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Chapter 9 : Mulciber Jr: A Pureblood Through and Through
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Disclaimer: Everything to do with Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. I own nothing.
He first heard about the Dark Lord when he was a child. He overheard his father talking to some other men about him. He hadn’t understood at the time, but even as a child he’d known that whoever this wizard was that his father was talking about, he was important. The fearful yet awed tone his father had used was evidence enough. And if he had needed more, the sound and actions of his father’s friends, were proof too.
They were Nott, Rosier and Dolohov. They were three men who were in his father’s company quite a lot, and it was two of them who would later have sons that would become his friends; Evan Rosier and Antonin Dolohov. Nott would marry and have his son much later in life.
It would only be until he was fifteen years old, and a Slytherin student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, that Mulciber would begin to understand just who this Dark Lord was.
At first it was just rumour, something that was passed around quickly through the school but not to be taken too seriously. A rumour that had the power to in still fear in some, or bring up excitement in others; or both. But gradually and slowly, as time passed, this begun to change. Stories of murder and torture found its way into the Daily Prophet and other less popular newspapers, becoming more serious and important each time it was mentioned. They were stories of a dark wizard, one so dark, that no one liked to say his real name, even the most influential and bravest of witches and wizards refused to say it.
Of course, it was known, but those idiotic enough who dared to utter it in public would instantly be silenced. Shunned by their friends and peers, or punished by being hexed or cursed, they were only welcomed back once they too refused to say his name. But there were some who only said it when alone, they were the smart ones.
The stories got worse. Soon this dark wizard was being called You Know Who and He Who Must Not Be Named. But there were those who only addressed him as the Dark Lord, his father and his friends for example.
What once had been a rumour had now become reality, a horrible nightmare that could just not possibly be true. There were even some who tried to pretend otherwise, but they too were made to accept the truth when either something happened to them, or close to them; a murder in the family or a friend or relative acting weird. As it became common to see The Dark Lord on the front page of the Daily Prophet, along with articles on his deeds, and various murders and disappearances being mentioned nearly everyday, slowly the most powerful witches and wizards in the wizarding world began to fear.
But not all of them.
While some students at Hogwarts bunched up together and whispered thoughts of The Dark Lord in fear, there were others who only felt excitement and wonder. Mulciber was one of them. With his two friends, Alexander Avery and Severus Snape, they sat with the other Slytherins.
There was Amycus and Alecto Carrow, a brother and sister with a great affection for anguish, and with them were Evan Rosier, and Wilkes.
While this was their main gang, there were others who sometimes joined them. Like Narcissa Black, another Slytherin, and youngest sister of Bellatrix Black, one of The Dark Lord’s most faithful servants. Along with her came Lucius Malfoy, Head Boy of Slytherin and completely smitten with Narcissa. Various others also joined them sometimes, such as Augustus Rookwood, Crabbe, Goyle, and Barty Crouch Jr.
They would sit by the lake, or in a secluded part in the grounds and talk of The Dark Lord. They talked about how they wanted to be his followers, how they believed and agreed completely with his beliefs. And even though Mulciber and his friends were different in their own ways, there was always that one sole thing which united them all: Blood Purity.
They were all purebloods, or at least most of them were; there were some who were suspected otherwise. They, like The Dark Lord, hated muggles and mudbloods. Mulciber had learned at a young age that muggles and mudbloods were bad.
“Muggles are those who have no magical ability or wizarding blood or heritage in them,” he was told, his father’s stern eyes appraising him. “They are below us, they don’t even deserve to exist, they are that insignificant.”
And his father was right. The muggles were useless, they did nothing. Mulciber had tried to think of what the point was of letting the muggle’s live but he came up with nothing. The Ministry of Magic worked to make sure muggles had no idea of the existence of the wizarding world, but it was Mulciber’s opinion that they might as well just kill the whole lot of them. It would save time in having to use countless spells and charms to make sure the Wizarding World was kept safe.
“A mudblood is one whose parents and heritage are muggles, but they have the ability to use magic,” his father had said, hate etched in every word he spoke. “They are even worse than muggles, the worst of the worst! They steal magic! They pretend to be witches or wizards when really they are just muggles! They push themselves into a world they don’t belong in! They are filth!”
