#cr: task

Gideon was certain his task would be less destroying than others. There was no one left in his family that he loved. He might be asked to kill a muggle family or torture someone. Guilt might eat him away for a month or so, but there won’t really be any damage. He wasn’t attached to anyone in particular.

He was wrong.

The first thing Gideon noticed when he opened the correspondence was Ophelia Vance’s name. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment, he thought he was going to collapse. The second thing was the mention of the house fire. How could the Dark Lord have possibly known about that? And the third was his guardian—Voldemort, himself. He didn’t have to read the entirety of it for his insides to crumble.

Gideon’s blood boiled, the correspondence being crushed in his balled up fist. He was terrified, but more than anything, angry. Angry at himself. This was his fault. This was the price of his stupidity. He should never have been even friends with Ophelia; never should have been developed deep attachments to her. He should have learned over the years, that anyone who got too close to his heart was taken away and endangered, soon enough.

First, his sister. And now, Ophelia, the first person he ever cared about after all these years.

Gideon was certain he couldn’t do it. He can’t hurt another person that was dear to him. It would destroy their friendship. It would destroy him. He would lose her, lose himself.

But he had no choice. It was this or something worse. Something more terrible. But he couldn’t help but think, if there was anything worse than hurting Ophelia Vance.

The door to the old Grindelwald Manor hung open, its hinges barely held up from years of being left untended. Only the ruins of the house stood, all cobwebbed and covered in a blanket of dust. Gideon couldn’t help but catch the faint smell of burning wood. He didn’t know if it was just him, or did the scent from 7 years ago really stuck. Either way, it was enough to make his chest ache and tighten with remorse.

He couldn’t believe he was back to the place where he grew up; the place where the nightmares that haunted him lived.

“Do you see what you did? You, stupid boy!”

“You killed her! Your own sister, Gideon! How could you do this?”

“I can’t even look at you. You’re not my son.”

His parents’ voices echoed in his head and he had to blink a few times and shake his head for them to go away. No. He couldn’t look weak and vulnerable and fragile. Not in front of the Dark Lord.

He walked from the foyer and down to the expansive, burned down living room of the manor. When he came here, he was certain he was ready. With a rock hard facade and a steady composure, he thought he was prepared to do this. But as soon as he saw Ophelia tied to one of the posts, with eyes desperately trying to hide the terror in them, Gideon knew for sure he wouldn’t be able to do this. His heart thrashed against his chest and a lump formed in his throat. How could he possibly torture her?

The Dark Lord beamed, seeing Gideon. “Well, boy, what are you waiting for?”

Although his facade didn’t falter, he knew the fear and remorse was already pooling in his eyes. He hoped Ophelia would see that. He hoped she knew that he really didn’t want to do this.

Taking out his wand, Gideon pointed it at Ophelia. “Crucio,” he said, voice cracking. It did nothing. The intention wasn’t there.

“You have to mean it! Again!” The Dark Lord commanded, waving his wand to the girl. “And this time, properly. Or I kill her!”

Gideon took a deep breath and tried he curse once more. “Crucio-” He watched as Ophelia’s body jerked in pain. He had to look away. He could’ve sworn he heard his heart breaking.

The Dark Lord must have seen that he turned his head away. With his wand, he forced Gideon’s face to look at Ophelia. “You can do better than that,” the Dark Lord’s husky voice challenged him. Gideon didn’t realize that he had been standing right behind him now.

“Crucio!” His voice was more firm, movements less shaky.

“That all you’ve got? That doesn’t get you a spot in my army, son.”

“Crucio!” His voice was louder, wand movement steadier and more certain. Every syllable in the curse was articulated as it slipped from his mouth. The guilt and fear and terror was slowly draining from his eyes.

“Harder!”

“CRUCIO!” The look in his eyes were replaced by something that could only be depicted as satisfaction. Gideon was inclined with the Dark Arts. But he never tried an unforgivable curse. And never had he felt as powerful as this.

“Yes, my boy. Yes!” Voldemort laughed proudly.

With every whisper from the Dark Lord, Gideon only grew more frenzied, more crazed. The look in his eyes became wilder, his voice louder and his movements bolder.

He didn’t even care that the girl in front of him had tears pooling in her eyes, that her body had grown limp from the torture and now she was barely holding up. He didn’t care. Because he didn’t see her.

Gideon Grindelwald wasn’t himself.

Despite all the torture, Ophelia never resisted. Never screamed. Never said anything. She suffere quietly.

