The Dark Angel

Chapter Six:

“You are late,” was the first thing they heard when they apparated in the middle of the whole inner circle.

“Forgive me my lord.” Severus said, falling to his knees.

“What was the cause of your delay?”

“I was asleep.” Angel answered calmly, “ Severus had a hard time waking me up.”

His father smiled evilly. “He should have considered it beforehand then. CRUCIO!” The blood-curdling scream was as unnerving as always, even more when coming from the usually calm, composed Potions Master. He always felt especially disheveled from the screams of victims of Cruciatus. His father broke up the curse at last, after what seemed to be a very long time.

“Don’t let me down again, Severussss.”

“I won’t my lord,” the man said, panting for breath, he kissed the hem of his master’s robes before taking his place in the circle. If it were any other occasion, Angel would have admired the way the pained man held his back straight. ‘You have your own fish to fry right now,’ the small voice at the back of his head said. ‘ Shut up!’ he answered it, vowing to curse Severus later for making him so nervous. ‘ He won’t do this to me. Snape’s only a paranoid minion who thinks too high of himself. Dad has every right to punish his servants, but not me!’

“Come here Angel,” his father said. He walked forward to his father’s throne, willing his father not to ask anything about the Sorting. He knelt and kissed the pale hand before standing straight and looking in the red eyes.

“How did everything go?” his father asked with an amused smile.

“Excellent,” he answered calmly. ‘Please, please dad. Don’t ask.’ He thought anxiously.

“Really? I suppose I don’t need to ask whether you were sorted in Slytherin or not. But there are some stupid people around us,” he glared at his Death Eaters, “who won’t accept it before hearing it from yourself.” Angel felt he had gone as pale as his father. He considered lying for a moment, ‘but father will understand it at last,’ he thought desperately, ‘he definitely won’t like it and everything will be in a mess. Oh Merlin,’ Angel had never wished anything more in his life, than being able to speak Parsel Tongue at this moment, it would definitely make the whole thing a thousand times easier.

“Well?” his father asked, rather impatiently. Angel made his mind, ‘ who cares about the bloody minions? Dad can always order them to oblivate themselves.’

“I was sorted into Gryffindor,” he said quietly, looking at the stone floor.

“What did you say?” his father asked.

He fidgeted a bit before saying, this time in a louder voice,“ I said the foolish Hat sorted me into Gryffindor.” He looked up to look at his father, who was standing now, and instantly regretted it. There was disbelief on the face and a moment later it all turned into anger. Voldemort looked frighteningly furious.

“SNAPE,” he growled.

“Yes my lord,” the tall man answered, looking respectfully at the floor.

“IS IT TRUE?”

“Yes, my lord.” There was no hint of worry or fear in the man’s respectful voice. Apparently Severus didn’t think it was one of the “ unexpected happenings” he was going to be held responsible for. His father gritted his teeth for a moment; then turned to Angel and grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look in his eyes. The anger turned into an evil smile. ‘ It’s just the bloody shape of the new face. He is merely smiling.’ Angel tried to persuade himself.

“We can’t be sure though,” his father said thoughtfully, “ the Old Fool might be powerful enough to do something to the Sorting Hat. Or probably charming another old hat to do almost the same thing but be controlled by its maker. I myself once did something of the kind.” The Dark Lord smiled evilly and released Angel.

“Lucius,”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Where is your…ah, special gift?”

“In the prison, my lord.”

“Good, send your goons to bring it then.”

“Yes my lord.” Lucius said before barking orders at Crabbe and Goyle who hurried to a door. They reappeared a moment later, each holding a young woman’s arm, dragging her on the floor. She was in a surprisingly good state for somebody kept in those prisons. That auror whose torture angel had witnessed once had been kept in the same place and was almost unrecognizable from the tortures.

The woman kept kicking and screaming. “Don’t touch me. NO! Please, let me go. LET ME GO!” She was wearing a strange kind of clothing. ‘ Muggle cloths, probably,’ Angel thought, feeling pity for the beautiful woman, not older than twenty-five.

