As The Flower Unfolds [Dark Magic Only]

It was morning, though the heavy curtains which hung dusty and damp refused to show any sign of the coming sun. Tenebrael lay in his bed, the sheets tucked around in him in a warm cocoon. His dark eyes opened and adjusted to the dim light of the room. From the window he could see the outline of the coming day, like a golden traced outline of the red curtains and dark wooden sills. He breathed normally, deciding how long to lie so still. On his left lay his bedside table, holding nothing but his wand which laid neatly in the middle of the stained wood. Clearing his throat, Tenebrael sat up and reached out his hand to grasp the long thin wooden stick. There was a rare moment in the day that Tenebrael did not have his wand in his possession. The power he so rightfully enjoyed did not feel as worthy or as strong without the extension of his arm which they so simply called a wand. Together at last, they could now start the day as one.

A piece of toast and a hard boiled egg was positioned at the head of the long dining table in the bare room of which Tenebrael walked. The weight of his steps echoed through the room, every step a reminder of how alone Tenebrael was. This was, of course, by choice. Most of what Tenebrael did was by choice, or force of his own, but never someone else’s. He pulled the head chair away from the table, at which an upwards of fifteen chairs lay dormant and unoccupied. The legs of the chair scratched against the dark mahogany floors like a scream. The walls were painted a deep purple color, with tapestries hanging loosely from the ceiling. These tapestries were said to have once hung in Malfoy manor, each depicting a scenes from Dante Alighieri’s Inferno. Two large golden chandeliers hung from the dark painted ceiling, each one decorated with dragon scales. A large window at the back of the room was covered by an immense piece of fabric which kept out all light and life. A large golden entry way at the front of the room lead to the entrance hall and the main stairway which led both up and down. The side door, much smaller, was made of dark wood and had etched in it the legendary story of the Deathly Hallows. This extravagance was nothing to impress the Dark Lord, but he did enjoy keeping to the appearance of vast power, which impressed those lower then he.

Tenebrael sat and took the spoon on his left and cracked the egg, picking away the shell to the soft core. As he took the saltshaker and salted the newly birthed egg, a scream from below echoed through the room. Tenebrael went on eating as though a musician had just begun to pluck his lute. The scream continued. It was a gut-wrenching scream, as though someone had just been skewered through the middle. Another scream rang through the room, coupled with sobs of pain, and then another wail. Half way through a bite of toast, Tenebrael looked up, as though he just noticed that the room had been filled with the sound of pure terror and pain for more than five minutes. Laughter from the stairway below way entered into the room, and at this, Tenebrael put down his toast and picked up his napkin to wipe any stray crumbs from his face. He stood, the chair again scraping across the floor hideously. Two men, the sources of laughter, came up the stairs, which were in view of Tenebrael through a rather large set of doors, the entrance to the great dining hall. The men, seeing Tenebrael standing at the ready, stopped cold in their tracks. Tenebrael starred at them with dark eyes, ushering them into the dining room. The two men cautiously entered the room, coming to stand at the opposite end of the long table. Tenebrael put his hands on the table and leaned toward them.

“I trust you have quieted the girl.” He said to them softly. The two men shifted in place, unsure of what to respond. One of them, shaking, reached up and pulled of the cap he was wearing, as a sign of respect. The two were quite a sight to see. The one on the right was tall, skinny as a skeleton wearing a tight skin. His face seemed wholly sunken in with dark circles under his eyes. His hair was matted and dirty as to make one unsure of its true color. His clothes were of the same nature. His stood at the table, eyes wide, twiddling his thumbs as a nervous habit. The second, the one to take his hat off as a second thought of respect, was older. His face seemed hardened with age, as though he was now made of leather. He was shorter and fatter, but that was not saying much when standing next to the skeleton at his own left. He stood straight, arms at his sides, almost in attention, and yet seemingly swaying as thought he might topple over at any moment. He was also the first to speak.

“We do apologize your Grace, we was only checkin’ to see if she had, er, gone away in the night, seein’ as though she was so quiet, and we, we got a little carried away there sir.” He stammered out, trying his best to be as eloquent as possible. His friend was less committed to his choice of words.

“Yeah, she was a right one.” He said, trying to smile a bit before his friend nudged him hard in the ribs. Tenebrael looked at the pair. He knew them well, as he knew all of his “friends”, the tall one being one Wilfred Wilkens, and the other being an older acquaintance, Neil Greeney. Neither were the brightest of his clan. Wilkens was a new comer to the game, enthusiastic about his new position, proud to serve the Dark Lord. However, pride and stupidity would not get him far, and he was already wearing thin on the new company he had formed. But Greeney, he had been around for a very long time. He was one of the very first that Tenebrael had come into contact with when he was first gaining his following. It had been slim pickings of the lowest of the low, and Greeney had seemed one of the best of them. Times had been hard on Greeney in the duty of Lord Tenebrael. He had aged a lot faster then he should have. With this age, Greeney had come to see that he might have gotten into something far over his head, and now, was starting to doubt. It was a good thing these two had wandered into Tenebrael’s midst. He had something to say to them.

