Chapter 1 : Much to be Learned
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Warning: Do not read if the idea of voodoo dolls freaks you out
It was dark and quiet as usual in the Slytherin common room. The low light casted shadows of snake decorations all over the grey, stone wall. In the corner of the room, a sole bookcase resided full of books with whimsical titles and covers, but dark and highly illicit text. Behind the books lay the treasures of a small elite group of Slytherins hidden from prying eyes and curious snoops. If Professor Slughorn knew what his own students hid, he would unquestionably have a heart attack, for his innocent, sweet little Slytherins could never be in possession of such artifacts.
There was not a sound except for the steady scratches of a single quill against parchment. Holding that quill sat a lone wizard, a Slytherin Prefect. He had decided to skip breakfast in order to finish his charms essay: the one he was supposed to have completed the night before.
The effect of the Multicorforus Charm is to change the colour of an object, his quill scratched. The prefect sighed. There were many things he’d rather be doing, anything but N.E.W.T. assignments, especially this essay on topics they were reviewing. The prefect groaned. They had learned this charm two years ago. Why did they have to write about it again?
He hated how the adults got to tell him what to do. Why did they have authority over him just because they were older? Age didn’t make them any smarter than him. Not all the professors were even fully magical. He shouldn’t have to be treated like a child, especially by some idiot Mudblood professor. What did they know? They weren’t even born in the wizarding world!
The prefect wrote on. He heard the common room door, which was disguised as a wall, scrape against the floor as it opened, but he didn’t bother to turn around. There was far too much to get done with his essay, and his mother insisted he get good grades. He would have been fine with another occupant in the Slytherin common room if that new arrival hadn’t nearly deafened him.
“YAARRRRG!” Bellatrix Black screeched an ear-piercing scream as she stomped into the room. The wall-door closed behind her. She stalked across the room and kicked the nearest object, a table. The green vase sitting on top of it fell down and shattered into tiny pieces. Shards skittered all over the floor from the force of the fall. The kick made her toe throb and a sharp pain shot through her whole foot, which only provided another excuse in which to scream.
“RAAAAH! THAT STUPID LITTLE MUDBLOOD!” she screamed. Her voice sounded hoarse and raw. She lunged at another table and flipped it over. The papers that were residing on it went flying, and the table fell with a thud. She went to punch a book stack, but something caught her hand from behind. She twisted around, and her wild, demonic eyes met the gaze of the Slytherin prefect.
“Hey, little firstie! Quit screaming your head off. I have N.E.W.T.s to get ready for! You’re lucky I’m the only one in the common room right now. I’m sure the others wouldn’t warn you before they did something unfavorable to you,” he said in a deep, irritated voice.
Bellatrix snarled at him and lunged at the book stack for the second time. Her fist found purchase, and the books fell sprawled out all over the floor. A fiery pain flared in her hand, but Bella didn’t stop. It wasn’t her fault that her foot and hand hurt like blazes. It was that Mudblood’s fault. She caused Bella to do it- no. She made Bella do it.
The prefect grabbed Bella’s shoulders and spun her around to face him. “Okay, little firstie. Last time I say it. Quit making noise and trashing the common room or you’ll regret it,” he told her.
“Don’t call me ‘firstie!’ It’s Bellatrix Black to you,” she snarled and shook out of the prefect’s grasp.
Black. That’s a pureblood name, and a respectable one at that, he thought. It ebbed his annoyance somewhat, but he was still irritated. “Okay, Bellatrix, if you’re going to be such a ruddy nuisance, be one in your room!” he demanded and pointed to the entrance of the girls’ dormitory. The livid first year huffed and turned to stomp out of the room. Her thick, black boots crunched the remains of the vase she had smashed.
The wizard put his head in his hands. The common room was a mess, and he now had much less time to complete the stupid essay, all because of that rotten girl. He glanced at the little terror in disgust. That was when he noticed she was limping on one foot. She had kicked the table pretty hard. Her foot must have been broken. The prefect made a split second decision.
“Wait!” he called out to her.
Bellatrix turned on the balls of her feet, winced, and then screamed, “WHAT?”
The older Slytherin walked up to the girl and took out his wand. Bellatrix eyed it cautiously. “Give me your foot,” he said.
The witch watched him carefully as she raised her leg. Her hand slowly felt around for her wand, and at the slightest false move, she would draw it and cast the worst curse she knew. Already, the incantation was forming on her tongue.
He waved his wand over her foot, and the pain ebbed away. Then, with a quick “Episkey,” the injury was set and healed. She wiggled her toes inside her boots. They felt perfectly fine, unhurt.
“Who said I wanted it healed?” she huffed. The prefect replied by holding out his hand. Bellatrix folded her arms and winced, for she had folded them a bit roughly and made her hand twinge.
“Come on,” he said invitingly. “Give it here.” Bellatrix glared at him, but reluctantly obliged. The second healing was sweet relief, but Bella still held a faltering scowl on her face, betraying her thankfulness.
“You’re welcome,” the prefect said with a self-important bow.
“Well if that’s all, I’m going,” Bella snapped and once again spun around back in the direction of the grey, archaic archway of the entrance to the girl’s dorm.
