Chapter Text
Marigold Potter hated when she was right.
‘Hey, its me. We’ve killed the basilisk and the horcrux. No one was injured. We’ll see you soon.’
But she hated her brother’s bad timing even more.
The glowing stag vanished, merging with the shadows cast by the hanging torchlight. Mari glanced at her mother, who had gone several shades paler. Her eyes were fixed on the masked figure who stood frozen by the iron door, having entered just as the patronus materialized.
“What was that?” growled the figure, prowling closer with his wand raised.
Mari stiffened, brushing her fingers against her mother’s hand. Remus wheezed gently against the wall beside them, barely conscious. Mari followed her mother’s lead and remained silent.
“That - that thing! What did it mean?” The Death Eater staggered closer. Mari caught a glimpse of wide, panicked eyes through the slits of his mask. He glanced wildly around the dungeon as though the stag would charge through the walls at any moment. “Don’t want to answer, do ya?” He spat. “Well, that’s just fine by the Dark Lord…” his eyes glinted beneath the mask. Mari could hear the manic grin through his voice. “He’ll learn your secrets, you’ll find out. No use clamming up about it, is there? Yes, I’ll just tell the Dark Lord what I heard. I will be rewarded for gifting him this information, I will.” Muttering to himself, the Death Eater yanked open the door with some difficulty and fled out of sight.
When the lock clicked shut, Lily released a shuddering gasp. “Harry’s in trouble, isn’t he?” Mari asked quietly. “He and the others?”
“Yes,” breathed her mother. Her eyes were unfocused. She had a deep furrow in her brow. She looked around at their surroundings, and her eyes fell on Remus. “But we can’t dwell on that now.”
She shifted onto her knees, moving closer to Remus as she pulled at the hem of her grey t-shirt. “He’ll question us about that message, You-Know-Who.” Even trapped in Voldemort’s prison cell, Lily was too cautious to speak his name. Mari thought this was a smart move. Their situation was fairly hopeless, but it could always be worse if they angered their captor more than he already was by their presence. “I wish Harry hadn’t mentioned the horcruxes or the basilisk, but it can’t be helped. Can you search the room for me, please, Marigold? I need something sharp to cut this fabric.”
Remus mumbled a weak, ‘I’m fine, Lily,’ which went ignored. Lily crowded his space to inspect the wounds on his arms and torso. The cuts were somewhat deep. Mari wondered why they had targeted Remus so intentionally.
Mari and her mother had been sitting on the living room rug, playing a muggle card game at the coffee table when the wards were breached. Mari had just thrown an ace of spades onto the middle pile in triumph when the door burst open.
A frantic, disheveled Remus rushed toward them, speaking so quickly even Mari had trouble understanding. She heard something about Frank Longbottom and Death Eaters, which was enough to launch her mother into action.
They were too late, though. No sooner had they taken a step toward the door when a horde of Death Eaters apparated onto the property, surrounding the house. A few of them flooded through the door.
Mari had only ever been that scared on a handful of occasions. She was rather sick of it, the fear. Without thinking, she had grabbed the plate full of apple slices off the coffee table and hurled it at the nearest Death Eater, flinging fruit through the air. This had broken their momentary stand-off, and the spells went flying. It had been utter chaos. She vaguely remembered two Death Eaters taking Remus down, who fought like the full moon was already upon them. Mari had to shake herself to stop from gaping at the sheer power he held in that thin frame.
It only took minutes for the Death Eaters to subdue them after that. Mari didn’t have a wand, after all. And their best duelist was off fighting a basilisk. Her mother put up a good fight, but it hadn’t been enough. At some point, they dragged Remus upstairs. When they brought him back down, he was sagging to the floor, covered in blood.
“You think they’d just let him die here?” Mari wondered aloud, shoving the memories from her mind as she scanned the dark corners of the small space. She ran trembling fingers along the grimy wall as she searched, shivering when she spotted a bucket reminiscent of her time in Reg’s cave. “Wouldn’t they need to ask him questions first? I mean,” her voice hitched. She swallowed the panic caught in her throat. “Its just bad form to let your prisoner die before you learn what they’ve been up to.”
Lily did not reply, focused as she was on improving the terrible state of her friend. A quiet scraping sound followed a brush of her fingers over the ground in the darkest corner of the room. She picked up a small piece of chipped stone and examined it in the dull light.
“Will this work?” Mari’s mother lifted her gaze. The strain in her shoulders eased when she spotted the sharp stone.
“Yes, that should work. We’ll start with the hems, the cuffs of our trousers-”
“And avoid anything that’s been dirtied too much. Harry and Reg lent me bits of their clothes when I was injured in that cave, you know.”
The strain returned. “I had forgotten about that.” She adjusted Remus’s arms so he could hold pressure on his wounds while she went to work tearing their clothes into strips.
Some time later, when Remus was asleep all crooked in the corner, and Mari’s stomach was aching with hunger, her fear began to warp into despair. She had her back against one of the walls adjacent to the door, slumped low so only the upper part of her spine was supported. With her arms crossed limply over her stomach and her knobbly knees protruding into the air, she wondered how her mother could sit so rigidly.
