Harry Potter reader insert Bonus

Snapped

Time: During the Sixth Book
Also a little darker than other chapters, just a heads up

"Please I told you I don't know anything!" The battered man cried, blood dripping down his chin, a single tear escaping from his blacked puffy eyes as he fought and struggled against the ropes keeping him in place.

"Liar!" The other man cried, his once well kept dark hair matted with blood and dirt; almost entirely grey. "You know where Dolohov is now tell me!"

There was a crack, and a scream of pain as the man in the chair jerked backwards, squirming in agonizing pain, thrashing against the ropes, not caring as they cut into his flesh, before falling forwards, his head hanging to his chest limp and lifeless.

Steven just groaned. He'd lost another, and had gotten nothing new out of this one either.

What good was a few names if they weren't Dolohov, what good was knowing that they planned to attack a muggle office building if Dolohov wasn't going to be involved, what good was some broke cupboard if Dolohov wasn't fixing it.

Steven wiped the blood off of his face and grimaced, this was his least favorite part. He'd already gone through all the little mice he had caught, and had gotten nothing to show for it.

He levitated the body into the air, and threw it down with the other half dozen bodies or so.

He then went about cleaning the blood from his "work area". Had this been hard for him? No harder that cracking an egg or cutting a chicken, but it wasn't always this easy.

At first he had barely been able to hurt the death eaters let along torture them, but as time went on, and the counter just went up and up it got easier and easier. Before he knew it he had settled into a sort of mundane routine.

Had something snapped inside him? Perhaps it had. He certainly no longer was the man he sued to be, but then again that was only another thing to be blamed on Dolohov.

All of his hatred and anger had been directed and channeled towards Dolohov, and all that rage, plus the anger and frustration of not catching him, would be directed towards whatever poor unfortunate soul was in front of him at the time.

Was all this worth it though? He thought to himself, as he transfigured the bowl of newly relinquished teeth into a bowl of needles, and the bin of extra fingers into screws, each of which would be put to use on the next batch of death eaters, no scratch that, prey that he would catch.

He had lost everything for this, Dolohov had taken it all, he had to leave his family, no Dolohov had forced him to leave his family... hadn't he?

Yes of course he had.

After Steven had finished cleaning his "work area" he lended on the nearby sink and looked at his reflection in the cracked mirror.

His eyes were blood shot, large black bags underneath them. His mouth slightly opened, his lips cracked and bleeding, a stain of blood on his cheek, not his own of course.

If he didn't know better he would've sworn he was looking into the face of a lunatic, a murder. But he knew better didn't he.

Anyway it didn't matter did it? All that mattered was getting Dolohov, it didn't matter how many new scars he had, didn't matter how many people he had to go through, he would get to Dolohov.... Or he'd die trying.

He knew the face at sting back at him was perfectly sane thank you very much, even as it's lips pulled back into a toothy smile as a scream of fear emanated from the nearby room.

Perhaps one of his prey was still kicking.