Wraith Chpt. 89

Chapter Eighty-nine: Buried




"Isn't it fascinating how long a few minutes seem when you are completely alone with not a familiar face in sight?"




Voldemort, caught completely off guard by the force of Wraith's magic, climbed back onto his feet to see the destruction. As he realized what had happened, he screamed in rage, the sound echoing over the now still air.

The manor had fallen to nothing but rubble, everything within destroyed. There was a chill silence from the Death Eaters as they watched their Lord stalk towards the fallen tower. Snape broke away from the pack to stand beside Voldemort. "…My Lord," he murmured, his eyes locked upon the destruction before them, "The Wraith…is she…?"

"She's alive," Voldemort said after a moment. "She's alive under there." He turned to his Death Eaters, his face a mask of rage. "Dig her out," he commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Get her out of there."

Several figures came forward, including Rowle and Rabastan, to begin levitating rocks and mortar away. Snape joined them, wondering silently if the threat Wraith had posed had been ended. But the Dark Lord claimed she had lived…and their strange link would tell him so, wouldn't it?

It was slow work and Voldemort began to pace impatiently, his fury still clear upon his face. Finally, Snape caught sight of one pale arm beneath the rubble. He hurried forward and began to dig faster around where she lay. It was fascinating, he thought as they continued to free her. The stones above her were oddly caved over her, as if they'd hit a sort of shield. At first it seemed that she had escaped unscathed––but then Snape took a closer look.

One slim arm was thrown over her eyes as if to protect them––and her right arm lay above her head and was buried beneath a heavy slab of rock. As they uncovered more of her, it became clear that the lower part of her left leg had also been caught unprotected.

Voldemort came closer, peering down at his Wraith. It was he who levitated the rock away from her arm as Snape cleared away the rubble burying her leg. Carefully, as gently as possible, Snape knelt and lifted her up into his arms, carrying her a short distance away from the fallen tower. He lay her upon the soft grass and stepped back, noting with some concern that Wraith's eyes were still closed. Voldemort hissed as he took in her condition.

Her right arm was clearly broken––very clearly considering the white of bone poking out from under her pale skin, surrounded by blood. Her left ankle appeared to be crushed. There were also several abrasions upon her face, already half-healed, bleeding sluggishly.

As he studied her face, her eyes suddenly burst open. They were glassy with shock as she turned her head towards her right arm. A sharp cry of pain and horror escaped her lips when she saw the bone sticking out of her arm. The cry became a moan and she turned her eyes away.

Snape stepped forward and began to kneel beside her, but she snapped at him, "Stay away from me!" Snape appeared nonplused as he straightened. He snapped his fingers, gesturing to Rabastan.

The younger Lestrange brother hurried forward and knelt beside the Wraith, putting one hand under her head to support it. "My Lady?"

She shook her head, gritting her teeth as she fought the pain that rolled like black greasy waves through her.

"We have to get out of here," Bellatrix said suddenly, her voice tight with fear. "We––"

"Crucio!"

Bellatrix screamed as the Dark Lord's curse fell upon her. Voldemort held his wand on her, his face twisted with pure rage. Bellatrix writhed on the ground as her screams went higher.

"My Lord!" Wraith cried from where she lay, her voice strained, "My Lord––her baby!"

With a short shout of frustration, Voldemort dismissed the curse, leaving Bellatrix gasping for breath upon the ground. The Dark Lord strode forward, grabbing hold of Bella's collar. "I'll deal with you later," he hissed at her before dropping her back down. He turned his back on her and Rodolphus rushed forward to his wife.

Voldemort stood over his Wraith, taking in her wounds. "She cannot Apparate while healing," he said to Rabastan and Snape.

"My Lord," Wraith hissed, reaching her good arm up towards him. Voldemort knelt on her right side, frowning at her. "Set the bone," Wraith whispered harshly through her teeth. Voldemort blinked at her as the meaning of her words came to him. "It…it will heal faster if it is set," Wraith told him, "Set the bone."

"It will hurt," he told her in return as he gently touched his hands to the broken arm.

"Do it!" Wraith ordered swiftly.

Voldemort snapped the bone into place, his face unchanging.

Wraith screamed, more in rage than anything else as a flash of white-hot pain flashed through her.

With tear-blurred eyes, she looked towards that distant hill again. "There…are people there," she rasped, "…waiting…"

Voldemort turned sharp eyes towards the hill and then looked to the Death Eaters. "Back to the Manor," he ordered swiftly. Looking back to his Wraith, he said, "You as well, Rabastan."

Rabastan winced and gently laid Wraith's head back on the ground before he stood and strode away.

Voldemort gestured to Snape, who cautiously came forward. "Take her into the trees there," the Dark Lord commanded. "We have to get her out of sight until she has healed enough to Disapparate."

Snape nodded and reached to pick her up again, despite the way she hissed at him to keep away. He cradled her rather gently in his arms as he carried her over to the trees and took cover beneath them.

Wraith let out a moan of agony as he set her back down beneath an ancient oak tree. The abrasions of her face had healed, leaving only the blood behind. Snape looked up as the Dark Lord joined them, kneeling on his Wraith's other side. "Remain still," he hissed at her and Snape.

After a few minutes, they heard the footsteps of several people coming towards the wreckage. Wraith bit down on her tongue to keep her cries of pain silent. Snape saw her struggle and took her hand in his, allowing her to clutch it tightly as she fought the pain.

