Cleopatra2121
Seeking Enrollment
Posts: 3
(7/19/05 12:51 pm)
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EIoM
So you want the story do you? The whole story, the way it really happened? Why? Now do you believe? This is a strange road for a believer to walk, for surely faith cannot carry you over the chasm that we have created in these past few years.
Do you remember the times when they said that He Who Must Not Be Named had in fact returned to us? They spoke truth then. They spoke of plans to capture him, to bring peace to the world once more. They conceived tactics, they had systems, they were prepared. But nothing happened. There were no attacks, there were no scandals. We waited in fear, but nothing happened. We took shelter, we prepared for war, we waited for the fight. Silence consumed our lives. Fear enslaved our souls. Those of his followers that we could find were taken to Azkaban; as the years went on, we found all of them. All save one.
A year went by, and the plans began to fade. Slowly, the world began to disbelieve the preaching of Albus Dumbledore, and the Boy Who Lived. Another year passed, just as uneventful as the last. We grew tired of waiting; we grew tired of listening to the pleas. We wanted to believe that there was nothing to be afraid of, but we needed proof. Even with two years of peace behind us, there was still no proof. Some people began to doubt; some said that He was only buying his time, but all lost the tension they had carried for so long. All began to think that maybe it wasn't really true. Maybe, we really were much freer than we thought.
Oh I knew better of course, with Dumbledore and Harry breathing down my neck day and night, how could I think otherwise? It wasn't until Albus brought his pensive to one of our meetings and showed us all the prophecy that we really believed. I think that we had all been hoping He wasn't real too. But we had been through two years of constant missions and duties and patrols, we didn't want to do it anymore. We didn't want to believe that he was still out there. I stayed because I couldn't bear the idea of leaving, but I doubted. Like the rest of them, I began to doubt just how strong the fabric of the words that they spoke was. Like the rest of them, I began to wonder if this whole prophecy idea was simply conjured by an overworked mind. I began to resent my duties, my life, and the Order the way that it was.
Harry, Ron and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts and went out into the world to live their lives. On July 31st, 1998, a strange occurrence caused the world to turn upside down once more. Bellatrix Lestrange came out of hiding, and handed herself over to the Ministry. But, there was a strange and unusual confession to accompany it. She admitted to murdering her master, Lord Voldemort. She even had Voldemort's head to prove it. There was no doubt it belonged to him, all investigations showed that it was true. Even when placed under verisaterum, the story did not waver. Due to their past, the new hero was sentenced to life in Azkaban, a sentence which they had evaded before and could no longer run from. She went with a fulfilled smile on her face, and the world commented on her bravery, and good character for taking such punishment when she should have been rewarded as a hero.
Harry's fame subsided in light of this new salvation. For who would pay attention to the story of the Boy Who Lived, a child saved by a charm, when here was the greatest witch of all time, the one who saved them all from You Know Who?
Even I wanted to believe that things would be right again. Even I wanted to give in to the dream.
But Harry couldn't let it go, he would not relent. He insisted that he was the only one who could kill Voldemort in the end. They wouldn't listen, the reporters turned from him, assuring one another that he was only jealous over the loss of his position. They said that he was only looking for a fame he never deserved in the first place. Harry Potter became what he always wanted to be; just another person, only now, he was shunned by society. A society who believed in their savior, Bellatrix Lestrange; not some angered teenager who only wanted more glory that he didn't deserve.
Now you may look at me and say: Nymphadora, how can you be so blind? And I assure you that I am not.
I still attend the meetings, I still see to my duties. Even now, it has been three years since the proclaimed death of Voldemort, and there is not even a whisper of evil on the wind. I do as they tell me, though my heart isn't in it anymore. There is no fear. After five years, fear has been replaced by doubt. I doubt my comrades, and I doubt the prophecy. I even doubt my own beliefs. I am told what to believe, but my heart desires another story. I long for a story with a happy ending, with peace and love and a carefree world. I am torn. I feel loyalty to my friends, but I am no longer certain how much. With no enemy to fight, why, in our minds, do we continue this war? Why can we not give in and live happily, as others do?
The Prophecy has bound us all to this fate.
But I wish I could believe, like everyone else. I wish I could believe the stories were true.
__________________________________________________________
The time is near.
I can feel it, I can sense it, I know it. Everyday his power grows, and everyday he looks for his opportunity, his chance to dispel the lies and return to his former glory. We have waited so long, too long, I fear. Our numbers grow but our spirit weakens. Too many times our hopes have been lifted, then dashed. Too many times we have been promised glory, and it has been taken from us. Too many of our new followers crave the blood that they know will be spilt.
It seems a lifetime ago, that this silence began, when truly it has only been five years. After the Department of Mysteries battle, that dreadful failure, stain upon our name, we vanished together, He and I. I served my punishment, which I still bear many scars from. We listened, we watched, we waited. We heard about the captures and trials of my comrades. Each one of them, hunted down and brought before council. Each one sentenced to Azkaban, that impregnable fortress, most for life. I thought of those I had known ever since I was a small child, so many years ago, and their proximity to the Dementors. How I had suffered under their presence for so many years.
He instructed me. I learned many things from him, countless new things. He made me stronger, fed me some of his power, but only enough to keep me hungry for more. We planned. We gained back our strength, and finally, our plot was put to action. I returned to the world, I told them what they wanted to hear. It was a beautiful story, about how I killed Him, finally. Ha, as if I could ever kill Him! They said that I still had a sentence to serve in Azkaban. I obliged, happily, for that was my destination. They took my wand; they broke it and burnt the pieces, as they do with all life-long offenders. I was released to the Dementors, and that was where the fun began.
My Master came to us, in that prison. He spoke with the Dementors, brought them over to his side. They don't bother us anymore, for their power is a defense mechanism, something that can be turned on or off, with the proper persuasion. My comrades and I are allowed to roam the halls now, we may congregate, we may speak with others, we may keep our sanity. There were many to convert within this cage. Many murderers and criminals from the wizarding world, who would pledge themselves to anyone and anything with the promise of being left alone by the Dementors. For three years, we have been training. There are supporters on the outside, who go to great lengths to provide us with all that he requests, but they have not yet failed us. My nephew, dear Draco, has been most generous in his contributions, but there are a few others, very few, for the plans would fall through if it were common knowledge.
He plans. Day and night He plans. He hungers for the world outside, I can see it. He is but a shell, until the Prophecy is fulfilled, my Master is but a shell. I shall see him to his rightful glory. I shall give my life to Him, and His cause. I have served Him thus far, now, He is my life, He is my purpose. Someday, He will look upon me and say those words I have so longed to hear. "You have done well, Bellatrix." I ache for the chance to prove my loyalty once more. I long to show Him how devoted I truly am. Soon, He says. Soon we shall return to the world.
Three years I have lived in this place. Too long, far too long.
The time is near.
We shall have our time again, and this time, we'll do it right.
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