The soft hiss of rain permeated the narrow room, whispering unknown secrets into the gloom. Despite its quietness, it became the dominant sound; only the faint sound of breathing challenged its supremacy.
Padma Patil lay still on her bed, her chest rising and falling with the patter of the raindrops. An unexpected drop landed on her forehead, startling her from her trance. Her dark eyes opened wide. She slipped onto the floor and padded softly to the corner, carefully avoiding the creakiest spots. Several buckets squatted in the corner where they awaited just such an eventuality. She positioned the bucket carefully under the leak, making sure that not one drop could escape.
Displacement activity, whispered what she thought of as her Ravenclaw side. She straightened up, shaking her long hair from her face. Of course it wasn’t displacement activity; she was merely waiting for an appropriate time.
An unfamiliar shape in the mirror caught her eye. She walked hesitantly closer, peering into the cracked dusty depths.
A shock coursed through her as she realised that the face was her own. She peered closer, fascinated at how much her appearance had changed without her knowledge. Her hair had once sprung from her head, thick, luxuriant and glossy “ the envy of every other girl. It now hung lank and greasy on either side of her face, thin strings dangling before her eyes. Washing her hair had been rather low on her priority list of late. Her face had lost its healthy colour; it was now sunken, with a sallow colour like old tea. Her dark brown eyes stared back at her, having unfettered themselves from childish dreams such as hope, happiness and trust.
This I must do. She gripped the sides of the rickety table until her knuckles were white, staring wildly into the depths of her own eyes.
God, help me.
There is no God.
Friends, comfort me.
You have no friends.
Father, protect me. Mother, love me. Sister, stand by me.
No-one can help you now.
“This I must do,” she whispered softly, her breath misting the glass. She turned sharply and strode a few paces away, patched robes swirling. For once she forgot about the floorboards and a groan like a man in agony resounded through the room. Padma held her breath as she heard her parents move, but her heart began to slow a little as there was no further sound.
I must go. She knew this, but yet she couldn’t bear to leave. She had debated whether or not to leave a note, but had eventually decided against it. What could she say? ‘My dear parents, I’m becoming a Death Eater because I love you.’ They wouldn’t understand her logic. They never had.
A twinge of despair rang through her heart. NO, she told herself firmly. No doubts. No second thoughts. This is the logical thing to do.
It was irrational of Parvati to join the Order. The second she had heard of it, she had left like a shot. Their parents were delighted. Padma just couldn’t fathom how they could be so blind. Couldn’t they see that the Order was vastly outnumbered? Couldn’t they tell that the Order had hobbled itself by proclaiming so many spells unethical? Couldn’t they realise that defeat was inevitable?
Padma alone in the family could see this. Therefore, she had taken the mantle of responsibility onto her own shoulders. She would save her family from the Dark Lord’s wrath by becoming his faithful supporter. And afterwards, she would commit herself to improving the newly forged world. After all, she reasoned, things can’t get much worse in the wizarding world than they are at present.
In just a few hours she would have to present herself to the Dark Lord. He would surely penetrate her mind to search for her true purpose. She would have to rely on her newly-learnt Occlumency skills to protect her.
And yet what would she be hiding? Distaste for some of his more . . . controversial methods, love for her family which could be used against her, and Parvati’s presence in the Order. Any of these things could be lethal information in his hands. Yet Padma was confident that her new ability would weather the test.
Confident “ are you really now? whispered a little voice from the back of her mind. Tell me then, why did a drop of cold sweat just run down your back? Padma took a deep shuddering breath. She was ready. She was.
The old grandfather clock tolled, one of the few remnants of her family’s former opulence. She counted eleven strikes until the noise ceased, leaving only echoes diffusing gradually into the air. Only then did she slip quietly out of the house, making sure she closed the door softly behind her.
* * *
Padma breathed in, her chest trembling slowly in and out. Rain trickled down her face, mingling with sweat and soaking into her thin robes, but she paid no heed. Her eyes were fixed on the derelict mansion that sprawled across the landscape like a crouched toad waiting for the foot to fall. She extended a shaking hand to push the gates and jumped as they creaked slowly open. Even as part of her quivered in fear, another more hidden part whispered, how cliché.
She fought to get a grip on her body and mind. The Dark Lord must not see her as a frightened schoolgirl, nor a sneering brat. She must appear calm, determined, adult. With these thoughts fixed in her mind, she strode up the driveway and straight to the front door. She ran up the steps and rapped on it, not allowing herself the time for doubt or second thoughts. Her stomach twisted into melting knots as she waited in trepidation.
Creaking footsteps approached the door. Padma’s chest heaved rapidly in and out as someone fumbled with the catch. The door swung slowly open, and Padma’s heart stopped. The impressive effect was only slightly spoiled by a yelp of pain from inside at the crunch of heavy wood on toes. Feeling slightly more heartened, Padma peered inside. A pale figure stood swearing in the shadows. It stopped as it saw her and straightened up suddenly.
“This way.” The speaker was male, young and trembling. The attempt at a deep voice failed miserably. There was something familiar about it . . . she was sure she had heard it before. Then he stepped into the light. They both gasped at the same time.
“Malfoy?”
“Patil?”
“What “ what are you doing here?” she asked, taken completely aback.. What on earth? He disappeared at the end of the school year! I thought he was dead.
“What about you, Gryffindor?” he snarled back, slipping his hand inside his robes. She acted faster, whipping her wand out and pointing it at him.
“Wrong twin,” she said quietly, anger slowly beginning to rise in her. All this preparation, all this mental anguish, all this stress, only to be held back in the doorway by a spotty, runaway boy. “And you didn’t answer my question. What is Draco Malfoy, top of the ‘missing persons’ list, doing in here?”
His grey eyes widened. “You “ you don’tknow?”
“Know what?” she asked warily, her brow wrinkling in puzzlement.
“I’m a…” his voice lowered and his grey eyes stared at her defiantly, “a Death Eater.” His recovered sense of superiority seemed to quiver a little at her lack of reaction.
