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The Dark Lord and His Friends


“Ah… Sirius Black…” The Dark Lord cooed, a smile spreading across his face, bending his rather nice features into a wicked grin which held more evil than humor. “I wondered when I would be hearing from you.”

Sirius’s palms were soaked with sweat so badly he could feel the mirror slipping in his hands and dug his fingers in real good to hold it steady. The last thing he needed was the Dark Lord knowing he was nervous. The entire plan relied on Voldemort being unaware that anything unusual was happening at all. Sirius mustered every ounce of courage he had within him - everything which made him a Gryffindor - and said, “You were expecting me, then?”

“But of course,” the Dark Lord said, his high voice raspy and quiet, demanding attention. “It was only a matter of time before you returned… the prodigal son.”

“Um, yes, yes, exactly,” Sirius replied, nodding, “I’ve been just waiting for the right moment. Biding my time, see, until I could get to talk to you myself about it. That’s why I stole the mirror from Lucius Malfoy. I knew he knew how to talk to you and I found out and stole it so I could tell you myself not to think less of me.”

The Dark Lord smirked, staring through the glass with eyes that seemed to sparkle with -- was that pride? Sirius felt his stomach churn at the thought of it. The Dark Lord - proud - of him. Somehow it seemed like the opposite of what one should strive for in one’s life. “I could never think less of you,” said Voldemort slowly, “I knew the day would come when you would reach out to me.”

Sirius took a deep breath. “I’ve snuck off the grounds, sir,” he said. “I was hoping that we could speak… in person. And… I know you’ve been trying to take the castle. I know that’s what Malfoy’s been working on. He - he told me. I’m his cousin, you see, so he confides in me. And I know about Tutman being imperiused. But I could bring you back up to the castle and we could take it over. Together. You and me and Lucius.”

Voldemort smiled, his lips slowly curling. “And is Lucius there with you?”

“No sir,” Sirius replied.

“So you are alone, then?”

Sirius nodded.

Voldemort’s eyes twinkled. “Well then,” he said thickly, “As you wish.”

Sirius’s heart thumped so loudly he could feel it fighting to get out of his chest. This was the moment. This was it. It was coming. The mirror went suddenly dark and he dropped it onto the grass and there was a flash of light and a great pop! and several things happened at once.

Five voices shouted “Stupefy!” at exactly the same time from five different angles. Red sparks flew from five wands, shooting directly to the center of the clearing at the spot where Lord Voldemort suddenly apparated, arms raised in a V as he cast his own spell - “Protego!” - and the red sparks hit the shield he’d just created around himself, bouncing off, deflected, and shooting back into the trees. Sirius’s spell rebounded on himself, hitting himself squarely in the chest and he fell down while the others had warning enough to duck out of the way of their spells, which flew through the woods before fizzing out or striking a tree. Peter scrambled away from his brush, his feet flying across the stoney path, tripping over tree roots, hitting the ground and scraping his knees and the heels of his hands, panting with desperation, unsure which direction the castle lay in.

The Dark Lord laughed, “Did you really think I would apparate without protecting myself?” He loomed, lean and tall over Sirius’s stupefied body, a grin twisting his features. “That I didn’t know what you were up to long ago? I could hear every word you were saying. All this time.” He shook his head, “Although I will say, it is too bad that you couldn’t have truly turned to join me, you’ve got a certain… inhibition… that is quite impressive.” Voldemort stared down at him. “It really is a shame, wasting all the talent you have for mischief.” He chuckled, “Oh well…”

Stupefy!” shouted James as Voldemort raised his wand. The spell shot across the clearing from his hiding place and Voldemort had to dodge it to avoid being hit. But - having missed the spell - he now knew where James was, and he turned to move in the direction the spell had come from.

“Look, Sirius, your friends want to come out and play along, too,” Voldemort said darkly, grinning. He peered into the forest, his eyes squinting against the darkness, moving slowly toward the place where James had shot forth the spell from. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he called in a sinister tone as he moved closer to the tree behind which James had taken refuge.

James quickly moved from his place, as quietly as he could possibly move through the trees. His robes caught on a branch’s outstretched limbs and he tugged them free, dropping and rolling behind a rock to the right of where he’d been as Voldemort’s hand wrapped gently ‘round the trunk of the tree he’d just been behind moments before.

“Come now,” he said, sniffing the air by the tree, “Don’t be hiding. I’m not going to hurt you… much.”

James crouched lower, looking around for a new, more suitable hiding place. The Dark Lord was following the curve of the clearing, peering into the trees, surveying the dark. “I know you’re here,” he said thickly, “Don’t be shy. Come out and save your little friend.”

