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A/N: I've had this chapter mostly done for a long while, and the idea for this has been floating around my head for months. I hope you enjoy it!
Death was in the air.
It had followed her around for over a year.
But nobody can run from death forever.
Now it had caught up with her, she lay dying on the floor of her cell in Azkaban Prison.
The date? June 23rd 1999.
The day that Narcissa Malfoy died.
She was the second Malfoy to be locked up in Azkaban – after her husband, Lucius.
Azkaban had damaged him too, but Death had spared his life. However, he was left scarred; ever since his escape from Azkaban, he had never been quite the same. His mind had been damaged, his soul broken, and she had often considered him weak because of it.
On the day that she was taken to Azkaban, that view changed. When the cell door was locked, leaving her safety contained inside, she realised just how strong her husband was. There were no Dementors here now, they had been removed immediately following the end of the war; the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had seen to that personally. Within a week, he had stationed permanent guard-Wizards at Azkaban, preventing the escape of the prisoners inside, whether they were captured before, during, or after the War.
It was still a dark and miserable place. The Dementors, who had been stationed here for decades, possibly even longer, had definitely left a mark behind. Prison wasn’t supposed to be comfortable, or enjoyable, but Narcissa felt there was nothing, nothing in the entire world, that would ever make her happy again.
After only a week at Azkaban, her health started to deteriorate. The thoughts that swirled and lingered in her mind began to drive her insane. Thoughts of her son, Draco, resentful of her sacrifice, alone and suffering. Thoughts of her husband, tired of the war, confused as to why she had acted as she had. Memories of the crime, the exactly moment when she cast the spell, played over and over in her mind. Her mind was also flooded with the memories of the raw emotion that she felt as she took her revenge. The effects of these thoughts, which stayed forever in her mind, never relenting, not even for a moment, sent her into the realms of insanity.
Her health got progressively worse as time went on. Illness surrounded Narcissa as her body grew frail and weak. It was almost as if she could feel herself slowly slipping from this world, waiting a long time before the day when she finally departed.
A week before her death, Narcissa collapsed on the floor of her cell. She never got up, too weak to drag herself back to her feet; barely able to even eat the food that was slid into her cell. The wizards preventing her escape barely glanced at her, presuming that she was nothing more than insane. They didn’t see death creeping up on her. Not until it was too late.
As evening fell into night on the twenty third of June, Wizards and Healers flooded into a prisoner’s cell. There, in the centre of the tiny cell, lay a woman, impossibly thin with a ghostly white pallor. She was coughing loudly, trying to remove the blood and mucus from her airway, whilst Healers frantically cast spells to save her. Minutes later, Narcissa Malfoy was dead.
Time of death: 18:43, June 23rd 1999.
A/N: That's it! Feel free to leave a review! :)
A/N: Chapter Two is here! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks to lilypotterfan123 for your help with this! :)
It had been exactly one year since the Battle of Hogwarts. Rain fell heavily at the Burrow, leaving the house trapped by deep mud and a veil of darkness. That veil was one that hadn’t lifted when the Sun rose the next morning. That veil was one that would linger for a long time. It was the result of evil.
What is darkness, and what does it represent? Darkness is the absence of light, where anything can be concealed. What does it represent? People would typically associate the darkness with evil, and Molly Weasley was no different. As she looked out through her living room window, she saw Bellatrix Lestrange, laughing wickedly as she threatened to kill her children. Tonight was the eve of the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts; May 1st, 1999. She had killed the dark witch 364 days ago, yet was still haunted by her every time she dared relax, even for a moment.
There was little reason to be fearful now, nearly all of the Death Eaters had been captured, or recaptured, and thrown into Azkaban. There was the occasional revenge attack, either from a Death Eater still at large, or a family member of one imprisoned. After a year, these were increasingly uncommon; the last attempt was to assassinate the new Minister for Magic on Christmas Eve. The risk was deemed low enough by Easter, that life could begin to get back to normal, or as close to it as circumstances allowed. Molly could go shopping again; Ginny could go and pursue a career in Quidditch- it was even possible for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes to be reopened, although it had pained George to do it. Yet still Molly worried herself sick, looking over her shoulder wherever she went, and sleeping with one eye open.
But how do you see something in the darkness, when it’s as black as the night itself? As Molly sat down to listen to the memorial service on the radio before she went to bed, she didn’t see the silhouette that crept passed the window. There, visible for only a second, thanks to the crackle of lightning, was the silhouette of her killer.
As she ran towards the obscure house, her boots splashed into the mud, icy water chilling her to the bone. She hissed as she fought to ignore it, and focussed on making it to the house undetected. When she reached the wall, she pressed herself flat against it. Slowly, she began to edge her way around the building, until she neared a window. Stealthily, she peered inside and upon seeing the focus of her hate sat in an armchair, she had to stop herself from jumping through the window to kill her. Suddenly, lightening crackled behind her, and she was forced to jump out of view.
After half a minute lying face down in the mud, she clambered back to her feet and headed for the door, rage fuelling a new sense of urgency.
