Before the Dawn | George Weasley

66

I pulled myself to my feet, feeling blood trickle down my face and neck. We all stood in silence, each of us fully understanding what was coming.

Greyback drew his wand to disapparate, but I was quicker. I disarmed him and pointed my wand at his throat, fixing him with an icy stare.

"You aren't going anywhere," I hissed, my eye twitching. "You'll stay and face the consequences with the rest of us, you bloody coward."

The werewolf looked like he might rather enjoy ripping my throat out. But before he could, there was a crack outside the house.

Voldemort was here.

I stepped back from Greyback, tucking away my wand and standing beside Draco, whose face was laced with cuts just like my own. We stared at the floor, numbly awaiting our fate.

The front doors opened, and the Dark Lord strode in. Then, he stopped, looking among us.

"You summoned me," he said softly. "Yet I do not see Harry Potter here among you."

His words were met by silence.

"Who would like to explain why I am here and Potter is not?" His tone was still frighteningly calm.

Beside me, Draco was shivering with fear.

"My Lord, my son is not to blame for this grievous error," Narcissa's voice was pitched with terror. "Please, let him leave us."

"Not to blame?" Voldemort asked quietly.

"Doyle is the one who told us it was Potter!" Bellatrix jumped in, a bit too eagerly for my taste.

I felt Voldemort's eyes on me, then, but I kept my gaze firmly on the ground.

"Is this true, Doyle?" Voldemort stepped to stand in front of me, gripping my face with his pale, boney fingers to force me to look at him. "Perhaps you can tell me why he is not here now."

I gritted my teeth, trying to ignore the pain of his fingers pressing into the open cuts on my face. "He was here, my Lord. The Snatchers brought him in. But he escaped."

"Crucio!"

I was knocked to the ground by the impact of the curse. It gripped my entire body, feeling as if a fire was burning under my skin and trying to chew its way out with teeth sharper than any knife, every inch of me begging for mercy. I had no control over any of my extremities, my brain panicking inside my skull but unable to do anything to ease the pain.

Then, the curse lifted. I lay flat on the floor, my chest heaving. My mouth opened but no sound came out, my throat dry from screams I wasn't even aware of making.

Voldemort stood above me, his expression icy. "And, tell me, Doyle, just how did he escape?"

I coughed weakly. "H-he... he and his friend took Wormtail's wand and broke out of the cellar... and then the house elf..."

"Crucio!"

I knew what was coming, but there was no way to prepare myself for its impact. The curse ripped through me mercilessly, the silent house echoing with my shrieking. It could have gone on for seconds or for hours, I had no way of telling. I found myself craving sleep, or unconsciousness, or death—anything, anything to spare me from the sheer pain of living.

The Dark Lord relented once more, and I let out a thin whine as the curse left me, a tear escaping my eye and dragging painfully across the cuts on my cheek.

"And you... let him escape?"

"Forgive me, my Lord," I choked out, black crowding the edge of my vision. "I've failed you... it will not happen... again."