where it began and ended
The sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet and dark halls of the castle. The silence filled the air as the young boy of only 18, slowed to a halt and stared across the large room, once known as the Great Hall, facing his true fears. His hand, clutching tightly onto the sleeve of his black jacket, and his eyes heavy from the sleepless night before. Grimacing glares from all around peered over at him, waiting eagerly for their commanders words. "My lord." The boys voice rang out, nervously, yet trying to conjure up as much confidence as possible.
"Mister Malfoy." The words slithered out of the dark lord's mouth as eerie as the snake beside him did. "Thank you for joining us." He continued. "I trust your fathers wounds are being mended appropriately?"
"Yes, my lord. My mother sends her appreciation for the healers you've provided. She expects to return back to her duties this following week." The boy bowed his head to show respect and a proper thanks. The snake-like man nodded slightly, before holding out his hand, extending an invitation to be seated at the table before them.
Draco bowed his head once more, and proceeded to seat himself, with the other death eaters still eyeing him carefully. On the table top, a cage of three rats sat, scratching at the bottom. Draco wasn't sure why they were there, but he also wasn't sure what was in store for this meeting. And he was trying to not let his nerves take over. It had only been one week since the battle, and death of Harry Potter, and he was truly terrified for what the future may hold.
"Rodolphus, have we located the runts?" Voldemort turned to the grim man beside him, who looked all too pleased with himself, per usual. Rodolphus Lestrange was an eager man. Eager to kill, that was. He was sadistic since a young boy, and it had only grown worse over the years. And his wife, Bellatrix, was just the same, if not more so, in many ways.
The years did not do well for Rodolphus, as his teeth had become rotted, and his skin, an almost sickly pale tone. With unkept hair, and overgrown fingernails, his hygiene had seemed to have taken a drastic turn as well, and it was clear that the man hardly bathed.
"Not yet, my lord. But we still have the Longbottom boy in our custody." His voice was course, with a sharp edge, as he smiled wickedly to his master.
"Ah, yes. The failure of the lot. Do we have him here?" Voldemort tilted his head curiously, as Rodolphus grinned again, with more fire in his eyes. He was beaming with anticipation.
"We do, my lord."
"Bring him to me. Let us see what we are able to force out of him." Voldemort demanded, as two death eaters stood from the table, with Rodolphus in the lead.
Draco's hands began to sweat in his lap, as he contained his leg from shaking. He dreaded seeing his old peers, considering they all looked to him with shame, as if he ever really had a choice in what side he was on. And he knew he shouldn't care what they thought of him, but it was all he ever really cared about, even if it seemed he didn't. His desire to be liked, was clouded by a large ego of fear and insecurity, which presented itself as cold and cruel. But that was his way of coping.
The shuffling sound of footsteps approached once again, but this time, they dragged in their prisoner. Neville Longbottom, the boy who failed.
Draco thought back to that dark day, when Neville held up the sword of Gryffindor after a shockingly surprising brave speech, but Bellatrix was too fast, and Neville was just a moment too slow, as he was struck with the crutiatus curse, and dropped to the ground instantaneously. Almost beheading Nagini and sadly, suffering a similar fate as his parents. "Draco." The sinister voice called out, snapping him back to reality.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Would you assist me?" Voldemort asked, directing him to Neville and the three other death eaters. Draco grew shaky once again, but hid it from sight, as he gathered himself and walked to them. Rodolphus eyed the Malfoy prodigy, knowing full well he didn't trust him, or his crippled father. "Pull out your wand." He demanded, as Draco hesitated for only a moment, before reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving it. "Am I correct to assume you went to school with Mister Longbottom?"
"Yes, my lord. Him and I were both in the same year." Draco responded, just barely looking at the boy, but back to the dark lord's gaze.
"Very well." A silence filled the air. "Considering this, I would like to give you the task of finding out as much information from Mister Longbottom as he can manage to withstand. And don't hesitate to utilize the resources we have provided." Voldemort looked over at the table briefly, and back to him. He was testing Draco, seeing how deep his loyalty lies, and if Draco had the willingness to do as told.
"Of course, my lord." Draco said, confidently, but knowing deep down, this was just going to be the beginning of a never ending horror.
"My lord, I really don't believe my nephew will be able to go through with this.' Rodolphus suddenly spoke up, angry and envious that he wasn't the one able to do the torturing for the night.
"Are you questioning my judgement, Rodolphus?" Voldemort snapped, looking sharply at his follower, as Nagini slithered closer, with a long, drawn out hiss.