And Mulciber had believed every word his father spoke, for how could he not? Never had he heard his father so angry, never had his father spoke with so much dislike in his voice. Of course, he always sounded like that whenever he talked of mudbloods, as did his three friends Nott, Rosier, and Dolohov.
And just like Narcissa, Rosier, Avery, Lucius, Alecto, Amycus, and all the others, Mulciber grew up hating muggles and mudbloods, especially mudbloods.
That was why when The Dark Lord started to be known, with his beliefs in blood purity, and that pure bloods should rule while anyone with muggle heritage be destroyed, Mulciber and the others got excited. Not since the days of Grindelwald did pure bloods feel so excited and thrilled at the prospect that finally muggles and mudbloods alike would at last be gotten rid of.
Of course there were some pure bloods who didn’t like this, didn’t agree with this. They were blood traitors, like Sirius Black and James Potter. Mulciber had nothing but disgust for blood traitors, and like Lucius and Bellatrix he didn’t feel the need to hide it. He didn’t care that he got many detentions; he just loved the satisfaction that he felt every time he cursed a blood traitor. Whether it be the arrogant, big headed James Potter; the equally arrogant, treacherous Sirius Black; or any other that happened to cross his path.
Like Lucius and the rest, Mulciber couldn’t help but smirk to himself every time he thought of the blood traitors, the muggles, and mudbloods; they didn’t know what was coming.
“Let him smirk,” Avery had uttered to him one day in Potions class as they sat next to each other.
The other Slytherin’s were in a bad mood since they’d just lost ten house points because Mulciber had hexed James Potter from behind as Potter made his way to his lesson. It wasn’t so much the house points that bothered Mulciber; Slytherin always won the House Cup, what did its students care if they lost a few points from an already big amount.
No, it had been the triumphant look that had come across Potter’s face when he’d received a detention; it made him feel sick. “Potter, Sirius, all the blood traitors, muggles, and mudbloods out there; they’re all dead, they just don’t know it yet. You watch Mulciber; soon everything’s going to change.” He remembered the nasty grin that Avery had, had as he said this, how jubilant he had been at the idea of their deaths. He felt the same.
While the muggles went on with their unimportant, pathetic little lives; while the mudbloods continued to live their lives, so undeserving, so wrong, in the wizarding world; and while half-bloods and blood traitors, like Potter and his gang, laughed, and lived in ease; true purebloods watched, listened, and waited.
It was two years later, when Mulciber reached seventeen that he knew what he wanted to be, what he wanted to do. It was a goal for all of them, something that was their right to do, something they had to do; all for the sake of blood purity. The Dark Lord was now more feared than ever. Deaths and disappearances were as common to hear about as it was seeing house elves. Not a pleasant or good thing, but still it was there.
There were more things for witches and wizards to fear now; The Dark Lord could do many things. Word traveled round the school how he had Dementors, Giants, and other dark creatures on his side. How he could read people’s minds and had the power to possess them, using their mind to his advantage. But what really excited Mulciber, something that he was eager to try out, was the unforgivable curses.
One could let you take control of something, and make it do whatever you wanted; the other could torture any living thing, the worst one to experience; and the other killed someone, with no way to block it. Just hearing these curses sent a tingle up Mulciber’s spine.
And lastly, there were the Death Eaters. They were Voldemort’s illustrious and most faithful followers. It was becoming a Death Eater that Mulciber aspired to, what they all aspired to. They all eagerly awaited the day when they would leave Hogwarts for good so they could go find The Dark Lord to become his followers and start to deal with the muggles and mudbloods.
There were many reasons why they liked the ideas of being Death Eaters. There were some who wanted the status of being one, like Snape, and some who wanted power, like Lucius. Still others liked to cause pain or kill for fun and enjoyment, like Alecto and Amycus, Mulciber, and Macnair. Of course, all of them wanted to join for blood purity though.
However before Mulciber could become one, he first had to have his try at the unforgivable curses and see how he faired using them. But first he needed an excuse or an opportunity to use them- or at least one of them. As it so happened, such an occasion arrived after a Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Mulciber, along with Snape, Avery, and Rosier, had gotten into a fight with Potter and Black. While Mulciber had happily been teaching some mudbloods a lesson, the two had come and started a fight with them.
