The Marauders: Year Five #Wattys2017

Going for a Walk

Going for a Walk

"Yaxley... Bring me our little guest."

Corban Yaxley ran from the parlour room, where Voldemort had taken roost, and he ran down the hall to the stairs that led down to the House Elves' quarters in the bowels of Malfoy Manor. The dreary room had scattered bits of straw and a dingy basin of water, which dripped from a rusty pipe in the wall. The dim torches flickered over a small girl, laying in the midst of the straw, shivering, a teensy little house elf curled up in the safety of her arms.

The girl was Lucy Minchum.

Yaxley thundered over and grabbed her by the back of her dress, yanking her quite suddenly out of sleep, destroying the dream she'd been having - a rare moment of near peace in the middle of all the horrible that she'd been through since being stolen away from her grandfather's office. He tore the elf, Dobby, away and tossed it onto the straw carelessly, even as the girl cried out.

Back upstairs, Lord Voldemort grinned as Yaxley carried the small girl into the room and shoved her to her knees at the foot of the Lord. He forced her head to bow and thank yanked it back so she was forced to stare at Voldemort.

Lucy Minchum was a wee too young to recognize Voldemort, too young to know what sort of danger she was in. She just stared up at him and asked, "Where's my mumma?"

"Dead," snickered Yaxley, grinning, "Murdered her didn't I?" he cackled. The girl's eyes flashed with fear as she trembled before Voldemort - tiny and shivering on her knees. "Left her body there to be found by your bloody grandfather... Gonna murder him, too, quick as we get the chance... ruddy bastard..."

"Silence, Yaxley," hissed Voldemort.

Yaxley shut up instantly.

The tiny girl was crying, great crocodile tears pouring over her tiny pink cheeks. She stared up at Voldemort with eyes that pleaded for comfort... She was so unused to this sort of treatment, she was a very well loved child. These rough voices and non-gentle touches made no sense to her little mind... For a moment, the death eaters in the room thought that Voldemort was about to show the tiny thing mercy, as his hand came out from the folds of his robes, long and pale, and stroked Lucy Minchum's chin slowly... then, without warning, Voldemort's hand turned and roughly plucked a handful of the tiny girl's hairs from her head so hard that she let out a shriek of surprise and she began to cry even harder. He handed them to Yaxley. "There. That ought to tie you over some time."

The other death eaters in the room laughed.

Yaxley grinned.

Voldemort turned back to the girl and his grin split his terrible face. She stared up at him, tears still clinging to her eyes. "As for you..." he whispered, "Well. We've got what we wanted, haven't we?" He turned to Yaxley. "Dispose of her."

"Don't worry little one," Yaxley said, "Yer 'bout to go see yer mum right quick." He raised his wand, and a grin spread across his face, even as he opened his mouth to speak the killing curse.

"Wait." Walburga's voice cut across the room - ringing and clear.

Every face turned to look.

"Will it work if she is dead?" Walburga asked.

Yaxley looked at Voldemort.

"Why wouldn't it?" snarled the Dark Lord.

Walburga's voice shook. "Freeing the girl's spirit opens many doors."

Voldemort waved his palm at Yaxley to lower his wand. The little girl continued to cry, her tears echoing off the room walls. Yaxley looked supremely disappointed. Voldemort sneered at the child, simpering at his feet. His eyes swiveled o Walburga's. "It's your responsibility, then, to tend to it." He looked away, dismissing the child's existence from his mind.