Title: ● cryptic TRUTHS.
Description: 1977. DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD. [new] [lb]
Description: 1977. DUMBLEDORE IS DEAD. [new] [lb]
Elly - October 24, 2007 06:42 PM (GMT)
and for a moment, the world stopped turning...
- "Ah. You have trapped me like a spider traps a fly." The man who had spoken was smiling a crinkled smile, eyes twinkling from behind a pair of half-moon spectacles, miraculously still straight after the slight, only slight, struggle. "May I ask what happens next?"
The people to whom the silver-haired man speaks, five of them male and one female, all stare back at him, the looks on their now unmasked faces completely varied. Two of them, who couldn't have been anything other than brothers, simply look at him, lips curled at the corners slightly. The man who's cruel face was etched with disdain, mingled with triumph, sneers back, hand closed around the wooden instrument that was his wand almost threateningly. The man with the pointed face and slick blond hair also sneers, though his was more out of... was that amusement? A shorter, thinner, boy, who couldn't have even been twenty, has averted his gaze, allowing his eyes to travel around the room; he seems determined to look anywhere but at the man they'd just captured. The final person, the only woman, is grinning, quite obviously enjoying herself more than she, perhaps, should have.
"Aww, is the ickle old man worried?" She asks, having adopted a mocking baby-like voice, one that might be endearing when used by someone else, but was quite chilling when used by this dark lady with heavily-lidded eyes.
"That would please you, I know, Bellatrix." Dumbledore replies, light-blue eyes still shining in the damp, dimly lit room. "Alas, I must disappoint. I am merely curious." He clarifies, which causes the woman's smile to transform into a sneer. She opens her mouth to retort, but is cut off by the blond man.
"And here I was, thinking you were credited for being something of a genius, old man. Surely, one with such brains would be able to accurately guess as to what happens next?" His tone is both questioning and mocking, and it is clear that the group are determined to tear their prisoner limb from limb, rip his dignity to shreads, before their master arrives and takes over.
"Of course, Lucius, I can make an assumption, which would, of course, be that Tom will be arriving any minute now." He raises his arm slightly to glance down at a many-handed watch, silently whirring away there, the glass reflecting the man's bright gaze. "But I can see that my assumption pleases none of you." He smiles pleasantly around at the group, four of them with now-raised wands, each pointed at his heart.
"You dare." Hisses the woman angrily, though there is a certain degree of disbelief to her voice. "You dare, now, when the end of your life is imminent? Fool!" She cries, voice steadily increasing in both pitch and volume with each word.
"Enough, Bella." The voice is cold, solid and bodiless, and the room is suddenly cooler than it already had been. The candles seem to have dimmed, the rats afraid to move as they await the next move. The woman, Bellatrix, turns slowly, lowering her wand and bowing her head, an action which is mirrored by her companions.
"My Lord." She says, somewhat breathlessly. The others echo her, though the smallest of them steals a glance at Dumbledore, before pulling his eyes away to look into the shadows in which their master lurked.
His cloak of darkness is abandoned as he takes a step, handsome features danced upon by the orange candles, "You have done well." He speaks to his servants, only his dark eyes moving, lingering over none of them for longer than a second. "You may leave for the living area. I shall be there in a short while." He moves his eyes to the captive man, a look of pure greed upon his face as each of his servants file passed him, each taking it in turn to hover their lips over the back of his hand before exiting.
"You have them well trained, Tom." Dumbledore comments brightly, still smiling pleasantly, even though he knows what Bellatrix said was quite true. Tom Riddle, a student whom he'd taught, was going to finally get rid of him. Albus Dumbledore is not afraid of death. He is, however, afraid of what his death may result in...
"You have the nerve, Dumbledore... We'll make this quick."
True to his word, a flash of green slides through the cracks in the door before the six servants even reach the bottom of the stairs. Each stop in their tracks for a moment, turning to share glances of triumph and mild surprise, before they continue on their way to the kitchen.
And with that flash of dazzling emerald, the world stopped turning for a moment.
one day, we'll all stop telling cryptic truths.
- The world has become a much darker place since Albus Dumbledore was murdered. He was the glue which held everything together; it was never considered that he might be taken out. He was far too great a wizard... Yes, that was true, but he was not immortal; something which came as a surprise to many people. He always seemed so... permanent.
The presence of the deliciously malicious 'Dark Mark', a dazzling emerald mark, skull-shaped with a snake thrashing from it's mouth, seems constant. It's as if it's always there, hovering in the seemingly perpetually ebony sky, tarnishing it, constantly reminding us of the power of Lord Voldemort. Britain, once considered to be one of the greatest magical nations in the world, is now a terrifying place to be. Deaths are suddenly more common than they were, each more brutal than the last. Everyone knows who's responsible for them, but there's nobody left to even attempt to prevent them... Almost nobody.
The Order of the Phoenix is threatened, forced to operate in secret and in fear, but it's still alive. Their numbers of dwindling, but their members are determined. It's their job to rid the world of such inappropriate darkness. Cut out the threat, stop the disease of evil from spreading... But it's not that easy. They don't even know how their founder was killed, though they are desperate to know.
Rumours are flying as to how it happened, the most popular of which says he was caught by several Death Eaters, tortured until he was almost dead, before The Dark Lord finally put him out of his misery, but he kept his dignity throughout. Another strong whisper is that he and Voldemort duelled violently, but it was ended by a lucky shot. The truth? Well, it seems impossible for that to ever surface. The rumours will have to satisfy, and going further to try and unearth the true story would be suicidal.
One day, we might just stop telling these cryptic truths and allow ourselves to face the facts... The Dark Lord had won the war. This is just the beginning.
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