“Why don’t you go pick on someone your own size Mulciber!” Potter had said as he checked over the mudblood.
“Call yourselves purebloods? You two are a disgrace!” Rosier had sneered, looking with disdain at Potter and Black.
“Say that again,” Black had growled as he pointed his wand at Rosier, who in turn had aimed his wand at Black.
“Oh look, Potter’s girlfriend is speaking,” Mulciber laughed, his eyes kept solely on the two, Gryffindor’s, constantly together. Mulciber had forgotten the two mudbloods, who had run off the first chance they got, presumably to go to the Hospital Wing.
“If he likes Potter so much maybe they should just get married!” sniggered Avery gleeful at insulting the two.
“Yes then finally Potter would be his last name, and he wouldn’t be a Black anymore- not that he is now or ever was. You’re brother Regulus is twice the wizard you’ll ever be!” sneered Rosier with contempt. He, just like Bellatrix and the rest of the Blacks, found it a great insult on their family name that Sirius was related to them. The three Black sister’s mother had been a Rosier before marriage afterall.
In a matter of minutes, after this had been said, the two were scuffling on the floor. Both wands had fallen out of their hands, and all the two boys had to rely on was their physical strength. But before both could do any real damage, the Professor from Defense Against the Dark Arts had run out and broke up the fight .He then marched both Black and Rosier to their Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He was another thing that made Mulciber feel sick. The protector and defender of muggles and mudbloods everywhere, Merlin he longed for the old fool to die.
Mulciber had hoped that Potter would fight him, after all he, so arrogantly had sounded so big and sure of himself earlier. He could talk big, now Mulciber wanted to see if he could prove it. Yet Potter did nothing but stand and glare at Mulciber, with shocked on lookers watching with gaped breath at what would happen.
Despite his underserved popularity with the other houses, Potter was hated by the Slytherin’s. Mulciber couldn’t stand him. It was his deepest wish that one day Potter would have an unfortunate accident. Whether it be tripping through a window in the Astronomy Tower, or being drowned by the Giant Squid, he didn’t care.
“What’s the matter Potter? Don’t tell me you’re scared!” Mulciber had goaded, wishing that the messy haired blood traitor would fight.
“I’m not fighting you Mulciber.”
“Of course he won’t fight, he’s nothing but a coward,” Mulciber turned to see Snape looking at Potter with loathing. He knew that Potter and Black had been bullying and tormenting Snape for years and still were. The fact that Snape was a fellow Slytherin, and a friend, fuelled Mulciber’s desire to attack Potter further. “He doesn’t have his dog with him to help,” Snape continued.
“You’re one to talk Snivellus! I see you’re standing there behind your two pals Mulciber and Avery,” Potter glared with great dislike at Snape, but it was nothing compared to the look Snape was giving him.
It was the distraction Mulciber had been waiting for. He sent a curse at Potter, and Avery beside him sent another. Potter deflected both, but only just managing to miss Avery’s.
“You disgust me Potter,” muttered Mulciber maliciously, looking over the bespectacled boy, with messy black hair, “you’re no better than the mudbloods you hang around with.”
“You will not attack any muggle born anymore,” warned Potter , “you do and me and Sirius will stop you and make you pay.”
A nasty grimace came across Mulciber faces, and Avery chuckled beside him. “You just wait Potter; you just wait until we’re out of Hogwarts.”
“I do wait. I’m telling you again, just try and attack any muggle-borns, I dare you! Then you’ll see what will happen!” And with this, Potter stalked off, purposely banging his shoulder into Wilkes as he left.
Mulciber watched Potter go, feeling a sick sense of happiness inside him. He turned to grin triumphantly at Avery who looked puzzled at his friend’s good mood. Snape had already left, no doubt to be with that mudblood Gryffindor Evans who Potter fancied so.
Mulciber wondered when Snape would see that she was just as bad as the rest of the mudbloods? Snape was happy to say the word ‘mudblood’ except when concerning her; it seemed that she was an exception. Mulciber didn’t worry himself too much though.
