I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to." .
-Tom Riddle age 11
Tempt not a desperate man.
William Shakespeare
"Assemble with your captains outside " he hissed , his seething anger barely contained.
My hand was still clutched within his, not tenderly, temptingly as he'd taken it so many times at parties. Not firmly yet kindly as he'd just moments ago taken it as he had taken me from my husband. Not even just in anger like it was a mere second ago. As the men had turned and started to file out as ordered the grasp I thought could get no harsher tightened once more as he clenched his jaw down so hard I was sure he'd have cracked at least one tooth. As if his entire body was directing effort into my small hand.
I let out an unbidden whimper, purely reflexively, reactionary which drew a turn of the head from my husband and his best friend. I did my best to affect a blank face so as not to tempt them to run back to me but the searing heat of strained ligaments in the delicate work up of my hand caused me to have a tight wince that would not be banished. My breath was shallow as their Lord shouted "Go" and released his hold enough that I could convince them that I was fine. No sense in bringing harm onto them. That was the main reason I agreed to come. It would not do to spoil it already.
"First lesson." He had said, at the last party . Shut your damned mouth. He had meant it and I had failed it. He'd repeated it here
though not as a helpful suggestion but an order. "Shut up"
At the party my disobedience had earned me his attentions, his desperation. Here, pain and punishment. I quickly learned what he found amusing, endearing even, in private or
when socialising would be met with immediate reprove and likely punishment.
His hand moved quickly to my elbow harshly tugging at me . My feet immediately left the floor clamouring for solid earth to steady me, causing me to stumble behind him, half dragged .
"Unforgivables then Madamé Lestrange " he exaggerated the French of my name actually pronouncing it correctly as few did in the Wizarding UK, as Lestrawnge instead of the strange that the English intoned - all out of mockery of my aristocratic heritage and that of my husband. He was letting me know it mattered little now before him. That the high would be brought low. "Id not planned on this. Not yet. Quite the pleasant day arranged for us in fact, but since you persist in trying to exalt yourself above me, in the presence of my men no less, different arrangements have been made. I dare say" a cold smirk crossing his pale face , "your husband is going to be quite upset upon return" The smirk turned to a wicked grin at the corners of his mouth as my brain quickly interpreted his meaning but a second too late as he immediately and without warning lifted his wand yelling "Crucio" .
My body was thrown backward with a loud shriek. The immediate intense pain of the curse hitting my body was nothing compared with the sustained torture the jet of light from his wand brought upon my body.
Crucio.
The torture curse .
My body wrenched up as the spell coursed through my body.
The curse, methodically speaking, inflicts the most damage at once attacking all systems of the body.
It runs simultaneously through the the nerve pathways, along muscles, through bone . Mentally, the victim is put through extreme sensations of fear and anxiety the likes of which are not experienced in even the most harrowing of instances naturally.
It is designed to break the recipient instantaneously.
Crucio, at this moment felt like the rage of fire through my body as my nerves carried it from one end of me to the furthest regions of my being. Had I not known it was a curse I would have been certain a giant unseen form was twisting and pulling on my tiny body as muscles and ligaments felt stretched and pulled far beyond any human capacity. The searing tear of ligaments in my hand moments earlier seemed like a gentle massage compared to the shredding I now felt.
YOU ARE READING
The Madness of Bellatrix Lestrange
Fanfiction"No one becomes depraved all at once." "History is written by the Victors. " Or so they say. We triumphed much but in the end -victors we were not. Most of us received pardons for our ..."crimes". Surprisingly even I. What we didn't get was control...
