning than Rabastan, braver than Rodolphus, so far above young Crouch that he couldn't even see up her robes. 'We alone will find him. We alone have the courage, the strength, the desire.' Her wand trembled between her fingers as she extended her arm. 'What chance could they have? One doesn't forget the Unforgiveables! No, they burn all the brighter when the constrained will finds release! We want to find him, and we shall.' She shook out her hair, glowing thick and black in the dim room. 'He will reward us, our lord, our Dark Lord. Don't be afraid of Azkaban, brother. We're Death Eaters. What are the years to us?'

She swept from the room, robes trailing behind her, one white shoulder bare. Rabastan reached over for the chocolates, but Rodolphus got up and stretched his long arms above his head, his shadow curving behind him over the wall and ceiling making his rangy form seem even taller and thinner. He nodded at his brother, eyes red with firelight, and followed his wife. Rabastan poured out a firewhisky and handed it to the boy.

'I know you're thinking he'll reward you, lad, but that?' He laughed. 'Not a chance, lad, not a chance.'