"Think she's dead?" came a whispered voice from beyond the trees.

"Just might be," replied a low female voice. "The way she screamed…"

"Well, if we couldn't be rid of You-Know-Who, at least we got his Wraith," said a third voice.

"She'll be harder to kill than that," snapped a fourth voice, also female.

Voldemort's eyes narrowed as he studied her. "Meadows," he hissed as he recognized her. He had dealt with her parents nearly two years before, but had missed her, thinking her no threat. That had apparently changed.

"Let's get out of here," said the first voice.

"Yes, let's."

After a moment, Voldemort looked back to his Wraith. "They're gone."

Wraith let out a gasping breath of relief and then moaned in pain as her healing arm started to spasm.

"How is her ankle?" Voldemort asked of Snape, who moved to check.

"Healing as well," he said after a moment, "but I don't dare touch it to see how close."

"Oh, god," Wraith moaned, writhing with the black agony of her battered body. Her eyes were still glassy and unfocused. Voldemort ran his hand down her face and she leaned into his touch. He felt the wetness of tears upon her cheek.

The three of them sat there in the darkness beneath the trees for nearly an hour before Wraith's soft sounds of pain died away. Her breath was still ragged and she struggled to keep her eyes open, but she was able to lift her right arm with only a little pain. The bone had healed.

Moving carefully and with a touch of help from her Lord, she sat up and tested the movement of her ankle. Both arm and ankle were tender, but her power was available to her once more.

"Better now," she rasped, her voice clouded with fatigue. She leaned against her Lord's side a moment to catch her breath. Then Voldemort and Snape each took an arm and pulled her to her feet.

Sharing a glance with each other and then with Wraith, they Disapparated.




They appeared at the edge of the grounds claimed so long ago by Slytherin. Wraith immediately fell to the ground between them and retched. The dark blood fell from her lips to stain the gravel beneath her.

She coughed and then gasped in pain as she discovered just how tender her right arm still was. She rolled onto her back to breathe a moment before she accepted her Lord's hand.

Voldemort pulled her up to her feet and allowed her to lean against him. Her eyes were unclear as she swayed on her feet. Voldemort and Snape realized quickly that she wasn't quite conscious. Snape took her other arm and they started to pull her forward, towards the Manor.

But after just a couple of feet, the Wraith let out a high mewling sound and fought against their pull.

"No," she moaned, struggling to free herself, "Not here––not here! No more, no more, please…He'll find me, he'll take me…"

Voldemort let out a hiss of frustration and stopped trying to pull her against her will. Wraith's arm slipped from his grasp and she fell back to the ground, the soft high sounds of panic issuing from her lips.

Snape considered her, thinking quickly. "My Lord," he said carefully, "we could bring her to Hogwarts. I know it's sooner than you had planned, but if she cannot bring herself to enter the Manor so weakened…"

"Yes," Voldemort said, shortly. "Yes, we'll bring her to Hogwarts. She can heal there."

Snape could not read the strange expression in the Dark Lord's eyes as he gazed down at his Wraith, but it was nothing he had seen before.




After Apparating to the front gate of Hogwarts, Wraith fainted outright at their feet. It was Voldemort who knelt to bring her up into his arms. Snape unlocked the gate and led the way up to the castle.

As they started up the front steps, Snape glanced back at the Dark Lord and his Wraith. The girl was a mess of blood and dust, her white cloak little more than a disaster.

"Shall I run a bath for her, my Lord?" he asked, standing back so that Voldemort could carry the girl over the threshold. He then frowned slightly at Wraith's limp form––Had her wane face just relaxed slightly after crossing into the castle?

"I think that would be best," Voldemort said, glancing down at the burden in his arms.

"The staff bathroom, I think," Snape said, again taking the lead. "I'll contact Wormtail at the Manor and have him start sending her possessions to the castle, starting with her clothing."

"Yes," Voldemort said, distracted by his Wraith's sleeping face.

Snape entered the bathroom alone and immediately crossed to the only portrait within, a simple landscape of the ocean. But standing before the ocean was Dumbledore's aged face.

"She's here then?"

"Here to stay for the time being," Snape whispered in response as he began to fill the bathtub, "Send Phineas down––the Dark Lord knows your face all too well."

Dumbledore nodded and swiftly stepped out of sight to the edge of the portrait. After a moment, Snape went back to the door and gestured for the Dark Lord to enter.

Voldemort laid Wraith along the edge of the bathtub. At the sound of running water, the girl seemed to stir. With a soft moan, her eyes fluttered open to meet her Lord's.

"My Wraith," Voldemort said, his voice very nearly gentle, "Severus has run a bath for you."

"Oh," Wraith murmured. She slowly sat up, putting one hand to her forehead. "That's nice." She blinked several times and her eyes began to clear. "Thank you," she said, turning rather confused eyes towards Snape. She frowned slightly. "Where am I?"

"Hogwarts," Voldemort told her, "and here you'll stay while you heal."

Something akin to hope sprang into Wraith's bloodshot eyes. "I don't have to go back to the Manor?" The relief in her voice was pathetically clear.

"No," Voldemort replied. "Now, take your bath. I'll be close by."

He stood and gestured to Snape. The two left her alone in the room to undress and slip into the soothing water.