With a slow, predatory stride, we stepped out of the room that had become a grave for Ron and his parents. We were completely soaked in blood – a warm, sticky liquid that trickled down our black chest. The air in the house was so thick with horror that it was almost impossible to breathe. The stench of death mingled with the smell of excrement and urine, creating a stifling cocktail of terror.
The demon led us down the stairs, drawn by the sweet pulsing of blood it sensed in the lower part of the house. As soon as we descended, two red flashes erupted from the shadows of the hallway.
"Stupefy!"
Two stunning spells hit us square in the chest. But instead of stunning us, they merely absorbed harmlessly into our black skin. I felt that energy surging through my veins – the demon absorbed the magic and forged it into pure strength. I knew there was no way back for the twins now.
"Fred! George! Run, for God's sake, get out of here!" I pleaded desperately in my head, but my consciousness was merely a spectator in a horror experience.
Hysterically, they tried again: "Stupefy!"
The result was the same. The beast stopped on the last step, and a sound like a human laugh crossed with the snarl of a wolf tore from its throat. It was enjoying their fear. It relished the sight of yellow liquid pooling under Fred and George's feet. Their terror was sweeter to the demon than the blood itself. It wasn't hungry – it was malicious. It wanted to be entertained.
Why did they just stand there so stupidly? Why didn't they try to run while they had that one, fleeting second? I felt like tearing my soul from my body in despair as I watched the Beast walk toward them slowly, almost casually.
Finally, they snapped out of it and turned to flee, but it was too late. The Beast didn't move like a human – it lunged forward like a living shadow and was behind them in a fraction of a second. It grabbed a skull in each hand. I felt their sweaty skin and red hair under my (its) fingers as it began to slowly, methodically increase the pressure.
Guttural, painful screams and pure hysteria echoed throughout the Burrow. The Beast only laughed raspingly, a sound reminiscent of stones grinding together. The twins kicked their legs helplessly in the air, their fingers vainly trying to loosen that iron grip. After a moment, their bodies went completely limp. A sickening, wet crack rang out. Only a bloody pulp remained of their heads; pieces of brain and skull bone splattered in all directions like ripe grapefruits.
The Beast simply tossed the lifeless husks into a corner like useless waste. It didn't stop. Blood from the twins ran down my hands, but the demon was already fixing its gaze on the living room. It felt another pulsing. Another warmth.
More victims.
Why did they have to hide in the living room of all places? They couldn't escape anymore; between them and the only way out stood the Beast. It walked casually, with the confidence of a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. It enjoyed this bloody hunt all the more because it felt my helplessness. My prayers were nothing but sweet seasoning for the main course to it.
The living room door was locked. The Beast tried to open it with an almost human movement of the handle, and when the resistance didn't give way, it laughed throatily. The sound of that laughter did not belong to this world. With a single punch, it shattered the massive wood into a thousand splinters that flew into the room like shrapnel.
Before I saw them, I heard them. Those helpless, high-pitched girlish screams pierced me to the very marrow of my bones. The Beast stepped calmly into the wreckage of the door. With dark amusement, it surveyed the room where Hermione and Ginny huddled in the corner, pressed against the wall. Both had their wands pointed directly at us, but their hands were shaking so violently they could barely hold the wood.
"Please, stop. Please! I'll do anything, just leave them alone!" I screamed desperately in the darkness of my mind. I felt a sudden flicker of interest. The Beast was beginning to find my pleas annoying, but after a moment, it simply moved toward them again.
Suddenly Ginny, with that unyielding Weasley courage of hers, took a step forward. "Stupefy!" she cried. The red beam hit us, but in the silence of the room, only another guttural laugh from the Beast was heard. The spell was swallowed in a second.
Ginny fell to her knees. "Please, Harry, if you're in there somewhere... please..." she began to sob. In a second, the air was filled with the smell of ammonia and urine; her body gave way under the weight of horror.
The Beast ignored her pleas completely. It grabbed her roughly by the hair and lifted her trembling body high. It looked her straight in the eyes, and in that moment, I felt that foul, unquenchable hunger. With a sharp movement of its clawed hand, it ripped open her belly and, with one yank, tore the liver from her body. Ginny just thrashed helplessly in the air, sounds coming from her throat that were not of this world. She was still alive. She felt everything. And I felt it with her.
The Beast placed the liver into its mouth slowly, almost ritually. It didn't take its eyes off Ginny and, with a twisted laugh in its gaze, began to chew. Only its satisfied smacking echoed through the dark room, punctuated by Ginny's fading wheezing and Hermione's muffled sobs. Hermione had curled into a ball in the corner with her eyes closed, trying to pretend she didn't exist. That this wasn't reality.
After a moment, Ginny finally went limp in my grasp. Her body became heavy, lifeless. The Beast grew bored; for good measure, it tore the still-warm heart from her chest and threw it, along with the dead girl, behind it like a piece of unnecessary junk. A deathly silence followed, in which only Hermione's ragged breathing could be heard.
