Guilty Marigolds Part II
-September 29 1991-
Draco can’t wait to write a letter to his father. No doubt, the Inner Circle was panicking at the loss of Little One, and Draco was excited to be of help. He finished his breakfast quickly, risking quick glances at the Head Table where Dumbledore sat eating porridge. The old man seemed to be entirely unaware of what he’d done, and Draco was grateful for it. The last thing he wanted was for the man to get paranoid and move Little One.
He rushed to his dorm as soon as breakfast was over, happy that he had another hour before classes start. Pansy had gone off to the library to study, while Blaise and Theo followed him into their room.
Father
I believe that Dumbledore has Little One. He was in possession of Little One’s flowers.
Best wishes,
Draco
Draco hummed as he sealed the letter. It was short and to the point, which was what was needed. He stood up, brushing the nonexistent dust off his robes, and walked briskly to the owlery. He handed the letter to his owl, a majestic eagle owl that he named Helios, and directed it to Malfoy Manor.
Hopefully, his father received his letter and knew what to do.
Draco arrived in the Slytherin common room to see his friends huddled in a group by the fireplace. Draco smiled at them and sat down next to Theo. Theo shifted over slightly, allowing Draco more room on the couch.
“Did you send the letter?” Pansy asked, leaning forward slightly. Draco was slightly surprised that she was back in the common room already, but he supposed that studying didn’t take that long.
“Yeah,” he said with a nod. “Father will know what to do. I just hope he’s okay.”
Pansy shifted, pulling a book that he hadn’t noticed before out of her bag. She placed it on the coffee table and grinned. The title read, ‘Dark Creatures and their Behavior’. Draco frowned slightly. “I got this in the library.” she said.
“What for?” Draco asked. Pansy huffed and opened the book, flipping through several pages before she landed on the one she had been looking for. Draco’s eyebrow raised at the pictures of inferi on the page.
“I wanted to do some research,” she said. “On Little One. And how he’ll react.”
“React to what?” asked Theo, bowing his head to look at the book better.
“To being separated from the Dark Lord.” Pansy said, as though the answer were obvious. At the sight of the blank looks on everyone’s face, she sighed. “Little One isn’t alive---”
“Astute observation.” Blaise drawled. Pansy glared.
“---but he acts like he is. Haven’t you ever wondered how?” Pansy asked. Draco scoffed.
“The ritual. Obviously.” he said. “It brings dead things back to life.”
“But Little One isn’t alive.” Pansy pointed out, making Draco pause. She smirked. “Little One isn’t alive but he’s not dead either. He’s in between. That’s what the ritual does.”
“I don’t understand.” Theo sighed.
“Little One died, but he didn’t die.” Pansy said. Blaise huffed.
“Okay, can you explain it to us commoners, please?” he snarked. “Obviously you know something we don’t, so if you’re in the sharing mood…”
“What’s neither dead or alive?” Pansy asked. It was silent for a few seconds before Draco gasped.
“Magic.” he cried, his eyes wide with shock. Pansy smiled victoriously.
“Exactly!” Pansy cried. “Little One is magic. Everything about him. It’s what animates him, gives him his sanity. Everything that makes Little One Little One is magic.”
“But we already knew that,” Theo interjected. “Little One was made from magic. I don’t get what the big deal is.”
“Theo, only a very powerful wizard can create a successful Inferius. Do you know why?” Pansy asked. Theo frowned and shrugged.
“Because it takes a lot of power?” he asked.
“Close,” Pansy said. “It does take a lot of power to create the ritual, true. But it also requires a lot of magic to continue.”
“Wait, what?” Blaise asked, sitting up in his chair.
“If an Inferius isn’t revitalized with magic constantly, it deteriorates. That’s why everyone is afraid of them, and that’s why they attack wizards.” Pansy explains. “It needs magic to stay… well, not alive, but you know what I mean.”
“No wonder no one makes Inferi anymore!” Draco cried. “Can you imagine? Constantly putting magic into a creature, just to keep it sane!”
“That’s exactly why it’s uncommon,” Pansy said. “If you’re not powerful enough, you could lose all your magic trying to stabilize it. And that’s only if you don’t lose all your magic doing the ritual first.”
“So you’re saying that… the longer Little One is away from the Dark Lord… the faster he’s gonna…” Theo trailed off, his face pinched up in horror at the thought of Little One deteriorating. It was silent for a while as everyone considered it.
“Well, we don’t know that for sure.” Pansy said finally, breaking the pensive silence. “That’s just a theory from the book. Besides, Little One hasn’t changed and he’s been around for years…”
“But he’s never been away from the Dark Lord before,” Blaise pointed out. “Anything could happen.”
“I doubt the Dark Lord didn’t make contingency plans.” Draco cut in. “He’s very thorough. I’m sure he came up with a plan to protect Little One just in case.”
“Yeah…” Pansy said softly, looking down at the book once more.
