The Purest Kind of Magic

- forty one -

Maybe I should've just stayed in France, at least that way I won't be looking at some bald, nose-less, old man.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A muggle and a fool... very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child... and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death..."

Okay, so why the fuck am I here again? Did they mistake me for Harry or something? Cause for all I know I'm just rotting away in this little corner, and literally no one is even keeping guard.

Voldemort then started reciting his stupid little backstory I did not care about. I scoffed silently as I rolled my eyes at the sight of Voldemort pacing back and forth.

"Listen to me, reliving family history..." he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental... But look, Harry! My true family returns..."

The air was suddenly full of the swishing of cloaks and I froze again. The Death Eaters. They're here.

They apparated here one by one, all of them were hooded and masked. One by one they moved forward slowly, cautiously towards Voldemort.

I sighed to myself as I listened in onto Voldemort's "Why didn't you all save me" rant to his followers. If they don't need me, can I just go back? I'd rather be doing anything but this.

--

"Bring the girl." 

My heart skipped a beat as I heard those chilling words. Two masked Death Eaters came up to me and yanked me up from the ground and dragged me towards Voldemort. I realized two things. My hands were untied and Harry was no longer here.

I glanced up at Voldemort's face. He sneered at me as his red eyes looked into mine. 

"You're not Harry Potter," Voldemort stated, his voice dripping with disdain. "But there's something about you that intrigues me."

"Because I'm a Potter too? Yeah, funny story, you see, I'm actually not even related--" 

"Crucio."

Pain shot through my entire body as the curse hit me. I writhed on the ground and I couldn't resist my screams. It felt like every nerve in my body was on fire, and I couldn't control the agony that consumed me.

Voldemort seemed to take pleasure in my pain, relishing the control he had over me. It felt like I was being torn apart from the inside, and I couldn't think, couldn't breathe. I wanted it to stop, to end the torment, but Voldemort showed no signs of relenting. 

After what felt like an eternity, he finally lifted the curse, and I lay gasping for breath, tears streaming down my cheeks. My body trembled with the aftereffects of the curse, it was hard to stay concious. 

Voldemort loomed over me, his sneer more pronounced than ever. "You have spirit, I'll give you that," he hissed. "But your defiance and lying will only lead to more suffering."

Despite the pain and exhaustion, I managed to lift my head and glare at Voldemort with as much defiance as I could muster. "I'm not afraid of you. Do whatever you want, I know I'll stay alive no matter what."             

Voldemort's red eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and amusement at my defiance. He seemed intrigued by my resilience, as if he found pleasure in breaking it. "Oh, I have no intention of killing you just yet," he said, a sinister smile crossing his lips. "You might be of some use to me, after all."

Some of the Death Eaters around us shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to make of Voldemort's sudden interest in me. I could feel their eyes on me, their masked faces hiding any emotion, but I could sense their curiosity and suspicion.

"I'll give you a choice," Voldemort continued, enjoying the moment. "Join me willingly, become a loyal servant of the Dark Lord, and I might spare you from further torment. Refuse, and you will suffer beyond your scariest nightmares."

I knew that any choice I made now would come with a heavy price. Joining Voldemort meant betraying everything I believed in, sacrificing my morals for survival. Refusing him would mean enduring more pain.

"I will never join you," I said firmly, despite the tremors in my voice. 

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, and he nodded slowly as if he found my answer both amusing and annoying. "So be it," he replied coldly. "Crucio."

The unbearable pain surged through me again, and I clenched my teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing my screams this time. The curse was relentless, and I could feel myself losing strength with each passing moment.

"You see, Death Eaters," Voldemort sneered, addressing his followers. "This is the power of the Dark Lord. None can defy me and escape unscathed."

I wanted to lash out at him, to tell him that he was nothing more than a coward hiding behind dark magic, but the pain was too much, and my voice caught in my throat.

As the curse finally lifted, my body collapsed, and I gasped for breath, my vision blurred from tears and exhaustion. It felt like I had been put through a wringer, and I struggled to hold on to consciousness.

"Well, well," he taunted, "it seems you're not as strong as you thought, little Potter."

I wanted to retort, to tell him that he's just an ugly ass bald bitch, but my voice was barely a whisper. I felt broken, both physically and emotionally. The weight of the situation and the pain I had endured were almost too much to bear.

Voldemort's red eyes bore into mine, and I could see the satisfaction in his gaze. He reveled in the torment he inflicted upon others, relishing in his role as the Dark Lord.

"Perhaps you need some more motivation to see the truth," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "Crucio!"

Once again, the curse hit me, and I convulsed in agony. The pain was unbearable, and I screamed, unable to hold back this time. It felt like my entire existence was being torn apart, and I feared that I might not survive another round of torture.

Amidst the torment, I caught glimpses of the Death Eaters around me. Their faces remained masked, but I could see the mix of fear and uncertainty in their eyes. They served Voldemort out of loyalty or fear, but they also knew the cost of disobedience.

As the curse finally lifted, I lay panting on the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks. My body trembled, and I felt utterly broken. 

Voldemort stepped back, seemingly satisfied with his display of power. "You see, Potter," he sneered, "no one defies the Dark Lord and lives to tell the tale."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tried as hard as I could to speak, "I'll be the first then."

Voldemort scoffed and turned to his followers, "Pin her down and make sure she doesn't move." He lowered himself as he took my left arm in his boney hands.

Voldemort raised his wand, his red eyes never leaving mine. "Let's see how brave you truly are, little Potter," he taunted, a sinister smile playing on his lips.

Before I could react, he pressed the tip of his wand against my forearm, right above where the Dark Mark would be if I were a Death Eater. I could feel the cold wood of his wand against my skin, and the realization of what he was about to do hit me like a tidal wave.

He's going to mark me.

And I can't do anything about it.