Lily had perched herself cross-legged against the back wall with her body aligned with the door across from her. Her shoulders pressed into the stone, and her fists rested against her thighs. She hadn’t unfurled them for what seemed like hours. Lily’s eyes remained fixed on the wall opposite, her jaw clenched, gaze sharp and haunted. Her hair framed her face in wispy red strands. One strand had stuck to her forehead from a streak of Remus’s blood.
“What do you think he’s waiting for?” Mari croaked. Her mum glanced sideways at her.
“You-Know-Who?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know.”
Mari’s thoughts wandered to her father and brother. She knew they had gotten out of the chamber okay, what with the patronus and everything. Merlin, it was wicked cool that her brother could produce a corporeal patronus - a corporeal messenger patronus. She smiled to herself, thinking of Harry.
She had always wondered what it would have been like if her older brother hadn’t died. She daydreamed about him all the time when her parents were irritating, and she longed for someone she could rant to about them… someone who wasn’t Sirius. She loved Sirius like an uncle, but it wasn’t the same. He sided with her parents more often than not.
Would he have been in Gryffindor, like her? She would often wonder. Would they have played on the Quidditch team together? Would they have caused mischief, like the Weasley twins? Would they slam bedroom doors in each other’s faces? If they argued, would Harry apologize first or seethe silently until Mari caved? Would they bicker over who got the largest piece of pizza? Would they race to the pond and splash one another until their mum called them in for dinner? Would Harry throw his head back, eyes shining, when he laughed, like their dad? Would he sing muggle pop songs at the top of his lungs when he cleaned, like their mum? Would he be curious about life, like her, embracing the thrill of adventure at every turn?
Mari squeezed her eyes shut when she thought of the frumpy teenager she’d met in their kitchen all those months ago. She mourned the life of normalcy Voldemort had robbed them of, if only to have all of her questions answered, for Harry to know what it might have been like to be raised in a loving home with parents and a sister.
Because Harry Potter, with no choice in the matter, had been raised as a soldier. And the war was far from over.
Did Harry even know any pop songs?
Mari’s eyes traced the cracks in the ceiling as she pondered this and made up her mind to ask him when they were reunited.
‘What did you say your name was?’
‘I’m Harry Potter.’
They had come so far since that day in the kitchen. Her brother was no longer a stranger. He was stubborn and rash. Explosive and angry. But he was quiet sometimes, too, when he was trying to work something out in his head. Harry hated being told what to do. He hated others making decisions for him even more. And he was so selfless it could almost be mistaken as an innate sort of kindness or chivalry.
But Mari knew he didn’t really see it as a choice. After watching his memories, she often wondered if he had ever felt like he could belong somewhere, exist somewhere, without having to give parts of himself away on a silver platter… or think he was worth anything more than how he could protect other people.
It wasn’t kind. Or noble. Or chivalrous, really. Because there was a difference between putting others first and putting yourself last. So, screw Dumbledore and all those other people in his life who praised him for throwing himself into oncoming traffic so someone else didn’t have to… again. And again. And again.
Angry tears spilled from Mari’s eyes. She didn’t bother wiping them.
It wasn’t fair.
He had been thrown from one war to the next. His parents, friend, godfather, and Dumbledore were all killed in front of him. He’d been tortured, attacked, and punished for things he had every right to stand against.
‘I must not tell lies.’
Mari wondered if Harry had told his parents about the scars on the back of his hand. The pensieve memory had been warped enough from his emotions to conceal the torture his professor had wrought on his skin, so they wouldn’t have known by watching it. Mari didn’t think Harry would have brought it up to her parents. He liked to keep things close to his chest. Perhaps it helped him feel more in control of himself, choosing how much of his life to share with those around him. But they were his family. He had to have grasped that by now.
But had he? Mari’s anger grew. Her brother’s trust in others had been twisted, warped, and torn to shreds by the awful things he’d dealt with since early childhood. Why did his parents have to die in his timeline? Why did Little Harry have to die in Mari’s timeline? Why did her brother have to be at the center of two bloody prophecies?
“It isn’t fair!”
Her voice bounced off the walls. She hadn’t realized she’d said the words aloud.
“I know, love,” said Lily wearily.
Mari sat up, copying her mother’s position. “What happens if they come for us, Mum? Harry and the others?”
“We help them fight.”
“How?” Mari looked pointedly at Remus, tears still flowing. “We don’t have our wands, we’ll probably starve half to death by the time they find us! Reg’s magic always acts up, and Sirius has his episodes when things are really stressful. Dad will turn into a killer robot and lose himself in his rage, and Harry! What if he locks us in here and goes off to fight You-Know-Who by himself? Because he would, mum. You know he would. So tell me the plan.” Mari wiped her nose and shuffled closer to her mum. “Tell me what to do.”
“We help them fight,” she repeated numbly. “We do what we can to survive this.” She looked into her daughter’s eyes. “And when they come for us, we do everything in our power to get out of here alive.”
Mari followed her mother’s gaze back to the door, eyes distant and heavy. She sat on her knees beside her for a good long while before her body grew tired. She rested her head on her mum’s lap like a pillow and drifted into an uneasy sleep. Lily stroked Mari’s hair while she cursed herself for not listening to that dreaded feeling in her gut at the start of the day.