Cracks were already starting to appear in the two’s strange friendship, it would only be a matter of time before the friendship fell apart. Then Snape would realize that he’d been wrong, that she was like all the other mudbloods. Until then, Mulciber would wait patently for his friend to end his doomed friendship.
But right now Mulciber had bigger, better things on his mind. With Potters words still clear in his head, he spoke to Avery. “He dared me didn’t he?”
Days passed on, and Mulciber sat quietly in his lesson, content to do nothing else but his work. The other Slytherin’s were doing this as well. Professors and Students were shocked alike- never had Slytherin students been so well behaved. It was because of this that the other students around them relaxed. They wouldn’t have to worry anymore about been insulted or attacked; they could walk the corridors peacefully.
But there were some that didn’t relax, like most of the Gryffindors. They watched with wariness as the Slytherins behaved and did nothing wrong. For the Gryffindors believed it was nothing but an act; there was a presence around the Slytherins that scared them. It was like the calm before the storm. They were right, and Mulciber and the other Slytherins reveled in their worry.
It was all a plan; a plan which Mulciber was more than eager to fulfill and have spectators for. He was planning to use the Imperious Curse on one of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, or Ravenclaw students over seventeen and see how he was with the curse. He didn’t know how long he’d use it, but he was going to. It was just a matter of figuring out who, and how.
He, Avery, and Rosier discussed this.
The audience for this would be rather small as a few of them had already left Hogwarts, no doubt to go become Death Eaters. They were Rookwood, Malfoy, Narcissa, Crabbe, and Goyle. Because of this, Mulciber decided that only the remaining Slytherins in the gang would see. They were Alecto, Amycus, Barty, Rosier, Wilkes, and Avery.
“What about Severus and Regulus?” asked Rosier as they sat in the Great Hall having dinner. He had forgotten the chicken on his fork that he had been about to eat and was staring perplexed at Mulciber.
“Snape can’t come- detention- Potter and Black- in Transfiguration,” Avery said this all the while having his mouth completely full of mash potato.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to eat with your mouth full?” Rosier seemed to have forgotten his food altogether.
“Can’t say she did,” grinned Avery and he turned back to his food, shoveling turkey and parsnips into his mouths.”
“Merlin give me strength,” muttered Rosier in response, turning his head away in disgust from Avery.
“So why not Regulus?” he questioned again.
“He’s not old enough. Wouldn’t want to sent off the trace and go to Azkaban now would we?” Mulciber looked up at the rows of students on the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw table. “Anyway, first we just need to pick- has to be in our year…” he muttered half to himself.
Avery and Rosier’s attention were now focused on the students too. “How about a Ravenclaw? I wouldn’t mind dealing with one them- thinking their better than us…” said Avery eyeing up the Ravenclaw table.
“What about the Hufflepuff’s?” Rosier was now glaring at them, “they’re not important. They have no real use, they’re pretty pathetic-"
“Don’t you mean house elves?”
“Both are pretty much the same,” Rosier shrugged his shoulders.
“No… it has to be a Gryffindor. Seems only fitting really. They’re our enemies,” spoke Mulciber his eyes roving over the Gryffindor table.
“Potter or Black,” Avery sounded excited at this choice. He, like the rest of the Slytherins, would love the chance to use an unforgivable curse on one of them.
“No. It has to be someone not well known. Someone who won’t be missed if gone for awhile…”
And then Mulciber found who he was looking for. Mary MacDonald. The Gryffindor girl who was friends with the mudblood Lily Evans. She was perfect. Only Evans would really want to know where MacDonald was if gone for an hour, and he was sure Snape would be out of detention by then to distract her.
Mulciber had never liked MacDonald; she gave off the impression of a dog, the way she tailed around after the mudblood. Mulciber could almost see the dog tail wagging excitedly as she talked to her friend. He didn’t care whether she was a pureblood, half-blood, or a mudblood; it was her who was going to be his victim. He thought this as Avery and Rosier grinned happily together.
The next day it was all set. Mulciber and his friends stood in a secluded part of the Forbidden Forest and waited for Barty. Here was the perfect place where no students would find them. The only other witnesses might be the centaurs and they didn’t involve themselves in wizarding affairs so they were safe.
