After what seemed like centuries, crammed up in the attic of Malfoy Manor, the death eaters were called into action. Narcissa had opened the door and coldly said "Lucius requests your presence" in a voice so cold that it could have given a Dementor, competition. She then turned towards the door, preparing to march out, as though she had simply placed down some food as always. Dolohov wasn't sure if what she had said was real or a figment of his imagination. Despite his best efforts to preserve his sanity, he found that the once simple task was becoming harder and harder each day. Whatever the reason, it looked as though Narcissa seemed to be under the impression that the Death Eaters could follow her out if they wanted to, or rot in the cellar for all eternity. She didn't seem as though she was going to make them change their mind. Dolohov wasn't going to take any chances. He wasn't spending another minute in this filthy, hell a second longer, whether it was his imagination or not. He ran behind Narcissa, close at her heels. Several other Death Eaters seemed to share his mindset, so they ran after them.

"Flith" he heard Narcissa mutter under her breath, when they were halfway down the stairs. Dolohov snapped like a brittle wand.

Pinning her to a wall, he grabbed her by the neckline of her elaborate, evening dress. That woman just simply stared at him as though she'd found him at the bottom of well.

"Conceited vixen" he snarled in his face.

"I spend twelve years prison, serving Dark Lord while your slimy husband betray him! You want know loyalty? You spend part of life in Azkaban with Dementors sucking happiness out you. Only thing I have getting me to next day is hope Dark Lord return! You have no right to sneer at elders and betters! I alive before your father ever meet your mother! I serve Dark Lord my whole life! I serve Dark Lord when you are no more than whining little brat in cradle! And you have guts to sneer at me! You-"

" That's enough, Dolohov" sneered Lucius Malfoy from the foot of the stairs. If he was upset, alarmed, or even furious at the manhandling of his wife, he certainly did a wonderful job of not showing it.

Somehow or the other, Dolohov was persuaded to unhand the wretched woman (he had a hunch that some wand drawing had taken place) Everything was going by in somewhat of a blur. Spending so many months in that accursed attic had made Dolohov a bit delirious and he was having difficulty remembering things that occured right then. It was such a change from his adapted routine of darkness. All Dolohov knew was that one minute, he had his wand pointed at Lucius's Wife's trachea, the next he was in the Malfoy living room, standing next to the other Death Eaters in a circular formation around Malfoy

"The Dark Lord has concocted a wise plan to obtain the prophecy determining his fate with Harry Potter that he has coveted for months. He has finally taken the liberty of educating you Neanderthals about it" Lucius drawled. Dolohov and every other Death Eater's hand grasped inside their robes.

"The Dark Lord has recently become aware of a special connection he serves with Harry Potter, enabling the latter to look inside his mind. How he is able to, the Dark Lord is not even aware of. But he has most cunningly crafted a plan to use this ability to manipulate Potter to his advantage"

"Now listen closely as well as you can, as I'm not going to trouble myself with explaining this more than once" he continued

"The Dark Lord has planted a false memory into his own mind, knowing full well that Potter will be able to see it. Taking advantage of his idiotic "Gryffindor Courage" and pathetic love of playing the hero, the memory will lure Potter into the Ministry of Magic in London (that's where the Department of Mysteries is) and enter it, retrieving the prophecy. Once he does so, it will be obtainable for anybody. The moment the brat closes his fingers around it, we shall close in on him, force him to hand it over, and keep him tied up for the Dark Lord to finish him off"

"Now I do hope that wasn't too difficult to comprehend?" he added in a voice filled to the brim with mock concern. It would have been so easy to pull out your wand and Avada Kedavra him. he wouldn't have even known what hit him.