“Now, for the final touch.” The Dark Lord had whispered in Gideon’s ear. It instantly made him move towards Ophelia. He forcefully took her arm and pushed up her sleeve. He looked up at her once and smiled. It wasn’t warm like the ones he used to give her. It was sinister. Menacing. The kind of smile predators had before killing their prey. The kind you would never thought you’d see on Gideon’s face.

He pressed his wand against the skin of her forearm and began to carve the dark mark. Ophelia must have realized what he was doing, because the terror in her eyes were back. The slightest sound of a whimper escaped her lips. It was so soft that it was almost nothing. But Gideon heard it. And it was enough to shake him awake. Suddenly the wild look in his eyes was replaced with horror. “No,” a whisper escaped his lips and he tried to stop what he was doing. But it was too late. The damage has been done. The mark has been etched on her skin. His hands shook and his wand dropped to the floor.

“Well done.” Voldemort’s husky voice sounded in his ears again. The Dark Lord looked proud. Like Gideon was worthy of being part of his inner circle of death eaters.

But Gideon was frozen, seeing what he had done. He had to look away from Ophelia. He couldn’t stand to see her in that state and to know that it was he who did this. He promised that he will never ever harm anyone. He promised that he would only do good and make people happy. But he just broke every promise he made to himself right then.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, shaken, before the Dark Lord ordered him to untie her. Ophelia’s weak body fell into his arms and he had to carry her on the way back to Hogwarts.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the guilt never leaving his voice and the look in his eyes. He knew it didn’t undo the torture he had just given her. He knew it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

Ophelia, not even once, looked at him on their way back. And Gideon was sure she would never look at him again. He would never see her rare smiles. He would never hear her gentle voice.

Gideon believed his parents, even more now than ever. He was evil. And evil people never deserve to be happy.

The correspondence had been laying on the floor of Scorpius’ dormitories for hours time now. The first time he opened it, he only let his eyes pass through. He thought it was a joke; that he had been dreaming. Voldemort couldn’t be that cruel that he would have Scorpius kill his own mother, could he? The words didn’t make sense. It must be a mistake.

The second time he picked it up, he actually read it. Here is where you will kill her before your father’s very eyes. All the air was sucked out from his lungs and for a minute he couldn’t breathe. The letter fell to the floor and Scorpius was frozen. His heart dropped and his knees felt weak. He couldn’t even fathom it. He couldn’t see himself even ever talking back to his mother, what more kill? He immediately started to think of ways out of this. Maybe it was okay if he won’t do it. Maybe it was a trick test and the second he uttered the spell, they would ask him to stop. Maybe.. Maybe.. Maybe..

The third, the fourth and the fifth.. He was just staring at the words. Mother. Kill. Mother. Kill. Mother. Kill. “I can’t do it,” he growled at the letter the first time. As if expecting it to answer; as if it would take the words back and tell him it was a joke, a mistake; that he didn’t have to do it. Then he shouted the same words. Then he screamed and drove his fist to the wall.

He wanted to cry and run to his mother. She would take him into her arms and say, ‘It’s okay, son. It’s okay.’ And everything would be alright in an instant, just like when he was a kid.

But he wasn’t a kid anymore. 

And his eyes were painfully dry and all the pain was caught up in his chest and clawing at his throat.

His mother wasn’t there to make things better, to tell him it was okay.

Soon, she wouldn’t be anywhere at all.

And nothing would ever be alright.

When Scorpius reaches the front door of the Malfoy manor when he goes home for the break, a smile would always light up his face. A smile never seen in Hogwarts. A smile that was only ever present when he was at home. The Malfoy manor was a haven to Scorpius and its four walls were witness to his golden childhood. It was Scorpius’ refuge; a place that carried only good memories. During his stay in Hogwarts, he longed for nothing but to be home. But today, as he stood on the stone porch of the manor with Bartemius Crouch Jr. at his heels, he wished he was anywhere but here.

As Crouch dealt with strapping Astoria Malfoy to a chair and making sure the helpers don’t interfere, Scorpius trailed down the hall and into the library where his father usually was at this time of the day. The door creaked a little as the boy entered. The older Malfoy beamed, seeing his son. He looked both surprised and glad that he was home unexpectedly. When Draco moved for a hug, Scorpius almost lost it. He wanted to break down in front of his father and tell him everything; tell him how he was scared and clueless and helpless out of his mind. For a split second, he felt like he was safe and guarded and nothing could ever hurt him. But only for a second. Once Draco let go, he felt the weight of the task at hand press down on him harder than ever. A second for a hug was too quick for Scorpius. He wanted to stay in his father’s arms for the rest of his life and not do what he had to.

