Our Corrupted Souls

Part XXI: Look at the Price.

~*~

One would believe darkness to mean solitude, sleep, unconsciousness. But this was not it. Instead, Harry heard things, voices, feel things being done to him. A burning sensation in his arm, one that almost forced his mind to react. Almost. His nerves ignited when a hand grasped his jaw and hot breath hit his face. His eyes snapped open, forcing the woman holding him to push him away. Like a ragged doll, he was launched back against the wall.

"What are you?" she whispered, pale eyes growing with curiosity. "A boy, you seem, but those eyes... they're inhuman."

Harry pushed himself as best as he could. His hood falling from the edge of his head to reveal the angelic face given to such a monster. His eyes glowed a deep emerald like never before, like how a flame grows with the fuel, a powerful magic - familiar - connected with his own. The room he was in was unusually comfortable. Plain forest green walls with empty bookshelves and the covered bed he had laid in only moments prior. A chandelier hung from the ceiling where a white cloth covered its true beauty.

"And since when has a magical child not been special," responded the boy with a quirky smirk, landing his eyes back on the tall lean woman, certainly beautiful. She wore her platinum blonde hair down, each strand defined and perfectly put into place. Her features were sharp, features of a member of the House of Black. His smile widened as the edges of his eyes shone slightly.

"You didn't answer my question," replied Narcissa upfront, head high, a thing that was rare upon Harry's eyes. The youngest Black sister had lost all sense of pride after the war in Harry's reality, instead choosing to hide in the shadows with a black veil to cover her face for being left with the humiliation of the Malfoy name.

"Oh, but I have in a way."

Harry stood on his feet, closing his eyes as he took in a sharp breath. He could feel Narcissa's discomfort, along with her mild irritation, yet chose to ignore it. Instead, he moved towards the furthest wall to the right, coming to a stopping point in front of a wide black door. Since waking up, he has felt this hunger he could not quite grasp. His mind is begging him to move closer to the door - open it. All he could truly do was stand there and contemplate on what could lurk on the other side. Certainly, Death, but different. Death was what he surrounded himself by, death was what his past life was marked by - this, it was not Death. The entity certainly did not appreciate expressing it's capabilities, so why would it allow Harry to feel all of this power?

Something is not right.

Death is not here. He cannot access it's realm.

He was tricked.

The anger that was once before began bubbling up even more.

"Where is Lestrange?"

The question was abruptly said as the boy wheeled around, rage evident in his eyes. Narcissa, who was standing with her fingers intertwined in front of her, raised and unimpressed eyebrow. Though her eyes expressed her fears, her face refused to give anything away. She remained in place, managing to let out a quiet yet stern, "that is none of your inconvenience, boy. Now be quiet before I shut your mouth for you." Harry's brows furrowed, but apart from that, he complied. Like a child, he crossed his arms as he fell on his bum. Satisfied with the boy's reaction, Narcissa walked past Harry, to the door that had taken hold of his attention moments prior, opening it. From where he sat, Harry could not quite see the person she spoke to in whispers. At first, he believed her to be speaking in a foreign tongue, or perhaps to herself, until she lowered her head and a silent "my Lord," escaped her plum lips.

Without turning back, Narcissa stepped out of the room, revealing a tall cloaked figure Harry could not identify. This person's mask, along with everything else he wore, was different from those of the Death Eaters. The changes were subtle, enough that only those who'd been in the inner circle could tell. Harry, who was tasked to face these wizards in his past life, knew every detail of their apparel. He knew this person was a male, simply by his build. He wore a black hooded cloak with thin lines at the seams that upon closer examination, proved to be snakes. Apart from the cloak, his clothing was tightly fitted. Shirt a deep gray turtleneck, hips defined by a black corset and a mask that captivated Harry's attention. A black mask covering the entire face, only the eyes were free for others to see - deep red inhuman eyes partly hidden by curtains of thick lashes. It reflected a human skull, teeth in a straight line with cheekbones defined, almost like the mask was more of a blanket outlining the face hidden beneath.