35. ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴀʀᴋ

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"My Lord," my father whispers, bowing so deeply that the edges of his hair graze the floor. I remain standing, staring at the chair in the grand dining room that has its back turned to me.

Noticing this, my father grabs the back of my head and forces me down, keeps me down, until a bony white hand holding a wand of the same description gives a little flick in the air.

Seven chairs pull themselves out of the table... The two closest to his left, one directly at his right, two more a couple seats down, and a final two at the very end of the table, farthest from where the Dark Lord sits.

My aunt, mother, and brother, along with Snape and Mattheo, enter the room as well. We eye the chairs warily, staring at their placements and trying to deduce which of the ones we're each supposed to take.

It's an easy enough choice for Mattheo. Wordlessly, he drops into the seat at the Dark Lord's right. My mother crosses the length of the entire room, sits at one of the two at the very end, and when no words are spoken against it, my father very reluctantly moves to take the chair across from her. Draco hesitantly moves for the seat three chairs down from Mattheo, and I take the one two chairs down.

From here, I can see him for the first time. Ghostly white skin and snakelike eyes, a skeletal face, and slits in the place where his nose should be. Draco doesn't seem as intrigued as I do. He's got his eyes glued to the tablecloth, and I'm guessing that's where they'll remain until this meeting has passed.

There are still two people left to be seated. Unsurely, Snape goes for the second chair on the left side- "No, no, Severus," the Dark Lord rasps, his tone careless, as though he's oblivious to the staggering weight of the tension in the room. "You'll do better directly at my side."

And so Snape sits across from Mattheo, while Aunt Bellatrix lowers herself into the seat at our professor's left.

"Well?" the Dark Lord demands, like we haven't been spending these past agonizingly slow seconds waiting for him to speak. "Who did it? Which of you killed Albus Dumbledore?"

Not did you kill Albus Dumbledore, probably because he knows that we'd all be making plans to flee the country were Dumbledore still alive. We're not at school anymore- There is no room for failure here.

"My Lord-"

A massive snake appears from out of nowhere and snaps its powerful jaws at my father's face.

"Hush, Nagini," the Dark Lord says, and if he knew how to take on a tone of amusement, this would be it. "Yes, I know... As Nagini was so kind to inform me, Lucius, I was not talking to you."

"Y-Yes, My Lord."

He's too far away for me to be able to tell, but I think that statement has brought my father close to tears.

"Now," the Dark Lord looks down lovingly at his monstrous pet as she slithers up the length of the table, "Which of you who were actually there would like to tell me what happened?"

But then he raises one finger, silencing the rest of us, as the snake starts hissing something incomprehensible to the rest of us non-Parselmouths. Because obviously, whatever the damned snake has to say is far more important than what us mere mortals could come up with.

I watch as Nagini raises her head in Mattheo's direction, hisses something at him that he seems to understand. Mattheo says something back, a distorted mixture of sounds I wouldn't dare try to explain in a written language. The Dark Lord watches the short exchange, appearing highly disappointed when Mattheo finishes talking.

"Then who?" the Dark Lord whispers.

Mattheo's tone is ever so casual as he speaks his next three words... "The Malfoy girl."

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