James had to move. He shot from where he was to the next best place to hide - back-to another tree trunk. He held his breath, his eyes closed, shaking. There was a tiny little squeaking sound before him and he opened his eyes to see Lily Evans there, hiding behind a fallen tree, looking quite afraid. Her green eyes were wide and filled with tears and James wished he hadn’t yelled at her earlier about the cloak, wished he’d left her his jumper.

Remus, meanwhile, was working on getting closer to where Sirius lay on the grass, intent on waking him up. They needed full manpower if they were to have any hope at all of getting out of there alive. He made a point that - from now on - he wouldn’t listen to Sirius’s persistent claims that everything would be fine. Everything was not bloody fine, despite how many times Sirius had insisted it would be. The Dark Lord was slowly stalking around the edge of the clearing, staring into the trees, back-to Sirius Black. It was now or never - Remus darked out from between a couple trees and snagged Sirius’s ankle, quickly pulling him across the grass and back into the darkness of the trees.

“Wake up,” whispered Remus, “Wake up, Sirius. Bloody hell.”

Across the clearing, Voldemort was coming slowly closer. The forest was quite still, but he knew they were there. The spells had come from different directions which meant, he reasoned, that each one of them was alone and vulnerable and afraid. He laughed quietly to himself, eager to find them. There were few things he enjoyed more than terrifying children. His eyes were narrowed to nearly slits. “Come on, little ones,” he said, “Come and face the Dark Lord you were so eager to defeat.”

James’s fingers clung to the bark of the tree, sure that Voldemort could hear even the slightest bit of air escaping his lungs, which burned from shallow breathing.

There was a crack of a branch then that caught his attention and he looked down and Lily was staring up at him, her ginger hair looking almost green in the pale blue moonlight that filtered into the edge of the forest. She was flattened onto the ground behind the old log before him, barely concealed. He realized with a twist in his stomach that, should Lord Voldemort advance much closer toward them, he would see her laying there on the ground. He couldn’t bear the idea that Lily - who had told them multiple times what an awful idea this was, who should’ve been back up at the castle, safe in her bed in Gryffindor Tower - would be the one who would suffer… That thought scared James more than being found out himself.

All sensible thought left James at that moment. He turned, pushing himself ‘round the trunk of the tree he’d been hiding behind - launching himself out into the circle of moonlight that filled the clearing, ejecting himself from the protection of the dark and the forest, into the direct line of the Dark Lord.

Lily gasped, but even the sound of her didn’t deter the Dark Lord’s eyes from sweeping over James Potter and grinning evilly. “Ah, yes. Potter, isn’t it? You look extraordinarily like your grandfather. I went to school with him… He was rather a prat, your grandfather.” The Dark Lord moved toward James, voice low. “Accused me of causing some trouble ‘round the castle, nearly got me expelled before I managed to prove it wasn’t me who was causing the trouble.”

James stood still and tall, eyes locked on the Dark Lord’s. He felt a lump rising up in his throat, thick and painful, and he clenched his fists as Voldemort stepped nearer and nearer. He wasn’t quite far enough from Lily yet that James felt comfortable breaking eye contact with him - afraid he might still turn, might still see her there. He knew her only hope was for James to slowly draw the Dark Lord away, like drawing out a poison from a wound. Perhaps he could continue stepping backwards and get Voldemort over the line to the school grounds. Surely by now Peter had gotten to the castle, surely by now he had altered Dumbledore and Moody. Surely they would come quickly…

The Dark Lord smiled coldly. “You’re a good friend,” he said, “Stepping out here where I could see you, just to defend your little friend. It’s nice having friends like that… isn’t it?” He paused as James took several paces backward, away from him, toward the grounds of the school. “Would you like to meet them?”

“Meet them?” James asked.

Voldemort smiled and reached for his sleeve, pulling it up enough to reveal the skin of his forearm and a terrible black branding that seemed to have seared the skin. “Watch this.” He pressed his wand to the mark and it seemed to glow red-hot, his smile only widening. At first, nothing seemed to have happened. James was starting to wonder what exactly he was supposed to be seeing, but then several pops and cracks broke the night air, and one by one Voldemort’s friends arrived.

They were all in long robes with the hoods pulled high up on their heads, their faces hidden in shadow - except for one, a woman, whose long black hair was curly and thick and her eyes wide. She danced excitedly from foot to foot, as though she were a child arriving at a carnival, and her eyes looked upon the Dark Lord in pure adoration. “We’re here, my Lord,” she said in a husky, almost seductive tone, “I was the first to apparate!”

Voldemort didn’t turn, but said, “Yes Bellatrix… thank you.” He stared down at James, “I’m afraid, Mr. Potter, that you may now be quite outnumbered.”

They were, indeed, quite outnumbered. Nearly three to one.

James wondered if Peter had yet convinced Dumbledore and Moody, if they were, even now, running back through the forest… He certainly needed them to come bursting out of the line of trees now, that was for sure.