Padma was a little surprised herself. My schoolmate is a Death Eater, she told herself. Nothing. Everything made a lot more sense this way “ the rumours in the school of inside help as the cause of the attack, his disappearance, the reluctance to explain what had happened. Besides, she thought, I’m very nearly one myself.
She tossed her dark hair back over her shoulder. “Well, that’s my aspiration too, so if you could just show me in…”
“You?” His eyes were almost falling out of his head. “You want to join the Dark Lord?”
“Well, I rather think so, yes,” she replied testily. She’d had enough of this chit-chat; she wanted to get a move on before her resolve failed completely.
“Draco, why the delay?” called a silky voice. Padma jumped as she recognised her old Potions master’s voice. “Ah, Miss Patil. Follow me.” He swept down the hall, his cloak brushing a clear path through the dust. Padma swallowed, trying to ease her dry throat, before hurrying after him.
They walked on through the filthy corridors, avoiding those patches where the wood had rotted through. Dark beasts preyed on Padma’s wilting mind. You’ll fail. You won’t hold your mind strong. He’ll see your indecision.
I’m not undecided! she thought fiercely. I have thought this through, and it is the logical choice to make. The sensible choice. I want to do this!
So absorbed was she in this internal argument that she only just stopped herself colliding with Snape. He indicated a door to his left. Light flickered on the edges, and a low murmur of voices could be heard. Padma glanced at him uncertainly, nerves making a last stand for sanity. He raised his eyebrows at her, and she could almost hear his taunting thoughts; are you afraid, little girl? What a pity; maybe your twin would have been better…
Padma shoved the door open so hard it slammed into the wall. All heads immediately snapped over. Seven adult faces subjected her to a contemptuous scrutiny. She could feel the red climbing up her cheeks, but she refused to move. Her eyes searched the room for the man she was seeking, if man was the right term. A tall figure stood up from an armchair by the fire, and she resisted the impulse to run as he slowly approached her. The other occupants of the room all bowed their heads and muttered obsequiously as he passed. She willed her body to cease its trembling, but her eyes fell of their own accord to the floor. Logic and reason deserted her, leaving only terror.
“So,” the Dark Lord breathed, “you have come.” Unwillingly, she raised her eyes to meet his. Wild scarlet pupils met hers, paralysing her.
“Yes.” She sweated with the effort of keeping the tremor from her voice. “I have come, my Lord.” She felt light-headed, as though her brain was being swept with cobwebs.
“I am undecided as to whether to accept one so young,” he mused. She could feel his breath on her quivering cheek before he strode away a few paces. “My last such initiate proved to be a terrible disappointment, is that not so, Draco?”
“Yes, my Lord,” Draco said hoarsely. Padma jumped a little, so much on edge she was hanging on by her toes; she had not heard him come in.
“I will not disappoint you, my Lord,” she said, her voice steadying a little. She twitched her head a little, trying to rid herself of the unusual sensations. Her breath caught as she realised the cause. Her eyes flickered back to the Dark Lord’s.
“Really,” he hissed. He walked a few feet away, and then whirled around. “Prove it.”
The force of his mind entering hers nearly knocked her off her feet. Desperately, she threw up the last of those defences she had learnt against the flood of his mind. Now she could see the cracks, the flaws that he exploited, seeing her life, her aspirations, her dreams, her family… Everything swirled into a vortex and she could only stare helplessly at those blood-red eyes.
A sudden abatement sent her off-balance. She suppressed the impulse to clutch her head and roll up into a whimpering ball. She still had enough sense left in her to stand up straight and look as unaffected as possible.
“So… you have a sister in the Order of the Phoenix?” The Dark Lord’s voice was smug, triumphant. Despair welled up inside her. I have failed, she thought bitterly.
“Yes, my Lord,” she whispered. She flinched slightly as he took a step closer to her.
“You may be more useful than I thought,” he said softly. “Give me your arm.”
Padma’s breath caught in her frozen throat. The moment had arrived. Wordlessly, she pushed up the sleeve of her robes, baring the skin underneath. She shivered as he wrapped his long fingers around her thin arm, the whiteness contrasting sharply against her brown. At the last second she closed her eyes, unwilling to witness this final step. She let out a painful gasp as searing agony jabbed through her forearm, burning and tearing the skin. Tears started to her eyes for the first time in years. The moment seemed to go on and on, before finally he released her. She pulled back, her large dark eyes fixed on the black skull that now disfigured her skin. Horror numbed her mind. This is what you want, remember? her last remaining rational thought screamed.
“You can go with Draco now,” the Dark Lord declared dismissively. She nodded, unable to speak, and followed the boy out of the room.
Padma followed quickly after Draco’s bobbing silver head as it weaved among this maze of squalor, this time heading down to the bowels of the house. He walked faster and faster, forcing her to trot to keep up.
“Where are you going?” she hissed.
“Back rooms.” He did not turn his head, move his eyes, or indeed to anything to acknowledge her presence. Still shaking slightly from shock, she dropped back a little. I did it. I actually did it. She glanced down at where she knew the mark to be. I’m a Death Eater.
Draco finally slowed his footsteps, head turning like a snake as he peered through the gloom for the room he searched for. An expression of relief crossed his face as he pushed open a door into an empty room.
“What is it?” asked Padma curiously.
“Nobody’s here.” He walked over to the table, flinging himself down into a chair so hard she heard it crack. As Padma’s eyes travelled around the room, she realised that they were in an old kitchen. Cobwebs draped themselves between cupboards, their arachnid occupants waiting patiently for the next prey. Padma pulled out a chair and sat down, sending a cloud of dust into the air.
“So,” she said, after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, “how long have you been here?”
He raised his head slowly, disbelief evident in his grey eyes. “What is wrong with you?” Taken aback, she could only stare. “You’ve just been made a Death Eater. A Death Eater. Don’t you have any idea what that means?”
“Yes,” she managed, snatching at her composure with fumbling fingers. “It means I have a chance of survival for the war ahead. It means there is a slight possibility that my family won’t all die. It means I can compensate for my sister’s idiocies.”
His blank gaze did not leave her face. The numb despair she saw in his eyes began to unnerve her.
