Fated Origins: Chapter 13: Betrayal in the First Degree

A/N: Wow. I will be genuinely surprised if anyone is still around to read this (and if Coldplay ever makes a good song again). After a damn long school-bbatical, I have decided to pick up this story again. I don't quite remember where I was even going with this; however, I will enjoy reimagining the plot line and trying to pull it off without my original notes. And a huge thanks to my reviewers from last chapter! You guys are awesome. Please keep it up!

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"You are the darkness in which all life dies, milord. All life exists to feed your power…" ~Visas Marr

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Day Four of Cadmus' Return-Shack in the English Countryside

Nymphadora Tonks awoke with a rattled start, like a car jolting to life on a wintery morning. She looked around the room that met her gaze, her perception of reality slowly booting up and shaking its many limbs, and waited for her familiar thoughts and feelings to register as they did like clockwork every day. However, they did not come. She looked inwardly at her mind and was met with a blank slate; something was somehow just…different.

She looked down at her hands, at her feet, up and down the length of her and legs and torso, and sucked in a deep breath. They did not belong to Nymphadora Tonks. These were not her body parts. She looked around the room and the cabin that forcibly housed her and did not feel any shred of panic or dread. She simply felt as child that had just emerged from the womb: new. Deep down in the recesses of her mind, a recognizable whisper echoed faintly, and then was gone just as quickly as it had arrived.

She got up slowly, tentatively, unsure if she was even alive, almost questioning the verisimilitude of her existence. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a dirty mirror hanging lopsidedly on the wall. With footfalls that were once, she felt, intrinsically hers, but now belonged to a stranger, she approached the mirror.

With a swipe of her alabaster hand, she removed the dirt clinging to the surface of the glass. And with a shock that resounded to her core, the eyes that bored back into hers were not those of Nymphadora Tonks. Trembling, she stepped back, suddenly struck with vertigo. She wobbled twice, trembling, and lost her footing, beginning to fall like a timbered tree.

However, the floor did not rise up to meet her. Two arms came from out of the reaches of her awareness and snaked themselves around her, preventing her from hitting the ground. With ease, they righted her, and she found herself on her feet once more. She turned to face her rescuer and unveil his or her identity, though she already knew full well who it was. The Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Cadmus, stood before her, orange irises churning like pits of magma beneath an earth of emotion she could not place.

She took a moment to analyze his features fully, now that she stood before him without fear, without anxiety, without the ingredients of hate. Nothing was present but a yearning for his approval and a want to provide him supplication, and though she knew they were not instinctual, she could not fight them. Her eyes roamed his royal face, scarred and hardened from obvious battle, yet so ruggedly beautiful it almost stole the oxygen from her windpipe. He was a gem hewn from the toughest material, and somehow to her he shone like no precious jewel ever could.

His mouth opened, teeth parting like pearly magnets resisting one another.

"Discover something that blew you off your feet, Nymphadora?"

The sound of his voice instantly sent involuntary shivers straight down her spinal cord and swimming through her extremities. Veneration welled in her veins.

She hesitated a moment, collecting her foreign thoughts, trying to make sense of the feelings of fealty that ran like blood through her system. Never before would she have thought to willingly address him as a superior, but something within her compelled her to.

"Master," she began. "I feel so...strange. I no longer fear or hate you. What have you done?"

He looked into her eyes with his swirling fluorescent suns and smiled widely.

"I have shown you the truth, Nymphadora," he said, voice soothing. "At first, you were an enemy of it, and thusly you forced my hand. But I brought out the force within you that was scrabbling at the edges of your mind to get out: the force of true power and knowledge, which you now understand."

She became pensive a moment, before turning around and walking back to the mirror.

"I," she started. "I know who I once was, but it is clear to me that I'm no longer her. My head is a big jumble right now."

Cadmus slowly walked up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Tonks was the persona you have departed from," he explained. "Tonks was foolish. She was irrational, gullible, and blind to the true nature of things."

Her hair flashed red for a split-second and returned to the stark white it had been. Cadmus smirked, knowing his work was immaculate.

"She was childish, and moreover, she refused to listen to the voice of correction. However, Tonks is gone. And instead, in her place stands Nymphadora, a woman of strength and passion. A Handmaiden fit for a Lord of the Sith. One who will not fail her Master."

Nymphadora slowly turned around, acceptance dawning over her soft and pretty features. There was no rejection. There was no anger or denial. Only a collected wave of compliance. Her hair took on a purple tinge, perhaps acknowledging his royalty and her place beside his throne, before she dropped to one knee. She bowed her head.

"Master," she said, voice brimming with admiration. "I am yours."

Cadmus reached down, his long-fingered hand grasping her delicate face. He tilted it up, and sharp green eyes sparked on contact with orange.

"And I am yours. Now stand before your Master."

In one swift motion, he grabbed ahold of her hands and pulled her to her feet. He caressed them, before speaking.

"Nymphadora, as much as I desire to fully welcome you into my service, we have important matters to attend to. The plebeians that you once were a part of must be attempting to hunt me down. This shack will not suffice for an extended period of time. I need somewhere close to their centers of operation. I need a place they would not expect…"

Nymphadora's eyes widened, but she remained impassive. She knew of the location that he spoke. He knew everything.

When no internal resistance came, she gave up the suggestion.

"Master…we can relocate to my parents' home."

Cadmus grinned.

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July 19th, 1996-Day Four of Cadmus' Return-the Burrow

A pounding began at the door. It was a hurried, frantic rhythm, one that was not the type that was desired in the middle of the night. Hermione Granger looked up from her book, Muggle Morality, and stared at the entryway. She sat briefly in dumb shock at the absurdity of the time, put her book down, and walked cautiously over to the door. Peering out of the side window, Hermione was surprised to be met with the matriarchal face of Professor Minerva McGonagall, standing in the rain. She quickly threw open the door.

"Professor-!" she exclaimed.

McGonagall curtly cut her off.

"Miss Granger, I have no time for formalities. Can you please let me in the house?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, Professor."

She moved aside to allow the elder witch passage into the Burrow. McGonagall collected herself, wiped the raindrops off her cloak, and turned swiftly to Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I need you to gather the occupants of the house and bring them here immediately," she commanded. "I don't meant to be a Severus, but my business here is of the utmost importance."

Without word, Hermione turned and walked rapidly down the corridor and up the flight of stairs. After a few minutes of slight bustle, she returned, with Weasleys and a Potter in tow.

Ron spoke first.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he queried, voice tired and scratchy.

"Language, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall with a wry grin as Molly cuffed her son around the back of the head. She took a moment to look over their faces, before beginning her message.

"As you all might have heard by now, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's half-brother has returned and has caused quite a stir-,"

"And truly a shitstorm it is…" said George from the back.

"And because of these turn of events," she continued, ignoring him. "Albus has decided it is safest for all of the students to return to Hogwarts. He has mandated that they be aboard the Hogwarts Express tomorrow morning. I come personally here to inform you that Harry, Ron, and Hermione must ride in a special compartment and wear heavy disguises, for the safety of you three. Gather your things tonight and be prepared for departure. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

She put back on her witch's hat.

"I must be off. I have a good amount of pressing letters to send."

And without another word, she was out the door, leaving a room full of confused and dazed redheads, a bushy-haired brunette, and the Boy Who Lived.

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Selected Review Responses

A/N: Selected review responses will begin again next chapter. Thanks for reading!