“Hold on!” the prefect said as he grabbed the little girl who was so eager to get away from him. “I have something that will make everything better.”
Everything better? Bella sure could use something to fix all her problems. “What could you possibly do to help me?” she asked in a sneer. “You could make a certain troll-ish little Mudblood disappear. Then, I might just thank you.”
He chuckled. “No, I can’t do that,” he said. She scowled in response. “But, I can give you something equally as good,” he continued. Bella cocked her hear in interest. “The first... is a poem. Now, bear with me. It has a very important purpose, and it relates to the second thing I’ll give you.”
“Well, what’s the second thing?” she asked, a bit less peevishly than previously.
The prefect smiled and took out his black wand from his robes once again. Bella whipped out her wand, but it was ripped from her hand almost instantaneously with a small flick of the prefect’s own wand. Bella sprinted for the exit of the common room, but the prefect merely stuck her feet to the ground, and she was left squirming and fixed to the floor.
“Relax, Black. I’m not going to hurt you. I just needed to make sure you wouldn’t pull any spells on me.” He turned to the corner of the room at a bookshelf and pointed his wand. “Morsmordre Secretum Revelio,“ he spoke in a pronounced manner. Bella heard a click and half the books flickered in an out of existence. Then, they settled once again and stayed solid, or at least that’s what Bellatrix thought. With an “Accio doll,” a small object went flying through the books. The prefect caught it in midflight.
Bellatrix raised an eyebrow questioningly. She went to step and realized that her feet were no longer holding fast to the floor. Black walked up to the bookshelf and put her hand out to touch the books. Her hand met the smooth leather of an old Potions book; it was one that taught the reader how to brew some of the most nefarious of potions.
The prefect followed her and reached into the bookcase. His arm went through the literature, making it look like arm started growing out of the books. He felt around for a bit and then pulled his arm out again. In his hand, he held something shiny and silver. His grasp obscured Bella’s view, so she couldn’t tell what it was.
“Wouldn’t want this flying through the air,” the seventh year chuckled as he held out the silver object. It shone bright despite the dim light. The object had an intricate handle in the shape of a viper coiled around a pole. Its tail flattened out into a thin, pointed blade with a razor-sharp edge.
“How did your arm go through the books but mine didn’t?” Bella asked, her caution slowly being replaced by unadulterated curiosity. “And what are those?”
“You need a special spell placed on you to be able to pass through. My group made it up. Everyone in the group has the spell done on him or her. We’re still working out the kinks, though. Maybe we’ll cast the spell on you one day, once you prove yourself to be trustworthy, but I have a feeling that will be quite soon,” he explained.
Bella looked up at him in awe. She couldn’t believe some students actually made up spells that worked. At this new piece of information the first year looked at the seventh year with much more respect.
“What does the spell do to you?” she asked.
“As of now, it doesn’t really do anything other than let you pass through out barriers, but we’re going to add more features to the spell. I can’t tell you much more. You’re going to have to be part of the group for that! But don’t worry. I think you are a perfect candidate.”
Bella nodded. “ So, what’s the group?”
“You’ll be told when you’re ready,” he said, and that concluded their discussion on the special spell. “Now, this here,” he began, holding up the object that he had Summoned earlier, “is a voodoo doll. Do you know what that is?” Bellatrix nodded. “Good. But, this is a unique voodoo doll. If you cut the doll like I’m going to tell you to, when the Mudblood goes to sleep, it will dream that what you have done to the doll will be done to the Mudblood. You’ll even share the dream together, so you can see your handiwork!”
Black moved to speak, but the prefect cut her off. “Patience! Patience! All in good time! Now, you’re going to have to do this to the doll. Remember, it’s the doll, Black! It’s just a doll.” He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and began to speak in a slow, baritone, singsong voice:
“Cut out the tongue to staunch the gripes
Slash the stomach in bloody stripes
Stab the hand and twist the blade
Watch the Mudblood thing degrade
Cut off all its dirty toes
Sever the thighs, sever the nose
Take off the ears, scratch the chest
Rake the back so it shan’t rest
Slit the throat to stop its cries
Stab the heart for its demise”
He ended his vicious rhyme quietly and opened his eyes to a wide-eyed Black. The first year backed up slowly, suddenly painfully aware she was the only other person in the room with the sadistic prefect. The seventh year held out his hands and offered her the doll and knife. Bella stared at the doll with a sickening feeling that made her stomach do somersaults. The doll was white and featureless, more like a miniature mannequin than a doll.
“That’s barbaric!” the first year exclaimed when she rediscovered her voice. “Hurting someone like that- it’s so awful!” She began to back away from the older Slytherin in fear of what he would do to her, for a human who could even begin to suggest that was probably highly unstable.
“No! No! It wouldn’t be hurting the Mudblood at all! It’s just going to happen in its dream! That’s the best part! You can do it in school and no one can pinpoint it to you. It is just like they’re having a nightmare! The Mudblood deserves it! It barged into the wizarding world when it had no right to! It’s weakening our species as witches and wizards! It did you wrong! You’re a Black! Be proud of coming from a pureblood family!” the prefect replied with gusto.