It was silent again, the only noise coming from the conversing students around them, and the cracking of the fire in front of them. Pansy had placed the book back into her bag, and the group sat tensely until it was time to go to classes.
And as Draco got ready for charms, all he could think about was Little One and hoping that the Dark Lord wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
Draco didn’t know if he could survive losing his little brother.
Voldemort hated this feeling.
It was… It was…
Voldemort snarled and threw his glass of firewhiskey into the wall. It shattered into tiny bits, and Voldemort wished that he could feel satisfaction in the destruction. But he couldn’t. It had been many years since Voldemort felt this on edge.
Like his sanity was slipping from him.
It had only been two days since Little One was taken from him, yet Voldemort felt his loss like he’d been gone for years. Voldemort did not like feeling so weak. His rage and grief were the only emotions he could feel now, and they were always fighting to be on top.
Nagini had coiled around herself tightly, not once moving from her spot by the fireplace. She’d been feeling the loss too, Voldemort could tell, but there wasn’t enough room in Voldemort’s head to feel sympathy for her.
The anger and grief were too strong.
After Voldemort had destroyed, then fixed, the common area of his castle, he called his Inner Circle to him. They took one look at his enraged face and bowed deeply before him. When Voldemort informed them that Little One had been stolen, their faces mirrored his own.
They’d been sent out to find him. Traces of him, reports of him. Anything. All the while, Voldemort sat in his study, unable to function.
He hadn’t felt so out of control in many years. Not since he first found Little One. Little One, even while he was alive, had soothed Voldemort’s rough edges. The happy toddler sitting on the swing, the bruise on his face contrasting his happy eyes dramatically. Voldemort had been drawn to him in a way he’d never felt before.
Ever since that night, Voldemort felt like he was sane once more. Like he was in control.
And having his precious ripped away from, stolen in the dead of night, had snapped what little control he had.
Bellatrix had raged with a vengeance. Watching her scream and torture everyone who was dumb enough to get her path had been satisfying, but did nothing to find Little One, so Voldemort regretfully put a stop to it.
Voldemort knew that he’d been sadistic and terrifying before Little One. He assumed that that side of him left once his child had come into his life, but he was wrong. So wrong. Little One did not get rid of his murderous urges, merely redirected them and made them productive.
And now that Little One was gone, his rage had reared back tenfold.
There was a knock on his door, and it startled Voldemort into awareness once more. He hissed and fought with himself to keep his magic from lashing out and destroying the person who dared interrupt him. “Enter.” Voldemort said, his voice cool and deadly.
The door opened to reveal an enraged Lucius Malfoy. He bowed deeply. “My Lord.” he said softly. “I have news regarding Little One.”
Voldemort’s gaze narrowed, and he reigned in the desire to throttle the proud Malfoy patriarch to get the information he craved. “What issss it?” he demanded, his voice slipping into a hiss.
Lucius shuddered at Voldemort’s liberal use of parseltongue but remained true. “My son, Draco, has written me a letter.” Lucius said. “It appears that the Headmaster is sporting a new fashion full of flowers.”
There was no stopping his magic this time.
The room shuddered under the immense pressure as Voldemort’s magic slipped out of control. The temperature dropped dramatically and his presence became dark and dangerous. Lucius shivered at the display of magic.
“Is that so?” Voldemort said, his voice eerily calm and collected.
“Indeed, My Lord.” Lucius said, not daring to lift his gaze from the ground.
Voldemort forced himself to regain control, but the thought of Little One in the presence of Dumbledore made it very difficult. His precious, his most cherished child, in the hands of that meddling old man! Voldemort snarled.
“Leave.”
Lucius didn’t argue against the terrifying command. He bowed once more before he made his quick escape, and Voldemort heard the door click shut. Voldemort grit his teeth audibly, his crimson eyes flashing with a murderous intent that had been popping up every few seconds these past few days.
Nagini had raised her head, and a hiss escaped her jaws as the fire reflected off her scales. “Master, what will you do?” she asked.
Voldemort narrowed his eyes, his gaze slipping down to the paper that had been sitting on his desk for the past two days. Rage bubbled up in his chest as he looked at the drawing of himself, Nagini, and Little One. His favorite drawing…
“I’m going to destroy everything he’s ever built,” Voldemort hissed, his eyes lighting up with malignant glee. “I’m going to tear down his empire bit by bit. I’m going to ruin his image. I’m going to arrest his people. I’m going to make sure everything he’s ever worked for and loved is gone.”
Nagini had slithered closer to him in his rant, her head resting on Voldemort’s thigh. Her eyes sparkled as Voldemort continued.
“And when he’s lost everything he’s ever cared about,” Voldemort smirked dangerously, a mad glint entering his crimson orbs. “I’m going to kill him.”
A loud laugh burst out of his lips, and the sound of it sent shivers down the spines of anyone within ear range. It was cruel and full of a deadly promise. Voldemort gingerly touched the paper, his fingers brushing over the stick figure with bright green eyes.
His gaze hardened.
“I’m going to take everything from him. Just as he took everything from me.”