“You have no idea,” he croaked. “No idea of what it’s like. Can you imagine being forced to kill people because he says to? And if you don’t do exactly as you’re ordered, he … he…” Draco shuddered and turned away.
Padma was astonished. She didn’t know Draco very well; to her, he was merely a rather obnoxious presence in another House. According to Parvati, he was rude, overbearing and narcissistic, although that wasn’t the word Parvati had used. I doubt she could even spell it, Padma thought snidely. Immediately, she felt ashamed of herself. She didn’t want to keep those ill feelings towards her sister, but old habits were harder to shake off than a Manticore.
She mentally pushed her train of thought back on track. Draco Malfoy. He certainly wasn’t acting the way she remembered from school. His cockiness was gone, replaced by fear. Padma was still musing about this change and the implications it could have for her when the door opened.
Snape stood in the doorway, his face partially obscured by the usual greasy strands.
“The Dark Lord requests your presence, Miss Patil,” he told her. “Draco! Sit up, and don’t forget you’re on door duty!”
“Yes, sir,” she heard Draco mumble as she left the room.
“Do “ do you know what the Dark Lord wants from me, sir?” she asked tentatively as she ran up the stairs after him.
“To see how useful you would be as a Death Eater, of course,” he replied. He spared a glance down at her. “You didn’t think you’d just join and that would be that? You’d immediately be part of his inner circle?”
“Of course not,” Padma said, her heart sinking. Stupid, she scolded herself. Of course that was only the beginning. Now you’re marked as his and can’t escape.
“Useless Death Eaters tend not to last very long,” he informed her, a shadow of a smile flitting over his sunken cheeks. Padma immediately began to formulate the many ways she could be of use to him.
He stopped outside the same room she had met the Dark Lord in last time. “And lying ones last even less time,” he whispered as she entered. Padma’s stomach contracted.
This time, only the Dark Lord was in the room. He turned from the window at the creak of the door, and waved a long-fingered hand (a skeletal hand, such as the Grim Reaper might have, it seemed to Padma in her frightened frame of mind) dismissively at Snape.
She stood awkwardly just inside the door, trying to keep the terror from her eyes and her thoughts from her mind.
“What special knowledge or service do you hope to offer the Dark Lord for giving you the honour of being among his followers?”
The question was sudden, unexpected. Padma groped wildly for an answer, all those she had thought of coming upstairs suddenly seeming weak and flimsy. The answer, when it came, surprised even her.
“I have a sister in the Order of the Phoenix.” Her trembling fingers began to twist together, sweat making them slip and slide.
“And that should make me trust you?” The Dark Lord walked closer, his eyes looking into hers and seeing her mind. She felt bare, naked even, in his presence.
“We’re twins. Identical twins.” Her words came faster now, twisting and jumbling in the effort to convince him. She forced her fingers apart and held them at her sides.
He stopped a few feet away. “Go on,” he hissed.
“It’s very hard to tell the difference. I could “ I could take her place without people noticing, if I was careful.” Her hands gripped the sides of her robes tightly, tearing the cheap material.
“You will betray your sister for me?”
Padma looked away, feeling physically sick. Would I? Would I trick my sister, lead her into imprisonment and maybe death? Can I pay that price?
Then the words of her sister came back to her.
”Padma, I’ve got great news about the Yule Ball!” Parvati came running into Ravenclaw Common Room, giggling happily.
“Really? Did you ask him?” Padma was fourteen; young, naïve, and with a huge crush on Harry Potter.
“Ask who? Oh, Harry?” Parvati smiled. “Sorry, sweetheart, he’s going with someone else.”
“Who?” Padma asked, broken-hearted and on the verge of tears.
“Me!” Parvati leaped up and twirled around the room. “Can’t you see it, Padma? Me, dancing with the Hogwarts Champion!” She continued on out, pausing to call over her shoulder, “You’re going with Ron Weasley! You know, Harry’s friend? I’m sure you’ll love him. Suits you so much better.”
It was at that moment that Padma had begun to hate her sister.
Padma looked up, hatred burning in her eyes.
“Yes.”
The word had hardly left her lips when the floor heaved suddenly. Padma’s eyes widened, terror enveloping her as the world spun. She gazed into his amused red eyes in helpless horror as around her the room dissolved, colours melting into one another, shapes morphing, light and darkness blending together in a vivid nauseating mess. Padma flung her arms around her head, praying to a God she didn’t believe in.
After what felt like weeks, the turmoil subsided. Cautiously, she raised her head and looked around. Tall grey buildings loomed above her, like enormous headstones in a giant’s graveyard. The odd Muggle hurried along, dour faces fixed on the ground, eyes screwed up against the light drizzle. Few even bothered to cast a second glance at the young woman huddled in a puddle.
Padma straightened up slowly, ignoring the damp seeping through the thin material. Why had the Dark Lord sent her here? What relevance did this place have for her?
“Padma?”
Padma’s stomach lurched and the blood left her face. She turned slowly, ice spreading through her at the sound of that well-known voice.
“Hello, Parvati,” she replied, her mask of composure in place once more.
“What are you doing here, and at this time of morning? I thought you were with Mum and Dad!”
Padma didn’t bother to attempt to reply, knowing her sister had merely stopped for breath during her eternal monologue. She kept pace alongside her, noting with disgust the new silk robes, money she had no doubt told her parents was for Order business.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I just popped out for a bit of air, and“” Parvati babbled.
“How are you getting on?” interrupted Padma.
“Oh, wonderfully,” she prattled. “You’ve no idea how exciting it is to be working with the Chosen One “ Harry, that is.” Her eyes flickered to Padma for a moment, gauging her reaction. You snake, Padma thought. But you won’t get to me this time.
“I haven’t talked to Harry in a while,” Padma said above her sister’s incessant chatter. “Where did you say you were working?”
“Now, Padma!” Parvati giggled. “You know I’m not supposed to tell you that.”
They turned off the street into a quiet park. Parvati daintily avoided the clumps of sodden leaves that littered the paths. Padma strode through them, ignoring the slimy touches.
