Harry Potter One Shots

To Eat Death

All rights belong to the author, Nanaho-Hime

Death Eaters are a different brand of human being, powerful beyond belief, but enslaved beyond hope. When they become Death Eaters, they lose their names, their identities and their dreams; offer it to the Dark Lord in exchange for power and security. It is this power and security that is constantly in jeopardy.

When the Dark Mark is engraved into their arms, it burns in a way that is inhuman, incomprehensible. It is their contract and their curse and it will never be removed from their arms (never mentally at least).

They do not understand what it means to eat death, but they do understand what it means to be tools. It is his every beck and call that becomes their mantra, and eventually they come to view it as their greatest regret.

He is the puppeteer, and they are the puppets in his show, soulless, dangling fools in an empty play. Atrocities that are committed are redeemable because they are done in his name, but when he is gone, they wonder if all will be forgiven.

It doesn't seem likely.

He is the charismatic tempter. He knows (he always knows) their deepest desires and he plays them like violins, making promises he cannot keep, and offering them riches he does not have. Some follow him because they truly believe, some follow him out of fear and others follow him to speculate.

All sacrifice to do it.

Many forget what it is like to live with honor (because they gave that to him too), but many are willing to exchange it for the lives they love so desperately. They suppose that is what it means; to eat death is to love life.

Or at least that's how they convince themselves the cause is worthwhile.

It is impossible to run from him, impossible to back away when things go too far, or when they're in too deep. The Mark burns, burns black and ugly, and they have no choice but to answer. They would do anything to stop the misery that seeps from the mark and into their hearts.

A few do enjoy the screams of their victims. The Dark Lord likes to point out, that to be true Death Eaters; they must feed off the pain of others, gain strength from the abject misery of those who have chosen not to save themselves.

Others wonder, if perhaps it is the mudbloods, and blood traitors who are the lucky ones. Perhaps they are the ones who have beaten death. It is a treasonous crime, punishable by death, and so it is never voiced aloud for fear of the Dark Lord's wrath.

Sometimes, when he speaks to them, inspires them, they can forget that they are human. It is his words that they cling to when they are sent to destroy. When their victims cry, beg, appeal to their humanity they remember the Dark Lord's empty promises and they curse, torture, kill. It does not do to remember humanity, or then the madness will settle in. There are only so many times the soul can be torn apart before the mind deteriorates as well (and if that doesn't do it the screams are sure to push you to insanity).

Some can forget their humanity entirely, and they become fragmented shells, broken and unaware and so horrifyingly twisted that it is a wonder that they ever were human, but many others can never forget and that is the punishment for their sins. Many look at their wives and sons and daughters and could die with the guilt, die with the horror of the blood on their hands, of the wives and sons and daughters they have killed.

The first kill is always the hardest. Even among the most bloodthirsty, there is nothing comparable to the chasm that forms when you take away a soul. Few wonder, if they are supposed to dish out death at such an unnatural rate. If they are trying to conquer the invincible enemy why is it that they deal with it so much? After a while it becomes difficult to believe that they ever were trying to escape the inevitable that surrounded them.

In the last dismal, bleak days of the First War it is chaos. Their lord and master is gone, the creator of their contract has fallen and it leaves them all floundering. They had sold him their identities, their names, and he had taken them with him to the grave. The end of the First War ends with the death of the desperate and the careful reconstruction of the lives of the survivors.

That is what they get for their recklessness; that is what they get for faith in a cause that is greater than them and greater than the instigator who recruited them. The miserable irony is humorous for the mad, and bitter to swallow for the others (because most of them do go mad in the end). In the end, the term Death Eater is merely an empty phrase, an void title, because no mortal has the chance to truly eat death (after all, they never even came close).

The glory of the Second War leaves them all hoping, that maybe, maybe all would be forgiven. The Dark Lord is alive and he will reward them beyond their wildest dreams. The ministry falls, Hogwarts is under their command. Maybe it is possible to believe their sacrifice will have not been for naught. Maybe, just maybe, the Dark Lord's promises are not empty. Greatness, power, security are just around the corner.

And then he falls for good, and it is the end of the Death Eater dream. All the blood they had shed stains their fingers and their long lost honors. Dreams that they had traded over to fulfill his dream are dead and broken, just like him. In the end he was merely mortal, just like they were.

They do not know what it means to eat death, merely what it means to love duty and life. Unfortunately they are not one in the same.