We headed straight for her. Our steps, smacking in the puddles of blood on the floor, approached her slowly, relentlessly. Every step was like a hammer blow to my soul.
Hermione suddenly stopped sobbing. She clenched her hands into fists as if crushing the last remnants of her humanity in them and opened her eyes resolutely. There was no fear in them anymore, only pure, searing hatred. She looked directly at us – and with a throat full of tears and rage, she screamed the darkest of all curses:
"Avada Kedavra!"
The green flash of the Killing Curse hit me directly in the chest, but the Beast merely fed on it. The curse dissipated harmlessly within it like a drop of water in the ocean. Hope was dying within me, but I knew I couldn't let the last person I cared about end up as a bloody smear on the floor.
"Please... let her go!"
The demon ignored me, but I began to focus on every muscle fiber with superhuman effort. For a moment, the Beast froze. I felt its pure, animalistic surprise. After a while, however, it moved forward jerkily again. I stopped it once more. A battle for control raged in my mind, during which my soul literally burned. I felt its mounting rage.
Hermione broke down completely. When she saw that even the Avada did nothing, she sank to the ground like a broken doll. She knew it was over.
The demon finally broke through my defense. It moved forward until it stood directly over her. I couldn't prevent it. I fought so hard I felt my consciousness would explode, but the Beast took back control. Its black, clawed hand rested on Hermione's forearm.
I felt the impulse – it wanted to yank violently. I froze in that movement, holding the hand in place with all my will until it shook under the immense pressure of two consciousnesses.
Where is Dumbledore? Please, anyone, save her from me!
It was in vain. I lost the battle. With an inhuman snarl, the Beast yanked sharply. There was a sickening sound like tearing parchment – the sound of muscle, skin, and tendons giving way. A long, endless scream full of unimaginable pain rang through the night at the Burrow.
Hermione was still alive. Her ragged breath was the only thing keeping me sane. I felt the demon's surprise; it didn't expect to find so much will in my broken consciousness. It knew now that I was capable of fighting for control – and if I were to do so with every single one of its movements, its bloody fun would turn into constant agony.
"Stop! Leave her, or I will always fight. I'll ruin every hunt, every bit of bloody fun for you!" I screamed in the darkness of my mind, resisting it with everything I had left.
I felt its dark interest. For a moment, it observed me like a curious insect, until a twisted amusement woke within it. Eventually, however, with a foul, dissatisfied snarl, it turned away from Hermione. With a slow, heavy step, we headed out of the Burrow. Behind us in that devastation remained only the painful sobs and desperate crying of a girl I had just stripped of almost everything.
How will I be able to go on? How will I breathe, knowing that because of my body, people I loved more than my own life have died? I was a murderer, the gravedigger of the surrogate family that had taken me in.
Without aim and without hope, we set out directly into the night. Into the darkness that was now my only home.
***
I sat contentedly on my throne in the freezing hall. Nagini was out hunting, but I felt something much more satisfying – the dark, pulsing bond that connected me to the demon within my fated enemy.
Harry Potter had been cursed for a week now. The Wizengamot was in session today, and I expected fresh information. Finally, there was a muffled knock. With a wave of my wand, I let the doors fly open, and a wizard in Death Eater robes, but without a mask, entered. It was the son of my former classmate, Adrian Nott. He walked with his head bowed until he stopped before my throne with deep respect.
"My Lord, I bring news," he began, and I could hear blatant dark pleasure in his voice. I pierced him with a gaze and signaled for him to continue.
"The Weasleys are almost wiped out. The only survivor is some visitor – mad with horror. The Aurors who entered the Burrow couldn't keep their stomachs down. According to the testimony, some demon tore them... literally to pieces. Some corpses were half-eaten. Only the three oldest sons, who didn't live there, remain of the family."
He paused for a moment to savor my smirk. "No one has any idea who is behind it. Dumbledore is trying to keep it from the public. Furthermore, a small village near Devon was razed to the ground last night. The people were massacred in the same way. The old fool blames us."
I leaned back into the headrest blissfully. My weapon was working flawlessly. Harry Potter had slaughtered the people he called family, and now the Ministry or Dumbledore himself would have to hunt him down.
"Excellent news, Adrian. While we aren't responsible for that village in Devon, it doesn't matter. Discreetly spread the word that Harry Potter has gone mad. That his mind has succumbed to darkness, he slaughtered the Weasleys, and is now massacring innocent Muggles," I commanded with amusement.
The path to taking over the British Isles was clear. Dumbledore, that sentimental old man, would now have to chase his beloved hero like a rabid dog.
Nott bowed deeply once more. Fanatical devotion and blatant relish for the task he had been given gleamed in his eyes. Without a word, he backed away and disappeared into the shadows of the manor with a happy grin on his face.
My greatest obstacle had become my best tool. Victory was within reach.
***
Author's note:
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Upcoming Chapters:
4. The Symbiosis of Terror
5. The Last Enemy
6. Epilogue: A World Apart