Midnight || Sirus Black

chapter 17

As Esther moved through the underground chamber's dimly lit, labyrinthine corridors, she felt an unsettling sense of anticipation. She knew this was not a simple gathering—her presence here marked her deepening commitment to a world she had once only viewed from a distance. She walked with the other Death Eaters, shrouded figures with concealed identities, yet their presence was as familiar to her as her own shadow. The weight of her choice to join them settled heavily on her shoulders, a decision that now felt irrevocable, no matter her misgivings.

Entering the meeting room, Esther was greeted by a chilling silence, broken only by the soft rustle of robes. The dark stone walls and looming columns seemed to close in around them, creating a suffocating atmosphere that made every whispered word and glance feel sharper, more dangerous. She could see Lucius, her elder brother, standing nearby, his expression unreadable as he acknowledged her with a curt nod. His demeanor was calm, collected, yet she knew him well enough to recognize the faint tension in his posture—a reminder that even the Malfoys had much to prove here.

The Death Eaters gathered in a precise circle, creating an arena of sorts, centered on the figure who commanded their allegiance. Voldemort stood at the head, his pale, serpentine features illuminated by the dim torchlight, casting ominous shadows that enhanced his unnatural presence. Esther felt a chill run through her spine as his piercing gaze swept over them. In his presence, no one dared breathe too loudly or shift uncomfortably; he commanded an unwavering silence, his mere gaze enough to instill fear.

As the meeting began, Voldemort spoke in his familiar, unsettlingly soft tone, his voice carrying easily through the silence. He spoke of progress and victories, a steady and unstoppable campaign to reshape the wizarding world. The reports came next, with several of the more seasoned Death Eaters stepping forward to recount their missions, each more ruthless and calculated than the last. Bellatrix Lestrange took the floor first, her eyes gleaming with fervor as she detailed the destruction she had wrought, her enthusiasm for cruelty sending a ripple of discomfort through Esther. Next to her, Lucius presented his own report, describing the political maneuvers he had initiated within the Ministry, his voice measured and cold, betraying no emotion.

When her name was finally called, Esther's heart gave a slight jolt. She kept her expression calm as she stepped forward, feeling the collective gaze of the room settle upon her. Voldemort's red eyes met hers, unblinking and predatory.

"Esther Malfoy," he murmured, his voice chilling. "I trust you are prepared to demonstrate the full loyalty of your bloodline."

"Yes, my Lord," Esther replied steadily, though she felt the full weight of his scrutiny. She stood tall, refusing to let her unease betray her in front of the others.

"You will attend a Ministry gathering," Voldemort instructed, his tone low and commanding. "Your family name will open doors. I expect you to gather information—about alliances, defensive measures, and those who might dare oppose us. These sympathizers believe themselves safe, surrounded by friends. I want you to use that foolish trust to our advantage."

Esther nodded, understanding the gravity of the task. This was not a simple mission but a test of her capability to perform under Voldemort's direct orders. Any misstep could cost her dearly.

Voldemort's gaze lingered on her, scrutinizing her as if searching for any hint of doubt. But she remained still, her face a mask of determined compliance.

"Good," he finally said, his lips curving into a thin, twisted smile. "Do not fail me, Miss Malfoy."

With that, the meeting continued, Voldemort addressing other Death Eaters and assigning tasks with the same lethal precision. Bellatrix's wild excitement was almost tangible as she received her new orders, and Rabastan Lestrange muttered feverishly about an upcoming raid. The room pulsed with tension, each figure bending beneath Voldemort's authority, their loyalty absolute.

When the meeting concluded, the Death Eaters dispersed in silence, each bearing the heavy responsibility of their assignments. Esther felt Lucius's presence at her side as they walked out, his eyes steady but hard. She knew her brother well enough to recognize the tacit support in his silence, though he offered no words of encouragement.

They exited the chamber, and once outside, Esther's friend Emilia approached her, her expression worried. Esther gave her a slight nod, grateful for the unspoken understanding between them. Emilia placed a reassuring hand on her arm, her gaze a reminder that Esther wasn't entirely alone, even in this cold, relentless world.

The following evening, Esther found herself preparing meticulously for the Ministry gathering. She donned a sleek, dark dress that exuded elegance without drawing undue attention. Lucius had always advised her that subtlety was a far more powerful tool than flamboyance. The attire would enable her to blend seamlessly into the crowd of officials and sympathizers.

As she applied the final touches to her appearance, she was met by Emilia in the doorway, who gave her an anxious once-over.

"Are you ready?" Emilia asked quietly, her brow furrowed with concern.

"I don't know if one can ever be ready for something like this," Esther replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't have a choice."

Emilia squeezed her hand, her gaze earnest. "Just... stay safe, Esther. Remember, you're doing this for survival, nothing more."

With that final assurance, Esther left for the Ministry gathering, where she knew she would need to balance careful observation with her own self-preservation. The event was held in one of the grand halls of the Ministry, an opulent space adorned with banners and floating lights. Officials and their families mingled, their laughter and chatter filling the air. The atmosphere was deceptively jovial, masking the simmering tension of a world on the brink of chaos.

As Esther moved through the crowd, she adopted a calm, almost detached demeanor. She greeted familiar faces with polite smiles, careful to convey the right balance of respect and confidence. Her family name lent her a certain level of acceptance among these circles, and she used it to her advantage.

Over the course of the evening, she engaged in seemingly casual conversations, listening closely for any hint of information that might serve the Dark Lord. She noted details about upcoming security measures, alliances forming within the Ministry, and whispered rumors of dissent. Each piece of information was committed to memory, to be reported back later. Yet, amidst her observations, a strange feeling of dread crept over her. These were people with families, careers, lives. And yet, here she was, a silent predator among them.

Near the end of the evening, she slipped into a quiet corner to gather her thoughts. As she watched the officials continue their conversations, laughter echoing through the hall, she felt a pang of doubt. But she pushed it down, reminding herself of the consequences of failure.

When she finally returned to the castle that night, the weight of the assignment bore down on her. She spotted Lucius near the entrance, his face unreadable but watchful. He waited as she approached, his arms folded, and she knew he had questions.

"Well?" he asked, his voice low and sharp.

"I have what he wants," she replied, her voice steady but hollow. "The Dark Lord will be pleased."

Lucius gave a brief nod, a glint of satisfaction in his cold gaze. But even as she met his eyes, Esther felt an unshakable sense of isolation. Her life, once defined by certainty and privilege, now felt like an endless performance, each move dictated by a force far beyond her control.

As she returned back at the manor, she realized with chilling clarity that her fate was sealed, tied irrevocably to a path of darkness from which there might be no return. In the flickering shadows of her room, she vowed that, no matter the cost, she would survive. It was all she could hold onto in a world where loyalty was a fragile, dangerous game.

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