“I was only asking.” Her mind raced, trying to identify the fastest way to get the information out of Parvati. “In case I was ever nearby again, and wanted to bring a present from our parents.” She hoped this appeal to Parvati’s materialism would win through.
“Never just to see me?” Parvati joked. Or was there something behind it, a certain look to her eye…? No; Parvati didn’t know the meaning of genuine.
“Of course,” Padma lied.
“Well…” Parvati slowed her steps, head turning as uncertainty crossed her pretty face. “I suppose no-one would mind if I told you. I mean, you were in Dumbledore’s Army and everything, and you are my sister. After all, it’s not like you’re a demented Death Eater come to murder us all!” She threw back her head and laughed at the thought, dark hair bouncing and twirling in the cool breeze. Padma chuckled a little too loudly at this.
“Here “ it’s under a Fidelmus Charm, or something, I have to give you this. You’re welcome to come any time, I’m sure.”
Padma glanced down at the scrap of parchment offered to her. No. 12 Grimmauld Place. She wasn’t sure whether she should be elated or disgusted with herself. Not that it mattered too much; feelings were only on the surface, and were usually more of a hindrance than a help.
“Thanks, Parvati.” She looked into her sister’s eyes, so like her own, and whispered, “Obliviate.”
Parvati’s face went slack, her gaze unfocused. Padma lowered her wand slightly, unable to stop her hand from trembling. I just Obliviated Parvati. It worked. The charm worked!
Professor Flitwick would have been proud of her. She had spent the whole summer researching useful spells. This had proved the most difficult, and it had taken her months before she had any sort of command over it. She only hoped she hadn’t gone back too far.
She Stunned Parvati quickly and propped her up behind a tree. She had to hurry. If Parvati woke up too soon, that would mean the end for her.
______________________________________________________________________
Padma checked the grubby piece of parchment for the last time as she arrived at last. Number Twelve, Number Twelve… She spotted it at last, lurking between two Muggle houses. Funny, I was sure that wasn’t there a second ago. Feeling apprehension rising in her once more, she hovered at the gate, trying to formulate a rational plan. She wasn’t like those Gryffindors, rushing blindly in under the banner of supposed bravery. No, she would have an idea of what she was doing before she went in.
“Hi Parvati, up already?” called a cheerful voice. Cursing silently, Padma turned around, a fake smile struggling to stay on her face.
“Hermione. How nice to see you,” she replied through gritted teeth.
“What happened to your robes?” The bushy-haired nuisance was walking her up the path towards her.
“I “ I spilt something on them and had to change,” she invented, mind spinning faster than a Billywig.
“Well, come inside out of this rain, anyway,” Hermione continued, holding the door open for her. Padma’s eyes widened at the sight of the serpentine doorknocker; for a wild second, she thought the Dark Lord had sent a spy to ensure she completed her task. The eyeless sockets focused her mind. Find some information of use to the Dark Lord and then get out.
Hermione put her finger to her lips as she stepped into the gloomy hall. The dinginess of the place took Padma aback; she had expected a much classier location for the Order. This reminded her all too much of what her home had become. She followed Hermione silently downstairs.
It was much more cheerful here. A fire danced in the hearth, driving away the lingering damp and cold, and the furniture had a comfortably used look about it. The ceiling was lower, adding to the intimate, confiding atmosphere. A dark-haired boy sat at the worn table, deep in conversation with another familiar face. Both looked up as she and Hermione entered the kitchen.
“Hello Hermione, Parvati,” nodded Professor Lupin. Padma could hardly believe her eyes. So this was where he had gone after he disappeared from Hogwarts. He had been one of her favourite teachers; she had refused to believe at first that he was a werewolf.
Harry stood up, shaking his black hair from his face. Padma’s breath caught a little. You’re over him, well and truly, remember? she scolded herself.
“Hermione, I think we’ve made a breakthrough!” he declared, excitement evident in his voice. Padma leaned forward eagerly, her dark hair slipping over her shoulder. “Lupin is certain he has located the orphanage that Tom Riddle grew up in. There’s a good chance Voldemort hid a Horcrux there.”
Hermione gasped, although Padma couldn’t see why. What was a Horcrux? It was clearly important, anyway, and hopefully of value to the Dark Lord.
“That does make sense,” Hermione said slowly. “After all, we know he likes to hide them in places of importance to him in some way. But which one do you think it is? The cup, maybe?”
“No idea.” Harry frowned, green eyes narrowing. “We’ll soon find out. I’m going over there next week.”
“We’ll have to research some good spells,” Hermione declared briskly. “I was thinking of …”
Padma had heard enough. Muttering a quick excuse, she slipped out of the kitchen and made her way softly through the hall. She heaved the heavy door open, hardly daring to breathe for fear she attract the attention of another Order member. Every second she remained there increased in the risk of discovery.
At last she was out in the morning air. She took a deep breath, feeling the icy tendrils needle through her lungs. She had completed her mission. She would live another day.
Heart soaring, she hurried to a shadowy alley and Disapparated.
* * *
“You tricked me, Padma.” Parvati’s tear-stained face looked at her with accusing eyes. “You betrayed all of us! How could you? Because of you, we’re dead.” The face faded a little, still echoing, “Dead”. The eyes flashed red and hissed, “Well done, faithful servant.” The Dark Lord smiled at her, but he wasn’t the Dark Lord, he was a Dementor come to take what was left of her soul! It extended a bony rotting hand and poked her hard on the arm.
Padma awoke with a jolt. Her eyes darted about, looking for evidence that it had all been a dream. A sharp jab in her arm sent a jolt of terror through her, and she pulled herself upright.
“Patil?” Draco’s pale face stared back at her. Rubbing her arm, she swung her legs off the side of the couch. She hadn’t intended to sleep, but the long, emotionally harrowing night had taken its toll. She felt marginally more refreshed now, although her neck was killing her.
“What“” She yawned, feeling her jaw was about to crack, “what do you want?”
Draco shook his head. “I was just told to wake you up.”