Voldemort raised his arms, pointing in various directions in the woods, and several of his “friends” moved between the trees, including the black haired woman, and they returned moments later, each clutching one of James’s friends by the arms - Sirius, Remus, Lily, and - James’s heart nearly stopped at the implications of it - Peter. Peter shook so hard that his teeth audibly chattered.

Despair bloomed in James - there was no Dumbledore or Moody coming to help them.

“I now have a proposition to make,” Lord Voldemort said, walking slowly closer to James, who backed up once more. “And I extend this offer to each of your little friends as well,” he added, turning and waving his palms at them. Sirius struggled against the tight grip of one of the hooded figures and Lily kicked against the black haired woman as well, whose crackling laughter only added to her frightening demeanor. “Join me,” Voldemort said quietly, “And I shall guarantee your safety… I shall personally escort you through this forest, back to the castle. I will make sure that you are safe throughout the battle that shall take place tonight. You… and your little friends.” Voldemort moved closer still, like a cat surveying prey.

“And if I don’t?” James asked, stalling, trying to think of some other plan, some other way out of this mess that they’d got themselves into, but he didn’t know what to do. His magic alone was mediocre at best and there was no way he could possibly hope to defeat over fifteen qualified wizards, one of which was none other than the Dark Lord himself. The others didn’t have their wands in their hands. Bellatrix had Lily’s and her own stuck up in her messy hair, and the others’ wands were clutched in the teeth of their captors. Peter was crying and would be utterly useless by this point even if the man holding him steady were to let go. James knew his only hope was to somehow lure the whole band of them close enough to the castle that perhaps they could be noticed by some teacher or even Filch, but even as he thought of it, he knew that two-hundred-thirty-seven paces was too far to ever expect them to follow him through those woods without killing them all from sheer impatience.

Peter had been right all along. They were all going to die.

“If you don’t…” Lord Voldemort’s voice was cold and hardened as he spoke, “Then I am afraid that we shall have to kill you. Which is most unfortunate, given the amount of magical blood that would be spilled… two pure bloodlines broken, no less… precious blood…” He turned and looked back at James’s friends, and sneered at Lily, “Although, I must say, I wouldn’t mind killing the nasty little Mudblood.”

The word Mudblood, when spoken by Lord Voldemort, seemed the most vulgar, dirty, disgusting word that had ever been spoken.

James was furious and the words came erupting from him like fire, roaring out of him in a passionate heat, “You are vile! You are evil, and you won’t win! You won’t win because good always triumphs in the end. Always. Maybe not right now, maybe not tonight, but eventually goodness will defeat you and you’ll be nothing, remembered only as a foolish old man who tried to take over the world and failed. Join you? No. Do you hear me? No! I won’t ever join you - you prejudiced old wanker!”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, James’s face flushed as hot as the sun, his cheeks burning.

Sirius crowed, “Good one, James!”

Voldemort’s eyes were narrowed to slits - anger flashed in them so brilliantly that James felt as though he might just burn up and turn to ash in their stare. The Dark Lord was no longer playing games - his voice tight with hatred. “You defiant little fool,” he snarled. “Now -- you’ll pay.” He raised his wand and shouted, “Cruicio!

James fell to the ground, every muscle in his body seared as though hot boiling water had replaced the bloody in his veins and he shuddered and trembled, quaking on the grass in the moonlight. Voldemort laughed, his laugh echoing in James’s ears, terrible and full.

Sirius felt his throat tighten, guilt filling him. This was all his fault, all his idea, and now - now his friends were suffering. He could barely stand it.

“Stop it,” sobbed Lily from Bellatrix’s arms, “Stop it. Oh please stop hurting him!” She was shrieking, her voice echoing off the trees. “Please!”

Voldemort lowered his wand and James instantly stopped convulsing on the ground, though he lay quite still, panting, tears in his eyes, shaking still from the aftermath of the pain. Voldemort stepped toward Lily quickly, advancing like a dark wind, and clutching her chin, turning her head to look up at him. Bellatrix’s laughter pitched. The Dark Lord glowered into her eyes. “Would you rather it be you instead?” He hissed.

“Yes,” Lily said without so much as a stammer.

“Lily, no,” Sirius choked, “No, you don’t know what it’s --”

“Quiet!” Snarled Voldemort. He looked at Lily curiously, his eyes wide in surprise. He tilted his head - like a dog. “The cruciatus curse is extremely painful,” he told her, “They say… if it is held long enough… that one would lose their minds completely.”

Lily kept her face quite straight, though tears poured over her cheeks. “I don’t care,” she choked.

“I think you would care once you felt it’s effects,” Voldemort hissed, putting his face even closer to her own.

Lily shook her head.

“In that case,” whispered the Dark Lord, and he raised his wand…