The Light in the Dark | Neville Longbottom

Chapter 95: The Glass Shard

*CW: Violence, Physical & Verbal Abuse, & Death*

April 7th, 1998

"Today, I've called this meeting to discuss our plan for the future," Voldemort announced, "Our successes... We've taken over the Ministry, Hogwarts, and several territories in the Greater England Area... and Dumbledore and Scrimgeour are dead. We've also dealt with some of our... challengers. But we have still yet to accomplish our greatest mission... Harry Potter."

A deatheater named Walden Macnair raised his hand, "My lord, Potter and his acquaintances have gone into hiding. Tracking them has become impossible-"

"And you don't think I know this, Macnair?" Voldemort spat, "You don't think I've sent deatheaters and snatchers to search for the boy?"

Macnair inhaled sharply, embarrassed by his initial response, "N-No, my lord... I would never doubt you."

"I know you wouldn't," Voldemort said coldly, "Anyway... The snatchers did report a rather peculiar finding this morning. It's so adorable how they think any of this will get them into my ranks!"

A short round of laughter escaped the deatheaters sitting at the table. Voldemort's cruel joke seemed to lighten the tense mood he had set at the beginning of the meeting.

"Today, we are greeted by one Dirk Cresswell," Voldemort laughed cruelly, "Now, Mr. Cresswell is a mudblood who worked at the Ministry of Magic, and you know... We can't have that, so he ran. Smart man, Mr. Cresswell, but not smart enough... I mean, who can blame him? He's a mudblood."

At the far end of the room, Peter Pettigrew entered with Dirk Cresswell levitating behind him. The mudblood was barely breathing — heaving in huge breaths of air. His face had become unrecognizable due to the numbers of beatings he'd taken. His eyes were blood-shot, like he hadn't slept in weeks. He was also shaking.

"P-Please..." Dirk Cresswell begged, blood pouring from his mouth with every word, "I b-beg of you, please... I have a f-family..."

Voldemort stood up from his seat, looking at the man unapologetically, "You should have thought about that before you ran from us, Mr. Cresswell... Azkaban would've been much more forgiving. Dawn, my darling?"

I sat in the back corner among the shadows, measly staring out a window while the meeting happened. Of course, I listened to them... and watched them sometimes... that was how I knew what was happening. I had been waiting for my cue, and that was it. Slowly, I emerged from the shadows, standing next to my father's chair.

"Yes, father?" I asked dryly.

"Take care of this for me, will you?" Voldemort ordered.

I nodded, pulling out my wand and pointing it at the man, "Avada Kedavra."

A green light shot from my wand and collided with the mudblood. Seconds later, he collapsed on the table, causing several deatheaters to flinch. Nonchalantly, I placed my wand back into my robe and returned to my corner, staring out the window once more.

91 days.

I've been here for 91 days.

At first, I started counting the days because I felt like a prisoner. And then eventually, I succumbed to this reality, and it became a home.

The first forty days were rough. I spent the entire night sobbing myself to sleep the day I arrived. I thought my entire life was over, but I truly didn't know anything yet.

The next day, my father and several other deatheaters arrived at Malfoy Manor. They took me from my bed and shut me in the soundproof bunker in the basement; I stayed in there for over a month. It was pitch-black, I couldn't see anything. Again, I cried myself to sleep that night... And for several nights after that. I remembered throwing myself at the walls and screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to let me out, but nobody ever did. With the growing silence and being left to my thoughts, the hallucinations returned. During the horcrux hunt, I only disappeared for a few minutes or hours — Even though I had lived through several days in the hallucinations. They grew worse while I was in the bunker. I disappeared for days at a time, and the only way I realized this was because when I returned, there would be one or two plates of food at my door, meaning that I had missed my meals. The hallucinations were almost comforting; I looked forward to them. They were my escape from the darkness... literally.