Longing for the Day

Deadbones’ hands shook ever-so-slightly as he prepared the potion. For his NEWT in Potions, he had decided to combine an Everlasting Elixir with Felix Felicis, granting- what he hoped- a longer shelf life. He carefully poured the contents of his black pewter cauldron into a smaller, slender, silver cauldron and turned the heat up twice as high. He stirred it once clockwise, then thrice counterclockwise. He added the powdered newt tail slowly, and watched a fizzling green smoke puffed out. Sweat poured down his face as he carefully poured the solution into a bowl of spliced cockatrice eggs, swirled it around twice, and then poured it into his glass phial. He corked it, and allowed a small smile to grace his face for a few seconds, before handing it to the instructor.

As the instructor began grading his potion, he hunted around for his tie and outer robes, which he had flung to the far corners of the room at the start of his brewing. Once he left, his fellow Slytherins came up to him, smiling. Rob nodded at him once, without making eye-contact, before turning back to that imbecile Roamin. Deadbones swore all Roamin ever spoke of was Quidditch. Deadbones himself was a Seeker for the Slytherin team, but he at least had other interests.

Lucius’ drawling voice followed by Narcissa’s sharp one drew him out of his thoughts. He didn’t often see Lucius Malfoy, despite their slight relation.

“Lucius,” he acknowledged, before turning back to his potion kit, which he slung over his shoulders.

“Shane,” he said stiffly. Deadbones restrained himself from crinkling his nose. He hated it when Purebloods played the “I’m better than thou so I speak a different tongue” game. Lucius pressed a note into the palm of Deadbones’ hand as he turned away, presumably to drive his pompousness somewhere else.

Deadbones waited until he was back in the comfort of his dorm, with the curtains around his bed spelled shut, before opening Lucius’ note. He and Lucius weren’t friends by any means, but he knew what sort of crowd Lucius was in, and it wouldn’t do to get caught up in that without a plan.

He opened the milky-white parchment with caution.

‘Shane,

There is someone who wishes to meet you. Please come to the edge of the Forbidden Forest closest to the lake, alone, after dinner.

Sincerely,

Lucius A. Malfoy’

Someone who wished to meet him? What did that even mean? Deadbones sighed. Getting involved with Lucius Malfoy was almost never any good for anyone other than Lucius Malfoy.

After dinner, Deadbones sneaked away from the rest of his house under the guise of going to the library. None of them noticed he went entirely the wrong way. Idiots.

He made his way towards the lake slowly, pretending as if he didn’t care a lick about whoever it was Malfoy wanted him to meet.

“Finally, you’re here.”, Malfoy muttered, before gesturing for Deadbones to follow him. Shrugging, Deadbones did exactly that. He was entirely confused, however, when they left the lake, and wandered towards the gate. He was even more perplexed when Malfoy charmed the gate open, and walked through, clearly expecting Deadbones to follow him. Unsure, he once more did, wondering where exactly they were going. He was grateful, however, that it was May and not January, as his cloaks weren’t exactly the warmest articles of clothing he owned.

Once the pair had passed the gate, they walked a little bit further, before Malfoy grabbed Deadbones by the arm and spun on his heel, apparating them both away.

Deadbones, while struggling to not vomit his dinner up, felt a few emotions climbing towards him. Surprise that Malfoy was powerful enough to apparate them both. Disgust at himself for wanting to vomit so badly. Anger at Malfoy for not properly warning him that they would be apparating. Fear at where Malfoy had possibly taken him.

Once Deadbones had managed to stand up properly, the fear in him rose to forefront of those competing emotions. Looking around the room, if it could even be given such a simple name because it looked more like a palace where a king would rule than a simple meeting room, he could see two adults, one with shining blonde hair, and the other with dark waves surrounding his head. In addition to the adults- one of which he assumed was Lucius’ father- he could spot Bellatrix Black, Regulus Black, Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange, and Evan Rosier. Deadbones blanched at the sight of Bellatrix, who he’d had a fling with during sixth year. A fling that ended with Deadbones nose being hexed with an “Endless Breaking” hex, four broken ribs, and the conclusion that Bellatrix Black was batshit crazy. She seemed to be calm here, however, as she stared at the one with wavy black hair with a gleam in her eye that could only be described as adoration.

