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Darkly Treacherous
By: xxlostdreamerxz
Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP.
Chapter 28: Upon the Eve of Darkness
He shredded his bloody soul into pieces.
Shredded, yes, not split. And for a soul, which consists of three different spheres - mind, body, and emotions, when carefully split, takes an equal portion from each sphere. Thus, allowing the castor to still act and process the world sanely and efficiently. And if it was torn...
Merlin help them.
For in the end, they will all die...whether by their own hand or another's.
Voldemort's crimson eyes narrowed as he studied the dazed form of his heir before moving towards the thrashing form of the werewolf. He didn't understand. Why in the name of Merlin had Alex even bothered to sacrifice anything for the bloody werewolf? Why would Alex even want to lessen the pain of the man who had a hand in his parent's neglect?
It just didn't make any sense.
The boy hated his parents. That he was positive about. While Alex did not hate his parents to the point that he would go and actively hunt them down, Voldemort had no doubt that when the time came, Alex would have no qualms about dealing them a blinding green death blow.
But what was so special about the werewolf? Lupin, was it?
He didn't know, not now...but one way or another he'd have his answers. Voldemort eyes glittered with determination as a dark smirk crossed his face. One way or another he would save the boy; one way or another he would destroy the man who indirectly had harmed his heir...
Even if the bloody werewolf had somehow become an incomplete Horcrux.
"Brat...you have a lot of explaining to do," Voldemort thought dimly, as the boy sudden raised his eyes and crimson met crimson.
What had happened?
Alex's eyes glittered strangely in the light, causing the Death Eaters to murmur and gasp as the boy quietly evaluated the scene before him. He clenched and unclenched his hand, staring with unholy confusion at the blood dripping from the multiple nail marks on his palm. He didn't remember what happened. He couldn't.
Why? Who...
A deep buzzing sound rang in his ears - dark, deep, and musical - resonating with his soul, with his uncertain trembling physical form. Something was missing; something was deeply wrong. He didn't understand. What have I done? Merlin help me, what did I do? He could all but taste the fear in the room, the uncertainty bubbling up like lava - destructive yet unstoppable. And it swept him up in a gigantic wave. And he was scared...
Remus. Werewolf. Uncle.
A harsh, mad chuckle escaped his lips. Had he truly done it? Did he truly succeed? Had he managed to protect the werewolf, his uncle, from the pain of betrayal? Yes, yes, he must have! For even now, he could feel his head throbbing from the power; his chest tightening with loss..."Abscido Commoveo!" had been a success. It had to have been...
Certainly all that pain couldn't have been for nothing?
He had completed the spell; he had separated his uncle's soul from its body; he had won. Hadn't he? Alex tilted his chin up and studied the sea of Death Eaters before him. They were scared...so fucking scared. A confused glint flickered in his eyes.
'Why are they scared? Didn't I do good not evil with my act? Wasn't it...mercy?'
Alex stared at the werewolf in confusion. He did the right thing didn't he?
The boy shook his head roughly and bared his teeth into a frightening grin. "Father," he acknowledged likewise in Parseltongue. There was a short silence as the two men stared quietly evaluated one another, before Alex broke it with a tense laugh. "You needn't look so worried," he said slowly, "The spell was a success. The werewolf will die..."
Voldemort's eyes narrowed.
"...and then it'd finally be over," Alex sighed, as he stared straight into the shaking screaming 'mess' on the floor. "There is no one else that..." The boy blinked roughly, as an unknown pain struck his mind.
Pain. Agony. Cub...sorry sorry.
"Yes?" Voldemort hissed impatiently.
"I..." Alex ducked his head and resisted the urge to wince as the pain at his temples grew even worse. "Forget it," he said waving his hand dismissively. "It isn't important."
The Dark Lord eyed his heir silently. It was obvious that his hypothesis was correct; the boy had shredded his soul to a certain degree. While yes, the boy still maintained his mental capacities...it was quite obvious that something in the boy had changed. This Alex was not the same Alex who he had mockingly argued with an hour or so ago. This Alex was...different. Colder perhaps? More distracted?
Lily. James. Sirius...
