The Truth Behind the Veil ✔️

Green

TW:

Torture and character death.

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   The Death-Eater meetings were still, silent, nowadays. Their Lord was angry, seething. He snapped at every wrong movement, at every breath that wasn't completely silent. Even Bellatrix had calmed herself to avoid his wrath.

   Regulus sat in between Snape and Barty Crouch Jr, holding his breath, waiting for someone to figure it out. He'd mastered Occlumency and knew how to lie under Vertiserum. The Cruciatus curse was still agonizing but no amount of torture could make him talk.

   Voldemort had given up on recruiting. No one from the order had budged. Unlike in Fawn's time, there was no traitor. There was no spy. Regulus wasn't sure what Peter had chosen to busy himself with instead, but didn't spend too much time fussing over it. It was for the best.

   Voldemort never sat down with the group anymore. He stood, pacing behind them, a shoulder being clamped by his cold, dead fingers on occasion. The meeting that day was small. Only the Malfoys, Lestranges, Severus, Regulus and Barty were in his company.

   "Do you know why I have invited each of you here tonight?" questioned the dark Lord.

   His voice flowed like silk. His back was straight, his posture poised. If a candle flickered a certain way, one could see the scales that hid beneath his porcelain skin. His tongue flicked over his lips whenever he paused. His eyes had lost the brown they'd once held, now replaced with a deep, blood red. His hair was patchy though he'd tried desperately to hide it.

   "No, my Lord," breathed Bellatrix. She looked up at him with admiration, reverence. It made Regulus sick.

  The Dark Lord smiled. His thin lips stretched to reveal short, sharpened teeth and raw gums caked with blood. Fawn had mentioned that was what happened if you didn't go to the tooth healer—Dentist is what she called them.

   "So, you mean to tell me, you thought I would not be questioning you, Bella, on the misplacement, or perhaps loss, of Hufflepuff's cup?"

   Beallatrix's eyes darkened in regret. She bowed. "I am truly sorry, my Lord. My vault is one of the most highly guarded at Gringotts, complete with many jinxes and hexes. I am unsure how someone could have stolen your cup, my Lord."

   The gaze of the serpent remained for a moment before it turned, searching for its next victim to strike. "And you, Lucius, mean to tell me that my diary disappeared out of thin air?"

   Regulus almost laughed. Lucius hadn't even bothered to put protective charms on his nightstand. That had been the easiest one to get a hold of. The man had to be facing some severe consequences for that.

   Instead of reverence, Lucius' steely eyes flashed with anger, his face contorting, almost bird-like. Everyone knew the Malfoys, despite their claims to be completely Pureblood, had ties to Veelas. They were originally from France, close to many Veela clans. Knowing a Malfoy man, at least one of them wouldn't have been able to stay away.

  "I had that book by my side every day and every night, my Lord, I do not know to where it could have gone."

   Voldemort smiled again. "Really?" he whispered, his mouth breathing putrid breath into Lucius' scarily clean ears. "So you didn't keep it in your nightstand, un-protected, during the nights?"

   The Malfoy man paled, which probably shouldn't have been possible. His hand trembled.

   Voldemort didn't give him the chance to respond.