In the hall of a massive mansion stood people wearing black robes and skull masks, lined one behind another along both sides of the long chamber like rows of shadows carved into the stone itself.
But they were not truly standing.
Every single one of them was bowing.
Some bent only their heads while others lowered themselves so deeply it seemed their backs might snap, yet none of them dared straighten. The silence hanging in the hall was heavy enough to suffocate, broken only by the uneven sound of breathing hidden beneath masks and the faint crackling of the green flames burning inside the braziers mounted against the walls.
No one dared look directly at the figure sitting upon the throne at the end of the hall.
A dead body lay sprawled before the throne in a widening pool of blood.
The corpse no longer looked human.
Its face appeared twisted inside out, flesh peeled open in strips as if invisible claws had dug through skin and muscle alike. Deep cuts crossed the body from every angle, some so severe white bone glistened beneath the blood. One arm bent unnaturally backwards, fingers frozen in a clawing shape as though the man had died trying to crawl away.
The metallic smell of blood filled the hall so thickly that several masked figures quietly fought the urge to retch.
No one moved or spoke.
Then a cold voice slipped through the silence.
"Rookwood."
The voice was calm, yet the moment it echoed through the chamber, several Death Eaters visibly flinched as though struck.
The man sitting upon the throne lazily motioned forward with pale fingers hidden beneath long black sleeves.
"Tell me," the snake-like voice whispered calmly, "what happened at the Black family manor?"
A young masked wizard stepped forward immediately.
"M-My Lord," Rookwood stammered, lowering himself even further as sweat gathered beneath his mask, "our plan to recruit the Black family is almost completed."
He swallowed.
"But..."
The pause itself felt dangerous as the air in the hall seemed to grow colder.
Rookwood hurried to continue before silence condemned him.
"We were unable to secure the support of Lord Black."
A hiss escaped from the figure upon the throne.
"What?"
The single word slithered through the hall like poison.
Several Death Eaters lowered their heads further.
Even the green flames flickering across the walls appeared dimmer.
"I-I am sorry, my Lord," Rookwood said quickly, voice shaking now despite his effort to control it. "But there was another boy who came to the gathering tonight and disrupted our plans."
The figure upon the throne slowly leaned forward making his hood slip back slightly.
For the briefest second, crimson eyes gleamed beneath the darkness, not human eyes but something colder.
"Speak faster, Rookwood," the hooded man upon the throne whispered softly, "or I may lose my patience."
A wand had appeared in his hand, though no one in the hall had even seen him draw it.
Rookwood stiffened immediately.
"My Lord, the young man named Gilderoy attended the party. Malfoy and Lestrange challenged him to a duel publicly."
His breathing grew uneven beneath the mask as he forced himself to continue.
"They both lost."
A faint murmur almost spread through the hall before instantly dying, every Death Eater suddenly remembering where they stood and who sat before them.
"Lord Black applauded Gilderoy afterward," Rookwood continued carefully. "We could no longer approach him afterward."
A terrible silence followed, the kind that made men pray for screaming instead as the tension hanging over the hall grew heavier with every passing second.
Then the man sitting upon the throne slowly turned his head toward two figures standing near the corner of the chamber.
"Step forward."
Lucius Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange immediately obeyed, though even beneath their masks fear was plainly visible. Their footsteps remained careful against the stone floor as they approached the throne, neither man daring to hesitate or plead before their Lord.
"Crucio."
Lestrange collapsed instantly, a scream ripping from his throat so violently it echoed through the hall like an animal being butchered alive. His body convulsed uncontrollably against the cold stone floor, limbs twisting and jerking as though invisible hooks were tearing apart his nerves one by one.
Several Death Eaters visibly trembled, and one wizard near the back squeezed his eyes shut beneath his mask as Lestrange's screams continued to echo through the chamber, sharp enough to make even hardened killers uncomfortable.
But the hooded figure merely watched.
Then he turned towards Malfoy.
"Crucio."
Malfoy collapsed beside Lestrange before he could even process what was happening, pain exploding through his body so violently that his mind instantly went blank. It felt as though thousands of burning needles were piercing through his flesh, digging beneath his fingernails and forcing themselves into his eyes, throat, and bones, and soon his screams joined Lestrange's as both men writhed uncontrollably across the stone floor.
