Slytherin's Best

12

Ron woke up in an unfamiliar room. His mouth was dry, his eyes were crusted shut from sleep, his head pounded with a horrible headache, and his body felt as if he were tossed off the roof of a 150 story building.

He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and reached up to rub his temples, but he found that his arms were bound. In fact, he found that his whole body was bound, thick ropes binding his arms to his sides and his legs to each other, and that he was upside down.

He frantically looked around the darkly lit room. Right underneath him, there was a long, dark mahogany table with rather uncomfortable looking wooden chairs with long backs. The ceiling had ballroom-like designs on it, two glass chandeliers hung from opposite sides of the room. The rest was fairly plain, a small table with a china plate on display was flush with the left wall, otherwise, it was barren. Where am I? What happened?

Ron heard something creaking and groaning behind him. A door, he thought, a heavy door. He heard low murmurs, but couldn't discern what they were saying. Footsteps, a lot of them, people are here. The chairs behind him were being pulled out and sat in. He closed his eyes and relaxed his body. He heard the chairs in front of him being filled with people.

"What is he doing here, my Lord?" he heard an arrogant drawl. Lord? What is happening? Where am I? Ron doesn't dare open his eyes, even a little. He's been a Death Eater for long enough to know that he should be quiet and try to acquire information.

He heard the door powerfully being opened. The Dark Mark on his left arm sluggishly moved around.

"I'm not taking any questions, he knows fully well what he did wrong." Ron heard the painfully familiar voice of Voldemort. "Ronald Bilius Weasley," his voice was soft, dangerously soft.

He flinched, and opened his eyes. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Why?" Voldemort moved to sit in his spot at the head of the table, Nagini wrapped around his arm.

"I haven't an idea what you're talking about, my Lord," Ron knew he was walking on thin ice, but he refused to reveal the embarrassing truth.

"Oh Weasley," Voldemort smiled evilly, "I know why you did it."

"I'm sorry, my Lord. You know why I did what?" Ron's voice wavered.

"Lord, if I have permission, what are you talking about?" a Death Eater Ron knew as Evan Rosier, spoke his confusion.

"Why don't you ask him? He knows perfectly well what I'm talking about." Voldemort nodded at Ron. Rosier looked at Ron expectantly. He looked around. Some Death Eaters sneered at him while others looked at him worriedly. He swallowed audibly.

"I was jealous," Ron whispered, almost to himself.

Voldemort smirked. "Of whom?"

"Harry, Malfoy, Zabini... everyone." Ron's voice broke.

"And why is that?" Voldemort's smirk became, even more, menacing.

"Because they got all the attention. Harry is the Boy-Who-Lived. Malfoy is getting all of Ha-Potter's attention. Zabini is his new best friend. I've been replaced." Ron heard the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"And how do you know this?" Voldemort got up from his chair and strut around the table, observing Ron.

"Because you told me. You told me about the plan. You told Potter that he needed to befriend Malfoy if he ever imagined of beating you. You! This is your fault!" Ron was becoming more agitated the more he talked. "You said you told Zabini to help him. You planned all of this! Why?" Ron's voice turned back into a whisper at the last word.

Voldemort just smirked again.

"Answer me! You don't understand what it's like-" Ron's body writhed in the ropes, his agonized screams the only sound in the room. All he could feel was the excruciating pain of the cruciatus curse.

"Shut up. All this pointless babbling is irritating me." Voldemort's menacing voice overpowered Ron's groans. The Death Eaters were watching him, afraid of what was happening, with the exception of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange, who were perfectly aware of the boy's wrong-doings. "Yes, I did plan this all out, but it didn't work out as I planned," he stated.

"What was...your...plan, then?" Ron asked in between pants.

"Potter was supposed to kill you, but he's very forgiving. I should've known he wouldn't have done it. He must have held back when his magic exploded. Speaking of Potter, why don't you go fetch him, Lucius." Voldemort pointed towards the door. Lucius nodded and swiftly got up and walked out the doors.

"He's here?" Ron almost yelled.

"Of course. After his magic exploded, Bellatrix apparated into the Forbidden Forest to fetch you. Unfortunately, Potter was very stupidly trying to bring you back to the castle and refused to surrender, so Bellatrix had to subdue him and bring him with. We wouldn't want him to wake up and tell Dumbledore about your kidnapping." Voldemort watched as Nagini slithered around the table's surface.

The doors burst open with a loud bang and Lucius came in with Harry trudging along behind him. "The boy says he won't talk to anyone unless we let Weasley go back to Hogwarts," he sneered. Harry stood by his side, head held high as if he were Lucius's son instead of Draco.

Voldemort snickered, "I'm sorry, Harry, but that just won't do. We don't want Dumbledore knowing his enchantments are fading, nor do we want him to know that your enhancements still weren't strong enough to keep us away." Harry's face gave no sign of him even hearing what Voldemort was saying. The only indication that he was even alive was his constant eye contact with the ropes that bound Ron.

"That won't work, Harry. This is powerful magic, so powerful even you can't undo it without your wand." Voldemort held up Harry's wand and spun it around. Harry still held contact with the ropes, determined to get Ron out of this situation.

Ron spoke up, "My Lord if you don't mind, can I have a word alone with Potter?"

"Of course." Voldemort motioned to the Death Eaters to leave.

"But my Lord-"

"Don't worry, Bellatrix. They will be fine. Potter won't be able to do anything here without his wand," and with that, they left, leaving Harry and Ron alone.