“My lord, I have brought the one who calls himself Deadbones to you,” Lucius informed him, his tone not containing any of the usual pompousness. Deadbones, who had been holding his wand loosely before, gripped it with a certainty that he didn’t want to be on the wand end of any of these people.

“Ah, Deadbones, was it? Exactly who I was looking for, please sit down,” the wavy haired one told him with a smile. He flicked his hand to the left, and a black armchair significantly smaller than the one he was sitting in appeared in the center of the group. Deadbones desperately wanted to shout, “and who exactly are you?” At the top of his lungs, but somehow he knew that would be a mistake he wouldn’t live through.

“Who am I? My, Lucius, you haven’t gone to much effort to inform our guest. Crucio,” the man sneered, whispering the curse with a certainty that none could match, and a pale red light erupted from his wand. Lucius, prim and proper Lucius, fell to the floor screaming. His limbs twitched violently. It was a horrifying sight that would have made anyone lose their lunch. Deadbones fell in love at once.

“As for who I am, I am Lord Voldemort. My appearance isn’t often shown in the Daily Prophet, I’m aware, but nevertheless I am the Dark Lord,” the Dark Lord informed him, before letting up the cruciatus curse. Lucius was still on the floor, panting and twitching, and entirely so unlike himself.

“I am pleased to meet you, my lord.” Deadbones said, years of his pureblood mother’s formal lessons coming back in a moment.

“I had been told by Lucius and Bella that you possess a certain gift of the Dark Arts. Beyond the basics, as Lucius only knows, of the cruciatus, imperius, and killing curses. Would that statement be correct?”

“I suppose so. I’m more interested in using the Sacrificial Dark Arts. And even then, I prefer using the affects on myself than others though..” Deadbones trailed off. The Dark Lord smirked, showing off his pearly, white, charismatic smile.

“Show me,” he commanded simply. And really, in that moment, who was Deadbones to deny him? Deadbones twirled his wand in a backwards figure eight and muttered under his breath, before tapping his wand on his head. He choked from a lack of air for a brief couple of seconds, as his skin melted away into a puff of smoke, his muscles evaporated into a grey mist, and every bit of him- for just a single moment- decayed rapidly. Once he was able to breathe, he snapped his eyes open, not remembering when in the spell he had shut them. Deadbones was a skeleton, with red shining eyes and a horrifying grin in his jaw.

“Impressive,” the Dark Lord mused. Deadbones would have blushed at the praise, “and what purpose does it serve? Besides, of course, the visual attributes?”

“Well, I’m incredibly vulnerable during the change, but in this form I’m practically immortal. Immune to everything but the killing curse from what I’ve been able to test,” Deadbones explained, wringing his bony fingers, “But I can only stay in this form for so long and I can’t use my wand. My wand is used up like my skin and muscles are for the sacrifice, but I get them all back when I shift back.”

“Useful. I would like to see you shift back,” the Dark Lord commanded. Once more, Deadbones obliged. The other Slytherin students, who had remained silent the entire time, but had been watching closely, watched in amazement as Deadbones’ skin sewed itself back on, until he had returned to his normal self, Slytherin green robes, black wand, and all.

“I am willing to make you one of my Death Eaters,” the Dark Lord decided a few minutes later. “You will obey me in all, grant me your soul if you must, and in return I will fund your little projects with books and power that you couldn’t manage to get otherwise. Books, I might add, that the Hogwarts Library doesn’t even have. Do you agree?”

Become a Death Eater? He would have to serve until his death or until the Dark Lord died, but somehow Deadbones had a feeling the Dark Lord could and would outlive him. On the other hand, unlimited knowledge and approval seemed to be the sweetest words he had ever heard. Deadbones heard a voice whisper ‘Yes,’ but didn’t realize it was his own until his left sleeve had been rolled up by one of his fellow Slytherins and he could feel the Dark Lord’s wand digging into his left forearm. When the Dark Lord hissed Deadbones let out a scream as pain coursed through his veins, almost like the venom of the Dark Lord was possessing him…