Neither man could breathe properly or even form coherent thought as the curse devoured everything except agony itself.
The man upon the throne watched them with terrible stillness before, slowly, a smile spread beneath the shadow of the hood, though the expression barely looked human beneath the flickering green firelight.
The screams continued for what felt like an eternity while some Death Eaters stared downward, terrified their Lord might notice even the slightest discomfort upon their faces, while others watched with fanatical devotion burning in their eyes, almost entranced by the suffering unfolding before them.
Finally the curse was lifted, not out of mercy, but because the hooded man still had use for them.
Both Malfoy and Lestrange collapsed against the floor trembling violently, their bodies twitching from the lingering agony as they struggled even to breathe properly.
Then the man upon the throne rose, and the movement alone caused several Death Eaters to stiffen immediately.
Long black robes slid across the steps of the dais as he descended slowly, almost gliding rather than walking, the hall itself seeming colder around him while the shadows stretched unnaturally toward his figure.
Lestrange twitched weakly on the floor while Malfoy coughed blood into his mask, both men crying out again when an invisible force suddenly lifted them into the air before violently slamming them against the stone wall beside the throne.
The moment the spell released them, they collapsed limply back onto the floor.
Then the hooded figure slowly approached them.
"Say my name."
His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried to every corner of the large hall.
Malfoy trembled violently, blood dripping from beneath his silver mask.
"L-Lord Voldemort," he forced out desperately.
Beside him, Lestrange immediately began pleading as well.
"I am sorry, my Lord— please—"
Voldemort stared at them with disgust.
"How dare you sully my name."
The temperature in the room seemed to plummet further.
"Both heirs to ancient and noble families…" Voldemort whispered softly , "and yet you lose to a random mudblood boy."
Neither man dared defend themselves, both struggling merely to remain conscious as they listened carefully, terrified that even the slightest mistake might earn them another round of torture.
Voldemort's red eyes lingered on them for another long moment before finally shifting elsewhere.
A younger Death Eater immediately straightened. Unlike the others, excitement almost radiated from him beneath the fear.
"Barty."
The young man stepped forward eagerly.
"Yes, my Lord."
"Bring in the last remaining haul from last week's hunt."
"At once, my Lord."
Barty Crouch Jr. hurried toward the far corner of the hall where a narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness.
The moment the hidden dungeon door opened, a foul smell drifted upward.
A few Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably.
Minutes later, Barty returned levitating a man whose body looked barely alive.
The prisoner's face was bruised beyond recognition.
One eye hung swollen shut while dried blood covered most of his mouth and neck. Deep rope marks cut into his wrists. Several fingernails were missing entirely.
The man hit the floor hard before Voldemort's feet.
He barely managed to move.
Yet survival instinct still forced him to lift his head.
"Ple. se…" he croaked weakly.
His voice sounded broken.
"I.. haven't don anythi—"
"Avada Kedavra."
Green light flashed across the hall.
The man died instantly.
One moment he was begging for his life, the next he was nothing more than a lifeless corpse sprawled across the bloodstained floor beside the other body.
Voldemort turned away floated toward his throne, as though killing a man mid-sentence required no more thought than brushing dust from his robes.
Several Death Eaters lowered their heads deeper.
Even among them, there remained something deeply unnatural about the ease with which Voldemort killed.
"Rookwood."
The wizard immediately stepped forward again.
"Take both of them to a healer," Voldemort said calmly without looking at Malfoy or Lestrange. "I still have use for them, even if they are useless."
"Yes, my Lord."
"You will supervise our next course of action personally."
Rookwood bowed lower.
"Yes, my Lord."
Voldemort seated himself upon the throne once more.
The green firelight flickered across the grotesque features now partially visible beneath the hood, making him appear less like a man and more like something dug out from beneath the earth.
"I will be leaving Britain for a short while."
Not one person in the hall dared question him.
"My dear Death Eaters," Voldemort whispered softly, yet somehow his voice carried effortlessly through the massive chamber.
"Assist Rookwood with our plans."
The hall remained completely silent as if no one dared fail to listen.
Then Voldemort's red glowing eyes settled upon Rookwood once more.
"Do not disappoint me… Rookwood."
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