Chapter 133: August 25, 1994: Tetani Nervum
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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]
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A man dressed in Death Eater garb ran through the field while occasionally looking at his back in fear and terror. His breathing was laboured from sprinting. He was not used to running, but the threat of pain and possible death was a great motivator. He peered forward at the almost dark night. The moon was the only light source. He ran towards the forest that he could see in the distance. The thought of using a Lumos to spread some light in the misty fields didn't even crack into his mind because of the danger it could bring him.
'I just need to get to the forest,' thought the man. 'I shall be safe then... safe from that demon.'
Today, he had entered the campsite with a prim-perfect Death Eater uniform that he hadn't worn in a decade, but now that same uniform had tears and burns. It was ripped in some places and caked with blood from the wounds that were below it.
'It wasn't supposed to go like this.'
They only wanted to get drunk and have some fun with the muggle and the muggleborn. They craved to bathe in the glory they had before they had been crushed all those years ago by the Light faction. Then, they were forced to hide their injured pride and live their lives without the power that they had when the Dark Lord was with them.
Not all Death Eaters were as rich as the likes of Malfoy and couldn't strut around like nothing happened after their reign broke. Many of them had to keep their heads down and act carefully as the Light faction built their power. With James Potter in a leading position, he and a group of light-aligned Aurors started to get particularly interested in their dealings.
Today was supposed to be a day where they could blow off steam. To show their power and superiority to foreigners and the British wizarding society. It was an audience that they wouldn't be able to have even when their Lord was alive, and they wanted to make good use of it.
Everything had begun smoothly as they captured the muggle family and played with them while defacing the hideous muggle tents that everybody had set up to 'blend in.' Just the sight of wizards trying to pretend as muggles made their stomachs turn, and they wanted nothing more than to destroy the disgusting things that were beneath them.
But then 'it' arrived. He and his companion weren't sure if it was even human. I didn't sound like a human, and its actions and magic were feral. Its spells were powerful, viscous with magic, and every attack that came their way was aimed as if trying to obliterate them.
He wasn't used to facing dark spells; it had been years since they had faced attacks like these. During their Lord's rise to power, the Aurors were authorized to use the Unforgivable Curses on suspects, but after that, he hadn't faced a single dark spell in his life. He recalled the stories of Aurors casting Cruciatus Curse on them and the rare Killing Curse, but nothing like the spells he had witnessed today.
Bone breakers, flesh stripping spells or blood boiling curses... and he could go on. He had seen horrifying spells of dark magic. The Cruciatus Curse only gave them the screams, but these showed them real pain and horror.
The Death Eater finally saw a ghostly blue of the forest in front of him, and hope returned to him. 'I can finally apparate,' he thought. Facing those horrifying curses, everyone had the thought of apparating away from the danger. But every time they could muster enough concentration to safely launch an apparition -which was hard considering the sheer horror gore around them- the demon would hit them with a dark spell.
The group realised that they wouldn't have a chance to apparate if they stayed together because the demon would easily target them. So everyone ran in different directions; every person for themselves. He remembered the screams of his friends when he turned his back. He had to hold back the impulse to stop and see what had happened, but he didn't dare.
The heaving and huffing Death Eater was a stone's throw distance away from the forest, but then, he felt an explosive force down on his legs and was sent flying away. He rolled on the ground like a broken doll, and his heart thumped in terror.
'No! I'm close,' thought the man. 'I can make it. I just need to take a few steps. I will be safe.'
The tenacity in the face of death was an impressive force. The Death Eater could see the forest, and all his being was focused on getting to it. He ignored the fact that a spell had hit him and got up... only to collapse back on the ground.
"Huh?"
He hadn't collapsed because of an attack. He had fallen because his left foot hadn't pushed him off the ground. He tried again, but he missed, and the left foot didn't make it to the ground again. The man hastily looked at his left foot to see what the problem was and saw an ankle-less stump in place of his foot.
The world started to blur and spin as a guttural scream escaped the man. "My leeeegg! No, my leg!" The pain that came when he realised he had lost his leg made the man more and more desperate. He clutched his paining leg with one hand and started to drag himself to the forest. His mind was filled with getting to the forest so that he could live.
Then he felt something grip his right leg, and his heart inside his chest dropped low; for a couple of seconds, the man thought that his heart had stopped beating. Everything went silent for a split-second before reality set on him, and at the same time, his body was pulled back by whatever was clutching his right leg.