Time passed and some of them started to get impatient, especially Avery who could not sit or stand still for more than a couple of seconds. Mulciber himself was starting to wish Barty would hurry up. But like Wilke’s who was busy talking to the Carrows, or Rosier who looked the picture of ease, lounging against a tree, he kept his patience and composure.
Eventually they heard voices approaching them, and they all tensed with rapt concentration as Barty came into their view with a suspicious and confused MacDonald.
Mary did not look happy at all as she came with Barty, her eyes darting around, her face worried. Barty, in contrast, was beside himself. He practically skipped over to them. “It took awhile but I managed to bring her here,” he said happily. Mulciber smiled at him pleased.
Slytherin’s normally disliked Hufflepuff’s greatly, thinking them unimportant and generally good for nothing. They had made the exception with Barty though, who really should have been put in Slytherin. Barty like Regulus, while young, admired the Dark Lord. He would cut out articles from the Daily Prophet about him, but made sure to hide them well in his house from his father Barty Crouch Sr. Like Bellatrix, Barty seemed to admire the Dark Lord the most out of all of them, a strange light glowed in his eyes every time he heard anything to do with the great wizard.
“What do you want Mulciber? You know going into the Forbidden Forest is against the rules,” Macdonald said icily, her eyes flitting to the other Slytherins.
“I just wanted to talk to you, is that such a crime? Besides I find the forest quite lovely this time of year,” Mulciber smirked at MacDonald as she blushed angrily. Muttering something under her breath about Slytherins, she turned on her heel and began to walk away.
Before he could do or say anything though, Avery lost his patience and yelled, “hurry up and use an unforgivable on her!”
“Crucio!” Alecto and Amycus had both sent the torture curse in MacDonald’s direction. Wilkes and Rosier quickly deflected the curses before they hit the shocked MacDonald.
“Impedimenta!” yelled Mulciber as he jinxed MacDonald before she could run away.
“Idiots!” snapped Rosier angrily, “We may be alone but that oaf Hagrid comes into this forest and could hear us! Do you want us to get caught before we’ve even started?” Amycus, with his lopsided leer, just gave a wheezy giggle not caring, while his squat sister Alecto glared at Rosier.
“They- they tried to curse me!” shrieked MacDonald, her frizzy brown hair all over her face as her brown eyes stared shocked at the Carrow siblings. “They tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on me! Barty!” she looked hopefully at Crouch, trying to stand up and walk towards him. “Barty we need to go! We need- we need to go to one of the Professor’s and tell them what- what they tried to do!”
“By the great baggy, underwear of Merlin, she is stupid!” laughed Avery, exchanging a gleeful look with Wilkes and Barty.
“Barty is with us,” uttered Mulciber, staring at MacDonald.
“No! Barty why- why!” protested Macdonald stuttering.
“Because, like these Slytherins, I’m going to be a Death Eater when I leave Hogwarts. It’s my goal to become a follower of the Dark Lord,” responded Barty passionately.
“No!” MacDonald had started to run away from them at this point, the Impedimenta jinx wearing off, and Mulciber quickly sent it at her again, sending her to the floor.
Walking over to look down at her, he pointed his wand at her face and said,
The oddest feeling of power surged through Mulciber as he said it. A warm feeling spread through his arm and seemed to connect right through to his brain. The others hearing him say the curse all had their attention fixed on him. MacDonald suddenly stood up and faced him, a vacant expression on her face. Mulciber stood there feeling a power he’d never felt before and flicked his wand.
With that one flick, MacDonald started to tap dance furiously, oblivious to the Slytherins who were howling with laughter at her. He then made her twirl and back flip and cartwheel around, before making her sing a song from the Weird Sisters. The rest sat laughing at the Gryffindor’s humiliation and awed at the performance.
And Mulciber loved what he was doing, loved the feeling of power that he felt when he said the curse. With just one word and one flick of his wand he could make MacDonald do what ever he wanted. She was completely at his mercy and under his control. He could make her kill her mudblood friend in the most horrible of fashion with just one thought, and with just one flick of his wand, he could even make her drown herself. She was no more than a puppet and he the puppeteer. He loved it. He loved this curse.