Padma stretched and looked around. Grey light dimly illuminated the dingy aspects of the kitchen. She pulled herself up from the old couch in the corner, its ancient buckled springs creaking and groaning.
Draco stood at the dusty window, his back deliberately turned to her. Padma busied herself in getting something to eat, as it was now approaching midday. She hummed tunelessly to herself, surprised at this happiness such as she hadn’t felt in years.
“You never did answer my question,” she ventured a few minutes later. “How long have you been here?” Draco turned around and attempted to silence her with a look, but she met his gaze unblinkingly. She hadn’t realised how much she had missed conversations with somebody whose interests ran beyond the latest fashion in robes. Her time in Hogwarts already seemed so long ago. Was it really only last year? she wondered incredulously.
He gave up eventually. “Since the start of the summer, something like that,” he muttered.
“Doing what?” she asked, a little surprised at her own audacity.
He turned on her angrily. “What do you think? I’m not exactly the Dark Lord’s favourite, unlike some. Just because you got some information he didn’t know about doesn’t mean you’ll stay in his good books forever! I failed, and I now I’m expendable. Why do you think I’m the one who always answers the door? It’s in case there’s an attack, so my death will give the others time to get away.”
His lip curled in a sneer as he saw her stunned face.
“Not all silk pyjamas, is it?”
“I never expected it to be,” Padma said stiffly, recovering her composure and marching out of the room. Once in the hall, she glanced at her watch, and was pleased to see it was almost time.
The Dark Lord had been highly satisfied with her undercover work. So satisfied, in fact, that he had set her a new task.
She could only wonder what it might be.
* * *
An hour or so later, Padma’s spinning feet touched soft, marshy ground and promptly folded. She hauled herself out of the muck and glared at the Portkey disguised as an old hat. Trying fruitlessly to brush off some of the filth, her eyes travelled across this new landscape.
Perhaps it had once been beautiful, vibrant landscape, but what was left now resembled a graveyard. Dying trees leaned over a grey lake, brittle branches drooping over the water in hopeless defeat. The grass was sparse, and what was there was pale and sickly. The lake water glooped and glimmered, its dark waters appearing repellent rather than inviting. A small island stood in the middle, the few trees huddling against the hill for protection. A very slight pressure on her skin indicated that attempting to Apparate would not be wise.
What to do now? The Dark Lord’s instructions had not been very explicit.
“This Portkey will take you a . . . secret location. There, I have hidden a Dark item which is essential for the upcoming battle “ a bracelet. Do not, by any means, put it on, or you will die. I hope this will go as well as your last mission; don’t you, Padma?”
“Yes, my Lord,” she had whispered, his use of her first name sending shivers down her spine. For some reason, it emphasised yet again that this was no game.
Well, the first and most logical thing to do would be to find a way across the lake. A boat would be best. Padma began to poke among the reeds, but soon realised they were too rotten to hide anything in. Swimming was the next alternative, although it didn’t seem the most attractive in this weather. She walked to the very edge of the lake, water oozing in through her thin soles, in an attempt to see how deep it got. Physical activity was not her strong point. As she liked to tell people, her talents lay in intellectual fields, not Quidditch ones.
The water seemed very murky. She leaned in closer, trying to peer through it. Suddenly something scaly leapt out of the water and sprang at her throat. Padma screamed and toppled backwards, kicking out as hard as she could. As she heard it squawk in pain and surprise she scrambled up the shore as fast as she could. The creature followed warily, baring sharp teeth in anticipation.
It looked vaguely like a cross between a monkey and a fish. Slimy scales covered a small, humanoid body. As it crawled towards her, she saw a dip in its head which appeared to hold water.
Her mind raced as she rifled through dusty memories of her old textbook, ‘Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them’. A Kappa! It was Mongolian, wasn’t it? No; Japanese. And “ Padma’s throat tightened “ it ate people. She climbed slowly to her feet, trying not to provoke the already annoyed creature into charging.
She groped in her pocket for her wand, determined not to be prevented from completing her task by an unintelligent animal. Her questing fingers found nothing. Heart pounding in her chest, she realised it had slipped out of her pocket as she fell. This changed things.
How did one defeat a Kappa? There was a definite method, she could remember that much. Something to do with… carving your name into a vegetable. But how would she get one here, and have the time to carve? Padma’s hair flew in front of her eyes as she cast about, looking for an alternative.
But wait “ what about the water it carried? Adrenaline surged through her as she finally remembered. Bow! She had to make it bow to spill the water!
The Kappa moved closer, confident this strange human who wasn’t even running away would make an easy meal. It launched itself suddenly at Padma. She cried out and leapt backwards out of reach.
Bow… bow… how to make it bow? Her thoughts scurried like rats trying to escape a Jarvey.
Inspiration struck suddenly, at the same time as the Kappa leapt again. This time she lost her balance, lashing out wildly. The Kappa retreated, snarling, giving her time to find her feet once more. As she stood, she felt the rough grain of a stone against her hand. She stopped in her tracks. The creature looked up, surprised at this unusual behaviour in its prey. Its reptilian eyes widened as she tossed the stone at its feet, and it looked down.
Padma laughed in delight as the water ran down its scales. Feeling elated at her success, she began to walk back to the lake to retrieve her wand. A growling noise arrested her movement.
No! That has to work! That’s what I learnt! She spun around to face the Kappa, hopeless dread spreading numb tendrils through her. She froze as its shape seemed to ripple, shimmering and wavering in the pale light. Within a few seconds a tall horse stood before her, shaking its mane of bulrushes.
A kelpie! No wonder, Padma thought. This creature had appeared very interesting to her at the time she had learnt about it; after all, who wouldn’t be fascinated at the true explanation of the Loch Ness Monster? Able to change shape at will, though generally preferring the equine one which it occupied at present, kelpies also delighted in feasting on human flesh. Luckily, the solution to this one was fresher in her mind. She crouched down and swiftly tore a strip of material from the end of her robe, scooping up her wand as she did so. Twisting the cloth into a rough bridle, she sought to recall the exact words of the Placement Charm.