"NoooOOoooOoOOoo! LET ME GOOOO! ForgIve meEeEEe!"
Without a shred of care, the man was dragged away from the forest. His left leg, which no longer had anything below the ankle, brutally met the ground as the open wound was caked with dirt. The Death Eater thrashed, clutched the grass with his hands, and tried everything to stop being dragged away from the forest; alas, nothing worked, and soon the forest only seemed a blur in the darkness.
The man eventually stopped struggling and clutched his wand tight in his hand. If he couldn't escape, then he wasn't going down without a fight. If today was the day he died, then he was going to take the demon with him.
As he continued to get dragged, his body froze when he heard screams. Screams of asking someone to stop, painful moans of apologies and dreadful cries of misery. His relatively shallow breathing returned to its previous laboured state.
The dragging came to a sudden stop, and the man found himself between two other bodies that he recognised as being Death Eaters that had joined the march today. He shivered as he watched that one of them had his entire right leg missing while the other one had deep gashes all across his body.
His attention was pulled from the horrifying scene when he felt a chill on his leg and saw that his ankle-less stump was now covered in ice... just like everyone else's injuries were. His body tensed as the ice was too cold, and it stung like needles being dug into his flesh. Even a single twitch on his leg would send shock and pain across his leg.
"Oh, servants of the Dark Lord. Your glory is forgotten, just like a mere memory," The man heard the distorted voice of the demon as he fought through the pain. "You, who hold yourselves as superior, are now laying down in the mud. You, who committed abominations at this festivity and in the past, are now paying the price."
The demon —Quinn— looked at the man that he had just dragged to this place, and with a wave, stripped the Death Eater's wand out of hand. He caught the Death Eater's wand and clenched his fist to snap the wand in half. The now useless pieces of wood were dropped near a pile of similarly snapped wands.
"Is this the audacity from an order fallen a decade past," he spoke, his voice distorted. "You mongrels played with the weak and covered under the strong... Today, you shall feel what is to be unfortunate. Today will be the day that shall haunt you. You shall remember it as the day that you lost the one thing that made you special."
Quinn took a deep breath and focused his magic; he ignored the wails and screams from the almost fifteen people lying around him. They were the people that Quinn had managed to catch and injure enough so they weren't in condition to run away.
A ghastly reddish-black spell resembling soot and haze emanated from Quinn's entire body and slowly wafted down towards the ground. The Death Eater, who had been only hearing the distorted voice of the demon, watched as a reddish-black smoke slowly started to build on the ground, originating from the center of the circle they were all lying in.
Those who could witness through the pain had their eyes stuck on the reddish-black smokey unknown that was rolling down in small waves, and as it moved towards them with deathly silence, their senses screamed that this was something dangerous and deadly. They could feel that this was a magic of the darkest kinds, something that oozed evil.
Soon the fifteen people were covered in the reddish-black mist. Quinn looked up at the sky and reinforced his decision about what he was going to do. He closed his eyes and recalled the young child who had gone unconscious, yet the scum continued to spin him like a toy top. The rage returned, and with it, his decision solidified as if it was stone.
"Tetani Nervum." Quinn breathed out, and even though he only used nonverbal spells, this was special. He whispered the words that disappeared among the terrified Death Eaters, who broke the silence of the night.
"I curse you with a body that shall betray you. "
The reddish-black mist agitated as it started to radiate in an ominous blood-red light, and with that began the horrifying screams.
"I curse you to a life with magic that shall be near, yet far from you."
The Death Eaters' entire bodies spasmed uncontrollably. Then, the blood-red mist glowed brighter. The spasms grew wilder.
"I curse you with the constant reminder that you are no longer better..."
An uncontrollable pain flowed through their nerves and, along with it, came an unbearable burning feeling.
Quinn looked up at the sky and whispered ever so slightly, "I curse you ."
The mist shone once with a short bright burst of blood-red. Then, it vanished in the breeze of the cold night.
'So this is how it feels, huh,' thought Quinn, staring at the circle of spasming bodies.
The curse, Tetani Nervum, had been a spell of his. It had been a curse he had created last year. By utilising his recently gained knowledge of healing magic and human anatomy and combining it with some really questionable knowledge he had found in the Room Of Requirement and his own personal library, Quinn had been able to create a really 'dark' spell. He had only a few, though.
