𝚘𝚛𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 || 𝚜𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚔

III - 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dread:

"to fear greatly; to be in extreme apprehension of: to dread death."

Dark clouds swarmed in the sky that night, threatening to spill their anger over the earth. Miles away from the castle of Hogwarts, hidden deep within a forest, sat a building offering shelter from the rising storm. Within the building was a man, an angry impatient man. Unlike the storm there would be no shelter from his rage, nowhere to hide from it, nowhere to run to escape it.

The man sat in a cold cedar chair facing away from the buildings' door, in his hand he held a wand made of yew. Bursting into the room, disturbing the ghostly silence, came four figures. Two of the figures were violently thrown onto the floor behind his chair. Smiling to himself the man rose from where he sat. Accompanied by a terrifying snake, he slowly made his way around to face them.

"It's a pleasure for you to join us," he addressed the two that laid trembling before him.

With the flick of his hand he motioned for his servants to step back from the captives.

"I was worried you wouldn't come," he grinned wickedly, "I hope you didn't find the flight too rough."

The pair remained silent, both trying to remain still in his presence.

"Get up," he commanded.

The larger of the two slowly began to pick themselves up off the floor, struggling as pain shot through their body. The smaller figure remained on the floor, making slow movements they pushed themselves upwards with as much energy that they had left.

"Didn't you hear me," the man raised his voice, "I said get up!"

Swiftly moving forward he kicked the smaller figure, jarring his black point into their side. Letting out a painful cry they were sent reeling back and crumpled onto the floor.

The larger figure, motivated by fear of more pain, lifted himself onto his feet, not venturing a look back at his partner.

"Oh get her up," the man snapped his fingers at the two henchmen who quickly lifted the figure, a woman, onto her feet and pushed her forward.

Now side by side the man stared the couple down. A man and a woman. Husband and wife. Neither of them dared to lift their eyes for they knew whose presence they were in. It was the man they had sworn their entire lives to, the man they served to any end, the man feared by all who encountered him. Known to some as He Who Must Not Be Named, they stood before their Lord Voldemort.

"Let's not waste time," Voldemort circled around their shivering bodies, "Tell me where she is, and I'll let you go."

"We've said it again and again, we do not know where she is," the man insisted.

"I- don't- believe- you," Voldemort remarked, jabbing his wand into a violently red bruise on the man's raw shoulder.

Wincing in pain the man did not answer.

"He's telling the truth, we don't know where she is," the woman pleaded.

Voldemort's eyes shone wildly with rage, "I'm not here to listen to your lies, tell me where she is!"