“Locusum!” she cried as she tossed the bridle towards the kelpie. It reared back in fright, long legs pawing the air frantically. It couldn’t escape the makeshift bridle. It settled down quietly once it was in place, other than a stubborn hoof pawing at the ground.
Padma exulted. The solution to her problem! The kelpie would be docile now, and easy to command. She walked to its side and sung herself up a little ungainly. Wobbling slightly, she directed her steed to the island.
Some time later, considerably wetter and more dishevelled than when she had left the headquarters, Padma arrived at the island. She slid off the kelpie thankfully, grimacing as her sodden robes clung to her icily. After tying the kelpie up for the journey back, she set off up the hill.
Within a few seconds she spotted a small wooden box, adorned with hissing carvings of serpents. The light caught it in such a way that the tongues seemed to flicker in and out. Discarding these superstitious observations, Padma extended her arm and sent a cautious ‘Alohomora’ towards the box. It snapped open, revealing a rather dull gold bracelet. Feeling a little disappointed despite herself, Padma Levitated it out of its encasement, just to be on the safe side. No catastrophes occurred, and so she delicately picked it up and slipped it into her pocket. As she strode back down the hill, she couldn’t help feeling a little let down. All that fuss for such a plain bracelet she mused. And how useful can it be? You’re hardly going to force a bracelet on an opponents arm during a duel, so why is it necessary for the war? It makes no sense. Although I suppose it might have its uses in more subtle murder plots…
The kelpie lifted its head as she approached, and trotted eagerly into the water. Padma leapt off its back as they reached the far shore. She considered leaving the bridle on, but decided against it; she didn’t want to make it too easy for someone else to access the island, not after what she had gone through. Releasing the animal with a quick Severing charm, she fled to the Portkey before it could exact its revenge.
The last thing she saw before she left was the kelpie charging at her with murder in its dark, merciless eyes.
Padma felt the familiar jerk from the region of her stomach as her fingers brushed the Portkey. She felt a rush of thankfulness to be leaving the place at last.
She froze in numb horror as her feet touched the ground once again. The Portkey didn’t work! Why didn’t it work? she screamed silently. She had no time for further thoughts as she flung herself sideways, rolling and tumbling in the grass to escape the kelpie’s frenzied attack. What she was not aware of was that there was a steep slope behind her. She tumbled down, throwing her arms around her head to protect herself from the stinging undergrowth. She could hear the kelpie coming after her, screaming its rage. The world whirled, grass and sky blurring and becoming one, on and on until her pace finally slackened.
Bruised, dizzy and nauseated, Padma staggered to her feet and stumbled on. The sound of pounding hooves came closer, closer. She tried to run but caught her foot in a burrow. She lay trembling on the ground, waiting for vicious hooves and merciless teeth to tear her apart.
The sound of hooves ceased abruptly. The screams continued, but got no closer.
What the… thought Padma in confusion. She opened her eyes and sat up, wincing at her battered state.
The kelpie stood only a few feet away, pawing and plunging. Yet every time it tried to advance, it rebounded off an invisible force.
Padma cast her eyes about her bewilderedly. Her eyebrows shot up as she saw a tiny village nestled at the foot of the slope.
Of course,, she realised, irritated at her own stupidity. The kelpie is barricaded in to keep it from the Muggles. How could I have forgotten? It would have saved me all this unnecessary panic. Feeling more than a little irritated and shaken, she stumbled down the hill towards the village.
On the five minute walk down, several thoughts occurred to her. The first was, how could she enter a Muggle village dressed in robes? The second, more serious question was, how on earth would she get back?
The Ministry would surely pick up on any magical activity in a Muggle area. That ruled out Apparation and Summoning a means of transport. Therefore, she reasoned, a she would have to result to the Muggle way.
The first logical step was to find out where she was. As for her robes … well, Muggles were famed for not noticing what was right under their noses anyway.
She proceeded cautiously into the small muddle of houses, looking for a shop of some sort. Her dark eyes lit up as she spotted a newsagent. Once inside, she headed straight for the maps. A quick flick soon told her that she was about thirty miles from the nearest identifiable magical area.
“Can I help you, miss?” enquired a cracked old voice suspiciously. Padma turned and treated the woman to an unconvincing smile.
“No, thank you, I’m fine “ perfectly fine,” she lied, hurrying out of the shop. She could feel the shopkeepers disapproving gaze fixed on her until she rounded a corner. She was aware that she must look like a madwoman “ dressed in grass-stained robes, still soaked through, covered in cuts and scrapes.
So, how to travel thirty miles without collapsing of exhaustion, hunger or thirst, since I have no Muggle money? She scowled, glaring at the surrounding buildings. Typically there was nothing she could see that might help her.
“Oh, hell,” she muttered, kicking the battered bicycle at her feet.
Bicycle!
Two minutes later, she was zipping “ well, wobbling “ her way out of town as fast as her bruised legs could pedal.
* * *
It was a very tired and dishevelled Padma that finally Apparated outside the mansion. Staggering forward, she struggled to lift the heavy knocker before letting it swing down with a deafening clang. She leaned against the wall, closing her itching eyes.
She soon heard Draco’s reluctant footsteps coming towards the door. With an effort, she pulled herself upright as he tugged the heavy door open. His eyes widened as they fixed on her.
“What happened to you?” he demanded incredulously, his gaze travelling from her bruised face down her torn and grass stained robes. She pushed past him into the hall, wincing at the stabs of pain from her upper legs. She felt as though her very bones were bruised. Cycling fifty miles over hill and vale through winding country lanes until she was completely lost and befuddled had not done her physical state any good. She had lost count of how many times she’d fallen off, or had to dive into the ditch to avoid an overenthusiastic motorist, had realised she’s just done an enormous circle… all in all, it had been a fantastic journey.
It was this thought that made Padma truly realise how exhausted she was; sarcasm was not among her usual array of weaponry.
“What?” she said, vaguely aware that Draco was saying something to her.
“Ever hear of ears, Patil? They’re those things sticking out of your head that make you like you could take off any second!” he snarled. His eyes darted about, never settling on one place for long.