Tetani Nervum had been inspired by the well-known disease Tetanus. Tetanus is a bacterial infection characterized by muscle spasms that could range anywhere from light tremors to spasms severe enough to fracture bones. Other symptoms of Tetanus included fever, sweating, headaches, trouble swallowing, high blood pressure, and a fast heart rate. But for his spell, Quinn had focused on the spasms that tortured the infected.
The motivation behind Tetani Nervum had been to disable the target's body. The bacteria that caused Tetanus functioned by creating toxins that interfered with motor neurons. This interfered with the regular muscle contractions. Quinn also targeted the motor neurons in the nerves but replaced the bacteria with magic. The nervous system would continuously interfere with muscle contractions and would cause the body to spasm. As long as the curse was active, the target wouldn't be able to move a single muscle in their body. Their entire nervous system would be out of their own control and at mercy of Quinn's magic.
But the sole function of Tetani Nervum wasn't replicating Tetanus spasms. The spasms were just the carrier of the actual damage of the spell. The real aim of Tetani Nervum came from the word 'Nervum', which was the Latin word for 'nerves'. While Tetanus spasms ran rampant, the curse would dig through the nervous system and severely damage it.
And just like most of the 'dark' curses, Tetani Nervum had the added feature of being resistant to healing magic. If the target was brought to the hospital, the medi-healers would immediately notice the signs of wounds caused by 'dark' curses. Besides that, Tetani Nervum was a new curse that had been created from the knowledge of different magical cultures, which meant that the medi-healers would have a tough time even knowing where to start. Meaning that the nerves affected by the corrosive magic would be... lost and not able to function.
Quinn looked at the piles of bodies. More specifically, their arms and hands. He had snapped their wands and disabled their hands and arms. To wand users who relied on the external focus meant that they would no longer be able to draw on magic, practically turning them into squibs. They still had their magic but no way to access it.
But unlike Quinn, these Death Eaters had been using wands for decades which meant wands had integrated themselves into their magic system. Consequently, if you took the focus from them, they would be useless.
"... I believe that people are capable of change," said Quinn. He didn't care whether his victims were listening to him or not. "Perhaps I'll come back to you to see if you have repented. Understand the severity of your actions and the consequences of decisions. If that day I see that you have truly repented, then your hands and, thus, your magic, shall be returned. That day, you will be reborn. I hope you have a better life then."
Tetani Nervum had been Quinn's creation, which meant that he also knew how to cure it. He could reverse the effects and free them from the curse. Quinn had already peaked inside their minds to note their names. If one day, these people changed for the better, he would undo the curse.
Quinn stood up straight. His work was done. Other than these Death Eaters, all of the others had already fled. Quinn had considered putting an anti-apparition ward around the campsite, but that would mean that bystanders wouldn't be able to apparate out.
'These are enough,' thought Quinn. 'These many will be enough to instill fear.'
Quinn was about to apparate out of the campsite, but he stopped to look at the left to see a blue spell-light zapping towards him. Quinn tilted his head, and just before the blue spell-light reached Quinn, it crashed into an orange translucent magic shield. The blue spell tried to pierce through the orange obstacle, but all of its effects were for naught as it couldn't get past. It fizzled away as the magic ran out.
'Reducto,' thought Quinn, and as the shield turned down, he saw the offender who launched a spell at him and surprisingly, but not shockingly, saw Sirius Black with his wand pointing at him. Quinn noticed that Sirius's eyes were moving between him and behind him.
"... Hmm?"
Quinn's eyes gleamed in understanding as he turned the magic back up, which was the right decision as another spell assaulted his shield. The only difference was that it was aimed at his back. Quinn turned around to see James Potter also pointing his wand at him.
'Ah, they were checking,' Quinn deduced. He was invisible, and the first spell from Sirius was to see if there was anyone in his place. The second spell from James was one to take him down after confirmation.
"You... the one who's there, immediately surrender," shouted Sirius.
"Drop the disillusionment and throw your wand away," yelled James. "Nobody needs to get..." James looked at the pile of bodies. "... more injured."
"It seems I have overstayed my welcome," whispered Quinn and errantly waved his hand for a layer of ice forming a dome around him. It was just thick enough to bear the force of one spell and it gave just enough time for Quinn to apparate.
