PROLOGUE:
Third Person P.O.V.:
His wide brown coloured eyes looked fearful, his mouth slightly agape. A teenager, around the age of sixteen, looked in shock as he stood, face to face, with a devilish man, whom was tall and skeletally thin with a face whiter than a skull and livid scarlet eyes. Thunder boomed in the distance, creating a vast darkness and a sense of immense danger.
The boy's eyes turned slightly from the man in front of him. He glanced around the foyer of the handsome manor house. There were several dark figures gaping at him, silent as if waiting for something. And yet, the boy's gaze fell upon a spot just above the devilish man. Peering up at the stairs, he saw a blonde teenager his age, holding his wand shakily in his pale hands.
The face of Draco Malfoy was only just seen amongst the shadows when lightening lit the night sky through the windows, and rain poured down in torrents from the heavens.
The boy was pushed forward by the cruel man behind him, whom he was ashamed to call father. His golden brown eyes turned back to the devil, he tried to yell, but his father clapped a hand over his mouth. His dark, chestnut hair fell down, almost obscuring his limpid brown eyes from view. His gaunt, pale white skin was sickly in colour, making him look extremely ill.
"Be silent, boy," his father hushed in an angry whisper. "The adults are talking."
With a look of cruel satisfaction, the man with vivid scarlet eyes surveyed the boy. A lecherous grin stretched across his face. His evil smile and the dark twinkle in his eyes unnerved those closest to him. Despite his father's wishes, the boy struggled, twisting around he punched madly.
"Enough!" his father barked, gripping his son's wrists harsher, causing the boy to wince. "You're making a fool out of yourself in front of greatness." He met the devil's intruding red eyes, and bowed, "My Lord."
"Hawthorne," the boy heard the Dark Lord snarl with pure venom. "We've been expecting you."
"I'm here, my Lord," his father said shakily, although his grip on his son's wrists didn't loosen. "As you've requested... and I've brought the boy."
"I see," affirmed the cold, dark voice of the devilish man. The boy could almost feel his father flinch at the tone of the Lord's voice.
It was impossible to ignore the look that the boy was receiving from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as his crimson eyes bored into the side of his head in search of answers that he struggled to find.
"Charles, my boy," Voldemort whispered, his face contorting into a sinister smile. "It's so good to see you again. Thought twice about joining our ranks, have you?"
Charlie looked terrified, but stared at Voldemort, not moving back despite their close proximity. He had yet to say anything when the door of the manor opened, and the familiar scowling face of Professor Severus Snape appeared in the doorway. Billowing black robes made him seem even paler than usual as he walked in, but when he saw the imprisoned Hawthorne boy, he seemed to get even paler still. He took a step towards Charlie, but seemed to catch himself, and redirected his attention to the Dark Lord.
"You called?" he raised an eyebrow, silently asking for an explanation.
Suddenly, there was a scuffling amongst the crowd of spectating Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange, revealing herself underneath her black hood, stepped forward. Snape nodded to acknowledge her presence, but his eyes remained on the boy who shook with terror. It was only his mastery of Occlumency that allowed him to keep an uninterested look on his face.
Bellatrix let out a puff of air, blowing the stray hairs out of her eyes. Her words were dangerous, but her voice was lazy, "And you took your time."
Snape's face didn't change, "I don't come at your beck and call, Bella."
"Yet here you are."
He looked past her, tempted to roll his eyes, and looked at the still prisoner, who was held tightly in the grasp of former Minister of Magic, Fenwick Hawthorne.
"Is that who I think it is?"
"In the very flesh," Voldemort drawled dangerously, and Charlie's throat clogged with fear. "Exciting, isn't it? Standing before you, Severus, is the soon-to-be youngest member of our family... youngest next to Malfoy's boy, that is."
Snape's mind was racing. Charlie could tell that the Professor was shocked by this newfound information. There was something akin to pity in Snape's eyes as he looked between Charlie and Draco. When he processed Voldemort's words, warning bells went off in Snape's head.
"My Lord," he muttered hesitantly, and crimson eyes immediately fell upon him. "I must ask, are you sure this is the most adequate decision? They're children, surely they can't -"
"I believe you'll find they can be very useful, Severus," interjected Voldemort's nightmare of a voice. "Especially once you learn of what I have planned for each of them."
"N-No... please, you can't do this," Charlie croaked in a whisper as a foreboding chill ran down his spine.
For a fraction of a second, Snape's face no longer bore the hateful and scowled expression he was famous for, but instead, one of sadness and sorrow.
