The Dreamer's Curse

Light in the Manor

[Chapter 31]

Two months of Lucius Malfoy’s wrath was what I had expected. Instead, I fell victim to Bellatrix’s. She insisted on a couple of torture hours before seven—before the Malfoys had supper. Today was no different.

I crumpled to the floor once more. Sweat poured down my back. My hands shook and my teeth chattered. She laughed, her teeth shining in the yellow light of the drawing room. 

“Tell me what you’ve hidden in him,” she said, her tone almost bored, “tell me what the Dark Lord needs to know.”

I spat blood from my mouth, staining the patterned carpet. 

“Sorry,” I gasped for air, “it’s a secret.”

Bellatrix screamed in frustration. Another jolt of pain scorched through me, as though molten lava had been injected into my veins, replacing my blood. My teeth sank into my lip, and my mouth filled with blood. I fought to keep consciousness.

“That’s enough,” Lucius Malfoy bellowed from his chair. He pretended to be absorbed by the morning’s newspaper. “The Dark Lord wants her alive and functioning, Bella.”

I glanced up at him, witnessing his eyes soften momentarily in my direction. Narcissa’s lip went rigid beside her husband.

Bellatrix scoffed. “You’re nothing but a coward, spineless—”

“Bella!” Narcissa hissed. “Not another word against my husband.”

Bellatrix shrugged and turned her nose up. “Fine. Wormtail, take her back to the cellars.”

A pair of hands lifted me roughly from the ground. Wormtail’s overgrown nails dug into my now bony arm. He threw me over his shoulder and brought me down. With each step, I felt myself ram against his enormous body. The only consolation was how squishy Wormtail was. 

“You should just tell her,” he advised as he unlocked the door to the dungeons.

“Why?” I said in a raspy voice. “Draco would no longer be protected.”

“You don’t have to protect him…” his voice sounded pleading, as if he wanted to prove something. Prove what? That anyone would have done what he did? That his betrayal against James Potter was justified?

Or did he just want someone else to share his guilt?

The iron grating sprung open and he threw me inside. I spat blood into his face.

“I’ll protect him until my death.”

Wormtail made an ugly face before slamming the door and leaving. I waited a good while before reaching into my shirt and pulling my wand from my pouch. 

“Mr Ollivander!”

The old man awoke from his sleep. His white eyes searched the darkness. 

“Jane?” he croaked. 

“Just a second,” I crawled further into the cellar before muttering the spell. “Lumos!”

The darkness remained, still forcing us to grope in it like toads. I cursed under my breath and stuffed my wand back into my pouch. My compass hummed against my chest again, its pointer turning and turning. 

The old man drew water from the only water jug in the room. 

“Here,” he said, pressing the cup to my lips.

I gulped the water greedily. 

“Thank you,” I muttered, wiping the corners of my mouth. 

I gave the wandmaker a quick glance. His hands were quivering from the biting cold. His face blackened by dirt. The wandmaker’s face was gaunt and tired. He frequently awoke at night, screaming and thrashing. The nightmares intensified after Bellatrix’s torture sessions.