He had to break his gaze from her when his father started to talk. “I’m rather disappointed of you Angel.” The boy hung his head again. “ But perhaps you can make for it by…proving your loyalty to me?”

“What do you mean?” Angel asked, confused.

“Kill her.”

“What?”

“You heard me.” He just stared at his father in disbelief. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Angel looked at the woman who had stopped kicking and was staring at them, her sea blue eyes filled with tears…and horror too.

Angel’s mind was racing. “I’d really love to, my lord,” he looked up at his father with pleading eyes, but managed to keep it out of his voice for the minions’ sake, “ but as long as I remember, a wizard will not be able to cast the killing curse before at least the age of seventeen.”

“Stop playing around, son. It won’t work.” His father smirked. “You know fully well that you are magically thirty, not fifteen.”

Angel looked up at his father’s smirking face and whispered, “ we have had this talk before.”

“I don’t care. Kill her or die.”

It looked as if Severus’ prophesy was too optimistic. “You can’t be serious.”

“Can’t I?” his father said, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the woman. “CRUCIO!” he said, without even looking at his victim. The scream echoed through Angel’s mind. He was frozen, unable to move, just like the last and first time he heard a Cruciatus curse being cast. He looked in the red eyes that were gazing into his.

‘Like a snake hypnotizing its prey…’

He didn’t know where that thought came from. But he had a horrible sense of déjà vu. He felt it had all happened before. The scream, a woman’s screams echoing in his ears. The sea blue eyes filled with horror. The red eyes with their hypnotizing gaze. It had all happened before. “Mom,” he whispered and his eyes widened. Where did that one come from? Fortunately the Death Eaters hadn’t heard him over the woman’s screams, but his dad had and was now rising a non-existent eyebrow. He shut his eyes, willing himself to remember. He felt extremely hot. ‘It’s the fire,’ he thought, ‘what fire?’ ‘The fire from the house, it was burning.’ Evil cackles echoed through his mind, it was dad, it had to be. He was the only one who could laugh such a cold, mirthless laughter. His breathing became fast; he could feel the sweat on his forehead. He struggled to remember but felt like he was hitting himself to a wall. He concentrated, harder than ever before. And suddenly it felt as if a door was opened in the dark wall, and memories flooded into his mind…

… “You really thought you could run away forever baby?” the mirthless voice asked.

“Get away, get out of my house. Leave me alone!”

“Mummy, what’s up? Who’s that man?” the little boy asked from the door, looking with surprised innocent eyes from the man to his mother and the long stick she was pointing at the man.

“NO!” his mother yelled. But the man pulled out a stick from his own pocket and muttered something. His mother fell to the ground, looking at the boy with wide sea blue eyes.

“Oh little one,” the man said softly, kneeling to be in eye level with him. “ What’s your name?”

“Angel. What’s wrong with mummy?”

“Oh she is just sleeping. Your name is Angel? Of course, you ARE a dear little Angel, aren’t you?”

“But her eyes are open.”

“Yes. She has a weird way of sleeping doesn’t she?”

“But mummy always shuts her eyes when she sleeps, and she never sleeps on the floor.”

“Maybe she needs some change then?” Angel looked at the man, then at his mother. Her blue eyes were filled with…fear, a lot of fear. He had never seen mummy be afraid of anything like that, she wasn’t even afraid of scary films that he wasn’t allowed to watch. He looked back at the man, who was smiling.

“No!” he said. “ You are bad, you hurt mummy.” He hit the man with small fists, struggling to get away from his vise-like grip.

“My lord?” a voice from the other room said.

“Listen little one,” the man whispered, tightening his grip. “I will do something to look scary. But it is only a trick. Don’t be afraid alright?” He then waved a hand in front of his face and suddenly he looked different. His eyes changed. They became red with black, thin pupils like a cat’s. The angry color stood out on the man’s pale face and sharp, handsome features. Angel was so afraid he couldn’t talk.

