chapter thirty nine

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It was dark.

Everything was dark.

Ophelia woke up in total darkness. Beneath her was a hard floor, indicating that she wasn't in her bed, and most likely not in her dorm either.

She felt around on the floor, trying to find her wand. She picked it up and quietly said, "Lumos."

Nothing happened.

She said it again. Nothing.

Again and again, nothing happened.

In the silence, in the darkness, Ophelia was completely alone.

Although there was no light whatsoever, it was no longer silent.

At first, Ophelia could hear breathing. Heavy breathing. She couldn't find the source. She walked around, trying to find where it came from, but everywhere she went, it just seemed to get quieter and quieter until it completely disappeared.

But then, it was worse. Footsteps.

Surrounding her, Ophelia heard footsteps, coming closer and closer, trapping her in a circle.

"Who's there?" she yelled.

No one answered, she was only answered with laughter. Horrible laughter.

It was surrounding her. Cruel, high pitched, shrieks of laughter.

"Who's there? I'm armed!" she shouted, raising her wand, even though it wasn't lit.

"Foolish girl," came a voice. It was long, and drawn out. It was a whisper, almost a hiss. Once again, it surrounded her. She couldn't find the source. She was stuck in the middle of laughing strangers, with no escape.

A soft glow, similar to that of moonlight, arose from part of the circle, illuminating a man. A man with red eyes, slits for a nose, and a sense of evil radiating off of him.

Lord Voldemort.

"Idiot girl," he said again. "You have no weapon."

"I have my wand!" shouted Ophelia.

"Oh, poor child. Have you not yet realized? You have no magic anymore. You are nothing but a mere muggle."

The laughter started again, and Ophelia could finally see who was making the noise.

A large group of people, wearing black robes and silver masks, with skeletal holes for their eyes and slits for their mouths.

Death eaters.

"Oh how forgetful of me," hissed Voldemort. "Let me introduce you to your crowd. Although I'm sure you need no real introduction."

Voldemort slowly walked around the circle, ripping the masks off of his most faithful servants, one by one.

These people weren't strangers. They weren't close to strangers. These were people that Ophelia had known for most of her life. People she had seen at her house, with her parents.

Abraxas Malfoy.

Corban Yaxley.

Walden Macnair.

Antonin Dolohov.

The Carrows.

Augustus Rookwood.

But it got worse. It got so much worse.

Walburga Black.

"Mother," gasped Ophelia.

Orion Black.

"Father."

Regulus Black.

"No, Reg, no! Please tell me you didn't," she had silent tears streaming down her face.

Regulus smirked and rolled up his left sleeve, revealing a skull and snake tattoo. The dark mark.

Sirius Black.

"Sirius no! Not you too! No, this isn't real. This can't be real," Ophelia cried.

Following his brother, Sirius rolled up his sleeve to reveal the same tattoo in the same place.

Both Black brothers had awful sneers on their face, seemingly enjoying watching the frantic and disheveled state that their sister was in.

"Ophelia Black," hissed Voldemort.

"What do you want from me?" she screamed.

"I have brought you here for a reason," Voldemort continued.

"Just tell me!"

"I have brought all of these people here for a reason."

"Please just leave me alone!"

"Do you know who I am?"

"Of course I do! Lord Voldemort-"

"You dare speak my name! You filthy, arrogant blood traitor!"

"Shut up!"

"I, Ophelia Black, have brought you here to kill you. And everyone here is going to watch. The last thing you are going to see is your family enjoying your death. The last thing you are going to hear is the laughter of all of my most faithful servants. The last thing you are going to touch is your wand, a reminder of the magic you once had. The world you once lived in. The world you were stripped of. The world you were taken from by me. I will make the last few moments of your life miserable. That's a promise."

He stepped closer to Ophelia, waved his wand silently, and she fell to the ground.

"Come Sirius, Regulus, stand by me and watch as your sister dies."

The four members of the Black family gathered just behind Voldemort as he raised his wand and pointed it at her.

Voldemort was not one to make empty promises.

Her family watched, cruel smiles spread across their faces, amusement shining through their eyes.

The circle around her, filled with death eaters from all generations, laughed maniacally.

She gripped her wand, forgetting that the magic had been drained from her.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Once again, everything was dark.

And it would be light no more.

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