Broken Wings (Marlene McKinnon girlxgirl, Marauder's Era)

Chapter 4: Christmas Eve '77 (part 2)

tw: torture (not super graphic)

part 2 of Christmas Eve!

The Dark Lord's robes billowed like living shadows, and the room's torchlight danced eerily across his features. Voldemort's wand, with its twisted, snakelike handle, gleamed ominously as he came to a halt in the centre of the room draped in heavy emerald and silver decorations.
He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze sweeping over the gathered pureblood families. His voice, cold and commanding, sliced through the silence.
"Good evening, dear...friends.
We gather here tonight to mark the beginning of a new era. An era where power and purity shall reign supreme."

Lee fought hard to keep her mask of composure, an artful performance to ensure that nobody saw the storm raging within her. Her icy exterior remained unyielding as her face displayed an elegance that belied the chaos in her mind. However, she longed for nothing more than to bolt from the Ballroom. She had anticipated this day, had known it would come but still...
Juliette didn't let her eyes wander, she couldn't tear her attention away from the man in the centre of the room.
His cold voice kept slicing the room like a shard of broken ice: "Tonight, I offer you the opportunity to prove your devotion, to ascend to greatness. To bear the Dark Mark is to carry my banner, to stand by my side as we reshape the wizarding world."
Lee all but forced herself to keep inhaling and exhaling. Every breath she took was measured, slow and steady, even as her heart raced beneath the surface. She knew the importance of maintaining a facade of composure. The girl's gaze remained fixed on the Dark Lord, her features neutral and impassive. Her eyes, usually quite expressive, were veiled by an enigmatic calm, revealing nothing of the turmoil that churned beneath.

There was a moment of silence as the Dark Lord stopped speaking. Lee knew that Voldemort would now start distributing Dark Marks among her peers. There was no way out, nowhere to go, no escape route. Even the blokes like Jonathan Avery, Theodore Nott, and Albert Greengrass seemed somewhat uneasy. Juliette's body, though rigid with tension, displayed no outward signs of distress. Her posture remained impeccable.
As Voldemort called forth Avery, the first of the group of young purebloods to step forward, his voice cut through the tense silence like a blade once more: "Jonathan Avery," Voldemort called, his cold voice almost impassive, "step forward and embrace your destiny."

For a short moment, Lee considered running. Simply bolting out of the room, the element of surprise on her side, not stopping, not looking back. But no, she could not, would not, leave Regulus alone in this mess. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way out. After all, she was a Ravenclaw.
As the hushed ballroom held its collective breath, Voldemort's skeletal hand reached out toward Avery. The room seemed to constrict around them, and the air around Lee seemed to grow thick with foreboding.

She watched as Voldemort's long, serpent-like fingers pressed against Jonathan's forearm. Juliette would have sworn she saw the boy tremble under the Dark wizard's touch. As the Dark Lord pointed his wand at Avery's arm, the room seemed to hold its breath.
A second later, Lee observed pain erupting across Jonathan Avery's features. His eyes widened, and he bit down hard on his trembling lower lip to stifle the cries of torment that threatened to escape. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, glistening in the dim light, as his body tensed against the searing agony of the Dark Mark being burnt into his arm. Lee almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
Despite the facade of composure she wore, the girl could feel her anger, frustration and fear boiling beneath the surface as she watched the ceremony unfold. While her outward expression remained neutral, a surge of hatred coursed through her veins, directed not only at Jonathan Avery but at the entire assembly of Death Eaters, especially Voldemort himself.
The Dark Lord began to call up more names, Albert Greengrass, Theodore Nott, Mulciber, Rosier,...