A Story of a Short Ending | T.R

Chapter 47 - The Special Treatment

DISCLAIMER: Number 47 is special for a certain author, so this chapter has an abnormally high amount of that said author. Do not worry, it won't happen EVER again. eheheh.

DISCLAIMER 2: The last scene (the last 3637 words) was a requested scene I had no creative control over, I was held at gunpoint and threatened. Just kidding, I had creative control but it was indeed a requested scene. 

Without further ado, please do enjoy.

Which Witch by Florence + The Machine

notre dame by Paris Paloma (when you get to that one scene)

To say they were unsuccessful was to say nothing. Not all of them, as Emily now protected the Manor from the sudden bursts of magic that had previously terrorised the Manor and its inhabitants. It wasn't a short or easy process; it took hours and days of practice, several nosebleeds and one distraught Travers, but she finally got there.

It was a learning process for her and everyone around her on how to yield their magic, use the powers they were given and mostly on how to work yourself to the bone. Riddle was personally overseeing her attempts and training the girls who helped her out. His presence surely added more darkness to the already dreadful Manor, but he insisted he had to see for himself if he was right about Emily and what she could do.

He was right. As usual. In now peaceful house, where chandeliers no longer fell off the ceilings and the portraits didn't slit their own throats, trying to kill the men of the house in the process. Emily's help lifted everyone's spirits and earned her a can of homemade lemon candy from Travers, who, deep down, was okay with dodging chandeliers if it meant not exhausting Emily out of her mind.

But on this note, their successes ended, as they were not making any progress in their attempts to find the secret keeper and gain information about Dumbledore's headquarters' whereabouts. Their arms were elbow deep in blood, their track record painting them in a whole new light, but they had no new pieces of information, just like when they started.

Some of the Order's soldiers kept silent even through the worst of tortures Lestrange put upon them, some refused to say anything even after the calm conversations they had with Angeline, who tried to reason with them without using violence and threats, opening their eyes on who Dumbledore really was, but even then they refused to say a word. It was frustrating, to say the least, when they combed through the various lists and came to a silent stop every single time.

Not a word, not a pained yell, barely any reaction to their action and mostly no fear. All of that was frustrating them to the point of blood boil. These people were either under the strongest of charms or truly devoted their souls to Dumbledore and his cause because none of them crumbled even under the worst of threats to take their lives, not even at promising to take their lives and then all of their family's, including kids. None of them went as far, and none of them took a single life in the line of those interrogations.

They used a better tool to achieve the same goal - make those people useless to Dumbledore. Obliviate was a hell of a spell when used correctly. They wiped all of their memories, making them question their existence and not know which hand is their left and right, not to mention some Dumbledore and his plans.

The women operated in their own way; they obeyed and did what was expected of them, and they tried to get information in all ways they could. Those who weren't against using their physical force did exactly that; those who were better with their social abilities tried to make them talk. They, too, had to wipe the memories after they were done, but in comparison to the men, the women knew compassion. They never said it out loud, but they all understood each other, and so when it came to wiping memories, they wiped everything but those of their families, keeping those people with a home and their loved ones even if it was a risk of them coming back to Dumbledore.