Heirs of darkness

The hidden ally

It was lunchtime at the heart of the Dark Lord's stronghold, where the air was thick with tension and the looming sense of dread. Aurora moved with a graceful efficiency as she prepared the midday meal. The room was filled with the scent of rich, hearty food steaming bowls of stew, fresh-baked bread, and roasted meats. The long dining table, carved from dark, polished wood, was laden with enough food to feed an army, though only a select few would partake.

As the meal drew to a close, Aurora noticed that there were leftovers, more than usual. She glanced around the table, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Wormtail," she called, her voice cutting through the murmured conversations.

Peter Pettigrew, known as Wormtail, scurried forward, his demeanor a mix of subservience and anxiety. He always seemed on edge, like a rat cornered by a predator. "Yes, my lady?" he squeaked, his watery eyes wide with anticipation of whatever task she would set him to.

"Take some of this to mudblood," Aurora instructed, setting aside a portion of the meal on a tray.

Wormtail nodded quickly, eager to please. "Of course, of course," he muttered, grasping the tray with trembling hands. He backed away from the table, casting a nervous glance towards the Dark Lord at the head of the table before scurrying out of the room.

The afternoon passed in uneasy silence. The stronghold was a place where silence was often more dangerous than noise, where the absence of sound meant plans were brewing, plots thickening.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the stone corridors, dinner was prepared. This time, the atmosphere was more charged. Avery Jr., a loyal Death Eater, had joined them, and with him came news of the outside world.

During the meal, Avery Jr. reported with a self-satisfied smirk, "Controlling communication within the Muggle world is going smoothly. Soon, they'll be completely cut off, unaware of what's happening right under their noses."

The Dark Lord, seated at the head of the table, listened with half-hearted interest. His crimson eyes flickered with a bored expression, a hand lazily resting on the arm of his chair. The excitement of conquering the wizarding world had dulled over time, and now he craved something more... entertaining.

"I grow weary of these reports, Avery," the Dark Lord hissed, his voice a soft, lethal whisper that made the others at the table stiffen. "Bring mudblood from her cell. Let us have some... amusement."

Aurora's heart skipped a beat, though she didn't show it. She merely inclined her head, a silent signal to Wormtail, who had resumed his place at the edge of the room.

Wormtail scurried off again, vanishing into the dimly lit corridors. The room remained tense, all eyes on the door, waiting for the inevitable return. But when Wormtail reappeared, his face was pale, and his hands shook even more than usual. He looked as though he might collapse from the weight of the news he bore.

"S-she's gone!" Wormtail stammered, his voice high and shrill with panic. "Hermione... she wasn't in her cell!"

The room went still. Every eye turned to Aurora, waiting for her reaction. Her face was an unreadable mask, but her eyes burned with a dangerous light.

Scabior met Aurora's gaze with a smug smirk, his confidence unshaken. "Don't look at me, Aurora. I haven't touched her."

Aurora's eyes narrowed. "And why should I believe you, Scabior? You've always had a soft spot for her, haven't you?"

Scabior's smirk faltered. "I wouldn't dare cross you, my lady. Or him." He nodded toward the Dark Lord, who was watching the exchange with a cold, calculating gaze.

But Aurora wasn't convinced. She took a step towards Scabior, her presence intimidating even without the threat of a wand. Scabior's bravado cracked, and he took a step back. "I swear, I didn't—"

Aurora's wand was in her hand in a flash. "Crucio!" she hissed, and Scabior screamed, collapsing to the floor in agony.

The room watched in silence as Scabior writhed on the floor, his screams echoing off the stone walls. Aurora held the curse for a long moment before releasing him, her expression cold.

"Where is she?" Aurora demanded, her voice ice-cold.

Scabior gasped for breath, his body trembling from the aftereffects of the curse. "I don't know!" he croaked, his voice hoarse from screaming. "I swear, I don't know!"

Aurora stared down at him, her eyes hard. "Then you're useless to me."

But before she could cast another curse, a voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Enough."

It was the Dark Lord. He hadn't moved from his seat, but the power in his voice was undeniable. Aurora lowered her wand, though her eyes never left Scabior, who was still gasping on the floor.

"Who was the last to see her?" the Dark Lord asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Aurora turned her gaze to Wormtail, who was trembling even more violently now. "Wormtail," she said, her voice dripping with venom. "Wormtail was the last to see Hermione. Just like he was the last to see Ron and Harry before they escaped. And Bellatrix mentioned that Wormtail was the one who 'locked the door' back then, too."

All eyes turned to Wormtail, who looked as though he might faint on the spot. "No, no!" he protested, shaking his head frantically. "I didn't do anything! I swear!"

Aurora's expression was one of pure contempt. "Once a traitor, always a traitor."

For a moment, there was silence, the weight of the accusation hanging in the air. Then, without a word, the Dark Lord stood and raised his wand.

Wormtail's eyes widened in terror. "No! Please, my Lord—"

But it was too late. The Dark Lord uttered a single, deadly word. "Avada Kedavra."

A flash of green light filled the room, and Wormtail crumpled to the floor, lifeless. The silence that followed was oppressive, the weight of the murder hanging heavily in the air.