49|| Knight to F1
After a side-along-Apparition that leaves the quartet in a particularly queasy bit of nausea, their stomachs twist and turn even more powerfully upon the sight which meets their eyes, despite never having seen it before. The white plantation-style home is massive in all entirety, a perfectly gleaming pearl despite the dark weather and state of the distraught world. In certain corners, ivy creeps up the walls in what ought to be a bit of nature's dominance over man. And yet, it is not this, with the ivy trimmed to fit the facade of the home and property. Yew hedges circle the home, a large metal fence splitting the quartet and Snatchers from those creeping plants. But perhaps the strangest bit of irony and spite are the albino peacocks, clicking their way across the grasses, and yet, with an ease that even they know that evil resides in this house. Malfoy Manor, home of the Malfoys and the residence of the Dark Lord. Great.
"What did you put on me?" Harry whispers from beside Hermione, the two making a row ahead of Tom and Ron, close enough to hear every single movement of the other. Hermione seems in a confused and terrified daze, watching the peacocks with a particularly distraught look, like they are ghosts of those killed in this household. Tom wouldn't doubt it, truth be told.
"A Stinging Jinx," Tom answers for her, knowing that Hermione is not fit for conversation in this situation. Indeed, if not for his particular skill set of manipulation and magic, Tom would be diluted by anxiety as well. But as it so happens, very few people have beat Tom in any game they've played.
"How long will it last?" Harry asks again.
This time it is Hermione who responds to Harry, turning her head with weariness and worry, "Not long."
The Boy Who Lived's glasses gleam in the moonlight of upper Scotland, within the hand of Hermione Jean Granger who's miraculously kept them hidden from the searching Snatchers. Surely, it is a needed move, given Harry's practical blindness without said spectacles, but Tom wishes Hermione had hidden their bag of supplies somewhere, seeing as a Snatcher now carries the Sword of Gryffindor. That cannot be good.
Harry's hand subtly reaches out to palm the glasses from Hermione's hand. He takes them into his own pocket, slowing his pace with the Snatchers as they finally reach the massive gate leading into the Malfoy home. What comes as a surprise to Tom is the three people waiting at the gate--seeing as the home looked deserted, minus the peacocks, of course. And though he's never seen these people before, the three are notable in entirety and it has Tom gripping for any hope.
The first is a woman, her hair a mix of blacks and whites, notable for this reason and the upright posture she holds. Narcissa Malfoy, the wife of Lucius Malfoy and mother of Draco Malfoy, born Black. Then there is her husband, Lucius Malfoy looking positively intoxicated, exhausted, and battle-worn, not that there is any pity held for him. But all the matter, he looks more like a lowly wizard than a Pureblood heir.
But the final person is the most heart-heaving sight, the bird's nest of curly hair far worse than Hermione's and deeming this woman to be Bellatrix Lestrange. The dark woman has a crooked grin, screaming of insanity to the previous Dark Lord. Her crooked wand is crooked in her hand, playing with her hair in what can only be described as devious. This is not good at all.
Suddenly, it is the lead Snatcher--'Scabior,' Tom overheard--that grabs Harry's arm from Hermione's side, pushing the boy up to the rusted black gates and nearer the trio of dark intentions, some more than others. But, of course, it has to be the worst of the lot to step forward, Bellatrix looking warily at the boy before her dark eyes flicker to Scabior's in a deep command:
"Show me."
The Snatcher abides by her commands, not being crazy enough to negate Bellatrix Lestrange, pushing the hair out of Harry's face and revealing a disformed--but not invisible--scar on Harry's forehead. The light of her wand illuminates the swelling bulbs and old scar first, but later, it shines upon the twisted grin that now paints her face, identification positive. It makes Tom furious.
Honest to Merlin, he will need to place an illusion over the scar once this is over. Tom hates himself for not thinking of it earlier, but seeing as this is a pattern, you would think Harry would have thought of it sooner. Obviously, the scar is probably a godsend for Voldemort.
