The Son of Lord Voldemort

Chapter 137

Aidan Jones enjoyed watching Moody's fake eye spin around and around in its socket. The speed at which it traveled didn't seem possible, but the more annoyed the gruff auror became, the faster it spun.

"I'd wipe that smirk off your face, Jones," Moody growled. "No less than two dozen dark artifacts were found in your Manor." Aidan's smirk grew, and he leaned back in his chair. "Don't smirk at me, boy!"

A low growl emanated from Moody's throat when Aidan continued to stare at him as though the situation did nothing but amuse him. "Don't answer my questions then," Moody said. Moody's face broke into a grin, highlighting the grotesque scar that ran down his right cheek. "A few nights in Azkaban will loosen your tongue."

A guttural laugh burst out of Aidan's throat. "I won't be seeing the inside of Azkaban."

Moody's eye began to twirl even faster and he opened his mouth, but before he could say a word a siren rang out. The blaring noise echoed around the room, the sound nearly deafening, and Aidan could see people running past the small window set in the door.

Moody's good eye narrowed and he jumped to his feet, surprisingly fast for someone so old. Moody pulled the door open and grabbed the arm of a young auror running past.

"What's going on, lad?" Moody barked.

The auror looked petrified, his eyes round as quaffles. The young man's eyes darted to Aiden then back at Moody. "There's been a breach in interrogation rooms one and two."

Moody growled as he limped out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Aidan felt a tingle in the air, it was no doubt Moody putting up wards. 'Fool.' Aidan thought.

Aidan stood up, pushing the uncomfortable silver chair back as he did. He walked around the rectangular table and stood off to the side of the door. He looked out the window, and watched as three more aurors ran past.

The alarm grew louder. A tight sensation flooded his body and a tingle went down his spine. He smiled at the flare of magic. The metal door opened and closed, but there was no sign of anyone there, and there was no noise, not even a low rustle.

A flicker of the light and Rabastan Lestrange appeared, an invisibility cloak in his hands.

"It's good to see you," Aidan said, but then his smile faltered as his eyes narrowed onto the cloak. "Will we both fit?"

"Why would we both need to fit under the cloak?" Rabastan asked.

It took Aidan too long to recognize the sadistic gleam in Rabastan's eyes. Before he could think to run, Aidan found himself slammed against the wall. Pain radiated throughout his body, and his airway constricted. Rabastan tilted his head to the right and his eyes glowed an unearthly amber. Choking sounds escaped Aidan's lips as he raised his hands to his throat and began to claw at it.

"Can't b-b-breathe," Aidan gasped.

"That's the point," Rabastan said. The friendliness that used to lace his words when he spoke to Aidan was gone, replaced by the tone he used when torturing muggles. He looked at Aidan as though the two had never met. "The Dark Lord ordered all dark artifacts to be hidden, and for everyone to be careful. And what do you do? You leave illegal objects, darker than any wizard who wasn't up to something they shouldn't be wouldn't have." Aidan felt his throat constrict further. "You knew that the Ministry was going to conduct searches." Aidan's vision went blurry, and he had to force himself to stay semi-conscious. "You put yourself in a position to get caught. And worse? You put yourself in a position to compromise the Dark Lord."

Aidan's fingers dung into his flesh. He could feel warm, sticky blood coat begin to coat his fingers. He wanted to yell at Rabastan that he was wrong, that he would never compromise the Dark Lord, but he couldn't even manage to produce a whimper.

Rabastan smile grew as Aidan lost the little remaining color he had. Aidan felt his body go cold. His arms fell limply to his sides, and he looked at Rabastan with an empty expression.

"For that, Aidan, you must die," Rabastan said coldly.

The last thing Aidan saw before he suffocated was the look of merriment in Rabastan's eyes.