"Alex," Voldemort hissed once again, noticing that his heir's eyes were glassy and blank. He could feel the magic in the air; all that bloody magic weld in the form of an the unfinished Abscido Commoveo curse...waiting for the right moment to exact its payment. "You cannot complete the spell," he said tersely. "You do not know what you're sacrificing."
The boy's eyes flickered green for a moment, before returning to the odd crimson red. "But I do."
Voldemort's eyebrow twitched at the brat's blatant disregard of his authority, but allowed it to pass for the moment being. "You shredded your soul boy," he snapped, "Whatever piece you've sacrificed into the spell in currently linked with the werewolf's life energy. He's like a Horcrux. Destroy him, you'll destroy a piece of yourself."
Alex remained unmoved. "I made my choice," he hissed coldly, "I have no regrets," and raised his wand and pointing it towards the screaming figure on the floor. "The werewolf has to die. He means nothing to me now. I can destroy him. I have to. The spell cannot be broken..."
The Dark Lord's eyes darkened even further. "That may be so, but there are always other...remedies."
"Oh?"
"That's right," Voldemort stated softly. "It's a dark curse...perhaps it'd allow some other individual to be the...sacrifice." He twirled his wand, aiming it casually towards a cowering group of Death Eaters, "And if one won't suffice, we have many idiots here to spare," he stated in English. A malicious smile crept onto his face as he saw his followers pale in fright.
And one, obviously a new recruit, even fainted.
Alex's eyes turned icy. "It won't work," he stated in Parseltongue. "The spell wants blood...his blood," he gestured towards his uncle. With a slow and deliberate prowl, he sauntered towards the werewolf, twirling his wand idly. "I accept the price, father," he said bitingly. "It's only a piece of my soul. It's unimportant in the grand scheme of things."
Voldemort growled softly. "You're not thinking straight."
The boy threw his head back and let out a wild barking laugh. "Not thinking straight?" he said mockingly. "What are you talking about father? I have never seen the world as clear as I do now. After all..." he drawled, "...aren't emotions for the weak?"
The Dark Lord's jaw tightened in realization. So he had been right. The boy had shredded his soul into pieces...and the spell has taken a huge chunk out of his emotional psyche. His ruby red eyes narrowed as he studied the boy's relaxed yet feral posture and slightly mad glint in his eyes.
No. This wouldn't do at all.
"Yes, it is" he admitted, leaning slightly upwards from his throne. A dark smirk crossed his face. "But I will say that, in your case, I've always attributed your success to the prowess of your emotions." Voldemort swallowed a grin as he saw a slightly predatory glint in his heir's eyes. "And now...I suppose you've taken a fall for the worse."
Alex paused, before baring his teeth at his father. "Is that so?"
"That's right," Voldemort coaxed.
Harry. Where are you. Harry...cub...
The boy's eyes flickered green for a moment, as his wand hand loosened. But then, within seconds, it reverted back to the frightening shade of crimson red. Crimson blood. Crimson death. Alex tilted his head and looked at his father straight in the eye. "You're lying," he said coldly. "You know I am stronger now. You know that I'm more of an heir now than I've ever been to you in the past."
"Brat..."
Alex's face darkened. "You gave me the werewolf. It is mine. My prey. And I'm going to kill him piece of piece..."
Voldemort's snarled silently at the boy's impertinence.
"...don't stand in my way."
Usually being the key word.
But then again,this particularpair of gossiping Death Eaters did not at all strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. Tall, slender, and very talkative, the brunette twins did not at all resemble anything specifically Death Eater-ish...that is except for their eyes - as cold and calculating as ice.
However, no one, save Voldemort, knew their true identities and their...dark proclivities. The twins were, in essence, spies that the Dark Lord had inserted throughout his ranks. Their job was very straightforward and simple - find the traitors and kill them quietly.
They were one, among many, of the elusive group known as the Shadows.
Born, bred, and brainwashed, under Voldemort's rule, the Shadows were loyal to a degree of fanaticism. After so much intensive mental and magical brainwashing, these individuals had become more machine than man. They had no dreams, no goals, and rarely a personality. They were what Voldemort deemed the "perfect spies." Without emotions and other ties hindering them, these men were quick, efficient, and trustworthy.