"Surely, there must be a better opti-"
"Nonsense!" dismissed Fenwick immediately, tugging at Charlie's wrist once more. "Silly boy, he doesn't know what he's talking about. Forgive me, my Lord. Perhaps I ought to loosen his tongue a bit?"
Voldemort's menacing grimace grew wider, "If you must."
Charlie tried to struggle, but he hardly had any momentum left. He was left standing in the middle of Malfoy Manor, entrapped with the characters of his nightmares. There was a scrambling to the left of him, where the Death Eaters stood, and he noticed them watching him with a curious hunger.
"Oh goodie!" laughed Bellatrix, practically jumping up and down from excitement. "Let me do it! I'll be happy to do it, my Lord."
"No," a difference voice bellowed, and Charlie looked up to see Narcissa Malfoy parading down the staircase, Draco at her heels. "Let my son do it. Let him prove that he was destined to bare the mark."
"Great idea, Cissy!" beamed Bellatrix, her wicked smile growing larger.
Draco, however, clearly hadn't agreed to fulfill the necessary precautions against Charlie. His eyes widened, and Charlie watched him gulp in nervousness. The two boys shared a pitiful look, subconsciously wondering what they had gotten themselves into.
For the first time, Charlie had noticed the white bandage wrapped around Malfoy's left forearm, which was damp with blood. Upon realization of Charlie's wandering eyes, Draco pulled his suit jacket sleeve down with a huff, pretending as if he was fine. Charlie noticed the fear behind the boy's eyes, however, and opened his mouth to call out for his help. His father ultimately beat him to it as Fenwick's loud, angry voice echoed around the room.
"It was my idea," he barked, and Bellatrix frowned with the utmost disappointment. "And he is my son."
Without being given a moment to react, Charlie was thrown to the floor harshly. He was ready to take the few seconds he had as an opportunity to escape, but as he whipped around, he was met with his father's wand pointed directly at him.
"F-Father, pleas-"
"Crucio!"
The incantation was muttered with such profound venom that it was almost deafening as it ricocheted off the walls. The jet of red light flew from his wand tip and slammed into Charlie's chest, and a single tear slid down his cheek as he fell to the ground, jerking uncontrollably.
Charlie screamed out in pure agony as he started to writhe in pain. His bellows of pain carried across the manor, but caused nothing but an uproar of cheer from the colony of Death Eaters watching. It felt like a huge hole was carving inside of Charlie, everything was collapsing inwards, twisting down into this miserable, cold black vacuum.
Like a wave, it started from his spine. Dozens of snaps echoed through his body, and for a fraction of a second, it felt as though all of his bones were being broken. Charlie writhed on the floor, unable to cope. His movements only intensified the pain, and he realized this too late. A scream ripped from his throat, rising into the air, matching that of a victim taken by a murderer.
He ached all over. There was hardly any light, everything was dim, and Charlie felt as though his body was going to give out. He screamed himself hoarse from the agonizing pain that spread like a wildfire throughout his body. His eyes fluttered closed as he faded in and out of reality.
"You fool!" hissed a voice, filled with rage, "If the boy dies at your hands you will have hell to pay! Do you not understand the simple concept of how it might look if he doesn't return to Hogwarts?! Everyone will be looking for him! You're begging for suspicion!"
"He won't die, Severus," replied a bored voice. "I've seen my son live through worse."
"You had better solomnley hope he won't die."
"Keep your voice down, Severus, I'd like to remind you that this is my manor," came the calm, feminine voice of Narcissa Malfoy once again.
The replying voice, now almost deadly silent, had become impossibly more laced with menace behind it. "You've lost almost everything, Malfoy. You're husband is locked away in Azkaban for his reckless behaviour, and we seemed to not have learned a damn thing from his sacrifice! If I were you I would tread very, very carefully."
To this, there was no response. In fact, the pain that spread throughout Charlie's body seemed to subside, and he panted feverishly on the floor, trying to catch his breath. Light flickered onto the back of Charlie's eyelids, and they snapped open, wary.
Charlie shielded his eyes as a lit wand appeared in his face, its owner kneeling down next to him. Looking up again and into his perpetrator's face, he could see his father's smug smirk peering down upon him, and a surge of hatred flooded Charlie's veins. He glared at him with the utmost loathing.
"Are you ready to accept the gift that the Lord is willing to bestow upon you?" Fenwick asked, sneering maliciously. Charlie blanched, trying to hide his terror behind his hate.
"Fuck you," he spat, but his voice was barely audible from screaming itself hoarse.
Bellatrix appeared to be the only one who had heard the boy's profanity, and she consequently shot an orange jet of magic at Charlie, which caused him to thrash like a drowning man until Snape inevitably stepped in.