The others tried the curse as well, but none were as good at it as he’d been, which made Mulciber feel very smug indeed. As he used the spell again, this time having MacDonald fight with Alecto, he noticed Barty looking nervous. Mulciber, realizing that it would be wise to leave now, lifted the curse off Macdonald; much to Avery’s disappointment. Lifting his wand, he quickly muttered “Obliviate” and her eyes became unfocused. He then pointed his wand at her again ready to curse her.
“Just a parting gift from me,” he sneered, ready to use the dark curse against her. “Sectusem-”
“Stop it!” Mulciber paused as MacDonald’s mudblood friend ran to them, her wand drawn glaring. “Don’t you dare Mulciber!”
“I was just having a little bit of fun mudblood, got a problem with that?” jeered Mulciber as he looked over Evans with distaste. He suspected that, that oaf Hagrid, having already seen them walking into the forest had seen Mary go too, and had told the mudblood while talking to her.
“Using, a spell which can fatally wound someone is your idea of fun?!” I can’t believe Sev even shared it with you!” Evan’s voice was filled with disbelief.
“I also enjoy the Cruciatus Curse mudblood, see-” raising his wand he yelled, “Cru-”
“Stop it!” screamed Evans, now furious, her wand raised. “Don’t even think about it! Hagrid is waiting for us, he’ll hear if you decide to hurt us!”
Mulciber lowered his wand scowling, he so hated having to let the mudblood and her dopey friend walk away, but he’d have to. He could see Barty hiding behind the Carrow’s, trying to shield himself from Evans or MacDonald’s view.
Evans looked Mulciber up and down with contempt and disgust; she gave the same look to Avery as well. “You’re disgusting!” she spat, as she held her friend close, “you’re nothing but a nasty, repulsive toe-rag! A good for nothing creep with an evil sense of humour! Finding it funny when someone breaks their arm, gets beaten up, or hurt- other people’s pain is what you find funny! You’re sick! I hope you all get what’s coming to you one day- especially you Mulciber!”
With one last ferocious look, Evans supported her friend and marched away, muttering words of comfort to MacDonald. As loath as he was to let the two go, especially the mudblood, it did nothing to dampen his good mood. Today had proved to him what he’d been hoping for, for years. He was going to be a Death Eater.
Mulciber sat in the armchair rubbing his arm. It burned. It always burned when the Dark Lord was near. He smiled to himself as he saw the black scar on his arm.
His last year at Hogwarts had passed quickly, and was spent by him mostly preparing. News of the attacks were everywhere and witches and wizards were more scared than ever. They talked of the Death Eaters with as much fear as they did the Dark Lord, frightened that they one day may find themselves facing the masked, hooded figures.
He made sure he knew a wide range of dark magic, and he practiced the unforgivable curses daily, using spiders and various unimportant insects for his victims. He pretended that they were mudbloods, or Potter or Evans; it was more fun that way.
He was now much older than seventeen, and much more skilled. While he was good at using various spells, it was the Imperious Curse that was Mulciber’s speciality. He was the best at using it out of all of his friends. When the curse needed to be used it was he they came too.
Drawing the wand from his pocket, he looked over at Rodolphus and Bellatrix, who were also sitting down. Bellatrix was fiddling with her wand in her hands, a cruel smile on her face. Rodolphus, who was smoking a cigar, had his wand dangling lazily from his fingers.
The two were now married and were partners in crime one could say. While they had married for blood purity because it was expected of them, and not for love, the two did have some fondness for each other. They had too- certainly for Bellatrix. If Bellatrix didn’t, she would have just killed him and taken his money for herself. But she hadn’t, instead she worked with him and his brother Rabastan. The two seemed to be having a good time out of it. There was a rumour that it was the Dark Lord who Bellatrix loved, but this was just rumour.
Rookwood was now working at the Ministry in the Department of Mysteries and was a spy, while Macnair was also working in the Ministry as an executioner of dangerous beast. Lucius and Narcissa married and Snape was also a spy, his friendship with the mudblood Evans had failed just as Mulciber had knew it would. As for Mulciber and the others, it was more or less the same. Of course it was not all good.