“I’m here.” The man said in a cold voice that made Angel’s blood freeze. Three cloaked figures came in the room.

“What are we supposed to do now my lord?” one of them asked respectfully. ‘My lord?’ Angel thought as he looked up at the pale man. ‘Is he a king?’

“Burn the house and have some fun with the woman.”

“Yes, my lord.” They said all together. They brought out their own sticks. One of them waved his and his mummy suddenly moved again, she tried to get up. She looked at Angel and was about to say something when the masked figure pointed the stick at her and yelled, “CRUCIO!” There was a red light and she screamed, like never before. She screamed like she was dying, like an animal was ripping her into shreds. He struggled to get free and go there to help her, but the thin fingers’ grip was so strong.

“Don’t worry little one,” the man hissed, and somehow Angel felt others didn’t understand the hiss. “As soon as we get home, I will do something that you forget this all.”

“Who are you?” Angel said in a crooked voice.

“I’m your daddy.” Angel looked into the red eyes. He remembered a documentary he had watched on TV just last night. ‘Like a snake hypnotizing his pray,’ he thought. He felt hot, he understood that the house was burning. He locked his gaze to the man’s, tears streaming down his cheeks…

…Tears were streaming down his cheeks. The screams had finished. He opened his eyes to look into his father’s. There was a smile on the thin lips. He looked at the woman; she was under a body bind, her eyes wide with horror.

“You remembered then,” his father said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Yes.”

The evil smile grew. “I must say I’m so proud of you, Angel. Memory charms are difficult to fight with, and the one I had put on you was an especially strong one. Now do as I told you.”

“I WON’T,” he shouted, shaking all over.

“My, aren’t you brave?” his father said calmly. “Perhaps the Hat DID have a point in its choice. But it doesn’t change many things. Avada Kedavra!” Angel didn’t look at the girl as the green light hit her. He was gritting his teeth, doing his best not to give Voldemort the satisfaction of hearing him scream and plead. He walked back to his throne and sat down gracefully, petting Nagini on the head.

“And you will soon admit that it’s not a good idea to confront me or shout at me. There are absolutely no exceptions. CRUCIO!”

Angel fell to the ground, screaming in agony. When the curse broke at last he was panting for breath, his throat hoarse. He stood up as fast as he could, drawing out his wand and pointing it at his father, his vision clouded with tears.

“Fumato!” His hand was shaking and he couldn’t aim. The spell went toward Lucius who dodged it and draw out his wand, along with many other Death Eaters. Voldemort stopped them with raising a hand. Angel gritted his teeth, held his wand with both hands, trying to steady it. He shook his head to clear his vision from the after effects of the Cruciatus.

“Myodulerus!” he yelled, the curse wasn’t off aim this time. A blue sphere shone around his father for a moment as the curse was absorbed by the shield. He didn’t know his father put up a shield during gatherings, it was probably logical but Angel couldn’t care less at the moment.

“Expeliarmus!” Voldemort shouted. Angel was thrown back and hit the wall. At his father’s beckon, two Death Eaters came and grabbed his arms. They threw him down on his face in front of the throne.

He heard his father say, “There will be six rounds. Torture at will but do not kill him. I want to do that myself. Now start!”

“ Lucius! What are you waiting for?” said Voldemort.

“My Lord,” the dark clad figure mumbled, his voice void of its usual confidence. He had never been more confused all his life. The Dark Lord did many seemingly insane deeds but Lucius, being almost killed once for endangering the boy’s life, was sure his master was quite fond of the boy. Was it possibly a test of sorts to examine their loyalties? ‘What should I do now?’ he thought desperately. ‘Disobey a direct order or…’ he was jerked out of his thoughts by his master’s irritated voice.

“I had never thought I would have to encourage you for your favorite pastime one day, Lucius. Go ahead now, unless you want to face my wrath,” the Dark Lord drawled.

“No my Lord,” said Lucius before taking a step forward from his place and raising his wand….

To Be Continued…