He raised a dismissive hand in her direction, and her wand lowered reluctantly. "I am under the impression that the Dark Lord requires Hawthorne to be in an able-bodied and able-minded state. So for Merlin's sake, you'd better not de-limb or send him over the breach of insanity for all our sakes."
"Won't you join us for some sport, Severus?"
The question implied and implored at a number of things, and Charlie shuddered at the thought.
"I never said I wouldn't," Snape smirked slightly. "But I still have a task to fulfill at Hogwarts, and I can't waste my day away hosting to our, ah, special guest here."
Snape's eyes found Charlie's through the curtain of his greasy, black hair. It was hard for one's heart not to break at the sound of Charlie's saddened whimpers.
Try as he might, Charlie couldn't stop the tears from leaking through his eyes as he remained frozen. He suddenly missed the simplicity of his life. His grandfather's comforting smile, Hermione's adorable giggle, Harry's sassy remarks, Ron's inability to stop eating, Elaina's radiating kindness, and his home of Hogwarts - but it was all taken away from him.
His screams for help varied, each telling a different story. A high pitched scream, more akin to a wail, was one of disbelief, with undercurrent of terror fueling it. A scream, low and primal, revealed his realization of his fate laid bare to him - a fate to die in pain. A long scream held for seconds spoke of nothing but all consuming pain. And yet, somehow, Charlie was accustomed to all three.
"That's enough," The Dark Lord instructed Fenwick, aristocratic in execution. Fenwick immediately faltered, and seized his actions, rising to his feet once more.
There was heavy sigh from Fenwick, which resembled a kid caught red-handed. "I know, my Lord. I'm sorry."
Voldemort, his eyes fixated on the boy shaking in fear, stalked forward, shoved roughly past Fenwick and kneeled down in front of Charlie. Charlie, knowing that his time was up unless he acted, quickly shuffled backwards, determined to remain as far away from the devilish man as possible.
The Dark Lord merely laughed, relishing in the fear he had instilled in the sixteen year old boy; Snape watched carefully, his hand twitching, wanting to do something; Draco showcased true cowardice as he hid behind his mother; Bellatrix gave a look of cruel satisfaction, awaiting something to be done; and Fenwick smiled as though he had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
"What are we going to do with you, Charles?" Voldemort asked, his tone had an underlying hint of amusement. "You see, I'm growing a little impatient here, so unless you wish to fall victim to the Cruciatus Curse aga-"
"No!" Charlie croaked, his cheeks stained with tears.
"Very well, then," snarled Voldemort, his lips curling into a wicked smile. "For the last time, are you willing to join our ranks? Believe me, boy, you'd do best not to refuse such gracious gifts offered to you for the second time."
Charlie panicked, his throat clogged with emotion, "Please, I c-can't -"
"If I may provide an anecdote of persuasion," Fenwick growled, apparently not willing to let his child off unscathed. Charlie looked up at him in horror as he continued, "It's you or the girl..."
And just like that, Charlie was trapped. It felt like the weight of the world rested on his chest. It was hard to breathe, to think, to do anything. Air escaped his lungs faster than it went in, tears streamed down his boyish face as his hands clenched in his dark brown hair... why couldn't he breathe?
I'm going to die, I'm going to die.
The mantra repeated like a prayer, a plea to whatever god watched over him to help him, to either let him die or, somehow, survive what he was about to do.
He frowned deeper then, immersing himself in memories. Charlie's heart ached for Hermione more than it ever had before. His feelings for her were greater than any pain he'd ever feel. His intentions in that regard are, for the first time, astoundingly and gloriously clear. He'd do anything to protect her from the demons he currently found himself faced with.
Charlie loved Hermione more than anything. So much so, that he'd rather spend the rest of his life wallowing in suffering than ever having to live without her. And so, when the words left his father's lips, his mind was made up. Putting Hermione in danger was not an option, not after everything he's had to sacrifice to ensure her safety already.
He didn't come this far to only come this far.
"O-Okay," he breathed shakily, and his childhood innocence seemed to die within that instant. "Okay, alright. Please... I'll do it."
Hermione Granger might've been his weakness, but there was no better kryptonite. Nothing was ever as threatening to Charlie as the mere idea of his wrongdoings putting the woman he loved in danger.
For a brief moment Charlie allowed himself the impossible hope that nobody would answer him. However, a voice responded at once, a crisp, decisive voice that sounded as though it were reading a prepared statement.
"Brilliant!" Fenwick beamed, rubbing his hands together mischievously. "Absolutely brilliant!"
"Wormtail!" beckoned Voldemort, a victorious smirk forming on his snake-line face as he rose to his feet once again. "Fetch me my wand!"