Bellatrix turns around, her skirts and tattered pants swirling around her ankles in a wicked dance of darkness. She flicks her wand over her shoulder, a gesture for their entrance as the heavy gates creak aside like they haven't moved for years. Tom truly thinks the whole situation is ridiculous, everything seeming a bit too much like a muggle haunted house. There's something about darkness that hides in light that is far more terrifying than Malfoy estates.
First across the white gravel (what a surprise) and then through the front door, heels and soles click deeper into the estate with Death Eaters, Snatchers, and the Golden Trio-plus-one following. It seems like a massive trek, but it is just some minutes before they come to rest in a large and long room at the center of the home, Bellatrix again turning on her heel but now towards them.
"Where'd you find them?" she asks Scabior, but more like demands, in her obvious power over the Snatcher, simply in title.
"In the North Forest," he quickly responds, all the visitors' eyes darting over to the door as another man enters the room.
From the corner of his eye, Tom notices the loathing on Harry's swollen face, a sight to see and questions blooming. Bellatrix does not seem to notice as she looks steadily at Harry's scar, but Tom is now entranced in his search for answers. The new man looks particularly 'ratty' and jumpy, a signal to Harry's past. It's the traitor, Peter Pettigrew, that broke the trust of Lily and James Potter, ultimately killing them.
"Lovely scarf, Scabior," Bellatrix remarks, Tom's eyes only then noticing the woman's deviation from Harry's face. "Though I'm not sure it's your color."
The charismatic Snatcher seems to have lost his touch at the sight of the crazy woman, as most sane people would. No longer is Scabior all wit and jokes, but remarking stoically: "It's not mine."
"You don't say," the dark woman quips, watching as Scabior thoughtlessly (or purposefully) diverges his gaze towards Hermione, the girl looking particularly uncomfortable in this setting. And yet, Tom must relent that Hermione still looks fetching--if not beautiful due to the dirtiness of her facade--with her dark lashes and pinkened features. Bellatrix continues: "Fancy her, do you, Scabior? Can't say I blame you. Maybe we'll workout a little reward for you, hmm?"
"You won't," Tom mutters under his breath, like a quiet promise to never let something happen. Harry hears it, but does not turn, nonetheless grateful at Tom's persistence to help Hermione, if not all of them. But it is true: Tom will go down fighting before he lets someone take Hermione.
"That is, assuming all is as it appears," Bellatrix remarks with a wild grin, taking a peek behind her to see a coalition of three white-heads. "Ah, Draco. Come here, darling."
Like born from the darkness, Draco Malfoy steps out towards the center of the room, away from his mother's side at the call of his insane aunt, cautious as ever. Tom eyes the boy curiously with those dark eyes, taking in his every feature as the boy approaches their group steadily, yet shakily.
The boy, obviously a Malfoy, resembles Abraxas more than Lucius Malfoy does. Not only are their features similar--white hair, grey eyes, aristocratic nose, and a rounder jaw--but they hold a similar expression in their eyes. Despite the almost constant charisma of the eldest Malfoy, Tom had seen the occasional downtrodden expressions of Abraxas. It is like the one Draco displays: a boy forced into a life he does not want, and a victim to the ways of a Dark Lord. Shadows hang under the teenage Malfoy's eyes, skin paler than Tom's own, and the previous Dark Lord can only think, this boy has been through hell and back.
"My friends here say they've got Harry Potter," Bellatrix tells Draco with a cold hand placed along his shoulders, as if she is speaking to a mere child, not the pawn of Lord Voldemort. "Seeing as he's an old school chum of yours, I thought you could confirm the fact for us."
Draco Malfoy is at a loss on what to do, Tom notices. The white-haired boy can only stare at Harry, not saying a word as the possibilities float through his head. It is obvious that this boy is Harry Potter, but is Harry Potter not Draco's only hope for survival?
"Well...?" Bellatrix asks, obviously impatient at her nephew's quiet thought. This is not about thinking.