Why did I have to be right?
Soft whispers carried across the small expanse of stone into Mari’s tired ears. She held still, keeping her breathing even while she strained to listen. A thrill traveled up her spine at the chance to eavesdrop on an ‘adult conversation’ everyone was so adamant she never be part of.
Her mother’s voice rumbled through her head where Mari lay on her lap. She had no idea how long they had been there, but figured she must have been asleep for at least an hour.
“Do you think he’ll check the others?”
“I think he would be a fool not to.”
A pause.
“How are your injuries?”
“Nearly healed.”
“Werewolf magic?”
“Werewolf magic.”
Another pause.
“Hey, what happened to the ring you were carrying around?”
Silence.
“...Remus?”
“I have it.” Lily made a soft choking sound. There was a rustle of fabric and a heavy sigh. “Here.”
Lily inhaled sharply and said in a hushed tone, “Why didn’t you get rid of it? You translated the runes ages ago!”
“On the ring itself, yes. It belonged to Salazar Slytherin. But the stone… the stone was more ancient. The runes are made of earlier archaic symbols. I’ve been cross-referencing runescript from a hundred different scholars from a hundred different centuries and languages to figure out what it means. I know there’s something powerful there, Lily.”
“I don’t doubt you, but… are you sure the dark magic isn’t, I don’t know - acting by itself, drawing you into its orbit? That’s what happened to Dumbledore, isn’t it?”
“The ring isn’t manipulating me, Lily. The magic was destroyed when Dumbledore was killed.” Remus lowered his voice. “I’m not obsessed with it, I only want to fully understand this extremely curious object that was capable of killing the most powerful wizard of our age.”
“They will find it, Remus,” said Lily even more quietly. “When they come to question us. He will recognize it. He’ll torture you for more information! And when you don’t have it, he will kill you. We need to find a way to get rid of it.”
“What do you suggest I do, swallow it?” Remus suggested drily.
“I don’t know! It’s better than him finding it!”
Mari realized she’d been holding her breath and released a soft exhale through her nose.
“They won’t find it,” said Remus. “I have a slit in my seam here. See? It can’t be found.”
They fell into a long silence. Mari nearly drifted off before they started talking again.
“We need to discuss the full moon.”
“Remus-”
“No. Lily, we need to discuss it. It’s only four days away and if-”
“Stop.”
“If they keep us down here together when I transform-”
Mari’s head shifted slightly when her mum moved to sit up straighter.
“We’ll be gone by then. James and Sirius know what’s at stake. Four days is enough to come up with a plan. If we don’t escape before they come for us, which we will try to do, they won’t let you transform without ensuring our family is safe first.”
Remus’ voice was hoarse when he replied, “You don’t know that.”
“Then you had better work on scrounging up some faith because if you don’t believe in the little bit of good left in this world, they will win, Remus. They will win if we let them take our hope, too.”
Mari sang through the alphabet three times in her head before making a big show of ‘waking up’. Her plans to pretend like she hadn’t heard a thing were dashed out the door when she saw the sad faces watching her.
She stretched her arms above her head and said with a devilish grin, “So, what are we going to do about getting out of here?”
Remus tilted his head. “You… want to make an escape plan?”
“Well, I don’t see what else we can do with our time. Come on, then. What are your ideas, Mum?”
The frowns vanished from their faces. Those green eyes, just like Harry’s, lit up with a daring sort of eagerness. Mari congratulated herself on orchestrating the mood switch. “Well, I was thinking…”
The lock on the door clicked.
“Places, everyone!” Mari hissed at the others, trying to convince herself that the trembling in her limbs was from excitement and not terror.
This time, three Death Eaters stepped into their tiny space wearing indistinguishable masks. Mari curled into her mother’s arms as they hunched in the corner, plastering equal looks of terror on their faces, their eyes locked on something in the shadows behind the open door.
“Please,” said Lily, voice trembling. “He’s going to kill us. Please, you have to let us out.”
The Death Eaters closest to Mari and her mum swept into the room with their wands raised and peered cautiously around the dark cellar.
“Careful!” cried Mari, right on cue. Remus sprang at the men with a ferocious growl, flashing his canines and using his height to his advantage. Before a single spell could be cast, Remus (brilliant Remus), threw a fist in the first Death Eater’s face and wrenched his wand from his grasp. His face glinted in the low torchlight, and Mari’s stomach gave a little flutter. Her parents’ friend - kind, gentle, cunning Remus - had transformed into a completely different person.
Though she knew, as well as anyone with a working brain, that werewolves were only dangerous on the full moons, she could suddenly understand the terrible stereotypes associated with werewolves when Remus threw a man face-first into a wall with a spell and shattered the other man’s elbow with a single twist of his arm.
Bloodthirsty was the best description for the look on Remus’s face as he enacted said violence. Mari was so distracted by the impressive show that it took her far too long to realize the third Death Eater remained standing in the threshold. He hadn’t taken his eyes off her and her mother. When her mum spoke, milking the act like a pro, the man did not reply. He simply looked at them, eyes glinting with mild amusement.