"N-no, my lord." He stammered. "I just am not sure he has the stomach for something of this sort." Rodolphus backtracked, attempting to reason with Voldemort. As if that was ever a possibility.
"You underestimate me, uncle." Draco snapped, knowing he needed to prove himself to survive. Neville looked to him, with tears filling his eyes, and fear flooding his body. But Draco had to ignore it, and push past his good, and try and seek out the evil inside him, but he couldn't find any. So he needed to pretend to be someone he was not.
Walking to the table, he grabbed the medium sized metal bucket, which sat on the floor below. Looking back up at the cage, he quickly pointed his wand to the rats, stunning them so he could place them in without getting bit. Looking in, he sighed, knowing this was not going to end well. He felt as though he could be sick, but he had to do this. He again, had no choice. Turning, he walked over to Neville and stared at him for a moment. There were bruises, scrapes, and deep gashes, all across his body and face. He had to make this quick. The poor boy has already suffered enough for one lifetime.
"Alright." He commented to the two death eaters holding onto Neville's arms. And quickly, they dragged him to the wall of the Great Hall, and held out his arms to the side, forcing him against his back. Draco then took his wand, pressed it into Nevilles shirt, and shredded it open, exposing even more wounds and marks.
"Malfoy, please!" Neville began to beg, not knowing what was to happen to him next. "Please don't do this! We may not have gotten along, but you know me. You knew us all." He pleaded once more, as Draco stared into the boys terrified eyes. For a moment, he couldn't move, frozen in fear and protest, while eyeing the bucket in his hands. This was wrong, everything was all wrong. Harry was supposed to survive.
"Draco?" Voldemort began questioning, and Draco slowly looked back up into Neville's eyes once again, raising an eyebrow.
"But you didn't know me." He snapped, slowly, and then handed the bucket of rats to Nott Sr, who placed it against Nevilles stomach, gripping it tightly, so the rats had no way to escape. Goyle Sr approached quickly, with a short torch, already blazing with fire, and began to heat up the end of the bucket. As it grew warmer, the rats grew more panicked to get away from the heat. And the only place they could go, was into Neville's flesh.
"How did you know what Nagini was?" Draco asked, with power in his voice, but regret in the back of his mind. Neville didn't answer, but suddenly with the rats beginning to claw and chew, blood-curdling screams began to leave his mouth, and Draco tried his hardest not to flinch with each yell. "How did you know?" Draco said louder, with more demand.
"Harry! Harry told us!" Neville screamed through his sobs of pain after only a few moments.
"Who's us?" Draco continued, trying to ignore what was happening and putting himself into another place mentally.
"The order! Okay? Please, I beg you, please stop!" Neville continued as the rats gnawed deeper into his skin.
"Where are the remaining missing persons?" Draco asked, trying to ignore his incessant begging.
"I don't know!" Neville shouted, as he continued to sob.
"He has to know something!" Bellatrix shouted, angrily, standing from the chair at the table, and beginning to approach.
"How could he? He's been in our hands since the battle. I'm sure they've changed where they hide out, considering they know we've got some of their followers." Draco scolded his aunts questioning, before looking to Voldemort, waiting for the command to end it. Neville continued to scream in agony, as the rats dug in further more. And finally after just a few moments, Voldemort nodded.
"Alright, stop." Draco held up his hand, as the two men pulled away, revealing Neville's abdomen. The crimson fluid was dripping down to the floor, but luckily, the rats hadn't gotten very far, or at least far enough to kill the boy. But the wounds were definitely going to fester and become infected within days, and he would no doubt, inevitably die.
The death eaters holding him up, let go, and Neville fell to the floor into his own puddle of blood.
"Very good, Draco." Voldemort was pleased, but not finished. "Now kill him." Draco's body stiffened up at the words just spoken and stared at him, slowly eyeing his friend, Theo, seated at the table, and then looking back to Voldemort.
"My lord, shouldn't we keep him? Use him as bait for the order and Potter's traitors?" Draco asked, attempting to prolong Neville's death. But Voldemort stay silent, and he knew what he was going to have to do now.
Turning to the boy he once knew, he held out his wand. Neville lay there in sobs, not even trying to beg for his life, for he didn't want it anymore. Instead, he waited eagerly for the sweet relief of death. "Just kill me, Malfoy." He said through his sobs. "Prove yourself to be worse than we all thought to begin with. You're nothing but a monster. An evil, wretched monster!" Neville cried, tears streaming down his dirty cheeks. And without another hesitation, Draco's wand began to light up.
"Avada kedavra."