A Family To Remember (Book 1)

4 - Despair

"My Lord!" Bellatrix exclaimed, panicked. "Are you alright?" She helped him to his feet, but Voldemort shrugged her off angrily.

"I'm fine," he snapped, before eagerly looking at Harry. "Somebody, check that the boy is finally dead."

He looked around at his Death Eaters before he pointed at Narcissa Malfoy.

"You! Narcissa. Check his pulse."

"Yes, Lord Voldemort," Narcissa said, nodding obediently.

She walked over to Harry's body and crouched over it carefully. Despite Harry being the bane of her 'leader', of sorts, she would still be respectful of his dead body.

She hoped he survived this time (again). It would be her only way of finding out if Draco survived.

(Oh, she hoped he did. She didn't know what she would do without him. His father had been corrupted a long time ago, her son was the only thing left that was important to her.)

She felt for Harry's pulse in his neck.

She felt nothing.

Narcissa hastily tried his arm. Nothing.

She checked his breathing, his heartbeat, but she knew what would happen. Nothing.

Harry Potter was well and truly dead.

(And, really, all she could do was blame herself.)

In desperation, even though Narcissa knew what she was going to find, she pulled back one of Harry's eyelids to find dull, expressionless, emotionless eyes staring back at her.

Could they even be counted as eyes anymore?

She turned to Voldemort, still begging for Harry to open his eyes and jump up, smirking as he fought the Dark Lord.

(Narcissa regretted it all now.)

"Dead," she said, choosing smaller words. She couldn't risk her voice cracking and her true emotions being revealed.

She quickly turned away, wiping a lone tear that had fell down against her will away. As she did so, she regained her composure quickly, facing the Dark Lord barely ten seconds later.

Despite the fact that Narcissa felt her entire world had been shattered, the other Death Eaters cheered and celebrated their victory.

"See!" Voldemort crowed, snarling at the dead boy on the ground. "I killed Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived! Me! Crucio!"

Harry's form writhed on the ground, not making a sound, nor uttering a single word.

It almost confirmed to Narcissa that he really, well and truly was dead.

Nobody could withstand the Cruciatus curse without making a sound for that long.

She kept her back to the Death Eaters, having to wipe her eyes again.

It was likely that her son would never come out of that dark hole he'd fallen into.

She didn't want to celebrate. How were all of these people so morbid that they would celebrate a teenage boy's death?

Now the Dark Lord's reign would never finish. They would be forced to stay under his rule forever. He'd won.

Narcissa would be forced to continue to slay people, pretending she enjoyed it, laughing as the family members sobbed their hearts out.