He flicked his wand. Mari hadn’t expected it, hadn’t prepared herself. She yelped when she was suddenly thrown from her mother into the adjacent wall. Her head smacked hard against the stone as she crumpled to the floor. Though she tried to sit up, to return to her mother, to dig her nails into the flesh of the nearest Death Eater, she found that she could not move.
Mari had been placed in a body bind. She became aware of her mother screaming at the Death Eaters, shouting at them to stop. Remus was shouting, too. Mari could hear him putting up a fight with the other two Death Eaters. One of his shouts turned into a scream, and Mari knew they had retrieved the stolen wand.
A pair of scuffed leather boots entered her periphery.
“Though I do enjoy a bit of theater from time to time… your acting skills could use some improvement.” He nudged her bare arm with his foot, then crouched beside her, elbows resting on his knees. He was so close, Mari could see small flecks of color in his irises. The shit-brown hue stood out against the chilling blue.
If eyes are the window to the soul, what does that say about this asshole? Mari thought, hatred pumping through her veins.
A tuft of dirty blonde hair stuck out from under the man’s hood. She knew this man. There was something about him that was so familiar. She could hear the mocking grin in his voice that allowed her to place him in her memories when he said gruffly, “The Dark Lord requires your assistance, little Potter. You possess…” he tilted his chin thoughtfully. “A gift, if you will.” Mari whimpered when his masked face came right up to her ear. His cool tone sent chills through her body. “And I will take it from you.” He said it like a wish being granted, like an attempt to soothe turned sour.
“GET AWAY FROM HER!” Her mother’s scream tore through the air. Mari couldn’t move her head. She didn’t know what they were doing to her mum. The terrible insults and shouts coming from the other two Death Eaters told her she was fighting them with everything she had.
Mari wished she could help, wished she wasn’t so easily overtaken… so weak.
Her eyes tracked the man’s hand as he slid a silver dagger from his robes, her eyes wide with terror. She knew what would happen next because she remembered, now. She remembered all of it. Those ice-cold eyes. The glint of that dagger against the light of a fire boiling a monster back to life. She had been half-conscious at the time. Barely twelve years old.
But his voice still haunted her nightmares.
Part of Mari was glad she couldn’t speak right then. Because she might have begged. She might have pleaded with this man to spare her - to spare her mother and Remus. She hated herself for the fear wracking through her veins.
Harry wouldn’t be afraid.
The dagger pressed against the crook of her arm. Mari squeezed her eyes shut, sending the tears pooling at her eyelids to slide down her temples. Her arm twitched against the pain. A wand tip replaced the sharp sting of the dagger. The Death Eater murmured an incantation.
They already took my blood! Why do they need more?
Mari thought of her missing family as she began to fade, as her blood was pulled from her like a thread from a doll.
She thought of Sirius: her partner in crime. Her uncle. Her godfather. He’d come so far on his healing journey since Little Harry’s death. Mari hoped their being captured by Voldemort hadn’t set him back further. As much as Sirius acted like he wasn’t still hurting from all the things in his past, Mari knew he still carried the weight of his grief and guilt. She was glad he could turn into Padfoot again - it had been nice to finally meet his animagus, but she worried for him. He had never had much talent for taking care of himself.
She thought of her father, the great James Potter. Her Dad. He had taught her so much about life, about defense, about what it takes to be a Potter in a world where their name means so much. He’d protected her from so many things, and even when he couldn’t protect her from Voldemort, from almost dying in that cave, from their current situation, Mari had always been certain that he would stop at nothing until he found her and she was in his arms again.
And Harry… the bravest person she’d ever known. Mari wondered how he had faced the horrors thrown in his path when he’d been younger than she was now: Voldemort. A basilisk. Dementors. Death Eaters. Repeatedly. Mercilessly. And completely on his own. Mari liked to think Harry kept surviving just to spite Death, an entity that seemed to have a thirst for watching her brother suffer.
It was infuriating how the injustices against her family kept stacking higher. It wasn’t meant to be this way. Mari hated it. She hated those prophecies. She hated everyone who had hurt her family. More than anything, she hated Voldemort and his Death Eaters for continually putting them through hell.
Mari latched onto the anger. She let it boil inside of her as her hearing turned fuzzy, and the nausea made her head swim. Her head rolled to the side when the body-bind wore off. She blinked her eyes open. The last thing she saw as her world began to fade was those eyes of ice dancing behind a vial filled with red liquid. Her blood. The man laughed and leaned closer when Mari tried to speak.
“What was that, sweetheart?”
“You’re… dead,” she rasped.
He laughed again.
Mari wasn’t sure why. Only an idiot would laugh at the promise of death. Her lips twitched when the darkness crept over her vision, and she placed bets on which Potter would have the honor of killing the sorry sod.
A hand brushed Mari’s forehead.
“You alright, mum?” She asked weakly. “You and Remus okay?”
“Open your eyes, darling,” said Lily thickly. Mari wondered if she’d been crying. “How are you feeling?”
Mari slowly peeled her eyes open. She was sprawled across the cellar with her head on her mother’s lap again. “Weak. Tired. They took my blood.” She looked up at her mother and frowned. “Wow, mum, your forehead lines look terrible today.”