“I see you’re feeling more like your own self,” she said coolly. She was too tired even to get upset; she merely noted him down on her list of people she hated.
“You’re wanted. Out there. They're under the tree." He jerked a thumb towards the door, where the wind was whipping the drizzle into lurking grey beasts.
Padma’s heart plummeted. She knew it was no use objecting; she couldn’t see the Dark Lord letting her off because she was tired. She turned and stumped outside, willing her body to co-operate for just a little while longer.
“Goodbye,” Draco said suddenly. She turned and looked at him. The rain blurred her vision until she felt she was staring at a ghost.
“Good “ goodbye,” she replied, uncertainty fettering her voice. As she walked in the easing rain, she wondered what had prompted his uncharacteristic farewell.
She could just about see three shadows at the base of the old oak tree. The fading light cast everything into semi-darkness, giving an eerie feeling to the grounds, where huge trees lurked like cats waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse.
As she came closer to the tree, the figures took on an ominous familiarity. Bellatrix Lestrange eyed her contemptuously from her position at the Dark Lord’s side, while Lucius Malfoy did not even deign to glance at her. Padma could not find the strength of will to keep her eyes on the Dark Lord as she stood before them. Instead, she chose to gaze at the sodden leaves that littered the ground.
“Please look at the Dark Lord when he is addressing you,” Bellatrix hissed icily. Her voice was like one who finds pleasure in torturing kittens.
With an effort, Padma raised her head. Her eyes flickered to the Dark Lord’s, but keeping her them fixed on his blood red eyes that seemed to look into her soul and laugh at what he found was just too much. Instead, she gazed at his pale lips. They curved up in a smile, enjoying her discomfort.
“Someone has deeply insulted the Dark Lord, and he has decided that they need to be punished,” said Lucius, so coldly that Padma could almost hear the frost crackling on his words. “You are to go to their house tonight and kill them. Do not worry. We have ensured that no one will get in your way, but if they should, I would like to think you could take care of them. Now, wouldn’t you like to know who you will be visiting?”
Padma felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. Kill? Already? can’t! she thought desperately. I just can’t!
Of course you can, whispered her logical side.You don’t even know who the victim is yet! It could be your worst enemy; doesn’t revenge sound attractive?
She suddenly realised that they were all looking at her expectantly. She nodded as if in slow motion, waiting for this name that would change her life.
“You will be paying a visit to Stephen Cornfoot. I believe you are familiar with his home, so you should not have a problem getting there.”
A gasp escaped her frozen lips. Stephen? No; no, it can’t be Stephen!
“Is this a problem?” inquired Bellatrix, her voice dripping with fake concern.
“Of “ of course not,” Padma stuttered. “I’ll just go and “ I’ll go.”
She turned and hurried off across the grounds towards the house, ignoring the damp grass that slowly soaked the edges of her robes. She leaned against the door, her mind in a swirling mess.
Oh, God, why Stephen? Tears welled up in her eyes. Why do I have to choose? Please, please, let something happen! Anything, just don’t make me choose!
Stephen Cornfoot; bright, cheerful and fun. Padma had never really had a ‘best friend’, but of all those non-best friends he had been the closest. It was only second year that they really began to hang out together, and he was part of the reason that Padma saw her school years up to fifth year as the happiest in her life. Over these few months, her liking of him had built to something more; in fact, Padma had once dreamed of spending her life with him. It was a foolish whim, and quickly dismissed, but she could not deny the sweetness of the thought. And yet the last time she had spoken with him had left a dark poison that affected her for years afterwards.
“Hey, Padma,” called Stephen in his warm voice. Padma looked up from her Transfiguration essay, already a foot longer than necessary.
“Hi Stephen.” She moved some scrolls over to make space for him in the adjacent chair. He sat down, his hands twisting and entwining themselves in his lap. Padma looked at him enquiringly, but he refused to meet her gaze. Shrugging, she went back to her essay.
“Conjurus is spelt with a j, not a g,” Stephen told her as he peered over her shoulder. Sighing in irritation, Padma corrected her mistake. She glared at him.
“What“”
“I’m leaving.” Stephen’s words jumbled and tangled in his haste to spit them out.
Padma stared at him, puzzlement evident in her dark eyes. “You’re leaving the Common Room?”
“No!” Stephen leapt to his feet and began pacing around the empty room. “I’m leaving Hogwarts.”
Padma felt her heart turn to ice. “You “ you’re not serious?” she whispered.
“I am,” he replied grimly. “You know my father died last month.” Padma nodded silently. Stephen had become very quiet and depressed, despite the fact that his father was known for his drinking and occasional violence.
“My mother… she’s not happy. She wants me home.” He turned to face the hearth, firelight casting strange, flickering shadows over his face.
“Your mother? But I thought you didn’t get along with your mother? You always said“”
“I know, I know. But she’s on her own now. She doesn’t have anyone.”
“She never wanted you while he was alive,” Padma said quietly, feeling the floodwaters of rage beginning to rise. He rounded on her suddenly.
“Shut up, okay! So what? She’s not a happy person “ she was never able to stand up to Dad. It’s not her fault that he “ he“” Stephen stopped, unable to continue and glared at her, brown eyes flashing.
Padma looked up at him coldly. “She never stopped him when he went for you, did she?” Her voice was cool, offhand. “And I don’t see how pulling you out of school shows she loves you.” Inside her a tiny voice screamed, No, don’t do this. Please. Padma could feel the venom in her carefully impassive voice slowly poisoning their relationship.
Stephen strode towards her, his hands clenched into fists. “Don’t you dare talk about my mother like that. And you’re a fine one to lecture me about family “ spoken to Parvati lately?” She could feel his hot breath on her trembling face. She said nothing.
He took a few steps back. “I just came to say goodbye. I’m leaving tomorrow morning.” He marched towards the boy’s dormitory. At the doorway he turned, golden-blonde hair slipping in front of his eyes.
“And since this is probably the last time we’ll ever talk, you should get over that thing with Parvati. I’ve spoken to her, and she’s a nice girl. More than nice. You take holding a grudge to a whole new level.”