Andromeda Black, sister to Bellatrix and Narcissa, had turned against them and became a blood traitor by marrying some mudblood named Ted Tonks. It had hit her family hard and they had disowned her the first chance they got. Bellatrix had especially taken it hard, her hatred towards mudbloods being fueled even more.
As they sat there silently, Mulciber turned to look at the muggles and mudbloods crowded against the wall. It was a large family of muggles, with a mudblood son. He hated them. The mother was checking her husband, tears spilling down her face, as she surveyed the damage, the damage which she’d done. The mudblood was cradling his arm which he had broken himself and another muggle was also slouched against wall injured. Of course it had not just been the Imperious Curse which had been used; the Cruciatus Curse had been used too, something which the three of them had enjoyed greatly.
That was how powerful Mulciber had become with the Imperious Curse. He could make them do terrible, horrific things. With the flick of his wand he had made the woman attack her husband until he was beaten and bloody on the floor while the rest looked on horrified. And he had made the mudblood, with the black eye and cut lip, break his own arm, only to be punched by his oldest muggle brother. He loved feeling so powerful. He had only raised his wand to do more damage when the Dark Lord appeared.
Like Bellatrix and Rodolphus did, he instantly fell to his knees at the Dark Lord’s feet and heard him speak. “Good, I am pleased.” Mulciber gave an involuntary shudder at the cold voice, and he saw Rodolphus do the same.
The Dark Lord turned to look at the mudblood and muggles crowded against the wall, injured and terrified by what they were seeing.
“Mulciber, Rodolphus, Bella,” his red, snake like eyes rested on Bellatrix who was gazing at the Dark Lord with worship and adoration, “dispose of them.” His high, cold voice filled with contempt and his slits for nostrils flaring as he ordered this.
“Yes Master,” the three of them responded in unison.
At his order Mulciber, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus turned to face the, muggles and mudblood. Mulciber removed his mask as he did so. Bellatrix and Rodolphus, who had taken off their masks a long time ago, laughed happily as they killed the muggles. Green light flashed continuously in Mulciber’s face as he fired the Avada Kedavra curse at the muggle nearest him, he laughed jubilantly. If only Potter or Evans could see him now. Merlin he’d love that.
One by one he killed the screaming muggles, feeling more powerful than he had in his entire life. His laughter mounted as he heard the mudblood who was feeling the brunt of Bellatrix and Rodolphus. He had always had a perverse sense of humour, and he was delighting in this. Every scream, every sob he heard at his, or Bellatrix and Rodolphus’s wands was like music to his ears. He was reveling in it all.
“Scream mudblood!” yelled Bellatrix jubilantly as she used the Cruciatus Curse on the mudblood, “we want to hear you scream!”.
Like Mulciber with the Imperious Curse, the Cruciatus Curse was a specialty and favourite of Bellatrix’s, and both got pleasure from using the curse’s as they were now.
“Bet you wish you’d never entered the wizarding world now!” laughed Rodolphus as he killed the muggle next to the mudblood. Mulciber jeered happily as he killed a sobbing muggle in front of him.
And so he and Bellatrix and Rodolphus continued to kill, taking their time and having their fun. With only the mudblood and his muggle girlfriend left whom Bellatrix and Rodolphus were still dealing with, Mulciber laughed again. He could still feel the fear and despair of the muggles, still see their faces as he used the Avada Kedavra Curse on them. He still felt the power running through his body. And he loved it.
And it was all for his Master. He’d do it all in the name for his Master, the Dark lord, You -Know -Who, He -Who -Must -Not -Be -Named. All in the name of purity, which was so important for true purebloods and which mudbloods set out to ruin. And now they were paying for it. And Mulciber, like his friends and the other followers, were more than happy to punish them.
Lastly, Mulciber was doing it for himself. He loved hurting, controlling, and killing the mudbloods, muggles and any other non -supporters. There was no way he’d stop. He was the Dark Lord’s follower, ready to destroy the muggles and mudbloods and have the purebloods rise to power. He was a Death Eater.
Mulciber smirked as he put his mask back on. The screams and cries from the mudblood and muggle, along with the maniacal laughing and insults from Bellatrix and Rodolphus, were still going on as he sent the Dark Mark up into the sky. It illuminated over the house, as green flashes silenced its two remaining members.
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