He once again offered up the knife and doll. The first year eyed him carefully and tentatively picked up the doll. Its waist fit comfortably between her two hands. To her amazement, it transformed in front of her eyes, fading from white into skin color. Hair grew steadily out of its head and stopped at the correct length. Features so intricate they seemed almost real appeared on the once blank surface of the doll’s face, and the doll was donned in Hogwarts robes.
Bella ran her hands over the face. Her finger curled the doll’s lips back to reveal teeth and even a hollow area like a real mouth. The eyelids opened and closed as she swiped her thumb over the lids. As realistic as the doll was, it still had the element of a stuffed animal. It still felt like fabric, and there were still visible stitches holding it together.
“It’s her,” Bellatrix hissed, her anger flooding back in a flash. It overpowered any curiosity she had for the extraordinary doll. Her fists began to clench around the lifeless doll before she had even registered what she was doing.
“Hey! That’s not going to do anything to the Mudblood. Here, you can take it to your room, but give it back to me when you’re done.” He handed her the knife and walked away, sure of what the little firstie would do.
Bellatrix did as was suggested and walked solemnly up to her room. She sat down on her bed, inspecting the knife with the snake handle in what dim light the window in the room provided. As she stared at the blade, curvy cuneiform began to etch itself in the metal.
It’s the first part of the poem, she thought. The first year stared at the line, rereading it over and over again. Could she do it? Could she really give this witch the most horrendous nightmares? The girl would be so scared. It would scar her for life probably. And Bellatrix would have to see it happen to the girl. She would have to view the repercussions of her actions, hear the girl scream in agony and fear, and not be able to do anything. It would be all Bella’s fault.
The Slytherin’s eyes floated over the doll in her other hand. Just seeing her face made Bellatrix want to spit. It wasn’t a witch. It was a Mudblood! It had dared to defy her, a pureblood, when it was no better that dragon dung itself! How could Bellatrix ever have doubted what was right? It deserves to be punished! It must be put in its place!
Bellatrix nearly choked on her anger. She grasped the knife tightly and raised it with a shaking hand. She opened its mouth and found its tongue.
It’s just a doll, Bellatrix. It’s just a doll, she told herself as she brought the blade closer to its mouth. She closed her eyes. It’s just a doll. It cannot feel anything. A small cut won’t hurt it. The blade was touching the doll’s mouth. It’s just a doll. It’s a lifeless doll. The blade was inside the mouth. That Mudblood deserves it! Bellatrix snapped open her eyes and the pink, felt tongue was sliced off from its base.
She gasped as if it was not the doll’s tongue but her own she had cut off. The girl stared at the little flap of fabric now separated from its body. It wasn’t so bad, really. It was just a piece of felt. The girl smiled weakly and grasped the doll. Hah! That wasn’t so-
A small, red bit fell from out of its mouth. She picked it up and examined it.
Red stuffing? She gulped. It’s just stuffing. It is not a person’s blood. It is just stuffing. STUFFING! BELLATRIX BLACK, listen to yourself!
Her eyes wandered to the glimmering blade once more, where the old, loopy writing was replaced with the second line of the poem.
She touched the tip of the blade tentatively to the stomach of the doll, and put pressure on it, keeping in mind all the things the Mudblood had done to her so as to not lose her courage. Bella sent every hateful thought she could through the blade, and finally built up the will to thrust the knife across the doll, creating a long line oozing with red stuffing across its belly. Black shut her eyes to the red and slashed again.
“This-” She stabbed the hand of the doll. “is-” The knife dug into the doll and was twisted rather slowly. “payment-“ With a swipe of the snake blade, the doll lost ten of its digits. “for-” She slashed the leg. “NOT-” The nose was taken clean off its face. “KNOWING-” Off went the ears. “YOUR-” The chest took on several new red lines. “PLACE-“ The back of the doll came to mirror the front. “FILTHY-“ The final red line was drawn across neck. “MUDBLOOD!” The silver knife was brought down on the helpless, defenseless doll, and Bellatrix Black thought for a fleeting moment, that she could hear a small, weak squeal coming from the object she had just stabbed.
Bellatrix sat back on her bed. It creaked in gentle protest. Her breathing became loud and short. She had done it, and now there was no turning back. She would witness her handiwork tonight, and suddenly, she almost wanted to seethe justice she had doled out.
As Bella set the doll and blade on the prefect’s desk, he smiled to himself, knowing that he completed his job and that the Pureblood Bellatrix Black would someday make a perfect Death Eater. The only sound in the common room was the scratch of a quill on parchment and the light pitter-patter of a cheerful Slytherin first year as she skipped out of the common room in cheerful anticipation of the night to come.
Thanks for reading my disturbing story! It was written for Goldemort’s ‘Evil’ Challenge, hplover_987’s Pureblood Challenge, and SamMalfoy93’s What Makes us Who We Are Challenge! I’m thinking about writing another chapter, which would include a flashback to why Bella’s so angry at the Mudblood. Do you think I should? Please review! Reviews make Millarz happy! VERY special thanks to TenthWeasleyWriter (whom I have dubbed Twiz) for betaing this!
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