Chapter Fourteen: Survivors Guilt Part II
The memory changed, flowing into another. This one was Blaise’s, his circumstances were obviously much more dire than those of Narcissa, Andromeda, and Teddy.
Blaise was forced to bend over a wooden horse, lash marks fresh and old had sunk deeply into his heavily scarred back. In spots, he was black and blue where he had begun to heal. It was tender so that was naturally where the whip was aimed and landed with precision. Whipping was obviously an art form. The bitterness was written across his face. Blaise was no stranger to discipline via whippings. It was, after all, the way his father had disciplined him growing up. It was that very reason that his mother had killed the bastard. One of the reasons he would always cherish his mother and forgive her constant black widow tendencies.
His whole body sunk onto the simple device as the last lash cracked against his back. As the blow landed, he arched back, his arms restrained by friends, mates from Hogwarts, Nott and Bole. He was finished at long last. Fifty. He had never taken so many all at once before but couldn’t bring himself to regret the decision that put him over the Spanish Donkey. There was yelling and movement as somebody dragged his body away from the post and into the male barracks.
“Why can’t you just shut up and do what they tell you. Next time they will kill you.” Theodore Nott whispered nervously.
“Do you see what they are doing to those children?” He asked through clenched teeth. “Pansy’s sister is in there. They cut her open to watch her heal over and over. She has more scars than a fucking werewolf. It doesn’t matter that without potions or medical intervention she can’t heal faster than a muggle. They continue to slice into her day after day. She is only eight for Merlin’s sake.”
“Except the one time that she nearly died and her uncontrolled magic saved her.”
“Yeah, now they won’t stop. She is in constant agony. I’ll never forget her screams.”
“They keep you in the children’s wing to work because they know how much it hurts you. They want you to fly into a rage and show the world what you are magically capable of without a wand.”
Blaise was on his stomach, Theo used a strip of grey cloth and a bit of clean water to try and wash the blood off of his back. Both men were startled as loud boots clanked on the floor, a contingent of soldiers marched in the barracks. In the center of the group stood a horribly abused Lucius Malfoy. Guns were aimed at his head as a length of wood was thrust into his hand. Lucius looked euphoric having finally connected with his magic again after so long a separation.
“Heal the boy.” One of the guards said gruffly.
Lucius walked towards the wooden pallet that Blaise was laying on and stood frozen for a moment looking at the web of split skin.
“Merlin.” He whispered. His jaw tightened as every fear, every injustice, every inhumanity solidified in his mind the rightness of his beliefs. Muggles were monsters and they deserved to be treated in the same way as they treated wizards. Although, if truth be told, he wasn’t focused on Muggleborns any longer. He felt that if they were taken from the monsters that bred them at birth and were fostered to a good pureblooded family, the world would be a much better place.
Quickly he sang Snape’s healing spell and watched as Blaise’s back knit back together, leaving only silvery ropes that crisscrossed his back. On feet quicker than his abused body could seemingly take, Lucius had turned and obliviated the guards. The three men were gruesome in their payback, not one guard left the men’s barracks intact. Lucius was well versed in all manner of torture and not just by magical means. The best and most cruel being Chinese water torture. It was almost too easy strapping the obliviated guards to the pallets. A piece of burlap was hung overhead as the men poured small amounts of water on each at irregular intervals. The guards flinched every time a drop hit their face, the irregularity, maddening. Two hours was when the first man broke, a silencing charm was his only reward.
“Tonight,” Lucius muttered. “Tonight, we free the children.”
Hermione watched as the memory faded and rolled into the next.
Blaise, Lucius, and Theo were creeping along the experimentation wing as the murmurs of Potter’s name reached their ears.
“That fucker. Still fucking alive and a pain in my arse.” Lucius muttered sullenly.
The trio slipped inside the building silently, Lucius clearing their way with the only wand between them. The wards were weaker here in this part of the camp as the muggles wanted to see what circumstances a child could focus their powers before they are taught to use a wand. Through one of the windows in the first dormitory, they saw all hell break loose on the lawns. A flash of long blonde hair wove through the rioting magical population.
Lucius pulled Blaise aside.
“Get my wife back to the Manor. We will be fine here alone. Don’t worry. We won’t leave anyone behind. Blaise clenched his jaw as them men bid the group of older children to their feet and into the next doorway. Blaise ran full out to get to the Malfoy Matriarch and put in an extra boost of speed when he saw the muggle guards dragging one of the fire hoses. It wouldn’t be the first time they soaked the inmates.
Blaise made it just in time to pull Narcissa to him and keep the icy deluge off of her and the child that she was holding between them.
Hermione came back out from the pensieve and looked at Blaise who was sitting in the chair in front of her desk with a rigidity that belied his fear of her reaction.
“And you don’t think that I could have done worse? There is one thing I abhor and that is injustice and abuse of anyone but especially a child. I understand why you did what you did. You would not be the first person to fight back using their own methods against them.”
“Perhaps but what kind of man does that make me? That is not something I will tell my children with pride someday. I will go to my grave ashamed that I gave in to an act of vicious torture. I should never have crossed that line. I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
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