Dolohov's next recollection was him at the Ministry of Magic (the only time he had ever been there was when he was at his hearing, being sentenced to life in Azkaban. His last memory before he got dragged out on that cursed island) and he was all decked out in his Death Eater's robes, complete with a mask. The Death Eaters were all pointing their wands out at Potter. The plan had worked so easily, that the dark Lord himself, must have been amazed. Potter had indeed showed up at the Ministry (how, he wasn't sure) and had indeed closed his fingers around the small, crystal ball that would reveal every answer the Dark Lord needed to defeat the boy. It was difficult to see too well out of these masks, but judging by what Lucius Malfoy was saying, the boy had been stupid enough to bring a bunch of his friends along. Perfect. The moment they caught one of them, they could use it as a hostage.

Five minutes later, they were all running after Harry, splitting up and dividing, in order to catch him and his friends. Dolohov was paired with Jugson, a rather pudgy man who looked more like a fat schoolboy than a cold-blooded killer, yet could perform the avada kedavra curse better than anybody he had ever seen (except for the Dark Lord of course)

"YOU LOOK THAT WAY I LOOK ON OTHER SIDE!" he roared at Jugson. He had just seen two girls dart behind one of the shelves. Perfect. Girls were easy targets. Weak. Susceptible to torture. And these ones looked young. There was no way they could have been older than fourteen. Grab hold of them and Potter would hand over the prophecy, just like that!

"Love" thought Dolohov contemptuously.

"Why people want to fight for it is beyond me. All it does is make you weak and vulnerable"

He remembered a time when he was torturing a Ministry Official for information about something or the other. The official had stubbornly refused, despite threats of death, and being submitted to the Cruciatus Curse. It was like trying to reason with a brick wall. That is, until Dolohov had brought in his young son. One shot of the Cruciatus curse on the brat had the official wailing, whining , and wringing his hands, ready to spill the deepest, darkest secrets of his soul if it meant that the boy's torture cease. It was quite funny really. You try to fight the Dark Lord with love and he just as easily uses it against you. You are literally providing him with a weapon more useful than the Cruciatus Curse"

Dolohov ran behind a shelf, after noticing a patter of footprints. He heard the frantic footsteps, and then they stopped just like that.

"A dead end" grinned Dolohov.

"I've got you now"

He ran quickly down the shelf, in case the girl tried to make a break for it. It was hard to see, what with the only light in the place coming from those softly glowing crystal balls.

"Lumos" muttered Dolohov and pointed his wand out in front of him. Immediately, the entire aisle was illuminated by his wand. Dolohov found it still difficult to see with the stupid mask and ripped it off in frustration, wanting to get a good look at his hostage.

And then he froze. His entire heart and lungs turned to ice. His stomach turned inside-out.

He was looking at his hostage in the eyes. It was a girl. No older than fourteen. Her eyes were a milky, gray color, not unlike the light radiiated from the Prophecys, but they had a hint of blue mixed in. Her hair was a pale gold, seemingly spun from raw moonlight itself. It couldn't be...yet...She looked absolutely nothing like her-"

"Rifka..." breathed Antonin.

It was though he was looking at a teenage version of her. Only...a ghostly version. All of her features seemed otherworldly, ethereal. Rifka's lustrous golden tresses seemed almost translucent. Her sea-blue eyes had almost all their color seeped out of them. They seemed as though they had seen into the next world. Dreamy. As though she no longer was troubled by trivial human tribulations. As though she'd evolved in thought, As though she was a higher being. A ghost, an apparition. This was further accentuated by her figure being illuminated by the lights of the crystal balls...

"Dolohov!" bellowed an uncouth, voice, which Dolohov recognized as Jugson's.

"You got her?"

All Dolohov had to do was to stun her, call Jugson, and they could use her as bait to catch Harry Potter. Dolohov could even use his signature, purple-flame curse on her. She'd crumple to the ground. She'd be out for several hours, and when she woke up, she'd be traumatized beyond repair. All he had to do was wave his wand and call out...

"There's nobody down here, Jugson" called Dolohov, painfully aware of the lump in his throat, desperately trying to conceal it from his voice.

The girl looked slightly puzzled, as though she was trying to solve a problem which was well within her means of achieving the answer to. Dolohov couldn't bear to look at her any longer. He turned, and strode out of the corridor, but he could feel her puzzled eyes on him, all the way to the end of it.