CHRYSALIS

Chapter 108

The two of them got ready for the funeral, Frankie putting on her dress she intended to be buried in. Severus heard a little tapping on the window as they dressed, going to retrieve the letter from the familiar horned owl, Ulysses'.

"Her tomb is empty, waiting. I foresee possible challenges. She must rest within for the time being," the note read before turning to ash. Nothing but ash remained in his hands, Severus felt a shiver crawl up his spine. He turned to look at Frankie, who was adjusting her dress with a heavy heart.

"We need to get you into the tomb, preferably looking like you've died shortly after your injuries," he said softly but urgently. "I'm afraid he will ask for proof of death."

Frankie nodded, her eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and sorrow. "Even in death he torments my body. Did you know what he was going to let them do to me? That morning, before the Ministry. You weren't there," she said with a solemn tone.

"I didn't know until I arrived there that morning, after you had gone to your room. For every crime he committed, he shall pay dearly," Severus told her with a voice of unwavering seriousness.

As they finished getting ready, the room was filled with an almost palpable tension. The weight of the note's warning hung over them like a dark cloud, casting a shadow on the already somber occasion. Together, they stepped out into the world, where the air was thick with the scent of rain and the whispers of secrets yet to be revealed.

Severus apparated them near the Malfoy Manor, releasing Frankie. She turned herself into a fluffy tailed squirrel running through the grounds and up into a gnarled tree near the Mausoleum. Her tiny eyes affixed into the huge open doors, the huge stone lid, just barely ajar. She made sure no one was around, quickly apparating herself into the tomb itself, using her magic to enclose it completely.

She laid there, slowing her breathing, suspending herself. Her body frail, pale, gaunt. Her torso under her dress looked as if she had been slashed in half with no signs of healing. She lay there, motionless, thinking, waiting.

Inside the cold, dark tomb, Frankie took a moment to steady her breath. The air was thick with the scent of ancient stone and damp earth, mingling with the faint trace of something she couldn't quite place—perhaps a lingering remnant of dark magic.

At the center of the mausoleum lay an intricately carved sarcophagus, its lid now fully sealed by her spell. Ancient runes covered its surface, glowing faintly with a menacing green light.

Finally, she heard footsteps, whispers. "Taken out by Harry Potter. Perhaps her magic wasn't as extraordinary as she believed, Severus" Voldemort hissed. 

Frankie remained calm, like the dead, her breath slow deliberate. "My Lord, if I may. She was attempting to capture the boy. She got closer to completing the task than any of your other followers. I saw it with my own eyes, she had him," Severus said with a heavy heart.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he considered Severus's words. The room was thick with tension, the air almost crackling with the weight of unspoken expectations.

 "And yet, here we are," Voldemort replied coldly, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade. "Harry Potter still lives, and Francesca Blackwood is here, a casualty rather than a victor. The Daily Prophet has been instructed to put out wanted posters for him."

"Yes, My Lord," Severus replied. "Severus, my condolences," Voldemort hissed before leaving the Mausoleum. Frankie laid still waiting listening, waiting. The funeral procession was one of sorrow, as only a couple of people were privy to the secret. 

Severus recited the entirety of the Raven, per her request. His words, echoing through the vault. It filled her in a way she never could have imagined. His voice, one of her favorite things about him. She had to waited so long that, she had fallen asleep, with her arms crossed on her chest, mimicking the dead.

Finally, the lid opened, waking her from her peaceful slumber. "See you at home," the man grinned. Frankie, turned to a beautiful brown moth, fluttering away from the tomb.