Serenity | 1

FORTY

"You Promised"

September 1979, 4 years later

The dark mark slithering across her forearm as the Dark Lord summoned her, Dara rushed through the halls of her childhood home. Bare feet catching on the wooden floorboards, a splinter stung her skin and yet she continued to run. With each second that she had yet to apparate to her Lord her arm burned and her breathing began to quicken.

She needed her boys.

Her twins had remained on the estate during her journey through the dark arts and now it was time for them to join her; all sorts of excitement coursed through her veins as she barged into the room where they lay asleep.

"Maccy! Winnie! Come on boys, wake up!" The two men stirred and squinted up to see their mother in complete shock.

"Mum?" Winston questioned groggily as he wiped some hair from his face with his shrivelled hand. "What are you doing here?" Dara fluttered between them, dragging them out of their beds to reveal their matching pyjama bottoms. Her heart swelled at the sight and she stroked Cormac's cheek momentarily before the Dark Mark sent yet another searing shoot of pain up her arm.

"No time to talk, we're going to fix you. Both of you." She went to grab their hands but hesitated, settling on grasping each of them by the arm and apparating away.

As they landed in a dimly lit cobblestoned room, the twins instantly shivered at the chill that smacked their bare chests and tickled their spines. In a chair was an even more chilling sight. The Dark Lord himself sat watching them and suddenly they felt completely naked. His snake-like eyes raked over them and it was clear he would have turned his nose up at them- should he have possessed one at the time. A large snake was wrapped around the chair where it was hissing lowly at them.

"This is them?" He questions Dara. She bows her head respectfully.

"Yes, my lord. I have done everything you asked and more, I only ask that you uphold the promise you made. The promise to heal them." The twins shared a wary look and shuffled closer together. Voldemort stood.

"Heal them?" Dara nods and smiles fondly at her boys.

"Yes, m'Lord. Their hands were crippled by a curse and we could not reverse it." This then made Cormac place his hands behind his back, unwilling to be displayed to this... this monster. Winston, on the other hand, held up his arms to reveal how his fingers curled inwards on unnaturally small palms. Voldemort nods and approaches the men, Winston first.

"Will you join my following if I gift you new hands?" Immediately, he nods. Revealing his forearm, Winston can feel the approving gaze of his mother and shocked face of his own brother. It burnt as the dark mark seared itself into his skin. The ink crawled from the Dark Lord's wand into his arm and crawled around to form the skull image that filled any non-death eaters with dread. With the mark now on his arm, Winston looked up at the grey man expectantly.

"My hands? My Lord?" Voldemort tuts.

"Only if your brother does too." Cormac crosses his arms and spits at the floor by the Dark Lord's feet. Face completely void of emotion, Voldemort relished in the sharp breath taken by the fool's family. "Foolish boy." He states calmly. "Avada Kedavra!" As quickly as the spell was announced, Cormac fell dead once the green magic hit him.

Dara screamed a terrible scream that did not cease until Voldemort hissed 'silencio' followed by 'incarcerous'.

Winston was at a loss. He felt as though a part of him had been torn away, half of his body ached and yelled while the other half simply felt numb and broken. He felt as useless as his hands when he looked to his mother whose screams were cut off before they could even make a noise, she struggled to move as she wriggled behind the bonds to tame her. He wanted to run to her, comfort her, do anything to calm her and- yet, Cormac would have been alive if she hadn't woken them up and brought them here; they wouldn't be here at all if the Dark Lord did not exist. Yes- it was his fault. That monster's fault.

Before he could summon any magic, however, Voldemort had locked him in an unbelievable stare-down. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. He didn't even register that his mother had stopped squirming and was simply watching them now, chest heaving and cheeks tear-stained.

"Nagini," Voldemort spoke silently, the name was the last thing he spoke before a string of incomprehensible sounds came from his mouth. The parseltongue terrified Winston more than his sudden inability to move or think. 'Dinner' is what the Dark Lord had said to the snake, but all Winston and Dara heard was a horrifying hiss from the reptile as it raised its head up and struck the twenty-one-year-old.

Dara went back to struggling and crying and helplessly watching her final son die. He convulsed and shook with each strike of the snake. One. Two. Three strikes and he was dead. His dead eyes were still open when his head lolled to look to Dara and when she finally made eye contact with him all she felt was empty.

When Voldemort left with Nagini, they left her to wallow in her silence and binds until the spells wore off. She'd fallen onto her side and was now stuck staring at her son whose chest was punctured with snake bites. All she could think of as she closed her eyes and willed him away was that this was her fault. She was foolish enough to believe the propaganda placed in front of her, so naive as to think she could trust yet another man notorious for his empty promises and cruel mind.