Not to mention, their masks were absolutely flawless.
With their friendly features and warm smile, the twins were able to easily gain access to many Death Eater's prized secrets. And with it, blackmail and hunt down the perpetrators before alerting the Dark Lord.
Well, at least that was how things worked then.
A few weeks ago, they were summoned along with their fellow Death Eaters to stand before their most beloved Lord. And there they had seen the boy, a gangly young teen, fend off and attack a few of their more foolish companions. And Nott, that idiot, had dared to raise his wand against the Dark Lord's heir...
Idiots.
Honestly, were the rest of the Death Eaters so dense that they couldn't see that the boy was powerful? And even if they were all but blind to their surroundings, shouldn't they've at the very least known that the Dark Lord wouldn't name someone foolish or incompetent as his heir?
The Dark Lord had changed drastically over the past few years. Gone were the perpetual rages and icy gaze. He no longer dove obsessively into battle against Dumbledore and the Light. He had become the leader they had always dreamed of.
The slight older one of the twins paused, his sky blue eyes lightly scanning the edge of the forest. He leaned lazily against the door and tilted his head in a curious manner as he noticed a peculiar flicker of light…
With a mild smile, he turned towards his brother and gave a surreptitious nod with which the man returned brightly. Intruders. Three o’clock. Raising their cross staves as one, they mockingly shoved it into the ground…knowing that, a mile away, a loud shrill alarm would sound within the central meeting room.
And it was then, after they have accomplished their duty, that the twins casually made their way towards the forest, gossiping and chit-chatting all the way, their eyes gleaming feral. They were going hunting.
The wolf is in the throne room.
Sirius shook his head in despair. The guards’ confirmation meant that Remus was being tortured at this very moment. He, of all people, knew that despite all the immunities granted to werewolves, there were many terrible things that one could do to overcome them. Or even worse, take advantage of them so that the victim would live longer under torture. His family had been Dark. He knew what they were capable of. He knew that Remus had a slim to no chance of surviving unless…they found and freed him quickly.
Time was of the essence.
“James,” Sirius hissed harshly. “We need to get going…”
“Crucio.”
Alex flinched, his eyes going a wide hurt emerald green, before the curse hit. He hissed softly as his world exploded in pain, not knowing that his father had reacted in the same manner. Slytherin’s curse be damned! A long minute passed before the Dark Lord removed the curse, his hand trembling.
“Don’t challenge my authority child,” Voldemort hissed softly. “You are my heir and as your Lord, it is my duty to lead.” He watched the emerald green in the brat’s eyes slowly drain away to crimson red. He had accidentally broken his glamour upon the child’s eyes which had served to make them golden brown. But alas, it was of no importance.
Alex fought to control his trembling, his mind, already fragmented from casting the spell upon the werewolf, tried unsuccessfully to make sense of what was going on. ‘Father never hurt me before,’ he thought blankly. ‘I don’t understand. Why now?’ A well of pain and guilt flared in his chest for some unknown reason. The child bowed his head and tried to understand comprehend these alien feelings..
Cub. Don’t fear. I…will protect…
Alex’s head jerked up as he finally recognized the voice. Dear Merlin, had he lost his mind?! He had killed his Uncle Remus with the curse. Well almost that is. If the curse had been successful…why, he shouldn’t be able to hear the werewolf’s voice inside his head.
Harry…
Alex grabbed his head and pulled his hair. No. NO. NO! It couldn’t be. Things just couldn’t turn out this way. Remus was dead. Murdered by his hand! He couldn’t…surely he couldn’t…The boy flinched as a thin spidery hand suddenly grasped his shoulder and shook it roughly. Alex’s crimson red eyes darted about the room with a glint of a caged animal, before focusing upon the person that was holding him. His father. Voldemort.
“Brat…” Voldemortsaid awkwardly, as he watched his heir fall to pieces before his very eyes. Perhaps casting the crucio on the boy in his current state wasn’t the best idea ever. Perhaps… The Dark Lord shook his head roughly. “We will continue this conversation later. But for now…” The Dark Lord was interrupted as a loud shrill alarm went off…
The battle had begun.
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TO BE CONTINUED:
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