Aurora Black, the daughter of the infamous Sirius Black, has always lived in the shadow of her family's dark legacy. Raised by her strict grandmother, Walburga Black, Aurora struggles to carve out her own identity at Hogwarts. With her sharp wit, fi...
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The moon hung low over the eerie landscape, casting an otherworldly glow on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. The air was thick with tension as the Death Eaters gathered once again, their ranks swelled by the darkest and most loyal followers of the Dark Lord. Inside the grand meeting room, the atmosphere was stifling, heavy with anticipation and the silent dread that accompanied every assembly under Voldemort's command.
At the head of the long, dark table, Lord Voldemort sat, his snake-like features set in a mask of cold detachment. His red eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, reflecting the flickering candles that provided the only illumination in the room. To his right stood Aurora, poised and deadly, her presence commanding respect from all those in attendance. Her gaze was sharp, her expression unreadable, yet there was a palpable sense of power radiating from her a power that even the most seasoned Death Eaters recognized and feared.
Seated around the table were some of the most notorious figures in the wizarding world. Bellatrix Lestrange, her wild eyes gleaming with fanaticism, sat closest to Voldemort, her twisted smile never far from her lips. Theo Nott and Draco Malfoy sat side by side, their expressions guarded as they awaited the proceedings. Narcissa Malfoy, regal and composed, sat opposite her son, her eyes flickering with unease. Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, and Fenrir Greyback completed the circle, each of them casting wary glances toward the head of the table, where their fate would soon be decided.
The heavy oak doors at the far end of the room creaked open, and all eyes turned to see the newcomer. Lorcan d'Eath, a vampire of some repute, entered the room with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. His pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, and his dark, predatory eyes scanned the room before settling on Voldemort.
"My Lord," Lorcan said, his voice smooth and deferential as he inclined his head. He deliberately ignored Aurora, as if her presence was an afterthought.
Aurora's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger crossing her features. Her voice, cold and commanding, cut through the tense silence. "In the presence of the Dark Lord and myself," she said, each word dripping with authority, "you will kneel before you speak."
Lorcan hesitated for a fraction of a second, a flash of irritation crossing his features before he quickly masked it. He realized his mistake, and with a slight bow of his head, he dropped to one knee. "My apologies, Aurora," he said smoothly, casting a quick glance up at Voldemort, who remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Voldemort's gaze shifted briefly to Aurora, and with the barest nod of his head, he granted her permission to take charge. Aurora's lips curled into a small, satisfied smile as she stepped forward, her dark robes billowing slightly as she moved.
"Tell me, vampire," Aurora began, her voice sharp and precise, "why are you here?"
Lorcan, still kneeling, raised his head slightly to meet her gaze. "Because vampires need your help, and you need ours," he replied, his tone calculated, though there was an edge of desperation lurking beneath the surface.
A ripple of dark amusement passed through the room, the Death Eaters exchanging knowing glances. Bellatrix let out a high-pitched giggle, while Greyback bared his teeth in a cruel grin. The idea of vampires, creatures often seen as beneath them, seeking an alliance was almost laughable.
Aurora's smile widened, though it was devoid of warmth. "Do you see these Death Eaters?" she asked, gesturing to the figures seated around the table. "Do you know how many more are out there, all of whom have sworn to kill for me? Kill for the Dark Lord?"
"They're hard to miss," Lorcan replied, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. He knew he was walking a fine line, but there was no turning back now.
Aurora's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. She tilted her head slightly, her tone mocking. "But still, we need your help?"
Lorcan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Voldemort raised a hand, signaling for silence. The room fell deathly quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of robes as the Dark Lord leaned forward slightly in his chair.
"We do need the vampires on our side," Voldemort said, his voice a soft hiss that sent a shiver down the spines of those present. "But not Lorcan." His red eyes bore into the vampire's, unblinking and full of malice. "He does not seem to appreciate the respect due to my most trusted advisor."
Lorcan's eyes widened slightly, panic flickering across his features. He tried to explain himself, to plead his case, but the words died in his throat as Aurora moved with deadly precision. In an instant, she had a silver stake in her hand, the metal glinting ominously in the candlelight. Before Lorcan could react, she lunged forward, her movements a blur of lethal grace.
The stake plunged into Lorcan's chest with a sickening thud, piercing his heart. His eyes widened in shock and pain, his mouth opening in a silent scream as he crumpled to the ground. The room was deathly silent, the other Death Eaters watching with a mixture of awe and fear as Aurora stood over the fallen vampire, her eyes cold and unfeeling.
Voldemort's lips curled into a thin, satisfied smile as he observed the scene. Aurora's efficiency, her ruthlessness, pleased him greatly. She was, after all, his most prized lieutenant, a weapon as deadly as any in his arsenal.
"Fenrir," Voldemort commanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. The werewolf looked up from where he sat, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Go to where the vampires are currently hiding. Deliver a message from me. Tell them to join us or suffer the consequences. And bring Lorcan's body as a reminder of what happens to those who dare to cross me or my lady."
Greyback rose to his feet, his movements almost animalistic in their intensity. He gave a feral grin, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the low light as he bowed to the Dark Lord. "It will be done, my Lord," he growled, his voice thick with bloodlust.
As Fenrir moved to retrieve Lorcan's body, Aurora stepped back, her expression once again calm and composed, as if the violent act she had just committed was nothing more than routine. Her eyes met Voldemort's, and he nodded approvingly, a silent acknowledgment of her loyalty and prowess.
The Death Eaters remained silent, each of them acutely aware of the power dynamics at play. As Fenrir dragged Lorcan's lifeless body out of the room, the heavy doors creaked shut behind him, leaving the Death Eaters alone once more with their master and his deadly second-in-command. The oppressive silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, the knowledge that alliances could be forged or broken with a single word or a single, well-placed stake.
For in the world of Death Eaters, there was no greater sin than weakness and no greater virtue than loyalty, no matter how it was enforced.
