Before the Dawn | George Weasley

52

I sat in the parlour of Malfoy Manor with Miles, Theodore, and Lucian, each of us having been summoned and not entirely sure why. We'd been there for almost an hour, waiting to be told what to do.

Miles had his arm around my shoulders, his temple against mine. It was all a bit familiar for my taste, but my months with the Death Eaters had left me rather starved of human contact, so I didn't protest.

Draco had left for Hogwarts the week before, leaving the four of us as the youngest of the Death Eaters. I almost missed him; he always had something to say, even if it was pretentious or laced with intolerance.

"Why'd they call us so early if they were just going to ignore us?" Lucian muttered at last, breaking the silence.

"To test your patience." 

We looked up to see Narcissa Malfoy standing in the doorway.

She swept her dark gaze over us. "He'll see you now."

Miles withdrew his arm from around me, and the four of us stood and walked into the dining room. Voldemort sat in his usual spot at the head of the table, Rabastan Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and Bellatrix Lestrange seated before him.

"Sit," the Dark Lord instructed. 

There were two chairs left.  One was next Dolohov, and the other next to Bellatrix.  Miles and I fought briefly for the seat away from Bellatrix, my elbow digging into his ribs and his arm across my front against my shoulder, pushing me away.  It was over quickly, Miles sending me stumbling, and I sunk sullenly into the spot beside Bellatrix, unamused by Miles's smug expression.

"We have some matters to take care of," Voldemort spoke once we'd settled in. "There are certain loose ends that need fixing if we are to move forward with our plans."

His pale gaze landed on me, then, and I kept my face blank, trying not to act as if I had spent an entire day stealing a ring he had purposefully hidden in order to turn it over to his most ardent enemy. The thought that I might be one of the loose ends he'd mentioned flashed through my mind.

He continued, then, and my fears eased. "Miss Doyle, you are from Scotland, are you not?"

"I am, my Lord."

"Fancy a trip back home?"

"My Lord?" I rather didn't fancy a trip back home.

"We have recently discovered the location of a certain traitor to our cause, and he needs... seeing to."

Bellatrix cackled, and I flashed her a glance. "He's up north, then?"

"Indeed," said the Dark Lord. "You and Bellatrix will go together to send him my best wishes."

I nodded, sinking a bit in my seat. I rather didn't fancy travelling with Bellatrix, either.

"Bole, Nott, and Bletchley, you two will go with Rabastan and Dolohov to take care of a little problem on Downing Street."

My three friends nodded. We were dismissed, then, and Bellatrix stayed close to my side as we left the grounds to disapparate.

"Nothing like a little girls' trip." She smiled, revealing blackened teeth.

Yes, nothing says 'girls' trip' like murder.

"Do you know exactly where we're going?" I asked.

Instead of answering, she laced her bony fingers through mine, her hand cold, and disapparated.

We landed in a grassland that certainly looked like the Scottish countryside, green rolling hills as far as the eye could see in the dusky night air. I followed Bellatrix down a dirt road towards a small shack in the distance, a faint light glowing from its interior.

"Got a plan?" I hissed as we neared our target.

"Kill 'im," she said simply, drawing her wand.

"Right."

We reached the cabin, and split into different directions. I drew my wand, creeping around the side of the structure to peek through the window. I was very nearly scalped by a hex, and stumbled backwards, falling flat onto my back with my heart pounding in my chest.

"Come out, come out, Igor!" Bellatrix called shrilly from the other side of the building. "No point in hiding!"

I rolled into a crouch, keeping low to the ground, and pointed my wand at the wooden structure. "Incendio."

The wood caught fire and burst into tall flames. The man inside let out a cry and stumbled from the house, brandishing his wand. My eyes widened as I recognised him; it was Igor Karkaroff, the headmaster of Dumstrang, one of the schools that had visited Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament.

Bellatrix attacked immediately, bombarding him with a slew of green flashes. I joined in, trying to disarm him, but he dueled us both with impressive agility. Bellatrix and I spread out, standing on opposite sides of him, and his face creased in a grimace. He fell back so that we formed a triangle, the flashes of our spells lighting up the hillside.

"You knew we'd come for you, didn't you, Igor?" sneered Bellatrix. "Did you think the Dark Lord would forgive you for what you did?"

"No, I didn't, but I wasn't about to turn myself in, either," he growled, deflecting my leg-locking jinx, his gaze lingering on me for a moment. "Is Voldemort so desperate he's started recruiting children?"

I gritted my teeth. "Expulso!"

Karkaroff managed to block my curse, but it threw him off balance just enough to where he wasn't fast enough to block the next curse from Bellatrix.

"Crucio!" she hissed, and Karkaroff fell to the ground, writhing in pain. Bellatrix moved to stand above him, watching the effects of her torture curse with mild interest.

I forced myself to step forward to stand beside her, looking down at the man on the ground.

"Want to do it?" Bellatrix asked without tearing her eyes away. "Want to be the one to kill him?"

I couldn't say no. I raised my wand with a trembling hand. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. I swallowed shakily and tried again. "Avada kedavra."

The blast of green light hit Karkaroff squarely in the chest and he fell still, his eyes going dull.

Bellatrix let out a cackle of delight, turning her wand to the sky. "Morsmordre!"

A stream of green light punctured the clouds above us, and I watched with some awe as it twisted into the form of the Dark Mark, its vast image casting a faint green light on Bellatrix's face.

I turned back to the burning shack, raising my wand. "Aguamenti maxima." 

A stream of water erupted from the tip of my wand, quickly extinguishing the flames and leaving the shack as a pile of burnt rubble.

Bellatrix gave me a questioning look, and I shrugged, making sure the last of the fire had been put out. "No point in setting all of Scotland on fire."

She rolled her eyes, muttered something about 'bloody Scots,' and disapparated away.

Once I was sure she was gone, I fell to my hands and knees and vomited into the grass.

I had killed a man. I had killed Igor Karkaroff. He was dead because of me. 

I was a murderer.