Lily laughed. “Hello, Mari,” said Remus warmly. Mari craned her head back to find Remus watching her from her mother’s other side.
“Alright, Remus?”
He shrugged. “They broke my leg, but I’ve had worse.” Mari’s eyes widened. Her mouth dried up when she looked at the mangled limb. Her mother had tried to wrap and splint it, but without anything to splint it with, she’d tied both of Remus’s legs together with a belt and a few extra strips of fabric, leaving him completely immobile. “Rather me than either of you. I’m quite familiar with pain.”
“That doesn’t justify it,” Lily muttered.
“It doesn’t,” he agreed.
Mari struggled to sit up. Her mother helped her lean against the wall. “Why did they take my blood? He needed it before, in that graveyard, to get his body back. But, he’s back now - has been back for years. So, why…?”
She recalled the words of Macnair before his curse had struck her in Godric’s Hollow, ‘This ends with her blood!’
What did all mean?
Lily frowned, deepening the worried look on her wrinkled brow. “We were wondering that, too. I also find it odd that he hasn’t come to question us yet. But, as much as I want answers, I think I’d prefer the quiet of our comfy little cell rather than the stress of a full interrogation.”
Remus winced as he shifted, looking between them. “The moon is coming up. They know this. He won’t let me… attack you without answers, first. Perhaps he’s setting things in place for whatever he has planned for the others.” Mari dropped her gaze to the dreary stone at her feet. She didn’t want to think of all the horrible traps Voldemort was crafting for the rest of her family. “Or—waiting on information from one of his insiders? Who knows. But I have a feeling he won’t leave us alone much longer.”
Remus was right. Noseless himself appeared in their ‘cozy little prison cell’ shortly after he’d voiced the thought. Four Death Eaters flanked him, erasing the budding hope Mari held that they could attempt another escape. They wouldn’t have been able to take Remus with them, anyway. She and her mother couldn’t leave him behind.
The red-eyed monster silently observed his captives. He was taller than Mari expected. His skin was pale, nearly translucent. It shimmered in the dim light as though he had recently walked through a glittery waterfall. Mari had never met him - not officially. While she’d been present during his ‘rebirth’, Snape had whisked her away before they could be properly introduced. She had only seen him in the flesh that one time. Unlike Harry, Mari’s childhood had not been tainted by the parasitic influence of Voldemort’s presence throughout every key moment of her upbringing.
Mari shuddered. She wondered how her brother was managing to stay upright every day, let alone find a reason to smile. Just being in the same room as the man had her on the verge of wetting herself.
Lily shifted Mari’s weight to find purchase on the wall behind her. She pressed her hands against the stone at her back and stood. Mari thought this was a rather bold move. It was something Harry would have done. Remus gripped Lily’s pant leg with a grimace, either warning her against antagonizing Voldemort or wishing he could stand with her.
Voldemort’s thin lips curled upward. “Ah, this must be Potter’s mudblood.” The Death Eaters snickered. “How fearless she is to face Lord Voldemort with such fury in her eyes.” His cold voice pierced the caverned walls, sending a chill over Mari’s skin. “Tell me, mudblood, how it is that one of my followers learned of a magic the Dark Lord has gone through great efforts to conceal.” He took a step forward. Mari could feel his magic pulsing around the crowded space. “How is it that this measly little resistance you consider a ‘family,’” he spat the word like an insult, “claims to have found one of my precious belongings, claims to have destroyed it?”
Lily stepped calmly in front of Mari, blocking her from Voldemort’s sight. From her obscured view on the floor, Mari watched in awe as her mother’s knuckles whitened and her chin lifted defiantly.
Voldemort tilted his head, a predator intrigued by its prey. “The Dark Lord requires an answer, mudblood,” he said quietly, eyes glinting dangerously.
Lily said nothing.
A sudden flash of light startled Mari. She couldn’t determine where it had come from until she heard her mother’s gasp. A bright streak of blood was trickling down her mum’s face.
“I have little patience for insolence.” Voldemort lowered his wand. “Before you defy me again, you should consider the various… methods the Dark Lord has at his disposal to help loosen the tongue. Perhaps your daughter may take your place?” He took another step. His long, silver-trimmed robes swished against the stone floor. Voldemort reached forward and grasped Lily’s chin, forcing her to look him in the eye.
At first, Mari thought he was using legilimency, but he quickly broke eye contact. Voldemort leaned close enough for his lips to brush Lily’s ear. The entire thing was repulsive. Mari could see every blue-tinged vein stretched across the bastard’s bald head.
Ugly creep, she thought viciously, delighting in images of what her father would do to the cretin if he were in Mari’s place.
“And the Dark Lord can always tell when a bitch is lying.”
A low growl emitted from Remus’s throat. Mari subtly shifted her foot so that it pressed against her mum’s heel. Hold on, Mum. We’ll be okay.
But Mari knew she would never be okay again after she watched, horror-stricken, when Voldemort tilted her mother’s face to lick the blood off her skin in a slow, single swipe. A few of the Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably, probably because of her mum’s ‘dirty’ blood. Though she couldn’t spot him, Mari imagined the sandy-haired Death Eater from earlier sported a psychotic grin beneath his mask.