"I can't...I can't be sure," Draco responds smartly, yet shakily, under the eyes of the hidden Tom Riddle. The previous Dark Lord grins at Draco Malfoy, the boy being smarter than he expected and obviously (though Draco may not realize it) fighting for Harry's side. He can work with this.
From the shadows again comes a Malfoy, Lucius stepping forward with wine sloshing within the glass in his hand, drunk with power, fear, and alcohol. Tom feels a potent bout of loathing rush up his spine at the sight, this being the son of Abraxas but clearly nothing like the genial, charismatic man. If the more forgiving Tom Riddle does not like Lucius, surely Voldemort hates him.
"Look close, Draco. If we're the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven," the older Malfoy commands with a slight slur, looking and acting nothing less than abusive to his son and revealing much to the Golden Trio. But Tom understands this as a chance to reacquaint his power over others. He will do what he does best: manipulate others.
"Of course, it will," Tom tells Lucius, everyone turning to him with surprise at the mere fact he's spoken up. "...Until you slip up again and must lean on your son to rescue your miserable self. Quite despicable really."
Pawn to D4.
Lucius Malfoy narrows his eyes at Tom Riddle, steady in his power over this prisoner and ignorantly ignoring Draco's response. The younger Malfoy looks at the previous Dark Lord with a bit of wonder and fear, the boy's words ringing true in Draco's ears but only furthering his suspicions of everything around. He's never seen this dark-haired, threatening boy in his life, and yet, he is one of the key companions to Potter. Who is this?
"Who's this one?" Lucius asks for his son, feeling a great deal of loathing for the boy's propensity to speak out of turn. "I do not recognize him."
You should.
"Marcus Belby. Ravenclaw Pureblood. I doubt he's of importance to the Dark Lord," Scabior remarks, sending a bit of hope through Tom at the delusions of the man. It is best that they do not know who I am...quite yet.
"I would not be so quick to assume that. He's been deformed for a reason, Snatcher," Bellatrix remarks smartly for such an insane woman. And though it causes a bit of hope to die in Tom's chest, he still holds firm to his manipulative ways of gaining an advantage.
"You'll soon discover who I am...likely through Draco's cunning. And yet, he will not receive the reward, now will he Bellatrix?" Tom asks, looking particularly devious with his sarcastic snarl. Despite never having seen this boy before, Draco is sure he is a Slytherin. Only a Slytherin could grin like that.
Knight to F6.
"I will bring the boy to the Lord!" Bellatrix screams, lighting a fuse beneath the crazy woman's dwindling sanity and burning up some more. She seems particularly convinced and murderous when she remarks, "I will be the one to thank."
"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope?" Scabior practically threatens the unstable woman, something Tom might've suggested against if only he cared. But to the extent that it is foreboding, Hermione and Harry cannot help looking at the focused Tom Riddle with a bit of praise. He's dividing Voldemort's forces by playing on their pride and greed. Brilliant.
"Of course not," Bellatrix snarls, turning to her sister with an unrelenting gaze of darkness, insanity and power. "Narcissa, tend to your husband."
At her words, Lucius seems to lose it, stumbling back towards his wife in an almost shocking sight. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
"Don't be shy, sweetheart," Bellatrix continues to coax Draco like a show dog. "Get up nice and close."
"And then she'll stab you in the back," Tom adds in again, this time pushing Bellatrix over the edge but not without instilling fear in Draco Malfoy, a fear that'll drive him to do great things.
Pawn to C4.
"Gag him!" the woman commands. Scabior, the Snatcher holding Tom, looks desperately around for something to use as a muggle gag, finding nothing other than Hermione's scarf. And given Bellatrix's urgency and anger at the command, he takes to using it quickly, tying it around Tom's mouth, but not before losing a hair at Tom's quick and sly grasp. Despite the change, Tom cannot help grinning.
Using her long-nailed fingers, Bellatrix continues prodding Draco forward until he is directly in front of the deformed Harry Potter, much too close for either party's taste. With the deformity so close, Draco cannot help asking, "What's wrong with his face?"