And with a pop, Quinn was gone. Not even a second after, the ice dome was shredded into shards by the combined efforts of James and Sirius.
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[
A/N:
How was it? My first 'dark' spell. Tetani Nervum. I always wanted to make a spell inspired by something medical, and this spell came out.
You all heard Quinn's motivation to create the spell. Let's talk about mine. I simply want Quinn's first kill to be... special... and not some rando Death Eaters. But, I wanted Quinn to gain a method to disable people without killing them.
When Quinn does kills someone, I want to add some drama, emotion, struggle, hesitation, and other stuff to mark it as a monumental point in Quinn's life.
]
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Quinn West - Spell creator - "Need to use weird English..."
FictionOnlyReader - Author - Next chapter is reactions. (2+1)
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Chapter 134: August 25, 1994: As The Night Sets
If you want to read ahead, you can check out my Patreón @
[ https://www.patreón.com/fictiononlyreader ]
The link is also in the synopsis.
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[The chapter is edited by my Editor: Alan_Loo/AlanL]
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In a clearing between a circling of trees, a pop rang, breaking the silence of the night, and a Quinn West dressed in shades of green apparated into an environment suited to his camouflage. Soft steps pressed against the ground, moving the boy forward. The green clothes turned the original white.
Audible breathing could be heard in the silence as Quinn's back slid down against the trunk of a tree. He sat down with his legs stretched straight. His arms rested between his thighs. His head hung low with the eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in tension, distress, and confusion.
While emotion was a powerful source of magic, it had its own demerits. Emotion could do wonders and elevate the user's magic to the next level when used correctly, but at the same time it would be hard to reign when they exceeded a limit. This would cause some repercussions. The general consensus about some of the vilest dark magic being harmful to the user came actually from the effects emotion gave, as most of those spells required strong emotions to function. Usually, emotions of the negative kind.
Quinn focused on his erratic heartbeat inside his chest in an attempt to calm down and wind down the rage he felt. Seeing the Death Eater's behaviour towards the muggle family had riled up Quinn more than he had imagined.
This wasn't saying that Quinn was a saint; he would use magic too on non-magicals every time he went out to the muggle society. Legilimency on a crowd of unsuspecting non-magicals was one of Quinn's favourite uses of mind magic. He would peek into their minds but he would never use anything he saw against them. He simply used them for practice and research purposes. Quinn never harmed them, and with the time he spent in the non-magical society, it seemed he wouldn't be meeting people who needed to be stopped soon.
Quinn felt the rage attach itself to his magic and go through his body, the residual influence of the rage-filled magic when anger had been out of control. His fists clenched hard to stop from lashing out physically or magically.
'Calm down, calm down, calm down...'
The words repeated inside his mind as Quinn tried to calm himself down. When he channeled his rage, he didn't feel the effect, but after the outlet closed, the anger would bubble inside. Using emotion-based occlumency to keep the emotions in check wouldn't help as the protection magic didn't erase emotions. It simply blocked them.
He had to manually calm himself down to get out of his current predicament. Emotion-based occlumency wouldn't work, but memory-based occlumency could undoubtedly help.
Quinn opened his eyes to find himself standing face-to-face with a grand mansion that elicited comfort and ease. He entered the structure through the rich, brown elegant doors. Walking on the marbled floor, which reflected him in their shiny, smooth allurement, Quinn gazed around to study the numerous doors lining the corridors.
He stopped in front of one of the doors and twisted the golden doorknob to enter the room. Inside, rows of bookshelves greeted him with books filled neatly, ready for him to pick one and dive in. He strolled through the rows of shelves, browsing through the shelves. Some had books on the left, some on the right, others had space in the middle, but all had one thing in common: brown books with golden linings.
The touch of the cool leather against his finger as he pulled a book out seemed natural. Quinn's eyes studied the book as his hands felt the weight; there was no title on the book, but Quinn already knew what it was. He raised his free hand, placed it on the cover, and closed his eyes for an entirely new scene to unfold in front of him.
A party of laughter greeted Quinn's ears, and when he opened his eyes, he beheld Lia, George, Elliot, and Ms. Rosey sitting around a table with him there alongside them. 'His' hands moved on their own and threw a pair of cards on the table. Lia stretched her arms and retained the pile of galleons that were on the table while Elliot collected the cards that everybody put on the table.
