Chapter Text
Wraith
Part Two: Rise Of Power
Chapter One: Interval
"To be alone is to be different, to be different is to be alone."
Snape entered the Headmaster's office and immediately began to pace the length of the room. "The Dark Lord is gone," he said to the portraits, "and the Wraith is settled at the other end of the castle."
"Phineas told us what you heard," Dumbledore said.
"Pity we haven't a clue as to what it means," Snape said bitterly. "All we have are more questions!"
"Perhaps the girl was simply referring to the fact that she's been groomed from birth to be his follower," Dumbledore suggested.
"Things are never that simple for us, Dumbledore. Haven't you figured that out by now?" Snape sighed and all but collapsed into the chair behind the desk. He covered his face with a hand. "And now she's here," he muttered, "and I'm back to guarding my every move twenty-four seven."
He sounded so very tired that each of the portraits above him shared a look.
"Severus, what happened tonight?" Dumbledore asked, trying to draw the man away from the thoughts that weighed him down. "Why was she brought here now?"
"Tzadik had a trap in place," Snape said, sitting up a little straighter. "The moment he died, the entire house began to collapse around us. Wraith sensed that something was off as soon as we entered the house, and refused to kill Tzadik. She suggested that he be taken away from the house first––but Bellatrix took matters into her own hands and dispatched Tzadik herself, setting off the trap. We all made it out––" He frowned slightly, "––partly because of the Wraith. She left no one behind. Once everyone was outside, a piece of that ridiculous tower of Tzadik's broke away. Wraith pushed the Dark Lord to safety and was buried."
He closed his eyes, remembering the sight of the frail-seeming girl disappearing beneath the rubble. He had caught only a glimpse of her face before it had been too late––Was he imagining that her face had been resigned?
"She was able to protect herself from most of the wreckage, but her ankle was all but crushed and her arm was badly broken. The bone of her arm…the splintered bone had pierced through the skin. The Dark Lord set the bone to make it heal faster," he said, recalling too clearly the shock of white bone against the dark stain of blood. "The Dark Lord and I remained with her until she had healed enough to Apparate. We tried to bring her back to Slytherin Manor, but one step onto the grounds had her fighting tooth and nail. So we brought her here instead."
Dumbledore was silent for long moments as he digested the information. "…'She left no one behind'," he quoted slowly, "Severus…"
"She was the last out," Snape said before the question was asked aloud, "I saw her very deliberately save the lives of our fellow Death Eaters and she was adamant about getting everyone out. Even me," he added with the slightest smile. "Our Lady Death saved lives tonight."
"That can't be discounted, Severus," Dumbledore said, "we've seen other signs…"
"She's still dangerous, Dumbledore," Snape interceded. "She may very well be the noblest of creatures among the Death Eaters––yet she is among us nonetheless." He sighed again, frowning. "She has a twisted sense of honor, but I think that only disturbs me more."
Phineas cleared his throat, drawing eyes up to him. "For several centuries, there have been accounts of creatures made solely from the will of a witch or wizard; magical constructs. It was the first thing that came to your mind, Headmaster, when you heard the girl call the Dark Lord her 'creator'. But in all honesty, it seems rather impossible."
"It wouldn't be the first time that the Dark Lord has tested the limits of known magic," Snape argued. "There is something…off…about the girl; something not quite human. Those eyes…"
"Constructs have never been known to be strong," Everard said from his portrait, "The girl is what, seventeen or eighteen? The longest living construct I've ever read survived about five years before it burned itself out––and that was an animal construct."
"It's true," Fortescue said, nodding, "there's never been a record of a human seeming construct."
"We'll keep searching," Dumbledore said before Snape could snap at them for being unhelpful. "Severus––you need to rest."
Snape muttered something evasive. "The Dark Lord will return tomorrow night," he said after a moment's quiet. "No doubt to discuss what happened tonight."
"All the more reason for you to rest," Dumbledore said unswervingly.
"Yes, mother," Snape mumbled under his breath.
Judging by the twinkle in Dumbledore's eye, he had heard Snape quite clearly.
The next evening saw the Death Eaters gathered within the halls of Hogwarts––with one glaring exception. Bellatrix Lestrange had not been seen since their return to Slytherin Manor the night before. Her husband was pale and silent as he entered the room where his fellows gathered.
The room might have been a classroom at some point, but now it was empty save for the long table in the center. At the head of the table sat the Dark Lord, the chairs to his left and right were as yet empty, but he seemed unconcerned with it.
It wasn't until everyone else was seated that the Wraith made her appearance. She stepped into the room with Snape a step behind her and did her best not to flinch as every eye in the room turned to her. She was leaning rather heavily on a plain black cane, favoring her ankle as she walked along the length of the table to the head. The dress she wore was simple and black; the sleeves short, leaving the white scar upon her arm quite visible.
There was only a soft trace of murmurs when she reached her Lord. She dipped slightly, still leaning on the cane, "My Lord."
"My Wraith," the Dark Lord replied, gesturing for her to sit.
She did so, leaning the cane against the table. Voldemort touched his hand to her arm, stroking the scar there. Snape bowed to the Dark Lord, who nodded in return. Once Snape had taken his seat to the Dark Lord's right, they began.
