Harry Potter and the Secret Treasures - H.P.S.T Chapter 1534: Shadow Monster

Being a Death Eater was too much pressure for Wormtail, especially at the thought of having to face Sirius Black again, he couldn’t help but tremble… But he had no other choice. The fact that Voldemort hadn’t killed him outright was already a blessing. Peter Pettigrew ran out of the room in a panic.

The room was quiet again, and Voldemort’s red eyes swept slowly across the frightened faces of his followers.

“As I was saying,” he said, “I understand better now. I need to meet the two boys, and I need to get the whereabouts of the scepter from Mason. In addition, I have to kill Potter myself, but I shall need, for instance, to borrow a wand from one of you before I go to kill him.”

The faces around him displayed nothing but shock; he might have announced that he wanted to borrow one of their arms.

Some even stole nervous glances at Voldemort’s left arm, which had been moving in a strange, unnatural way since earlier.

It didn’t look like a human arm at all.

“No volunteers?” said Voldemort slowly. “Let’s see … Lucius, I see no reason for you to have a wand anymore!”

Lucius Malfoy looked up. His skin appeared yellowish and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“My Lord?”

“Your wand, Lucius. I require your wand.”

“I …”

Malfoy glanced sideways at his wife. She was staring straight ahead, quite as pale as he was, her long blonde hair hanging down her back, but beneath the table her slim fingers closed briefly on his wrist.

At her touch, Malfoy put his hand into his robes, withdrew a wand, and passed it along to Voldemort, who held it up in front of his red eyes, examining it closely.

“What is it?”

“Elm, my Lord,” whispered Malfoy.

“And the core?”

“Dragon — dragon heartstring.”

“Good,” said Voldemort. He drew out his own wand and compared the lengths. Lucius Malfoy made an involuntary movement; for a fraction of a second, it seemed he expected to receive Voldemort’s wand in exchange for his own. The gesture was not missed by Voldemort, whose eyes widened maliciously.

“Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?”

Some of the throng sniggered, and the Death Eaters looked gloating at Malfoy.

“I have given you your liberty, Lucius, is that not enough for you? But I have noticed that you and your family seem less than happy of late. … What is it about my presence in your home that displeases you, Lucius?” 

“Nothing — nothing, my Lord!”

“Such lies, Lucius …” Voldemort’s voice grew colder and colder, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop with it. The Death Eaters stopped sniggering, and they all fell silent. A few timid ones barely repressed a shudder.

“Why do the Malfoys look so unhappy with their lot? Is my return, my rise to power, not the very thing they professed to desire for so many years?”

“Of course, my Lord,” said Lucius Malfoy. His hand shook as he wiped sweat from his upper lip. “We did desire it — we do.”

To Malfoy’s left, his wife made an odd, stiff nod.

To his right, his son, Draco, who had been gazing up at the inert body overhead, glanced quickly at Voldemort and away again, terrified to make eye contact. Since the day he’d been brought back by Snape, he’d felt trapped in a nightmare from which he could never awaken.

Dumbledore was right. He was not someone who could kill. And yet, Dumbledore had died right in front of him.

Night after night, Draco woke from nightmares, always seeing the same image: Dumbledore falling to his death.

But the more terrifying thing came from this house, from his own home. Ever since Voldemort had taken up residence here, everything had changed.

As the current headquarters of the Death Eaters, in Malfoy Manor, not only had the atmosphere changed, but Draco had begun seeing something — shadows, but not ordinary ones. He didn’t know how to describe what he saw. At first, he thought he was imagining things. But after seeing them again and again, he realized they were real.

Those shadowy, monster-like forms didn’t seem to belong to this world. They would suddenly appear in rooms, terrifying him half to death, and then vanish after a few seconds.

Even when he tried to touch them, there was nothing — they were only shadows.

That seemed to be some kind of evil Dark magic. Draco was not sure. What was more depressing was that he dared not tell this matter to anybody, not even to his parents.

Because he wasn’t sure if he had stumbled upon one of Voldemort’s secrets … if he was the only one who could see them. And if he spoke up recklessly — there was a fear inside him that was worse than death itself. Draco now felt that fear completely and undeniably.

As Draco struggled to push those thoughts away, a voice burst out to his left, filled with excitement.

“My Lord,” said the dark woman, her voice constricted with emotion, “it is an honor to have you here, in our family’s house. There can be no higher pleasure.”

She sat beside her sister, as unlike her in looks, with her dark hair and heavily lidded eyes, as she was in bearing and demeanor; where Narcissa sat rigid and impassive, Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

“No higher pleasure,” repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. “That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you.”

Her face flooded with color; her eyes welled with tears of delight.

“My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!”

“No higher pleasure … even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?”

She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.

“I don’t know what you mean, my Lord…”

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.”

There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

Marrying a werewolf — that was a disgrace to the family.

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