Voldemort’s eyes shifted to Remus when he pulled back. Just as quickly as he’d struck Lily with the cutting curse, he spat the mouthful of blood onto Remus’s crippled form. Remus, the hero he was, didn’t even flinch. He simply glared at the monster until Voldemort returned to his previously occupied space between the Death Eaters.
“Now,” he twirled his wand. “Shall we try again? Who sent the message to this cell with their patronus? A clever trick, I admit.”
“My son.” Lily’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Voldemort’s eyes flashed. “You have no son. I killed him many years ago. Again, I ask, who sent the message?”
“My son, Harry Potter.”
Another flick of Voldemort’s wand. Lily’s shoulder bloomed red. Mari heard her take a stabilizing breath.
“Harry Potter, the foreign interloper, determined to upturn the order of our universe?”
“No, Harry Potter, an innocent child forced into this world by one of your Death Eaters to overthrow your sadistic ass.”
Another flick of the wand. Remus screamed, clutching his broken leg. Voldemort had reversed any progress Remus’s magic had made on healing the limb. Mari trembled, having a strong sense that she would be next. Her mother likely sensed this, too, as her answers became more straightforward.
“Have others been destroyed?”
“Yes.”
Fire danced in Voldemort’s snakelike irises. “How many destroyed?” His question was clipped, cold.
A pause.
“How. Many.”
“Three,” her mother breathed.
“CRUCIO!”
A choked scream tore from Mari’s throat, mingling with her mother’s when she dropped to the ground, limbs spasming in all directions. When Voldemort lifted the curse, he and her mum were both panting. One from fury, the other from pain.
Voldemort lowered his wand and straightened slowly. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, trying to compose himself. A thick silence hung in the air. His voice, higher and colder than before, asked, “What were they?”
Lily trembled on the floor. Mari wanted to go to her, but was terrified of what Voldemort might do if she moved. When she finally caught her breath, her mum answered him. “A ring, a locket, and - a goblet,” she whispered, deciding the truth their safest option.
Voldemort smiled cruelly. “You put on quite the show at Gringotts,” he said thoughtfully. “Yes… It must have been Black who aided in that scheme. Always a clever boy, that Regulus Black.”
The wand belonging to the sandy-haired Death Eater twitched in his grasp.
Voldemort abruptly turned to his Death Eaters. “Leave me,” he hissed. All except one Death Eater hastily fled the room, the one Mari had been watching. Voldemort ordered the Death Eater to ward the door. His follower obeyed and stood near his master with his arms folded indifferently.
“How were my horcruxes destroyed?” Each word dripped from Voldemort’s lips like poisoned honey.
Lily hesitated. A tremble had taken hold of her hands. “No one knows how the ring was destroyed. It - it was found on Dumbledore’s finger. The ring killed him, but not before he destroyed it.”
Voldemort considered this, red eyes piercing green. Deciding she was telling the truth, he ordered her to continue.
“The locket and goblet were destroyed with basilisk venom.”
His eyes flicked to the side, calculating. “How long has Regulus Black been working with you?”
Lily blinked. “He - we began working together after the battle at Godric’s Hollow.”
“Yes… he killed Macnair.” Voldemort’s voice grew distant. “He destroyed the locket, didn’t he? Retrieved it from that cave with the help of his wretched house elf.” Lily remained silent. “When was the locket destroyed?”
“September, I believe.”
He tilted his head again. “Did the Potter boy assist Black with this?”
Lily’s fingers twitched. She hadn’t been there when Harry and Reg destroyed the locket. She only knew as much as Mari had told her. “Yes,” she whispered.
“How?” The creep’s red gaze latched onto her mother’s face, sharp and eager.
“I - I don’t know.”
“You do know,” he said silkily.
She did know. He was right. But Lily Potter did not answer.
Mari wondered, not for the first time, why he wouldn’t just use legilimency and call it a day. He likes the game of it, she decided. He wants to play with us first, the sadistic monster.
Voldemort lifted his wand. “Black required the Potter boy’s assistance to destroy the locket, or he would have done the job himself. He and that traitor Snape summoned the Potter boy to this world to accomplish the job. What, pray tell, allowed Harry Potter to kill the horcrux when Black could not?”
Lily’s jaw tightened. “I told you, I don’t know. I wasn’t there.”
The noseless freak raised his naked brow, amused. “Oh? Perhaps we should invite your fellow companions to the conversation to help us… fill in the blanks?”
His red gaze shifted to Mari. A heartbeat later, pain erupted in her hand. She cried out and cradled it to her chest. Her index finger was bent at an unnatural angle. The sight made her nauseous. The pain in her finger on top of the earlier blood loss caused her head to spin.
“Stop! Please, stop.” Mari’s vision was obscured by a tangle of red hair as her mother knelt beside her, taking her wrist to inspect the damage. Tears mingled with the blood on her dirt-smeared face.
“Forget the child,” was Voldemort’s cool reply. “Stand and answer me.”