Suddenly, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. Peter Pettigrew stumbled forward.
Snape grunted, "Ah, Wormtail... so gracious of you to bless us with your presence."
Peter crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove.
"Master!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "I was unaware that we had company."
"I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving to be included on such a dangerous assignment," laughed Voldemort silkily. "I'll bare that in mind for next time, forgive me. Now, give me my wand."
Wormtail hesitated for a moment, looking a little discouraged, but then stumbled forward, handing out Voldemort's wand so graciously as if it was one of the greatest of honours. Within seconds, he was retreating backwards, scurrying from the Dark Lord's presence, and slamming the secret doorway closed behind him.
"Bella," the Dark Lord called once again, and Bellatrix basically fell at his feet in praise. "You know what to do."
Charlie's heart jumped as rope cords, that felt remarkably like steel, suddenly bound him. He couldn't move, he couldn't break their power over him. He glanced to that left and was not surprised to see Bellatrix administering the brand of agony.
Cackling as she rummaged through her cloak, Bellatrix pulled out a small, silver dagger and twirled it in her hands. She circled Charlie, looking him up and down as if he were an interesting three-dimensional canvas.
Then, she glanced up at Draco, cooing, "Watch carefully, Draco... there's a lot for you to learn."
Charlie clamped his mouth shut and tried not too shout as her dagger was drawn up his side and along his clothed ribcage, then around his left forearm - but when she forced the dagger into his arm harder, digging into the muscle and sinew, he could not hold back the muffled yell that forced its way from his sealed lips.
Bellatrix giggled like a maniac, twisting the dagger until she heard him scream. She didn't take it out then, though. She twisted the blade, etching a design into his arm, carving into it without a care in the world. Charlie had to beg for her mercy, beg her to stop until she would.
Charlie was losing a lot of blood at a rapid pace. His eyes would flutter closed, only to fly open whenever Bellatrix cut through another untouched sliver of his skin. She drew her knife along him again in a single, drawn out, fluid cut, then again she pushed the knife into his arm further, watching his face greedily as if his pain, his shouts and screams were essential nectar.
Draco felt the colour drain from his face at the sight. He didn't want to be part of this. His process was not as gruesome as Charlie's, and he wondered if that would've been true had he not been family.
As she slowly drove the knife deeper and deeper into Charlie's arm, he wondered how much he could endure. He felt it's cold silver deepening its cut through his flesh and screamed, his legs shook beneath him and his vocal chords were strained immensely from his blood-curdling screams.
The room exploded into sound and motion, Death Eaters gesticulating wildly and shouting all sorts of things that weren't heard in the din of roaring voices. They were only quieted when Bellatrix appeared to have finished her assault on the boy's arm, as she retracted her dagger and wiped the blood from the blade on her black robes, smiling in satisfaction.
Charlie looked down in horror. The freshly carven flesh was bloodied, his skin a shade of deeper crimson than the eyes of Lord Voldemort himself. He struggled to identify what design Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into his arm. Then, Charlie, with a feeling that shook him to the core, realized that it was indeed a colossal skull, composed of unharmed skin, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue.
It was strange to think that, once upon a time, Fenwick had spoken countless times of the power that the Dark Lord would bestow upon Charlie. He would always tell him that for the simple task of making those unworthy disappear, The Dark Lord would grant gifts of magic, knowledge and power.
So why did it feel like he was suffocating? Like the mere idea of baring the mark that the Dark Lord had so graciously given him was a death sentence - or worse?
With Charlie's future, and possibly the future of the Wizarding World on his back, Snape walked as calmly as he could to where Bellatrix and the Malfoys were huddled over the screaming body of Charlie Hawthorne. It was sad to see what they had become accustomed to in the midst of war. They were forced to watch people that they knew being tortured and killed, but the worst part is that they were unable to do anything about it, except to make sure that the bodies were found -
Bellatrix must have heard his footsteps, because she stood up, a look of forced calm on her face. She savagely kicked Charlie in the ribs, receiving a groan of response from him. Charlie had long past the stage of screaming.
"Want to take a turn?" her voice, though soft, told him that he should nod.
But Snape reluctantly shook his head, "Anymore slicing of the boy's arm and we might as well kill him now."
Bellatrix smirked wickedly, "Now, there's a thought."
"ENOUGH!" roared Voldemort, and Bellatrix quickly fell silent. The Dark Lord strode forward, twisting his wand in his hands as he approached the boy. "That is no way to talk about a new member of our family, Bella, have you no shame?"