The Dark Lord allowed him to finish Hogwarts, which Deadbones was grateful for. These days, he kept his sleeves charmed to not move, and a subtle notice-me-not charm on both of his arms, just to be safe. When they all graduated in June, everyone cheered, including Deadbones, but for different reasons. The rest of them, Rob and Romain from Gryffindor, Nisovin from Ravenclaw, and Justin from Hufflepuff, were glad to start the rest of their lives. For the Slytherins, however, they were glad to finally be able to serve the Dark Lord to the best of their abilities. Deadbones had been sent tome after tome from the Dark Lord, all of them more horrifyingly Darker than the last. Deadbones was certain he’d be expelled if he was caught with any of them, so he was careful to keep them deep inside his trunk, which he had charmed to run to Bellatrix if anyone without the Dark Mark tried to enter it.

It was odd, being on good terms with Bellatrix once more. Apparently, since he was on the Dark Lord’s side and a marked follower, that immediately meant he was infinitely better than even Lucius, who her sister was betrothed to, who wasn’t marked yet. Bellatrix seemed to be his closest ally these days, ever since they had both reached an agreement to not talk about whatever it was that they had and to focus on the magic and their Lord.

Still, Deadbones was excited to show off his skill in front of the Dark Lord.

The first time he had been Summoned, he thought he was going to pass out. That same venom, the one that has filled his entire being with his Lord, coursed through him, screaming to him to run to his lord. Shaking, Deadbones shifted, deciding to stay in that form for some slight anonymity, as opposed to wearing the Death Eater robes and mask.

Once he had apparated out of his tiny flat, he immediately fell to the floor, kneeling. Bellatrix had informed him that this was the proper way to greet their Lord, and he would be most displeased if they didn’t. Deadbones had, of course, asked the other Slytherins how to greet the Dark Lord, and they had all given him that same answer independently.

Deadbones felt a wave of euphoria flood through him, and he knew that his Lord was pleased with him.

“Rise, Deadbones, and come stand before me,” his Lord said, quietly enough that the entire hall of kneeling Death Eaters strained to hear. Deadbones rose slowly to his feet, and walked in front of his Lord before bowing before him.

“My lord,” he whispered.

“I have a task for you, one which I think you will enjoy. You and Bella will find the blood traitor family, the Prewetts, and kill Gideon and Fabian Prewett,” he said boredly, before waving him away. Deadbones mumbled his gratitude, before locking eyes with Bella, and apparating back to his flat, Bella already waiting.

Deadbones transformed quickly, while Bellatrix stared, still entirely unused to watching him shift back and forth. He grasped his wand, and Bellatrix apparated them both to the Ministry.

They waited there for hours, without moving, entirely focused on their task. Once the twin Prewetts had exited the Ministry, presumably leaving work to go home, and began apparating, Bellatrix and Deadbones lept onto both of them, following their apparition.

The battle began almost immediately, with spells being flung from both sides. Gideon and Fabian were both casting incredibly simple spells- mainly tripping jinxes, stunners, and body-binding hexes. Bellatrix and Deadbones, however, immediately went for the heavier curses. Deadbones ducked a Langlock, and parried back with an Avada Kedavra, which struck its target with ease. He turned to Bellatrix, and saw that she had gone for a nastier route: the Entrail-exploding Hex. With their task done, Deadbones transfigured both bodies into rocks, before pulverizing them. The Dark Lord would be pleased.

The battles got more difficult with time. It seemed the opposing side had realized that simple spells wouldn’t do, and had wised up. Still, Deadbones almost always had an advantage. The most difficult battle, the one between the Abbots, Potters, and Bones (who he wasn’t related to), he had still managed to escape unscathed from. Although, the Dark Lord had been furious and punished all of them terribly for letting the Potters escape. Deadbones’ nerves had been screaming when he left.

Outside of the Death Eaters, Deadbones worked in an apothecary in Knockturn alley. It was to his complete surprise, when one day, Rob of all people had walked in.

“Rob? What are you doing here?” He had asked astonished. Rob had almost immediately become a teacher of Charms the second he left school, and with the recent death of Headmaster Dippet, he had been named Headmaster. To see Headmaster Rob in a fairly Dark apothecary was frankly bizarre.

“I could ask the same of you, you know. Although, knowing you Deadbones, you’d just answer back with a sarcastic remark.”

