The Mudblood

Chapter 112 : Year 6

September 1st was a dreary, despondent, depressing day. I wasn't particularly upset to leave Malfoy Manor, but I hadn't really been present there throughout the rest August anyway. After Astoria, Ashley, Harper, and Anderson left the Manor, I couldn't bear to face Draco Malfoy alone, so I returned to the Ministry of Magic, spending what remained of my summer in the company of Brian Urquhart, Darrin Hunt, and the Orb of Sight. I'd begged Rookwood to allow me to stay there, but, of course, he vindictively declined, and so we currently stood together on platform nine and three quarters as parents, most crying, some sobbing, said goodbye to their children for what could very easily be the last time. I was strangely apathetic as I watched a couple hug their young daughter before she scurried onto the Hogwarts Express. Perhaps I was just jealous; I'd never had a proper goodbye with either of my parents before really seeing them for the last time. Bitterness had hollowed me.

"The Dark Lord has been rather pleased with me lately," Rookwood was bragging now, his dark eyes surveying the platform with haughtiness. The ambience was quieter and drained of any of its usual cheeriness; for the first time, no one wanted to go to Hogwarts but everyone had to. Everyone except the Muggle-borns, obviously. There were various Death Eaters stationed around the platform, watching for signs of any "dumb Mudbloods" that had decided to show up. It was all half-bloods and purebloods now.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm so well esteemed by our Lord?" Rookwood asked, glancing over at me indolently. Though his structure was still thin, he'd gained back much of the weight that he'd lost during his time in the cellar, and the pocks on his face were less prominent than before. Like all of the other Death Eaters, he didn't wear a mask because there was no need anymore. Death Eaters were no longer condemned by the Ministry of Magic, and the only people who were bold enough to oppose us were hunted and imprisoned. I could have worn short sleeves and revealed my Dark Mark without reprimand, but of course I didn't. I was wearing the same long sleeved-dress I'd worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding, actually, the same black fabric that I'd worn while dancing happily with Fred Weasley...

"Why are you so esteemed by a mass murdering psychopath? I'm dying to know," I droned, causing Rookwood's lips to curl with displeasure.

"The Dark Lord has found favor with me again because I placed the Imperius Curse on Bruce Urquhart, gaining our Lord control over the Department of Mysteries. I was able to accomplish what Lucius Malfoy could not." That smug jab was aimed directly at Draco Malfoy, who stood on my other side in his black suit. His expression had been rather blank until Rookwood mentioned his father; now his grey eyes were slivered as his nose scrunched.

"You had better do something worthy of the Dark Lord's praise while you're at school, Draco," Rookwood went on with a simper. "Your family has fallen out with the Dark Lord, I'm afraid. With Lucius's constant mistakes, your pathetic failures, Bellatrix's spinelessness—I'm sure you're aware that she no longer holds our Lord's trust. She has to be placed under the Imperius Curse just to perform simple tasks—"

"Throwing your nephew into a fire is a real simple task, I'm sure," Malfoy sneered, and he didn't give Rookwood a chance to counter before storming off through the thinning herd of students toward the train. People staggered away in fear as he cut through the crowd and embarked on the Hogwarts Express with little care for who stared. Even though the newspapers claimed that Harry was the one to murder Dumbledore, there were surely rumors circulating about how Malfoy and I had joined Voldemort; it wouldn't be surprising if everyone already knew we were Death Eaters.

As the train's whistle blew, Rookwood said to me, "You know what you're to do now, I presume."

"What, go console my husband-to-be?"

His humorous expression faded. "You and Draco have been tasked with searching the train for Harry Potter. We assume he has chosen not to return to Hogwarts, but if he has, we want you to apprehend him and detain him. Are you capable of a task so simple?"