Fenwick's eyes lit up at the sight of his son's arm that now bared the same mark he had. Bellatrix's carving job was sadistically chaotic. It was bleeding profusely, and Charlie remained still on the floor, his eyes flickering between awareness and unconsciousness. It was clear that he had lost a lot of blood, and would need, at the very least, a blood replenishing potion.
What he hadn't been expecting, however, was for the Dark Lord to lean over him once again, the crimson of his eyes darkening from the reflection of the bloodied sight before him. With a twisted smile, Voldemort took Charlie's left arm into his hands. Charlie winced, somehow contact with the Dark Lord was entirely more painful than what he had already endured tonight.
The eerie moonlight shun through the windows of Malfoy Manor, highlighting the sickening features of Voldemort's face. The high winds and thundering rain outside only added to the horrific scene happening in the foyer. The raging weather augmented Charlie's mood. He was silently glad for each cold, harsh raindrop that ricocheted off of the windowpanes.
The thunder and lightening seemed to hide the whimpering sounds coming from Charlie, and so, even if anyone was nearby, no one would come to his rescue.
Voldemort's sharp fingernails dug into the skin next to the gash in Charlie's arm, holding the boy steadily as he raised his wand to the bleeding skin.
"Morsmordre!"
A burst of green light exploded from the tip of Voldemort's wand, and Charlie watched in complete shock, unable to believe his eyes. He traced over the deep wounds Bellatrix had made, muttering the incantation in such a horrendous voice that Charlie shuddered.
To his surprise, however, the flow of blood seemed to ease for the wound was binding back together. There was a sharp, stinging sensation that burnt into Charlie's left forearm, almost as if he was being stabbed with a blazing red, hot fire poker. He gritted his teeth, trying to withstand the pain that arose from his arm.
Suddenly, like before, the pain subsided, and Voldemort stepped back to admire his work. Now branded over, Charlie's wound was covered in, what looked like, a jet black ink. It was reminiscent of a Muggle tattoo, but the meaning was much darker.
Fenwick beamed at the completion of the task, while Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters were seemingly unbothered. Charlie watched Professor Snape lower his head to the floor, saddened by what he just witnessed. Draco, in comparison, couldn't bring himself to bare witness for he appeared to have looked out the window for the entire time.
Charlie let a tear fall from his face. The jet black ink was in shocking comparison to the paleness of his flesh. His eyes flickered with something akin to horror, as he watched as the snake slid fluidly across his skin, through the Dark Mark, before settling in a still position.
The feeling of adrenaline throbbed deep within his veins. Charlie could hear his pulse rush blood to his frantically beating heart. He took a shaky breath and stared at the Dark Mark tattooed to his forearm blankly, his heart swelling with hatred for what he had just become.
A monster... you're a monster... oh, Merlin, what have you done?
The binds around Charlie released, and he scrambled feverishly to his feet, panicking at the sight of his newfound addition to his left forearm. Despite his immediate fear, the Death Eaters around him clapped, cheering as they seemingly accepted him as one of their own.
"Welcome to the family, my dear boy," Voldemort sneered, his voice thick with menacing terror. "I just know you'll be incredibly beneficial to us. Your task is simple, answer when called upon. Fail to do so, and there will be consequences... and I'm sure you're well aware of what I'm capable of."
Charlie's face faltered, his chest rising and falling rapidly, the color high in his cheeks. Behind him, Snape sat motionless, his face still hidden behind his curtains of hair.
"My son... my only son," said Fenwick proudly, his mouth curling with profuse happiness.
"You should be proud!" agreed Bellatrix ruthlessly, as she moved to caress the side of Draco's face. She looked to her sister, Narcissa, adding, "You both should be incredibly proud. If I had sons, I would be glad to give them up to the service of the Dark Lord!"
Charlie noticed Narcissa falter slightly. She clutched at her long blonde hair, assumably regretting what she had done to her own kin, but she would never admit that in front of the Dark Lord.
There was a moment's silence. Bellatrix watched, still twirling the dagger in her hands, her eyes wide with curiosity as she peered over to the mark on Charlie's arm; he cowered under her gaze, ashamed with himself enough as it was.
"It's official," muttered Snape, with a tone of underlying pity. He surveyed Charlie cautiously, stopping as his gaze fell upon the Dark Mark burnt into the boy's arm, "A great honour has been bestowed upon the boy."
And just like that, Charlie Hawthorne's fate was sealed forever.
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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*
so, uh, yeah...
just an FYI, I don't consider this an official chapter. To me, it's more like a prologue informing you guys as to what happened to Charlie over the summer.
Hope you enjoyed! HBP is gonna be one hell of a ride... don't hate me ahhhhh
[insert begging for comments and votes here]
Much love to you all, thank you for 90k <3
xo, Selena