Padma snapped. Anger spilled out in waves, eroding logic and reason. She glared at him, loathing written in savage handwriting across her face. “I hate you,” she spat viciously..
“Oh, great. Well, thanks for proving my point and making my last day at Hogwarts memorable!” he yelled, slamming the door so hard several people ran out to see who had dropped a packet of Exploding Snap cards.
Padma had wept then, for the last time in years.
Her burning hatred had lasted all of a few hours. She had cried herself to sleep that night, cursing Stephen, his mother, the school, everyone. His words hurt no less in the morning, but she had sought him out anyway. She didn’t really know what she wanted “ an apology, perhaps? It didn’t matter in any case; he had left on an early train. She had never heard from him again. She had never truly forgiven him for what he had said to her, but she couldn’t help missing his company, his comfort, his smile.
And now I must kill him, she thought woodenly.
I can’t. I can’t. He might have hurt me, but I can’t kill someone I feel that way about.
The agony of the choice tortured her. Her throat tightened painfully, making swallowing difficult. She paced up and down, up and down before the heavy mansion.
Why me? Why me, why me, why ME?. A strangled moan struggled painfully out before she could stop it. Unable to stay in the same place, she began walking down the driveway, sloshing unheedingly through ankle deep puddles. The slow pace was unbearable; she sped up, head down against the drifting drizzle. Images of Stephen rose in her mind and she began to run, run faster and faster until she lost her mind in a flurry of limbs, rain and grief. She pounded onwards, tears whipped away by the wind.
Her foot caught in an unseen rut and she tumbled ungainly to the ground. As she lay in the puddles, streams of mud running down her drawn face, she began to sob. It built up until her whole body shook with each agonising heave. She dug her fingers into her tangled strands of hair, wishing with all her heart that this could all somehow go away, be a dream, be a nightmare.
“ I “ don’t “ want “ to “ KILL “ anyone!” she cried, her hoarse voice muffled by the ever-falling never-caring rain.
Look at you, a small voice whispered. Sprawled in the muck like a pig. What happened to logic? What happened to reason? What happened to doing anything to survive?
Padma slowly rose until she knelt on the ground. Logic. Logic is good. If there was more logic, there would be less pain, she thought feverishly. Therefore, what does logic dictate that I do? She pulled herself up and weaved unsteadily out of the gate.
The facts are thus:
I have been ordered by the Dark Lord to kill Stephen.
Stephen and I were once friends, and I may still have feelings for him.
We argued when we last met, and he made an unforgivable comment.
If I do not kill him, I will die.
If I do not kill him, someone else will be ordered to instead.
There!
A tidal wave of relief rushed through her. She paused and leaned against the wall. Of course! Stephen will die anyway, whether it is I who do the deed or not. There is no sense in dying needlessly, whatever those Gryffindors may say. It may even be better for him if I do it; other Death Eaters may take pleasure in torturing him before he dies. And, also, he should not have said what he did about Parvati.
This is the logical thing to do, she told herself firmly. Before the euphoric state could end, she Apparated.
She appeared moments later outside a stately London house. A group of young Muggles trooped past. They eyed her openly as they passed, and she heard a girl call out in a high pitched voice, “Did you see what she was wearing!”.
Oh, God. Specks of doubt began to settle slowly on her mind. She tried not to let her thoughts waver. Logic! There is no God! There is no alternative!
The steps up to the door loomed in front of her, an insurmountable limestone mountain. Taking a deep breath, she forced her leaden feet to climb one step at a time. Her footsteps seemed to beat out the same torturous mantra over and over again.
I don’t “ want “ to kill. I don’t “ want “ to kill.
I do! she thought wildly. I want to obey the Dark Lord, to serve him well, to save myself and my family.
The last step.
Stephen is nothing. Nothing!
The door.
Better he die than me.
The knocker.
What could I do, anyway?
A hand, poised over it.
Stephen is innocent! He doesn’t deserve to die.
The hand began to fall.
Even if I ran away, he’d find me.
It froze.
The Dark Lord finds everyone. There is no escape. I am branded as his.
It drifted slowly up.
I do this or die.
Padma grabbed the knocker and dropped it. It made a dull thud, a dead sound like the seal on a death sentence,
Don’t let him be there. Please, Padma found herself thinking. Stupid. As if the Dark Lord would let that be the end. You’re only putting off the inevitable. She knocked again. Her heart plummeted as she heard a voice approaching.
“Coming, coming, give me a second.” The door swung open to reveal a handsome golden-haired young man; perhaps more lined than she remembered, a little heavier, but all in all he hadn’t changed much. His mouth dropped open in surprise.
“Padma?” he asked incredulously. She nodded, not trusting her voice. His brown eyes flickered over the mud spattered all over her, but he didn’t mention it. “Come in, it’s getting cold out.” He stood back to let her past and allowed the door slam shut as he showed the way into a long narrow sitting room. She stood uncomfortably as he walked around her.
“So!” he declared, leaning casually against the wall. “How are you? I haven’t heard from you for years “ I thought you weren’t talking to me!” Padma licked her dry lips and prepared to speak, but he cut across her.
“How’s Parvati?” he asked eagerly, leaning forward as his eyes lit up in hopeful anticipation. She felt a thin layer of ice settle over her as the world froze.
‘She’s a nice girl. More than nice.’
It was never you. Only her.
All he ever saw in you was an inferior copy.
He used you.
He deserves to die.
Padma raised her head, her burning eyes meeting his surprised ones. She whipped out her wand and levelled it at his beautiful, treacherous face.
“Avada Kedavra.”
* * *
Passers-by may have noticed a strangely dressed young woman striding along the street, tattered robes billowing in the night breeze. If they were close enough, perhaps they would have seen the curiously emotionless smile on her face, and the greenish tinge to her skin. If, however, they were that observant, their attention was probably focused on the emerald mark that mutilated the night sky in all its sinister glory.
Therefore, x + y = Death by mooncalf
Chapter Notes: Thanks to Catrin and especially lily_evans34 for beta-ing this!