'The poker party from three years ago,' recalled Quinn, recognising the family activity that the West family had played once a while. A smile bloomed on Quinn's face as he looked at the scene through his eyes. He was a passenger inside his own body, re-living the memory through the wonders of mind magic.
The mental replica of the West manor held all of his cherished and happy memories. Whenever Quinn experienced something peaceful, happy or positive; something that was close to his heart, he would take the memory out of his mind-Hogwarts and put it inside the manor. It was a haven that Quinn had made so he could walk in and enjoy everything good that he had in his life.
And it seemed to be working as Quinn outside felt his heart gradually calm down. The burning feeling of lashing out slowly subsided, and a serene smile made its way to Quinn's face. After a couple of minutes, Quinn opened his eyes. They had lost the irritation he had and were back to his usual cool, collected rested state.
"Always remember... add something to maintain balance," said Quinn, groaning as he stood up from beneath the tree.
Quinn's personal rule for using intense emotions was to attach another feeling that would ensure that he wasn't solely running on a single emotion. Most of the time, the complementary emotion that granted Quinn control wasn't as strong as the primary fueling emotion, but it was enough for Quinn to escape the after-effects.
"I should've used something similar from the beginning," sighed Quinn, cracking his back. Controlling his emotions while using rage would've reduced the power by a margin, but Quinn wouldn't have suffered later like he just did.
"As expected, Tetani Nervum for more than a dozen people at the same time isn't a mere trifle."
The haze and smoke-styled spell was different from the usual light-shot spell or the invisible spell. It had been designed in Africa to cast compatible spells in an area instead of targeting something at a time. The downside of this mode of delivery was that it took increased focus and magic volume requirements. Luckily for Quinn, he had plenty of both.
Quinn had accomplished what he wanted despite the problems and difficulties he had had while participating in a possible life-threatening situation.
'Tetani Nervum... Test subject count: fifteen. Initial results: excellent, severe nerve damage with residual magic that won't allow recovery," whispered Quinn to himself in an analytical tone. "Human test phase, stage one, complete. Stage two: short term observation of the acquired subjects will commence tomorrow.'
Quinn had wanted test subjects for his newest curse and, because of the magic's nature, he wanted human test subjects. The timing had heen perfect as the Word Cup would be the ideal place to get those subjects. Human subjects that Quinn could use without guilt and morals plaguing his consciousness. Fifteen Death Eater who enjoyed dealing torment and torture. This was all the justification Quinn needed to convince himself.
He looked up at the bright crescent moon peeking from behind the night clouds, and...
"Ah, shit! I'm late! Damn, damn, damn, grandfather is going to bite my head off."
For him, the Quidditch World Cup was now over, and just like Ireland, he had come out on top.
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James Potter and Sirius Black watched from a side as the St. Mungo's hospital staff carefully lifted the battered and broken bodies onto their stretchers.
"That's dark magic, all right," said James Potter. "I didn't think I would see something like this during the World Cup."
"Sickening, isn't it?" agreed Sirius Black. And that was saying something, with their career as Aurors for the Ministry. As Aurors, they had seen some extreme stuff, and this was definitely in the upper levels of the most horrifying things they had seen with magic.
James Potter looked at the unconscious people, clad in Death Eater garbs. Some still twitched and spasmed, while a few had broken bones throughout their bodies. Some of them had some part of their legs cut-off.
"Do you recognise the magic?" he asked.
The new family head of the infamous Black family shook his head. "At first glance, no..." Meaning that he would've to go to the library and browse through some questionable magic. Something he wasn't looking forward to. "Do you think that smoke was from a potion or something?"
"I don't know," replied James, remembering the reddish-black smoke that resembled burning soot and haze. "Maybe we should consult Dumbledore for this."
"... How about we first take this to the Unspeakables first, before bringing an outsider to the investigation."
James wanted to reply that Dumbledore wasn't an outsider, but he refrained from voicing his thoughts as he knew Sirius was right. "Do you think Robards will allow that? You know he doesn't like to get help from the Unspeakables."
"With this happening at the World Cup and so close to the Tournament... Robards will have to get this over quickly, even if it means involving the Unspeakables."
