A/N: Okay, so I haven't been very active here for a long time. But what the hey, why not break the silence with a brand spankin' new fic, hm? I'll just tell you now that I don't know how often I can update. It may be weeks... or it may be months. It all depends on how much homework I have, and if that acursed Writer's Block Demon will stop picking on me. I shake my fist at thee, Demon!
Lord Voldemort stared down at the various Muggle-born wizards and their Muggle families and friends, a look of pure disgust written clearly upon his face. They all were lower than animals. Every one of them were bound securely with ropes, and completely at his non-existent mercy. Pathetic, the whole lot of them. Yet there was only one thing stopping him from killing them on the spot; they were absolutely silent. None of them were begging for mercy, not one of them pleading to join his cause if only he'd spare them a terrible death. What fun was killing if his captives weren't going to scream?
"Tell me why I should spare your lives," the Dark Lord declared clearly, his strong, cold voice projecting effortlessly so that every single one of them heard. His serpentine eyes gave a passing glance to each one, waiting for a response. There was none. All of their expressions were blank. They didn't even appear to be afraid of him, for some inexplicable reason. And that bothered Lord Voldemort. "Answer me!"
And elderly man with wizened features cleared his throat, so obviously the leader of these Mudbloods and Muggles. "We do not answer you, because we do not want to be spared. We would rather die than serve you for sparing us!"
How intriguing. It was common knowledge among the Dark Lord and his Death-eaters that serving someone you want to kill is a worse fate than death. However, killing was such fun that Voldemort had never felt the need to utilize that option. But this was different. They weren't screaming, and that took all the enjoyment out of murder. But he didn't want mere Muggles and Mudbloods to wait on him, they were too low even for a life of servitude. As the answer came to him, a wicked grin pulled at the corners of his thin lips.
"You are most fortunate that I will not kill you. You will serve my Death Eaters and I, but not in this form." He chuckled evilly as his captives expressionless gaze shifted to one of confusion. Yes, enslavement would be the perfect torture for this lot. "Morphus Felidae Slaaveria." The curse worked, as all curses cast by Lord Voldemort did.
"Just look at us!" A cat-like being with silver-grey fur and black stripes shouted, "We're freaks! He knows we can't leave, not like this! We must do something, to turn ourselves back! Even if we have to kill Voldemort!" There were locked in the dark room that was supposed to be their sleeping area. Although the room was large,it was still over crowded and the presence of some twenty other cat-people caused the room to reek constantly.
"Calm down, Jordan." The once wizened old man, who was now covered in long bushy grey fur of various shades, put a transformed hand onto the younger's shoulder and spoke calmly, "There is nothing we can do at this point but wait. Voldemort cannot stay in power forever. Once we are freed, the Ministry of Magic will reverse the curse and we can go back to our homes. In the meantime, we must deal with our present forms and do what we can to stay alive."
"But father," Jordan pleaded.
"There is nothing that can be done, Jordan," the old cat-person said again, "but wait." As if to emphasize his point, he sat on the ground. The others had been watching, fear in their eyes. An odd silence filled the room, making everyone uncomfortable and more afraid.
"What about my child? He can't be told what happened, especially if he was...changed like us," piped up a very pregnant woman with dark Siamese-type fur. She looked at the elder meaningfully, needing to be reassured during her pregnancy.
"We will figure that out when the time comes. We may just have to make up some sort of lore and change our names to pass ourselves off as a different species, Cassandra, but lets hope that we are back to our true selves before then."
"Voldemort is the heir of Salazar Slytherin, why didn't he change us into snake-things?" An older woman with tiger stripes and leopard spots asked after an uncomfortable silence.
"Because, that's what he wants," spat a tall tom with ginger fur, "giving us the 'honor' of being snake-like would be a gift rather than punishment in his psychotic eyes." He thought a moment. "And he wants to be able to look classy while torturing us, so he didn't turn us into something hideous."
"I'm not even going to ask how you know that," said someone unrecognizable, but had a long mane and leopard spots.
The door to the chamber opened, nearly blinding the transformed people within with the light, and a dozen Death Eaters walked in. They split into two groups, six of them lining up on each side of the door as Lord Voldemort entered, a sinister grin on his snake-like features. A few of the cat-beings moved to the back of the room, afraid and not wanting to be seen, while most stood their ground, glaring defiantly. Looking at his captives, the Dark Lord seemed to be sizing each of them up.