"What is wrong with his face, Scabior?" Bellatrix turned the question to Scabior.
"He came to us that way," the Snatcher answers, "I reckon he picked it up in the forest."
But the woman does not seem so crazy to understand this, still being smart despite her muddled mind. Who picks up a skin-infection on the face, and the face only? So, it must be something entirely different: "Or ran into a Stinging Jinx."
Despite the fact that it could be Hermione or Ron responsible for Harry and Tom's swollen expressions, Bellatrix rightly picks Hermione out of the bunch, seeing the intelligence in the girl's eyes. She asks, "Was it you, dearie?" But she does not want a response, turning to Scabior, "Give me her wand. We'll see what the last spell was."
It's only natural that the unmasked Hermione would look worried at this, seeing as she's not worn her Slytherin mask for some many months. So as a Snatcher moves forward with said wand, Tom and Harry can only look worriedly upon each other and Hermione. They'll see it is her, and they will not be merciful.
But before Tom can diverge their focus, it's Bellatrix that does just this, her eyes widening upon a sight that has her blood boiling. "What is that?"
Despite the open-ended question, Bellatrix is convinced of their guilt, eyes bordering on murderous as she shoves Scabior and Greyback away and looks to another anonymous Snatcher. In the man's hands, he holds the less conspicuous beaded bag of Hermione, and in the other, the Sword of Gryffindor. It's as Tom feared.
"Where did you get that!?" the woman screeches loudly, definitely falling off the deep end into the pit of mindless and joyous insanity.
"It was in her bag when we searched her. Reckon it's mine now," the Snatcher dumbly remarks, and though Tom really despises the idiots of this time, Bellatrix seems more likely to hurt them.
The light of a spell is quick in its development and flight, hitting the Snatcher dead in the chest and sending him flying back. The Sword of Gryffindor drops to the ground at the stunned Snatcher's feet, Scabior reeling towards Bellatrix and the crazy woman's sudden actions. "Are you mad!?"
"She is actually" Tom mutters mundanely through his scarf, expecting it all as a whip wheels from Bellatrix's wand, grabbing at Scabior's throat and sending the Snatcher to his knees. The man looks less than pleased, but then again, is anyone pleased with this situation?
"How dare you! Release me, woman!" Scabior shouts spitefully, the man making up for his smarts with charisma, as it would seem. Fire licks at the irises of Bellatrix's eyes, her wand flicking outward as the whip unwinds itself into oblivion. At the release, Scabior falls forward onto his hands, rubbing his neck in great pain.
"Go. Go!" the mad woman screeches, obviously still angry with how things have occurred. Scabior looks resentful at the almost betrayal, but relents to her powerful storm as he turns on his heel and the Snatchers exit the room. That leaves the Golden Trio-plus-one, the madwoman, rat-face, skunk Malfoy, Abraxas 2.0, and Tipsy. Wonderful.
"Wormtail," Bellatrix calls to rat-face, "Put these three in the cellar. I want to have a little conversation with this one. Girl to girl."
Tom does not have a choice, a fact he despises. If he had a wand, there is no doubt Tom Riddle could win against the entirety of his foes. But given he'd now have to use wandless magic, the boy is sure at least one of the Trio would die before they escaped. No, he cannot do anything for Hermione, and that thought alone hurts him.
Wormtail loops his thick, yet short arms through the three arms of Tom, Harry, and Ron, all three squirming away from him, yet being pulled along. However, Tom has more conviction, jerking so fiercely away from the traitor as they pass Bellatrix that Wormtail cannot stop him from leaning towards Bellatrix.
Spitting the red scarf out of his mouth without any concern for propriety, Tom ensures that everyone can hear him as he hisses to Bellatrix: "I will not be merciful."
It's a promise if the Golden Trio has ever heard one. And if the dark gleam in Tom's eyes is not evidence enough, then the look he sends Hermione certainly is. Mouthing to him 'it's okay,' Tom wishes to light the whole room on fire, for if he knows anything...
Hermione Granger will not be okay.
///////////////////////