“Mother prepared supper,” was all he could manage to say. Although he was tearing apart inside, he managed to keep his voice firm. Draco only smiled and patted his son’s shoulder, and together, they made their way down to the dining room. It was only a short distance from the library to the dining room and each step Scorpius took felt heavier and heavier. With every step he took, the echo in his ears grew louder. He grew more afraid. He grew weaker. He wanted to run. But he knew there was no escaping this. A small part of him hoped that this was only a trick; that at the end of the day his family would still be whole.

“What are you doing here?” His father’s hostile voice shook Scorpius awake. They had reached the dining room, and Barty Crouch Jr. stood there behind the chair where Astoria Malfoy was strapped to. Her eyes were damp with tears and overflowing with fear and terror.

Scorpius lost it.

“Mum..?” His hard facade broke and the pain was clawing at his throat again.

He didn’t even realize that Crouch already had a hold of Draco, locking his arms behind him to prevent him from doing anything to stop Scorpius.

With shaking hands, Scorpius took his wand out and pointed it at his mother.

Scorpius stood in the doorway, the broom in his hand, a feet or two taller than him. He stormed inside the house, the frown never leaving his soft features.

“What’s wrong, honey?” A soft voice called out from behind him.

“We lost, mum. I couldn’t get the snitch. I fell off my broom. It was so embarrassing..”

“That’s alri-“

“No! Don’t you get it mum? We lost. Father will be so disappointed.”

Astoria only smiled and took her son in his arms. Scorpius never felt more at home. “What do we always tell you? Be good and kind, and-“

“And always do your best in everything you do..”

“And?”

“And you’ll be proud of me.”

“That’s right. It doesn’t matter if you won or not. It’s okay, son. It’s okay. Your father and I will always, always be proud of you. No matter how many times you fail, we will love you just the same. And nothing will ever change that.” She gave him a light kiss on the forehead. “So, shall we go get ice cream to celebrate?”

“Any time now, boy.” Crouch’s voice echoed in his head and shook him out of his thoughts. Scorpius looked back to his father and he saw it again—the look of hope in his eyes. Everyone saw just how Draco’s eyes filled with love and affection when he spoke of his son. But it was only Astoria and Scorpius who ever saw the glint of hope in those gray eyes. With stolen glances and faint smiles, it was like a passed secret between the three of them. It was hope that Scorpius would turn out to be good and brave and would fight for the right thing; the things the rest of the Malfoy family weren’t. Seeing that look always gave Scorpius a bit of a boost. It made him smile and feel like he could do anything. But, this time it only destroyed him even more.

“Av-.. Avada..” He stammered and his hand shook wildly. He couldn’t even meet his mother’s eyes. Am I really going to kill my own mother?

“Do it or I do, and your father dies too.” It was Crouch’s voice again.

“Scorp-” His father’s eyes begged him not to do it.

All the voices were echoing in his head, his heart running a million beats per minute. He didn’t know what to do. Maybe it was better if i be the one to die. Maybe.. Maybe.. Maybe..

But then, silence and he could hear nothing but the soft and gentle sound of his mother’s voice.

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay.” Astoria said quietly, even forcing a sad smile up her face. 

“i’m.. I’m s-sorry.” Taking a deep breath, he mustered up all the anger and hate and disgust for Voldemort he could. This is all his fault. He should die. Not my mother. He should die! “Avada Kedavra!” It didn’t sound like his voice. It didn’t even feel like he did it. It felt like someone else did it and he was just a mere spectator.

Scorpius watched as the life drained from his mother’s eyes. He felt weak, dead and empty. He couldn’t even stop himself from dropping to the floor. He watched as his father broke free from Crouch’s grasp and took Astoria’s lifeless body in his arms.

Nobody would maintain the roses in the garden. Nobody would make him his favorite breakfast. Nobody would cheer for him during every Quidditch game. Nobody would welcome him with a warm smile when he gets home. Nobody would hug him and tell him everything was going to be alright. Nobody would care for him. Nobody would make him feel safe and secure.

Because nobody did these things better than Astoria Malfoy.

And now she was gone.

Scorpius was frozen on his place on the floor. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t move. Not even when Crouch grabbed him by the arms and stood him up. Not even when he was dragged away from the scene and brought outside to go back to Hogwarts.

He didn’t have the will to fight anymore.

He had just lost everything that was important to him.

His loving mother.

His perfect family.

His dignity.