“That sarcastic remark being that I work here,” Deadbones retorted.

“Mhmm, a likely story. Anyways, I’m looking for flufferpod seeds,” he trailed off, seemingly lost in thought.

“What do you need those for? They’re only used in potions for burn victims.”

“Nisovin set himself on fire. Again. And Slugger’s and Jigger’s is out of them, what with all the Death Eater activity lately.”

“Hmm.”, Deadbones said, noncommittally. He pointed to a shelf behind Rob, rang him up for the purchase, and continued on his day. Even though his heart was beating entirely too fast.

He saw Rob again, that same week. Rob was walking around near his flat, apparently looking for a flat to reside in during the summer. It was unnerving. How Deadbones wished he’d stop it!

The third time he saw Rob was on the battlefield. They were fighting outside of St. Mungo’s, and Deadbones was firing off increasingly nasty hexes. Bone Shattering curses, asphyxiation curses, blinding hexes, heart bursting jinxes, he casted them all within a minute. He paused, however, when he saw Rob, also on the battlefield, mowing down Death Eaters like he was mowing down Order Members.

“Retreat!” He screamed. The cruciatus seemed worse than usual that night.

The odd meetings with Rob continued, both off the battlefield and on the battlefield. Even though, they were on opposite sides, they were still friends, if one could call it that. Neither of them had ever meet on purpose, however, until then.

“Deadbones, meet me for tea.” Rob said suddenly, almost entirely without warning.

“What?”

“Deadbones, meet me for tea.” Rob said slowly. Confused, and if he was honest, curious, he nodded, following Rob out of the pub and allowing Rob to apparate him.

“This looks like Hogwarts?” Deadbones half-stated, half-asked. “Why is your flat set up like your office would be?”

“Because this is Hogwarts. More specifically, the Headmaster’s office.” Rob answered, glancing at a portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black.

“You can’t apparate into Hogwarts. Not even you, Rob, can do that,” Deadbones replied, crossing his arms.

“Headmasters have special privileges. Would you like some tea?” Rob asked, deftly changing the subject. Being the Slytherin he was, Deadbones saw the maneuver for what it was, but allowed him to have it.

“No, I want to know why the bloody hell you removed me from the pub and asked me to tea.” Deadbones snapped.

“I want you to spy for me.” Rob answered simply.

“Spy for you? What?”

“I want you to spy on the Lord Voldemort and report to me what he’s up to.” Rob replied. Deadbones flinched at the name, and grabbed his left arm tightly.

“Don’t say the name!” He barked, “and why would I do that?”

“Because if you truly supported Lord Voldemort,” Rob answered, ignoring Deadbones’ hiss at the name, “you would have killed me by now.”

Deadbones pretended to ponder the answer for a few minutes, while his thoughts were reeling. Truly supported the Dark Lord? The problem was, he did actually support the Dark Lord. More than anything. He knew Rob couldn’t grant him the same amount of power and knowledge that the Dark Lord could, but he also knew that this would be an excellent opportunity to carry favor. And so, he agreed.

He told the Dark Lord immediately, of course. The Dark Lord, each meeting would tell Deadbones which of their secrets he could tell, and which he couldn’t. In return, Deadbones reported on the movements of Rob, who was in the Order that he had been inducted in, and secrets of the Order. It was an excellent system, and he was enjoying the role of double agent.

That was, of course, until the Dark Lord had to go and die because of a one year old. Bellatrix was in Azkaban, Evan killed, Rodolphus and Rabastan in Azkaban, and Barty Crouch dead in Azkaban. And here he was, sitting at his trial on the grounds of being a Death Eater.

“Does the guilty have any evidence of his innocence?” Bartemius Crouch barked.

“Oh, just me.” Rob said strolling in. Deadbones stared in shock. It seemed his little game of spy would work on both fronts. He allowed a smile to curl inside him.

“Deadbones was my spy, you see, and entirely invaluable to the Order.” Rob said, calmly. The audience tittered nervously. “So he is entirely innocent of being a Death Eater, as he never was one. Merely a spy.”

And now Deadbones was the Potions professor at Hogwarts and the Head of Slytherin- at least until the Dark Lord managed to return, as Rob was so certain he would. How he longed for the day.