"Last night was entirely too close," Voldemort said shortly.
"We never could have imagined Tzadik sacrificing himself just to destroy us, my Lord," Lucius said hesitantly. "He was never…hm."
"I don't think he intended too," Wraith said softly, then she fell silent.
"Speak on, my pet," Voldemort told her.
"He wasn't afraid of me…at least, he wasn't afraid enough. He was not the one who cast that spell, remember. He was entirely too confident. I think, perhaps, that he was tricked."
"If he was approached by a group claiming they could make him immune to the Wraith's power, Tzadik would have been fool enough to believe them. He was a desperate man by the time we caught up with him, my Lord," Snape said.
"There is sense to what you say," Voldemort said, sitting back in his chair.
"My Lady," Rodolphus said suddenly, drawing eyes to him.
Wraith felt a sense of foreboding when she met his gaze, but she held it nonetheless. "Yes, Rodolphus?"
"How did you know?" he demanded of her, his voice low.
Wraith considered him. "I didn't," she said at last. "I merely felt that something was wrong. The spells that tied Tzadik to his house were unfamiliar to me and very strong. And I didn't trust his eyes."
Rodolphus started to speak again, but was stopped by his brother. Rabastan laid a firm hand on Rodolphus's shoulder before the words left his mouth.
"Brother," Rabastan said, "you're acting ungrateful. We all owe the Lady Wraith our lives. It is not her fault that your wife acted the fool."
Rodolphus started to rise, pushing his brother hand away.
"Rodolphus," Wraith said softly. The man turned, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "Come here," the girl instructed.
Rodolphus frowned, suddenly fearful.
"Come here," she repeated more firmly.
"Do as she says," Voldemort said simply.
Rodolphus hesitated only a moment more before he made his way to the head of the table. He stood beside the Wraith's chair and she gestured for him to kneel. A flash of irritation crossed the man's face, but he knelt, putting her head above his. Wraith looked at him, glare for glare.
"The Dark Lord has told me of your wife's intended punishment," she told him.
"She's locked in the dungeons," Rodolphus said bitterly. "She never wanted to be caged again."
"I understand," Wraith said. "Trust me, I understand completely. But know this, Rodolphus, before you make the choice to hate me––You owe me the life of your unborn child."
Rodolphus started, caught entirely off-guard. "You––what?"
"She speaks the truth, Lestrange," Voldemort said. "If it had been entirely my choice, I would have had Bellatrix tortured for her grave mistake. Such torture would have likely caused her to miscarry. But my Wraith asked for leniency for the sake of the innocent. I was not inclined to deny her after what she had endured last night."
Wraith touched a hand to Rodolphus's chin and leaned a little closer, her words for his ears alone. "If you're going to hate me, then hate me for the right reasons, Rodolphus Lestrange. Your wife will survive this. She even has my pity though in all honesty I hate her."
He was silent, unable to take his eyes from hers. She read the anger and hatred in his eyes and understood both. "Go," she murmured, taking her eyes away.
Rodolphus stood at once and went back to his seat. He did not speak again throughout the meeting. Wraith preferred this.
It was not yet midnight when the Death Eaters departed from Hogwarts, leaving only the Dark Lord, his Wraith, and Snape within. They remained within the room, though Snape stood to pace the floor.
"So," Voldemort said, reaching to take the cane.
"Severus's idea," Wraith admitted. "He thought it would be best to…hm, remind everyone what nearly happened to me."
"An effective prop," the Dark Lord said.
"She was limping," Snape added, making Wraith turn a glare on him.
Voldemort smirked, looking to his Wraith. He was amused by her glare and touched a hand to her cheek. Wraith looked to him expectantly. "Are you enjoying Hogwarts so far, my pet?"
"It's quiet here," she replied softly, "Peaceful."
"Something you've had little of, really," Voldemort said, completing her unsaid thought. He stood, brushing his hand over the scar on her arm as he did so. "Walk me out, my pet," he told her, "I must return to the Manor."
"Yes, my Lord," Wraith said as she stood as well, only a little disappointed.
The Dark Lord offered the cane back to her, smirking. Her eyes narrowed at his amusement and did not take the cane. Instead, she slipped her arm through his. Voldemort's amused smile widened and he led the way down to the entrance hall. Snape hesitated a moment before he followed a few paces behind.
When they reached the front doors, Voldemort stopped and turned to his Wraith. "I will visit again," he said idly. "See that you rest in the meantime, my pet."
"Yes, my Lord," she said, bowing her head. She saw Snape out of the corner of her eye and felt the sting of hatred in her breast, though she realized it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been months before.
I won't forgive him, she swore to herself as the Dark Lord took his leave. But I can live with him.
As if he could read her thoughts, Snape bowed his head to her. Their eyes met and again she felt that strange understanding pass between them.
"I'm going to bed," she said, turning her eyes away. "This castle is impressively in its size," she added, glancing back, "It should be quite easy for us to avoid one another here."
"I agree," Snape said simply. "Goodnight, Lady Wraith."
"Goodnight," she replied softly.