the fall of the damned - draco malfoy

three

The vast land of Scotland raced by as Persephone stared out the window of one of the many compartments in the Hogwarts Express. For the past few days, her mind has continually wandered back to the night that Lord Voldemort paid her a visit. Eventually, the girl had taken time to calm down and come to terms with it, or come to terms with the fact that she was going to find a way out of this.

Persephone would not allow herself to be shackled to any man, especially not one as foul as the dark lord. She would rather slit her throat and watch as she bled to death, or only ever eat the bad flavors of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans.

After turning over the encounter again and again in her brain, picking it for any little detail, a hesitant breath, or a gleam in his eyes, the girl had conducted a plan. First and foremost Persephone had to find out his motive because the dark lord was not the type of creature to do anything without a reason behind it. She somehow had to find out why he wanted her, and she knew it was not for something as mundane as her looks. No, there was a much more complicated motive behind his request, the girl just knew it.

When figuring out how to do so was where Persephone became slumped, how on earth did she expect she would be able to find any useful information on Voldemort? Her mother did not know any reason for his demand, and if she did not there was little to no chance any of his other followers did. Expect for the snake that was Lucious Malfoy, the dark lord's right-hand man, but he was tucked behind the bars of Azkaban after the incident in the Department of Mysteries last year. So that took away the option of getting information from others.

Persephone had to figure this out by herself, there had to be something somewhere that could help her get the information she needed. Why was she of any importance to one of the most powerful wizards alive?

Her fingers began to tap lightly against the soft wood of the table as she gazed at the openness that was Scotland. If she wanted to understand Lord Voldemort's motives better, she needed to understand the man himself self better. Persephone needed to go back to when the dark lord was not but a simple student at Hogwarts himself. When he was not a lord, but merely a student who went by the name Tom Riddle, and since he was a student at Hogwarts some time ago that meant he had to have documented somewhere.

The library, Persephone needed to go to the library. She felt almost certain that between the long oak selves of knowledge, her answer would be found, or at least something that could help her understand. The girl hated when there was something she could not understand when there was a piece to the puzzle that was missing. It seemed to wrap around her mind like barbed wire and squeeze and squeeze until she could not stand it.

If there was anything that in between the pages of a book that could help her then the girl would need Lorenzo Berkshire's assistance. The boy was always more interested in the company of words on a page than people.

Lorenzo liked to keep to himself, always lurking on the sidelines while watching the mayhem play out before him like a movie on a screen, because he was never one to be in the center of things people often mistake the boy's character. Quite often she would hear people chatter about how he was too kind to be decked in emerald green, and that they pitied him for being stuck with such vile people.

What they did not know was that Lorenzo Berkshire was worse than most of them, while he was as obnoxious or hateful as others, he was incredibly observant and because of that trait, he was a manipulator and quite a good one at that. Not to mention his striving to be better than everyone, and to obtain more knowledge. Lorenzo was right where he needed to be.

Persephone startles when something thumps across her head causing her dark hair to fall down infront of her face. Stella Dubois leans over the table glaring at her friend. Her usually smiley face falls in unfamiliar angles as she looks at Persephone who rubs her head where she had been struck with a book.