Act II: Sacrifice

Part 4

I awaken, still laying in bed. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost believe that what I just experienced was some kind of bizarre nightmare. It certainly felt like one. I never imagined I would know what the Dark Mark felt like, but then I also never could have guessed what the last year has entailed.

The last image of her memories - her own face in the mirror - sticks in my mind. It might be just my imagination, but when I picture her it's like I can see the cracks beginning to form: hair disheveled from the duel, eyes bright with excitement, grin slightly manic from the emotions swirling through her. I sit up, mostly to distract my mind from retracing the memory step by step.

"Oh, you're awake." I look over to see Cissa sitting at the desk, a scrap of parchment still in her hands. "It seems the journal is quite a drain on your energy - you fell asleep almost immediately after opening it."

"Really?" I honestly thought it had only been a moment, but that does explain why my head isn't pounding this time. I must've slept it off. "I suppose I should slow down a bit, then." I don't really want to slow down, but we are trapped. Every little bit of energy counts. I can't risk running myself dry and stumbling into danger.

Cissa hums her approval with a sly grin, but her mood shifts almost immediately when she looks back to the desk. "I believe we've read everything here, darling."

"Then we should get moving. If you're right about an exit in the crypt, we won't find it by sitting still." I stand up and stretch the stiffness from my joints. "Let's get some supplies from the storage room before we go. I'll tell you about the memories while we walk."

That does seem to cheer Cissa up, though I can only imagine that our situation is starting to get to her. It's starting to weigh on my own mind, as well. We may very well die down here - not of Bellatrix's traps, not of some strange magical beast, but of starvation or thirst. We can only carry so much with us, even with magic, and it's very likely that we will run into some other one-way path like with the stairs. I just hope we find a way out first.

While we gather what we'll need, Cissa starts an impromptu French lesson. It's enough to keep our minds off the gravity of our situation, and is more than welcome. When I pull open the false wall once more, though, silence falls over us. I take a step forward to break the moment.

"I expected to pick up where I left off - at her wedding." I push through the silver door as I speak, leading us back towards the spiral. "Instead, it was some time later. Right before a gala."

"I can only imagine how difficult it would've been to attach the memories to the journal in the first place. She must have only used the ones she considered important." I reached the same conclusion, though it doesn't make the experience any less disorienting.

It does mean that I won't have any idea what I'm going into next. "I wonder where they end. Do you think she continued to add memories?"

"I do not. It would have been incriminating. The Dark Lord was never forgiving. The punishment for being caught spying was... severe." That sounds like an understatement.

I reach out and take Cissa's hand as we walk up the spiral. "The gala she attended was one of Voldemort's. It was a special one. The night she received the Dark Mark."

"I see." Cissa walks along in silence, waiting for me to continue speaking.

"It was a surprisingly painless experience... or, at least, I expected it to be more painful than it was." I can't help but rub at the rough skin where the Dark Mark would be. Even through the fabric of my robes, I can feel the raised letters. M U D... "She got into a duel with someone. A man I didn't recognize."