Empty Gold • d.meadowes

-48-

Dorcas listened half-heartedly as Emma and Mulciber began to argue about what to do with her. While the latter suggested dragging her into the common room and giving her the same treatment he had given Mary MacDonald, Emma refused point blank and said that they should grasp the opportunity to gain valuable information on Dumbledore. Mulciber didn't seem very interested in information however, he was simply happy to use some of his Dark Magic to teach her a lesson for daring to walk into the Slytherin dungeons.

Dorcas waited for the perfect moment; she would only have one chance. Watching her captors with sharp eyes, she noticed each of their movements, the torch still hanging precariously a few inches above its resting place.

Emma and Mulciber argued. Rowle looked bored as he gazed longingly towards the way she assumed would lead out of the wretched dungeons. His wand was still pointed towards her, but it wouldn't be a problem. Crabbe yawned, his mouth opening wide as though he was ready to suck in everything around him by sheer lung power. Smiling internally, Dorcas narrowed her eyes, her hands jerking free of the ropes which fell limply at her side at the precise moment that the free torch hurled itself towards Mulciber, flipping upside down and landing squarely over his head. A carefully chosen spell later, the flames enlarged like an enormous monster and snaked down his body as Emma shrieked and hurtled away from him. Dorcas quickly stunned Rowle, who fell to the floor, and snatched her wand away from Crabbe, before quickly disarming him. His wand flew out from the depths of his robes and she caught it. Despite her lack of need for her wand, she felt a lot more secure and confident now that it was back to her.

Mulciber was screaming like a banshee, thrashing around as the flames danced around him, and for the first time she felt scared. With the walls of the dungeons pressing close against them, his screams echoed through the narrow passages, and she knew they would soon be joined by more Slytherins. While she had been able to take advantage of Crabbe and Rowle's carelessness, she knew she wouldn't be so lucky when the rest of the seventh and sixth years arrived; none of the Slytherins of course, took Muggle Studies, and therefore weren't in the Great Hall.

She needed to get out of here, and fast.

Emma's face was white as she stared at Mulciber struggling with the flames. She seemed to have frozen, and didn't notice Dorcas as she crept up to her. Disarming her too, she pointed her wand towards her and forced her back against the wall. She suddenly looked terrified.

"I - I didn't - I didn't kill your mother!" she squealed. But Dorcas pressed her wand over her throat.

"Did you or did you not threaten me once I refused your offer?" she demanded, her voice low and dangerous.

"I did but -"

"So you killed my mother."

Emma's eyes began to water and her face turned pale, but Dorcas didn't remove her wand from her throat. Something seemed to have risen inside her; a strong, overwhelming thirst for blood.

Mulciber gave another high pitched cry and dropped to the floor, rolling around. The torch has left him and burnt out long ago, but the fire has caught his robes and he tried fruitlessly to shake them off. Emma looked at him with terror in her eyes.

But Dorcas felt no mercy. Her heart seemed to have drowned in a sea of loathing, and not caring about the consequences that might follow, she pressed the wand to Emma's ribs and muttered through gritted teeth, channeling as much of her hatred as she could into her words, "Crucio!"

Emma gave a violent shriek and dropped to her knees. Dorcas stepped backwards to watch her victim, expecting her to writhe in pain, but she seemed quite unharmed as she clutched her chest and glared at Dorcas, panting but laughing derisively. "Unforgivable curse? You? You do not have the guts to shoot an unforgivable curse. None of you do. You need courage. It's not -"

"Crucio!" she yelled, brandishing her wand at Emma's face, wanting more than anything to induce pain in her, more pain than she had ever experienced in her life. She needed to avenge her mother; she couldn't let the perpetrators walk free, with no chance of being punished. But Emma merely fell back against the wall, blood dripped down her nostrils, and the agony in her face cleared disappointingly quickly. Enraged, Dorcas stepped towards her, shouting, "Crucio - Crucio -" as Emma's laughter rang in her ears, and somewhere in the background, from very far away it seemed, she heard Mulciber moaning in pain.

Dorcas was knocked off her feet as someone slammed into her. Her wand flew out of her hand and a large pudgy arm wrapped itself around her neck, choking her. Gasping for breath, she tugged and scratched at the arm, and was almost lifted off her feet as Crabbe shook her. How could she be so stupid? She had left him completely unguarded, focusing all her attention on Emma Vanity.

"Well done, Crabbe!" said Emma, scrambling to her feet, as though congratulating a child for drawing a pretty picture. She snatched her and Crabbe's wand from her hand, and picked Dorcas's off the floor. Turning to Mulciber, she shot a jet of water at him to put out the fire, and he lay on the ground, coughing and twitching uncontrollably. Emma turned to Dorcas.

Dorcas resigned herself to her fate. There was no way she could free herself from Crabbe's grip, and if she tried to scream, she would only attract more Slytherins towards them. And she didn't have the strength to scream anyway - she could feel herself losing consciousness, her lungs screaming for air as Crabbe's arm squeezed her throat mercilessly.

Emma approached her, but her sight was already darkening. She could barely see the silhouette of the Slytherin girl as she heard footsteps hurrying behind them. This was it. More of them were coming. What would they do to her? Kill her? No, they couldn't. They wouldn't dare to kill a student under Dumbledore's nose. Perhaps Mulciber would get his wish and take her to their common room as he has been longing for, and release her afterwards like Mary, completely broken and twisted. Or perhaps they would hand her over to the Dark Lord.

Dorcas didn't care. She felt her end drawing near, and she felt surprisingly happy. She would be meeting her mother. A rare smile crept into her lips as the footsteps grew louder behind them.

"Stupefy!" someone shouted, but Dorcas was already losing contact with the world. She felt herself falling, falling, and the last thing she saw was the crooked ceiling of the Slytherin dungeons lit eerily by the green fire before she lost consciousness for the second time.