Who: Lord Voldemort (NPC), Barty Crouch, Jr. (Mentions), Fletcher Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Other Death Eaters (Mentions) What: Fletcher failed to fetch a a Weasley… When: Monday, 30 May, 2001 Where: Secret, Dark Places Warnings: Torture, Violence, Language probably NOTE: All DEs would be present for this, so assume that they saw what happened here. If your character would do something that would change the plot of this thread, please message Kitty or Annalisa to discuss. Otherwise, you may have separate reaction threads if you'd like!
The room was dimly lit by candelabras which cast dancing shadows across the raised platform near the middle of the room. Atop this platform sat a velvet chair, blood red and towering like a throne and upon this throne sat a man. He was not really a man, not anymore. His snakelike features and impossibly long, grey fingers kept him from resembling a man, though he'd once possessed remarkable good looks to match his charm and suave. No, Tom Riddle, the man that was, was no more and Lord Voldemort reigned supreme over this body, just as he ruled over Great Britain. To his side, shrouded in darkness came whimpers and soft pleas for mercy, though he had no intention of granting mercy for he was not a merciful being.
The message had been sent to young Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort knew with certainty that the time had come to end this war and claim his never-ending foothold of power. No boy would stop him, no gathering numbers could defeat him because though Harry Potter's precious headmaster may have known secrets of his past, there could be no way the dead, old man would have known of his last horcrux: Nagini. With her, he could not die and Harry Potter would not be so lucky as to take that from him, regardless of the destruction of his other treasures.
For now, though, there were still smaller, every day issues with which to deal and that included dealing with his servants when they chose to disobey. When an order was given yet not delivered, Lord Voldemort would have to teach the disobedient servant a lesson to ensure that next time, his orders would be fulfilled with efficiency, without further hesitation. He had pressed a long, bony finger to Crouch's arm, the man who had brought him the Grangers, to summon the rest of his servants and then he waited calmly, quietly upon his throne until his numbers minus two arrived in his circle.
"I am most disappointed," he began, standing to his full height, his voice high and hissing, "to find that not all of you are as loyal as you would have claimed when joining me on this journey into a New World Order where magic is revered, not stolen by those of filthy blood who are protected by those who would deny their lineage to consort with the filth that has plagued our world for too long. I was given the impression that it was you who would carry this ideal into the world and make it a reality. We have done this, but there is still much more to do that requires each of you to never falter in your loyalty to the cause, to me. It requires you to follow orders given to you for it is a privilege and an honor to be gifted with the tasks of this regime. Though with privilege comes consequences and consequences come from disobedience."
With a flick of his wand, he shone a light on the whimpering figure. The very obviously female prisoner was on her knees, clothing torn and various cuts caked with dry blood surrounded purple and yellow bruises. Manacles encircled her wrists and ankles and she hung her head so that her raven hair cascaded down across her battered face.
A tiny hint of a satisfied smile twitched at Lord Voldemort's features as he looked pointedly at Fletcher Parkinson, Head of his Law Enforcement, a younger of his Death Eaters. "This is what happens when you abuse your privileges." And with that, he flicked his wand again with a low, hissed Crucio. Pansy Parkinson's body arched backward as shrieking cries of pain erupted from her mouth.