Guardians

I was in trouble. Of course, it didn't surprise me.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked me once again, waving the tiny glass vial in my face. I struggled to recede from the pale green liquid, but I couldn't run. I was, after all, in a tiny cell and chained to the wall. I still refused to address the man with the dark cloak and the seemingly innocent bottle in his hand. On his forehead was the tattoo of the Brethren, wizards who had taken a mortal vow to their master and in exchange received a wallop of powerful spells and curses.

"This, my friend," the wizard said to me, "is a special little serum. Surely, you know of its effects? You have studied this in your school, no?" I glanced over at my friend. I wish I hadn't brought him into this. Instead of just me, both of us would die. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't have it any other way. He and I both knew what the serum was, but we weren't about to talk. The man continued his monologue.

"This is known as a truth serum," he said as he stroked the bottle gently with his pale white fingers. "A few drops of this, and you are forced to tell the truth in a matter of mere moments. What is so effective about this liquid is that one dose lasts for ten minutes. Of course, it can be administered again as needed. All we need is a test run..." He then began advancing towards the nearest of his two victims, me. What else could I do? I kicked, bit, scratched, and did anything else that could stop him from using me as a lab rat.

"Leave her alone!" my friend cried out bravely in protest, to no avail. I had to admire his courage; during this whole course of events, he had never lost focus. Then he said something that put a temporary end to my struggling.

"It's not her you want," he said, his voice low in shame. "It's me." I was shocked to hear him say those words. Him, involved with the Brethren? He was too quiet, too... normal to be mixed up with them. I, however, had an excuse. One thing separated me and everyone else my age, including wizards: I possessed an immense amount of magic. My friend was just like everyone else... wasn't he?

"My master knows of your presence here," the man replied in his dry flaky voice. He sounded exactly like a snake, the symbol of the Brethren. "However, your friend is just as valuable to our cause as you are." He then continued his advance. I could only struggle with the fingers that pried my mouth open. Mumbling a spell to levitate the bottle in mid-air, a few drops of the doomed liquid fell onto my unwilling tongue. I was about to spit it back into his face, but the wizard suddenly threw my head back against the wall. I swallowed on instinct, and it was then that I knew that the masquerade was over.

Chapter 2: "The Truth Serum"

I felt the serum slide down my throat and into the pit of my stomach; it was liquid fire. It spread rapidly to my extremities, and healing scars burned anew with hot, flashing pain.

"I won't tell them anything; I won't tell them anything," I kept saying over and over to myself between moans of agony. The rational part of my mind knew better, however. With a few more painful moments, the pain subsidized, and the serum was fully in control.

"This is it," I thought to myself in rejection. I gathered what was left of my scattered courage and put on a brave face, but my insides were quaking with fear.

"Ah, I see that we are ready to begin," the Brethren wizard said, his face contorting into a grotesque version of a smile. "What is your name?" My voice came out flat and toneless, though I struggled with all of my might not to say the words.

"Rosemary Jacques Black," my voice said.

"And your parents?" the man replied, confidant in my answer.

"Elizabeth Jacques and Sirius Black," I answered after shuddering violently. I had come so close to overcoming the spell that the serum put on me! The next question, however, came before I could regain my dissolving strength.

"Where is Sirius Black?" he asked. I told him the only answer I knew.

"I don't know."

The wizard looked at me suspiciously for a minute, deciding whether or not to believe me. This pause in the interrogation was giving me the valuable time I needed. He must have dismissed the thought because he then asked me another question.

"How did you overcome the Cruciatus curse?" he said, referring to when I was subject to that curse before my friend and I were first brought here. He had asked the question too late, however, because I had expelled the truth serum with a powerful surge of magic from my body. That was how I had defeated the Cruciatus curse before, with the help of my friend. Although I no longer had to tell the truth, I decided to play it safe.

"My friend helped me to overcome the spell," I replied.

"Who is your 'friend'?" he asked, puzzled.

"Him," I said, acknowledging the boy who was chained on my left. It was the truth, after all. He gave me a raised eyebrow in return, but the Brethren sorcerer didn't look at all suspicious about my claim. He gave a simple shrug and fired another question.

"Where was the last place that you know your father was at?" he asked, his voice low and rasping.

"He was in the Himalayas," I quickly answered. I had anticipated this question and had thought of someplace to name. The Brethren wizard gave me a nod, a slight shadow of a smile on his lips.

"How long have you been lying to me?" he asked, smiling crookedly now. I was taken aback by this accusation. How could he have known I was lying? All the same, however, I attempted to distill his fears.

"I haven't been lying to you," I replied rather indignantly. Too late I remembered that I was supposed to be speaking in a monotone characteristic of the truth serum.

"How long?" he asked again, stepping closer to me as his fingers fumbled for the potion in his swirling cape. I could sense the frustration mounting in him, and so I tried one more desperate gamble.

"The serum won't work on me," I cried out as his fingers reached the vial. "Nothing will work; you can't make me work for the Brethren." The look of anger on his face was immediately replaced by indifference. Somehow I had the feeling I had only made matters worse.

"Very well, I have done all I can," he said, shrugging his shoulders casually. Without warning his face was in mine; his eyes were like cold flint, with specks of icy blue.

"However, we can and we will make you work for the Brethren," he voiced coldly. "My master will take care of you two personally." At the word "personally," I shuddered violently. I couldn't face him; no had ever done so before and lived! The leader of the Brethren was famous for his mastery of the Dark Arts. Rumor had it that he was the sole apprentice of Voldemort during his reign of darkness. Anyone who possessed the slightest threat to his strives for ultimate power was killed without doubt or mercy. Even the most powerful of wizards had switched the name "You-Know-Who" from Voldemort to this mysterious master... and we were about to be "taken care of" by him? It was enough to strike fear into the strongest of wizards, let alone two students of magic. A turn of a key startled me out of my panic-stricken thoughts. The Brethren wizard had left, the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever seen was coming for us, and there was no escape.