“Alohamora,” she whispered, and almost instantly, she heard the latch release. After all of the protection placed on the building, she was almost surprised that the door was not more secure. Trying to avoid making the door creak, she tiptoed inside and was stood in what she thought to be the filthiest kitchen she’d ever seen. She was, however, unaccustomed to spending time in the kitchen at home, or indeed anywhere.
A radio was playing. She crept across to the door on the far side of the room, which had been left slightly ajar. Peering through the gap, she could see an armchair facing away from the door, with someone sat inside. She knew it was Molly. She had seen her at the window, and she knew.
She felt that same feeling of rage and anger build up inside her, until the point where she could no longer resist. She drew out her wand, holding by her side as she pushed the door open, which caused a squeak to erupt from the hinges. Molly Weasley instantly snapped around, turning as white as a sheet as she came face to face with the woman in the doorway. She scrambled to remove her wand, and stood clutching it in front of her. She was, however, too slow.
“Expelliarmus!” She flicked her wand, and Molly’s wand flew through the air, landing in her outstretched hand. A small squeal escaped from Molly’s throat as she began to step back, until she reached the back wall.
“How did you get inside?” The sound of desperation and fear in Molly’s voice made the woman smile, who had to fight back a laugh in order to be able to reply.
“I saw you apparate. There may be a fidelius charm on this... place, however, I know what I saw. I saw you leave to go to that shop, well- if you could call it that. You should take more care, Weasley. At least I mean, you should have.” She took a deep breath, slowing her heartbeat and steadying the arm that grasped her wand. She closed her eyes for a moment, memories flooding through her mind. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
Twenty four hours later, she sat detained in a cell at the Ministry of Magic. Narcissa Malfoy had been caught as she tried to escape the building. She was just preparing to leave, ready to run across the mud bath, until she could apparate away safely. With any luck, Molly Weasley’s lifeless body would not be found until the next morning.
What Narcissa did not account for, however, was Percy Weasley arriving home from work. If Narcissa had seen the clock in the Weasleys’ living room, she would have noticed that one hand was pointing to travelling, with the others pointing to work or school. She would also have noticed that the hand representing Molly had fallen off of the end of the display, just outside the ‘mortil peril’ region of the clock.
He had sensed something was wrong, from the moment he had stepped into the building. Narcissa was absent-mindedly walking out of the living room and towards the door, when she spun around, face to face with him. Within five minutes, Aurors was swarming the Burrow, and Narcissa was being dragged away. When they arrived in the Atrium, photographers from the Daily Prophet all took photos, as news circulated that she had assassinated one of the Wizarding World’s most celebrated war heroes.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and let me know any thoughts that you have! :)
A/N: I can't believe I'm updating this again! Here it is, chapter three...
Everything was dark.
Everything was miserable.
Everything was Black.
Darkness filled Narcissa’s mind as she became restless, fighting against the nightmare that consumed her. Swirls of darkness were broken by the flashes of light produced by spells. But she knew it wasn’t the magic that she had learnt during her time at Hogwarts, it was magic that would never be on the Hogwarts syllabus. It was dark magic, magic intended to inflict injury, induce pain, and even cause death. It was her sister’s magic.
She could hear her sister now, her distinct cackle clear above the sound of curses racing through the air, slicing through it like a knife. Her knife. The knife that she had killed the House elf with. The look of pure evil on her sister’s face as she had thrown the knife had frightened her. She was shocked that her sister could enjoy murder like that. Narcissa had seen the knife as little more than a family heirloom, something to be locked in a display cabinet.
“CRUCIO!” Narcissa could hear her sister’s roar, followed by another woman’s scream. This was her sister’s favourite curse, her weapon of speciality. Narcissa remembered the pet cat that she had as a pet during her school years. Just before she left for her final year, the cat became reclusive, hiding wherever it could when she entered the room- whenever anyone entered the room. It was two days before Narcissa left, when she heard a sound coming from her eldest sister’s room, the sound of something in pain. What she found there had horrified her. Standing outside the door, she could hear her cat crying out, and her protective instinct forced her inside. When Narcissa pushed the door open, she saw her sister stood with her wand raised, as the cat struggled desperately on the floor.
She ignored her for weeks after that. After all, finding your twenty one year old sister using dark magic on your pet was not something that was easily forgiven. She would sit in her dormitory and stroke and play with the poor animal, desperate to make amends for her sister’s crime.
She woke with a start, shaking. These were all of her worst memories of her sister. Her mind was full of them, and in the eleven months since Bellatrix had died, trying to forget them had been a constant battle. She was plagued with her sister’s crimes, and it was as if they were branded onto her forehead. Everywhere she went, she was the victim of glaring and people crossing to the other side of the road to avoid her.
In spite of all of this- Narcissa loved her. She loved her sister. And she missed her so much. For all of the evil things that Bellatrix had done, she was family- flesh and blood. She was family that had been taken, murdered, whilst her killer was allowed to walk free, celebrated as a war hero. Celebrated as the woman who killed Bellatrix Lestrange.
Narcissa couldn’t accept this, and after eleven months, she wanted revenge.
A/N: Thanks for reading this! I hope you enjoyed it, and please feel free to leave me a review... :D Thank you to Marina for the support, your comments really meant a lot. :)