Our Dirty Blood. Remus Lupin/Muggle Riddle Character
Chapter 3: The Ritual
Bell had lost track of any sense of time. Her days now mostly consisted of torture, then loneliness. Right now, it was just Peter and The Dark Lord left in the house. Crouch had left a while ago to do his part in this master plan of theirs.
Bell lay bruised and beaten on the dirty bed. She was locked in that room twenty-four seven. During her imprisonment, she learnt that magic is real and that the long-lost uncle her father spent years trying to find was the deformed baby in the other room. Peter had explained it all to her in what seemed to be a moment of mercy on the poor girl. She didn’t even know what time of day it was, as her window had been shaded with magic. There was no reason for them to do this; they just wanted her to suffer completely. Bell wondered where Couch had gone. Before he left, Bell caught him talking about some potion but didn’t understand anything of what he was saying. He left a while ago, but he did say to her that when he returned, she would already be dead. At this moment in time, she welcomed death.
She was still lying in the bed when Peter came rushing into the room in an excited manner. He was almost skipping as he made his way over to the skinny, malnourished girl. He pulled her up from the bed. Bell made no attempt at fighting back, as she learnt a long time ago that it only ended in her getting punished with a curse.
“Its time. Haha, it's time.’’ Peter said in a singsong voice as he pulled her along with him out of the room. Her legs felt like jelly and wobbled, but she did her best to fight to control them. She managed to get a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrors as Peter pulled her along. She was as pale as a ghost, and her dark brown hair was matted terribly, and she was almost completely skin and bones. So skinny in fact that the clothes she was wearing draped over her body when they used to cling to her. Before, she would have cried at the state of herself, but now all she felt was numbness.
“Time for what.’’ She asked. Her voice was crisp and quiet. She didn’t even know if Peter had heard her because she beardly heard herself.
“The ritual, the dark lord will be brought back, and I am the one who has done it.’’ Peter explained with confident joy. Bell knew that meant she was going to die. She wasn’t surprised to find herself completely at ease with that information.
She was getting dragged to her death by one of the men that took so much pleasure in torturing her, and she felt nothing.
Instead of going into the room with her uncle, she was instead dragged outside into the cool breeze of fresh air. It wasn’t a particularly nice night, but Bell thought it was as good as any night to die.
Peter continued to drag her into her family cemetery. Peter dragged her to her grandfather’s grave. The graves statue stood tall and proud, just like the man was in his life. ‘’You stay right there.’’ Peter said as he waved his wand, and Bell was suddenly bound with ropes that seemed to appear out of nowhere. The sudden movement and surprise of the spell made Bell fall to the ground just in front of the graves of her family.
Peter barely gave her any notice as he rushed back into the house. Bell was left alone for a moment, and around her there was nothing but silence. She could hear her own breathing, and she could see her breath in the air. It was peaceful.
Then suddenly there was a bright light that blinded Bell, but as soon as the light came, it went, leaving behind two young boys. At first the two young boys didn’t really see her, and Bell took the opportunity to try to hide, but the bounds of the rope made moving impossible.
”It’s a port key.’’ One of the boys with glasses said to the taller boy. They were both standing over what looked like a trophy cup. Bell didn’t know if the boys were apart of the ritual or if they were just innocent bystanders. Decided to warn the boys, Bell made a noise as to not take the boys by surprise. The younger looking boy with the glasses approached Bell quickly to help her untie the ropes.
“Are you alright,’’ The second taller boy said who was still taking in the new environment. They both also had wands, but for some reason Bell wasn’t as afraid of them as the other Wizards she has been with. The kind-looking boy with the glasses looked around after helping Bell to her feet.
“This is the place from my dreams. Cedric, we need to get back to the cup now.’’ The boy with the glasses said, taking a hold of Bell's hand as he took a few steps back to the cup.
“What are you taking about Harry?'' The boy, Cedric, asked with confusion. “What is it?’’
There is a snap, and all three of their heads turn to see Peter making his way over to them, the Dark Lord in his arms.
“Who are you? What do you want?'' Cedric asked as he raised his want. Bell flinched even though the wand was pointing nowhere near her.
“Kill the spear.’’ The Dark Lord said.
Bell saw the same horrid flash of bright green light again, making her shield her eyes. Cedric fell to the floor as Harry cried out his name. The statue above Tom Riddles grave reached out and grabbed Harry while the ground from under Bells feet slithered around the legs, trapping her.
“Do it now.’’ The Dark Lord said impatiently. Bell's gaze followed Peter as he made his way over to a large cauldron that seemed to be bubbling. Peter dropped The Dark Lord into the cauldron.
“Bone of the Father, unwillingly given.’’ Bell watched in horror as one of her grandfather's bones was also magically dropped in the cauldron. Peter then picked up a knife, and Bell thought for sure that he could use it on her. Instead, he held his left hand over the cauldron.
“Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed.’’ Bell screamed as Peter cut his own hand off. Peter yielded in pain as his hand dropped into the cauldron. Recovering surprising quicky, Peter waved his wands at Bell, and she was magically and forcefully pulled up to the cauldron. Her body froze as she was bent over the hot bubbling liquid in the cauldron. Her face was sweating from the heat. Peter raised the knife up her throat. Bell shut her eyes, told her parents she loved them then in her head, and waited for the inevitable. “Blood from a living relative, unwillingly sacrificed.’’
Bell felt the cold blade slash across her throat. It wasn’t as painful as she expected, but feeling the blood leak out in spurts was the worst part for her. She felt blood pool on her throat, making it hard for her to breathe. Heaving, she felt Peter throw her unto cool ground when enough blood was collected in the cauldron.
She was still gasping, struggling to breathe. Her hand went to her throat in an attempt to stop the bleeding. From above her, she saw the boys still trapped in arms of the statue look down at her with pity and concern. The last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was Peter taking the knife to slash into the poor boy’s arm. As she faded, she thought for sure that it was the end of her life. Her last moments of awakeness were a prayer that the boy would survive.
She heard a swoosh and then live band music that slowly faded to a stop, then loud gasps of a crowed and the felling on hands on her throat and head. She wanted to open her eyes and look, but she was too weak for that. She was too weak to do anything.
"Help, please; she’s hurt, and Cedric, I couldn’t leave him. Not there.’’ She heard Harry say as he sobbed to the person whose hand was on Bell's neck. ‘’He’s back, Voldemort’s back.’’
She felt a cooling sensation on her neck; it was kind of a nice feeling, and she couldn’t help but fall back into oblivion yet again.
Part 4