Finally, he pointed to three; the man with silver fur and black stripes, the one with the mane, and the ginger cat-person. Immediately, several Death Eaters swooped down upon the chosen three, dragging them forward and forcing them to kneel in front of their new master. It was no coincidence that Voldemort had chosen the three who were most likely to give him trouble, in fact, it was the reason that they were chosen. Lord Voldemort knew he would garner much entertainment breaking these three of their will. They looked up at him murderously, of one mind in their desire to kill.
"What do you want with us," growled the maned one, finding his voice after an unbearable and tense silence. Voldemort acted as though he hadn't spoken, turning to address his Death Eaters instead.
"My most faithful of Death Eaters, you have the honour of choosing your slave from the rest. Those in my service who are not as trustworthy as you twelve will have to pick from the remaining creatures."
Years had passed, and the transformed beings were still enslaved to Voldemort and his merciless Death Eaters. Their numbers had thinned considerably. All of them had lost their powers, except for one: Macavity. He had the common sense tocast a defensive spell that had partially protected him at the same time Voldemort had been casting his curse; he may have been feline, but at least he was still a wizard. Of course, he kept this information to himself. Even he had to admit that he wasn't as powerful as Voldemort, and the others would expect him to make a suicide attempt at killing their so-called Master.
Cassandra's child had been born, and was healthy. He was covered in black fur, with the exception of a white face and a tuxedo-pattern on his chest. Even though the child (or kitten, as the others were affectionately calling him) was turning three years old soon, he was still far too young to be displaying any magical capabilities, if he had any. The father, a white tom with black patches, was anxiously hoping that his son would be magical— it would mean that they wouldn't be helpless against Voldemort forever. In the meantime, little Quaxo as he was called, provided amusement that lifted the otherwise dismal atmosphere of the group.
Being Voldemort's slave was similar to being under the Imperius curse: whatever he demanded, they obeyed without question or resistance. Only, unlike the Imperius curse, the creatures were well aware of what was happening. Their murderous looks of hatred as their minds screamed out against catering to Voldemort's every whim was immeasurably entertaining to the Dark Lord. The same applied to those under the Death Eater's command. And without their magic, the servants were powerless against their Master'swill. Their bodies, which were creations of Voldemort's twisted mind, were bound to him forever.
Voldemort and his Death Eaters had just gotten back from another killing spree, and were in a particularly jovial mood. That meant painful torture for the feline-like slaves to celebrate. A tall scarlet woman was in the midst of a Crucio curse when someone suddenly apparated into the room. He had hair that stuck out in every direction, and dark brown eyes. Immediately, the Death Eaters forgot about their torture and set out to eliminate James Potter.
"No," Voldemort ordered, seemingly amused, "He came all this way just to see me. I'll duel him." The Death Eaters formed their usual ring around the combatants, making snide remarks about James and cheering their leader.
The battle was short, but exciting. Voldemort had refrained from using the Unforgivable Curses, wanting to draw out the fight instead. They threw and dodged various hexes, charms, and curses. But Potter had finally managed to put a leg-lock hex on him, leaving him helpless. Immediately, the Death Eaters joined in to protect Voldemort, and James soon had to apparate out or face obliteration. "I'll be back, Voldemort. You can't run from the Ministry forever."
Only seconds later, Voldemort had freed himself from the hex and slowly stood up. He had been humiliated by that Potter... and he would lose his Death Eater's faith if he did not get revenge. James Potter, and his family, would be Voldemort's next target.
No one knew how it happened. But the night Wormtail had divulged the Potter's secret, Voldemort had immediately departed to kill them. It had been late at night, and the cat-creatures were in their chamber as they always were when they weren't obeying their masters' whims. But when Voldemort had failed to kill the infant Harry Potter, it was like a great weight had been lifted from their chests. For a reason unknown to them, the captives felt like rejoicing. A Death Eater apparated next to the prison guards.
"Voldemort is dead!" Was all the man said before apparating out, the others soon following. The prisoners exchanged looks, before fleeing themselves.
A/N: This is my first attempt at a cross-over, and any feedback at all would be most appreciated. Even pointing out typos/errors in this chapter is helpful, since I'm weird and actually go back and fix those things when you point them out. Now, just as a warning, I will be bending typical CATS canon to suit this story. It'll be cool; trust me.