The Godmother

36. the home-stretch

Elizabeth couldn't speak. Physically. Her vocal chords had been torn to shreds from screaming so much. If she could speak, she'd yell out some insults about being a traitor, a weak, cruel, shell-of-a-man. But she couldn't.

She watched him, paralysed from tiredness on the mattress on the floor. It stank of blood and sweat.

"Tonight, he is going to kill Harry. Tonight is the final task in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. The Dark Lord has a spy, who has set up a jinx on the cup, as well as the game. Harry will win, but when he touches the trophy, he'll be transported to that graveyard-", Regulus pointed out the window, "and the Dark Lord will use the boy's body to return to the land of mortals", he said.

Elizabeth wanted to vomit.

Had her original quest not been conquered? She was supposed to have saved Harry almost a year ago from Regulus and Peter. Had that not been done? Had it set of another series of events that were linked, still leading to the same consequence?

Harry wasn't allowed to die. She refused to let him. She couldn't. Harry was 14. She hadn't seen him in weeks, almost a month, and now she'd never see him again. She'd never be able to hug him, apologise to him.

A thought crossed her mind. What if she could sacrifice herself for him? Jump in front of the bullet for him? She could hijack whatever Voldemort had planned. His return. He was going to return. She had to stop it before he did. She had to stop him before he returned, and they all would be doomed. Everyone would be doomed.

The Dark Lord has a spy... Elizabeth's mind crossed to Severus. But it couldn't be right. If Severus was a spy, why hadn't she seen him there, with Peter and Regulus? Why hadn't his name been mentioned? Then, Karkaroff came into mind. Elizabeth had never liked him. He seemed to secretive... slimey... and yet, Dumbledore wouldn't let him into the castle grounds without knowing that he was safe.

She didn't like not knowing. She hated it.

"If you tell us something. Anything. I can save you. I can let you go to my filthy brother and the boy", Regulus went on. A grimace lit his face. "Poor Harry... first his mother and father die... then his Godfather goes back to Azkaban... wouldn't it be ashamed if his Godmother died, too? The last of his family, gone, because she was too stubborn to admit what was better for the greater good of his life?"

Elizabeth was bitting her tongue so hard that she could feel blood begin to salivate throughout her mouth. Liquify the feelings of what she wanted to say. She kept her jaw tightly bound and jutted up. Refuse. How dare Regulus use Harry to try and win over Order secrets. It made Elizabeth was to retract more into her shell.

She was, however, glad at the way that Regulus was begging. It meant that she'd won out. She'd been tortured to the point that even the Dark Lord was getting sick of waiting around for answers and was simply ready to kill her. How many days had it been? 2? 3? And he was ready to kill her. She was glad at how she was able to keep the secrets, despite the pain. Despite wanting to die, she kept her mouth shut. Zipped it. Threw away the key. After the first few hours, she'd screamed enough that even if she wanted to talk, she wouldn't have been able to.

Regulus glared at Elizabeth. Furiously.

She wouldn't give it up, and he could clearly see it.

He sighed. Standing up. And walking from the room, closing the door behind him.

A renewed sense of relief came over Elizabeth, as with Regulus gone, she felt safer. Calmer. Seeing his face. Remembering what he did to her. The fingerprints he not only left on her body, but her mind. The hurt that he brought with him.