The Quidditch World Cup and the upcoming Tournament were both international affairs. That would pressure the Ministry, who would then pressure the Auror Office to solve and close the matter as quickly as possible. The pressure chain would start on the top and move its way to the bottom till everybody was yelling. In that scenario, any help was acceptable.
"Let's forget about that for a second," said Sirius, and he moved towards the ground where the bodies were lying. He squatted on the ground as saw what was left behind. "Who do you think did this?"
James stood by Sirius and studied the scene. "There was ice closing every wound.. and then the ice dome at the end…" He pointed at the heap of broken ice on the ground. "This makes me remember last years' attack in Hogsmeade."
"You mean, the invisible vigilante?" The 'invisible vigilante', the one hailed by the newspapers as the savior of the students of Hogwarts and the wizarding village of Hogsmeade. For an entire week, the wizarding community had read theories on the unknown hero, and for a month, the Auror Office had tried to find the person to no avail.
"Yes, the invisible vigilante used ice magic, and well…. he was invisible as well."
"Now that you say it... The injuries were brutal, weren't they? Wounds pierced with ice, detaching body parts, sealing everything with ice… They were more brutal this time, but I can see a pattern."
James nodded and then pointed his finger at the small pile of wood. "Unlike the last attack, the wands are broken now. Last time, they were stuck to their bodies, but this time every single one of them is broken."
"Who do you think it is?" asked Sirius.
"My guess would be a Voldemort hater... He only struck twice and only on Voldemort supporters. Other than that, there isn't a single sign of them."
"Age?"
"Older... look at the magic. They could take out fifteen people, use unknown magic… Those shields aren't a simple Protego. It also looked like neither your or my attack didn't phase them much."
"Gender?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, mate."
"How do we narrow it down? We don't have a visual clue."
"From the top of my head, we should look at people who have lost family members to Voldemort and the Death Eaters."
Sirius looked up at James with a 'really?' expression. "That doesn't narrow it down. You know how those days were, right?"
"Of course, I know that," said James. "But if we add someone good with magic, we can narrow it down by a lot. It's just a matter of choosing how good with magic they are."
"Hmm... if we are going with that... we can record the spell residue here to get matches against wands," added Sirius. Spell residues against wands was a technique used by Aurors to check if a specific spell came from wands. The caveat of the method was a low accuracy rate and wasn't taken as evidence in court hearings. But Aurors still employed it to narrow down their suspect list.
"Ugh, I wanted to go to a bar and discuss the game... being an Auror can suck sometimes," sighed James.
Sirius laughed at his ex-partner during their Trainee Auror and Junior Auror days and patted his shoulder, "Come on, let's get this logged in quick. The quicker we move, the earlier we will be able to go home."
The following day, the Auror Office would get the shocking information about the condition of the admitted people and would realise what the spell had done to them.
The 'invisible vigilante's' infamy would travel far and wide.
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The door creaked open as Barty Jr. carefully stepped inside a large room, trying not to make any noise so as not to disturb the room resident. Barty's eyes were drawn to what lay ahead as, standing on a nightstand adjacent to a king-sized opposite the door was a candle, illuminating a small portion of the large bed.
As he gently closed the door behind him, Barty heard a man's voice, but it was strangely high-pitched, rough, and cold, as a sudden blast of icy wind. "You've returned, Barty."
"Yes, my lord," replied Barty, standing still in his spot.
"Did you do as I asked?" asked the voice.
Barty gulped before answering honestly, "... No, my Lord. I didn't."
There was a straining silence of seconds before the voice returned, and Barty could hear the much colder response he feared. "Tell me why, Barty. All I asked was to brand my symbol in the sky."
"T-There were complications, my Lord."
"What complications, Bartemius..."
"Some of your servants decided to play with the muggles and muggleborns after the game, my Lord," replied Barty Jr.
"And how is that a complication? Wouldn't that have been the perfect time to launch my mark. It would have shown my servants that I have returned, and, as planned, the marked ones would have confirmed it at the sight of the mark growing stronger," said the voice, and by the end, the shrill voice had turned into a hiss.
A cold touch on his leg made Barty Jr. flinch into a still stop. He looked down with bated breath to see a thigh-sized green snake slither by as it surrounded him with its long body. He could hear a whispered hiss around him as the snake circled him.