“It’s okay, Mum,” Mari whispered before her mother closed her eyes and stood shakily. Remus reached toward Mari. She grasped his hand with her uninjured one, grateful for the small comfort.
“What use did Harry Potter have in Black’s attempts to destroy the locket?” He repeated slowly.
Lily breathed. “I don’t know how to explain it. But-” she continued when Voldemort’s eyes flashed in warning, “He has this…” her eyes flicked to the side as she searched for the words, “power. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Mari shared a quiet look with Remus.
“He has this - this ability to detect dark magic. He can sense when a horcrux is near. He has visions from other worlds that show him how to control the magic, to smother it.”
Mari catalogued Voldemort’s expression, watching for signs of disbelief or doubt. Yet, everything her mother was saying held some truth to it.
“With the locket, he simply commanded it to submit to him, and, with the potency of the venom, he was able to destroy the soul inside.”
Mari withheld a smirk at the look on Voldemort’s face.
He was panicking. Controlled on the surface, but reeling from the information on the inside. Mari had a knack for picking up other people’s unspoken signals, and she wasn’t often wrong. But was a distressed Voldemort someone they really wanted to deal with?
His voice was tight when he said softly, “I see.” He tucked his hands behind his back and paced once across the width of the room. He paused again in front of Lily, his eyes scanning the wall behind her as though lost in thought. “Only a very powerful wizard, like Dumbledore, like this Harry Potter has the power to destroy my horcruxes…”
Lily did not correct him.
“Fascinating…” His gaze slid between the three of them, relishing in their pain and fear. Mari’s gut twisted when he smiled. “Family. Love. These are weaknesses that your little ‘resistance’ wears proudly on their sleeves. Fools, all of you. Your misplaced ‘care’ for each other is predictable. You make the… complications brought about by this young Potter’s appearance far too easy to resolve. He will come for you. Along with aurors Black and Potter, and if I should be so lucky, the deserter Black.” Voldemort grinned when the Death Eater laughed. “And I will be ready for them. I will cut down your leader, Harry Potter, spill his secrets, and watch gladly while I feed your family to a wolf you call ‘friend’.” He turned slightly, preparing to exit, but glanced at Remus’s leg. “Worry not, beast, I will ensure you make a full recovery before the moon reaches its peak. We don’t want our werewolf too weakened to carry out the Dark Lord’s wishes.”
Mari’s entire body trembled as Voldemort moved toward the heavy iron door. The Death Eater’s face was turned in her direction. It was the disgusting wink he gave that had her opening her mouth.
“Why did you take my blood?” she blurted, unable to keep the question inside any longer.
The Death Eater paused, watching his master. Lord Voldemort stopped, his robes swishing around a pair of sleek boots. He looked at her. She couldn’t mask her fear. Taking pleasure in her obvious distress, his mouth curled into a cruel smirk as he leaned forward and said, “I relish the taste.”
Mari filled the bucket with her vomit the moment the door swung closed.
“Why did you tell him?” Croaked Remus, tugging her mum to the floor beside him. Mari wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and crawled over to sit cross-legged in front of them. “You’ve just placed a larger target on Harry’s back.”
“I didn’t want to, Remus!” She snapped. “He hurt you, both of you. Things would have escalated faster if I hadn't told him something. He can detect lies with his legilimency.”
“But did he use it on you?” Mari asked.
“No. He didn’t.”
“Why do you think that is?” Wondered Remus.
“Who knows…” Her mother pressed the heels of her palms into her eye sockets and let out a lengthy sigh. She dropped her hands to take hold of her daughter’s and rubbed her thumbs over Mari’s knuckles. “I told him what I did to make him curious about Harry. This will keep him from killing my son the moment he lays eyes on him. He may still have a fighting chance.” She lifted her gaze to her friend. “He would have pulled the knowledge of the horcruxes from us regardless. This guarantees he will seek out his remaining horcruxes, likely move them to the same location. And - if we’re lucky, make it so only he can access them.”
“You mean like an identity spell of some kind?” Mari asked, confused.
“She means parseltongue,” said Remus. “That’s why you didn’t mention it.”
Lily released Mari’s hands and leaned against the wall, brushing dirt from her clothes. “I just made our mission a lot more difficult, now that he knows what we’re after. I know that. But what choice did I have?” She sighed again and tilted her head to the ceiling. “When we get out of here, we’ll have to be more careful. No more favors from Order members. We can’t bring anyone else into this mess. We saw what they did with Frank.”
Mari’s stomach churned. When they were brought in, they stumbled past a cell that held Frank Longbottom in it. Her mum and Remus tried to talk to him, but he was lying face down on the floor in a puddle of blood, unresponsive. Mari didn’t know if he was dead or not. None of the Death Eaters would answer their questions.
They sat uncomfortably with their thoughts for a long time after that.
“I’m scared, Mum," Mari voiced, what must have been hours later.
It didn’t take much for her to confess this; she was ashamed to admit - the constant fear was taking its toll.
“I know, darling.” Lily wrapped Mari in her arms and kissed her on the top of the head. “Try and sleep now.”
Then, her mum started to sing. It was a lullaby, one she’d heard hundreds of times since she was a girl.