Tenebrael sighed and sat back in his chair. At this the two men looked at each other wondering if they were free to go. They were not.

“Tell me,” Tenebrael questioned, “Greeney, you own a pub in Diagon Alley, no?” Tenebrael eyed his toast as he spoke.

“No sir, well, yes sir, but Knockturn Alley actually. Nice little spot, close to Diagon Alley which is why you probably thought…”

“So tell me,” Tenebrael looked up from his toast, “I have heard that some gossip has eluded your walls my friend.” Tenebrael gained eye contact with the older man, who now was as wide eyed in fear as the fellow man standing next to him. Of course, Greeney knew it unwise to lie or even try and twist the truth with Tenebrael. It was why he found his next words so very jumbled.

“I…I…What…gossip, my Lord?”

Tenebrael broke eye contact, allowing the man to breath again, for he did not dare as he was afraid that his very breath would give away something. Tenebrael picked up the now cold toast and took a small bite, seemingly uninterested in the conversation, a false hope for Greeney who was now sweating through his outer jacket. Tenebrael took his time to chew the bread before giving his answer to the question that he was asked to waste his time.

“My Lord?” Greeney again questioned, his hands beginning to shake holding his hat to his chest out of fear and anticipation. Again Tenebrael picked up his napkin, found a clean spot, and dabbed his mouth for stray crumbs. He then brushed off his dark green suit, and looked back up at the men standing before him. Greeney had become shifty eyed and it took Tenebrael longer then expected to grasp his gaze. However, once his dark eyes met Greeney’s drained ones, Greeney yelped and fell to his knees.

Flashes of memory filled his head. Greeney was in his pub, warning his friends to leave before it got too bad, warning some others than the younger Wilkens to pack up, giving false information to protect a family of muggles, and closing his bar service to those he knew were followers. Each flash was fast and held a new form of pain searing through his mind. In a minute, Tenebrael’s gaze broke. It was over and Greeney found himself starring at the dark wood of the handsome flooring of the room. Tears streaked his face as he looked over to see Wilkens pressed up against the wall afraid of the pain that had just crossed Greeney’s face. Greeney weakly got up on all fours and then managed to stand up, again facing the Dark Lord. Tenebrael had sat back in the chair and crossed his legs, waiting for Greeney to face him yet again.

“I do not appreciate what you are doing my friend.” Tenebrael said after a moment of silence only broke once by Greeney’s sob. Tenebrael studied these men again. Wilkens had regained his composer and stood with his sunken face emotionless and dead like. He dared not move an inch. Greeney did not stand up straight, and had not straighten himself out, his face still wet with tears and sweat, his gray hair matted to his head, his jacket hanging limply off his shoulder. Tenebrael grimaced. “Leave.” He said, as he got up and walked out of the room, his footsteps resounding his exit. He left the two men still standing at the foot of the table, still holding their breath until the Dark Lord was out of sight.

Tenebrael wandered into his study. It was another large room, though not nearly as empty as the last. Two of the walls were lined with tall bookshelves, filled neatly with books of every shape, size, and color, and the only two windows in the room, again with heavy curtains to block out more eyes then the sun. The third and back wall housed a large fireplace. The mantle was handsomely carved out of black stone which shone red as the fire danced in the hearth. In front of this a great desk seemed too heavy for the already heavy room, and yet it fit perfectly. The legs were thick, which matched the legs of the large wing back chair which gave access to the comfort of the room. The fourth wall was a large mural depicting angels and demons fighting in an epic battle for earth, as well as the continuation of the large door carving of the Deathly Hallows.

Tenebrael sat at his desk and quickly scribbled down a thought. He then called for a house elf. The elf quickly came in the room and waited for instructions. “Bring her to me.” The elf ran off as quickly as it came. While waiting, Tenebrael walked over and studied the mural painted so perfectly on the wall. He gazed at the face of the angel who had the neck of a demon in its grasp. Tenebrael thought it almost comical how serene the face of the angel could be as it choked the life out of the demon. As he contemplated this he heard the sound of footstep come through the door to his right.

“Come, please, sit.” He ushered his guest into the dark room and sat her in a smaller version of his wingback chair which sat before his desk. He then rounded the desk and sat in his own chair. He then gazed upon the face of one of his most trusted friends.