"My Lord, someone annihilated the Death Eaters who were causing the ruckus," spoke Barty quickly as he felt his Lord's familiar slowly reduce the radius of the circle. "I-I couldn't see all of it... but when I arrived... all your servants were lying on the ground under the effects of some kind of magic. I couldn't see the wizard who cast the magic, but there was someone there."
There was a hissing sound from the bed, and the snake around Barty Jr.'s feet slithered away from him without a hiss. Seeing the giant snake leave made Barty Jr. feel safe. He had seen the snake's fangs, and the venom would keep injury wounds open.
"Come near me, Bartemius."
Barty Jr. followed the commands and quickly walked towards the bedside, not wanting to keep the Dark Lord waiting even a single second. His legs bent as naturally as he breathed. He showed his respect by getting on his knees and staring down at the floor.
"Look at me, Bartemius," ordered the Dark Lord. Barty didn't hesitate. It was an ugly sight: the shape of a crouched human child, hairless and scaly-looking white pale skin. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble. Its face had a flat nose and overall a snakelike appearance. Its eyes shone blood red.
When Barty Jr.'s eyes met the gleaming red eyes, a sharp pain assaulted his head. It felt like his brain was being poked with multiple hot needles: heat, pain, burn, cold... Barty Jr.'s screams filled the room, but the next second, his screams abruptly went silent. Voldemort had used a silencing spell to quiet down the screaming Barty Jr. He was in no mood to enjoy the screams and wanted to see what his servant had seen.
The Dark Lord dove into the mind without any care, and soon he found the fresh memory of the World Cup. Through the eyes of Barty Jr., Voldemort watched the scene in front of him. A dozen or so of his Death Eater servants were laying in the middle of the campsite while Barty Jr. stood behind the remains of a burned tent, observing the scene.
Voldemort's expert and experienced reptilian red eye slits stared at the magic of soot, haze, and smoke emanating from the middle of the circle up from his servants. The reddish-black mist flowed down like gas and yet, the magic remained within a boundary, all over his minions.
'African... how rare, I have never seen this magic in Britain.' His eyes shone with interest. Voldmert continued to look in interest, and curiosity flashed his eyes as the memory continued. He couldn't stop but look at the magic, but even he failed to get any useful clue. He only could confirm that there was someone there, and the caster had used magic that wasn't British.
Barty Jr.'s memory ended when James Potter and Sirius Black blasted the ice doom into smithereens, but the person who cast orange shields had already apparated out of the campsite. Voldemort released Barty from the Legilimency, and the servant collapsed on the ground, curling up and shivering.
'I shall take care of this when I get my body back,' thought Voldemort. 'For now, I need to announce...'
"Give me your arm, Bartemius... the left arm," said Voldemort, ignoring the terrible state Barty was in.
Barty stood up. His head buzzed and he had shivers. He groggily and painfully raised his left arm. The shirt sleeve was violently ripped, leaving the faded Death Eater mark in all its glory.
A thin, boney hand with an ash bone wand appeared from the shadows of the bed. The Dark Lord tapped his wand against the mark and it grew deeper in colour. The faded ink slowly regained some of its deep black glory.
Some wizards and witches around their houses, pubs, shops, clutched their arms as they had a short, yet intense, burst of burning pain on their arms. All of them curled up their sleeves to see the dormant mark which had faded thirteen years ago had regained a shade of black. Every marked servant shivered. Some out of fear, others out of joy, while many felt both.
Down in the Crouch home, Peter Pettigrew had put down his fork and knife, while he, too, looked at the darkening mark. "So it begins."
A solemn and bleak fortress stood on an island in the middle of the North Sea surrounded by turbulent water. A place where the scums of society were sent as punishment and spent time with the vilest creatures known to man. A place where hope and joy were lost, and all that remained was misery and grim, making it hell on Earth.
But on this day, with heavy rain pouring down the fortress and seas raging in the distance, the loud laughter of a woman rang out, filling the void and breaking the silence. It was a burst of maniacal laughter that somehow suited the fortress; if there was a type of laughter that existed in the place, then this was to be it. But her laughter wasn't shallow, for there was pure joy, unprecedented delight, and unadulterated elation. Emotions that weren't supposed to exist in the fortress known as Azkaban, but yet there they were.
A message had been sent.
The Dark Lord had returned.
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Quinn West - MC - Hypocrite of a high order...
Voldemort - Dark Lord - Let the servants know... their master is back.
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