“Stars shining bright above you, night breezes seem to whisper, ‘I love you.’ Birds singing in the Sycamore tree, dream a little dream of me.”
Remus shuffled toward the wall on Mari’s other side. She felt his warmth against her shoulder. He hummed along to the lyrics.
“Say ‘nighty-night’ and kiss me. Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me. While I’m alone and blue as can be, dream a little dream of me.”
Mari curled into her mother’s side and closed her eyes, letting her mum’s soothing voice wash out the nightmare as her tears dried on her skin.
“What are you doing?! Get off of him!” Mari shouted when they were shaken from their sleep several days later. She was so weak and thirsty, it was a surprise the words coming from her mouth made any sense at all. The blood loss didn’t help, either. The sandy-haired Death Eater, whom her mother and Remus had helped identify as Barty Crouch Jr., had returned each day to steal another vial of her blood for his precious ‘Dark Lord’.
That’s what she thought was happening when the door opened this time. But instead, they had come to torment Remus. They still hadn’t healed his leg. Thankfully, his special healing powers had kicked in a bit, but he hadn’t quite made a full recovery. And so, Mari’s blood boiled when Voldemort stalked into the room with a steely-eyed gaze fixed on her uncle Moony.
“It has come to my attention,” he said smoothly, after his Death Eaters had their fun kicking and cursing Remus, “that you are responsible for the… unfortunate end to one of my followers.”
He watched Remus, waiting.
“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stiffened when a nearby Death Eater swung back his foot to kick him in his already-bruised ribs. Voldemort held up a hand. The Death Eater lowered his foot.
“He went by the name of Fenrir Greyback.”
Remus paled.
Mari remembered, then. She had watched, stunned under the cloak in the middle of Godric’s Hollow, when Remus had overtaken his nemesis and cast a complicated series of spells on Greyback’s petrified form before sending him away to the ministry with one of those dexes.
Mari had wondered what he’d done, but kept forgetting to ask. She listened, curious, as Voldemort explained how they had found Fenrir Greyback in one of the warded cells at the ministry after the full moon some months ago…
There were runes etched across his arms and torso, connected by a thin silver strand embedded in his flesh.
“The cause of death was unknown,” Voldemort explained. “When we looked inside the body, however, a strange sight met us. A strange sight, indeed.” He circled Remus slowly, careful not to touch him.
Stupid bigot, thought Mari.
“You see,” he continued in his high, cold voice. “His insides had been rearranged. Twisted. Morphed together. As though trapped mid-way through a transformation. It seemed the castor of the curse meant for Greyback to transform back into his human form after the moon… but only just.” Mari eyed the bucket in the corner, stomach roiling. She knew Remus despised Greyback for what he did to him as a kid, but Merlin…
“I did not learn until recently who was responsible for such a wretched act of violence. Though, I should have suspected.” He looked Remus up and down with clear disgust. “A monstrous crime, fit for a monster.”
Remus had managed to prop himself upright, clutching his ribs. He looked at Voldemort through his messy auburn fringe. “There is only one monster in this room,” he panted. “And it isn’t me.”
Voldemort’s eyes flashed red. He lifted his wand.
Mari didn’t see or hear much after that. She covered her ears and tucked her head into her mother’s chest. Lily held her tight, rocking them back and forth as she whispered meaningless words of comfort.
When her mother finally stopped rocking Mari, she uncovered her ears and opened her eyes. Remus was lying prone on the floor, much like Frank when they saw him the day they were brought in.
“Is he…?”
“No,” her mum answered quietly. “He’s breathing, see?”
Voldemort was still standing over Remus, an expression of bitter triumph on his face, when a Death Eater reached down to pluck something from the ground. “My Lord,” he said, dropping the item in Voldemort’s palm.
Lily swore under her breath.
Voldemort’s mouth twisted into an ugly, furious scowl. His teeth were bared as he hissed parseltongue under his breath, eyes fixed heatedly on the blackened horcrux between his fingers. After a moment, he placed the ring in a pocket on the inside of his robes and ordered his Death Eaters to wake Remus.
“Legilimens,” he spat, wand pointed directly into Remus’s face. Remus’s eyes went fuzzy and distant, his face scrunched up in pain as Voldemort sifted through his memories.
Voldemort broke the connection abruptly, jerking away from Remus as though he had been burned. He pressed a hand to his temple and bent forward slightly, stumbling. His Death Eaters swarmed him. Voldemort shoved them away.
Once he’d composed himself, he nudged Remus’s head with his boot and said loftily, “The werewolf has reminded me of an important matter. A matter that has caused immeasurable pain for your Lord,” he said, speaking to his followers. "A pain brought about by this beast and his little friends. This unspeakable transgression ought to be rewarded with a punishment fitting of such crimes.”
His Death Eaters murmured their agreement. Mari and her mother remained silent, clinging to each other, too weak and emotionally strained to think properly or come up with a plan to save Remus from his fate.
“We will reward the werewolf for his wretched existence by serving him the same fate he bestowed upon my follower, Fenrir Greyback.” Mari sucked in a breath. “After his transformation tomorrow night, after he has killed his closest friends and their child, he will die by the curse crafted by his own wand.”