Forever Trapped

A week ago Henry had the realisation that the death eaters would soon discover that he was a traitor, or soon to be a traitor. That he was living with Sophia Granger, notorious Order member. Would they expect him to divulge their secrets? In all honesty he didn't know any, he doubted they expected this either which would mean one thing. They expected him to tell her theirs. She was helping him fight his addiction, get through each day one day at a time and in return would the death eaters believe his payment was information? Henry Yewbeam had very little gold, in fact his Gringotts Vault was almost empty.

Hitame Higurashi had calmed him for a moment, stopped him taking the galleons from the till of Eeylops Own Emporium and doing a runner. However the moment she stopped him was the moment he realised that he couldn't do this, he couldn't go through his life needing to be chaperoned, controlled and forced to do the right thing. Henry was broke down, exhausted and tired of fighting to stay on top form. He needed to go, take a vacation, find something to do besides aiming to stay afloat each day. Henry needed a high.

After closing the store at five o clock Henry emptied the till of Eeylops Owl Emporium and this time the death eater didn't return the galleons, sickles and knuts from his bag. The wizard left through the front door, locking it behind him and posting the key through the letter box. For a moment, around fourish, the death eater had planned on leaving a note but soon passed on that opportunity. What if his plan failed, what if that letter got into the hands of someone like a Ministry Official, no doubt that would be the evidence they needed to send him off to Azkaban.

Walking down Diagon Alley he paused at Babbity Rabbity. Theodore Rookwood was near the kitchen door. Each day for the past week Yewbeam had looked into that window, watched the exact same scene for a moment or two then pressed on. The idea of that man, his dark hair, his penetrative stare. The thought that that man ran his hands over Hallie's body, the girl he had once loved. It sickened him. How could she not realise her husband was lying to her, that he was really a death eater. She needed to know. Perhaps he would add that on his list of things to do:

On A Spare Bit Of Parchement wrote:1. Clear out the remains of my Gringotts Vault.
2. Head to Knockturn Alley and purchase all the drugs my gold can buy.
3. Stop by my parents and push a letter through the letter box telling them I love them and that I am sorry for what I've done.
4. Get High
4. Send a letter to Hallie telling her the truth about her husband.
5. Get High.

He wasn't so sure why he was doing that for Hallie. Would it wreck her? Of course, did he care? Henry wished he could say no but she was his first love, the girl he had held hands with as they went on romantic strolls around the lake. The girl who had taken his virginity. The girl he'd sneaked into Professor's Offices with to try and steal detention slips in hope they would forget he was needed on the second floor and not the quidditch pitch. She had been the first person to truly know him and Henry felt he owed her that.

For a while Henry had blamed the blonde for his path down into the dark arts and drugs. It was her who had abandoned him, hadn't forgave him for cheating but really the problem had been the Slytherin he'd slept with. The Slytherin who had stole him from Hallie. The Slytherin he'd mistakenly gone to for comfort after their argument. The Slytherin who taught him to channel his feelings through the cruciatus curse. The curse that he then later performed on Hallie herself. Being free from his addiction had awoken him, made him realise the truth and that Hallie had been innocent all along. Maybe before he slipped, left behind the fear of the death eaters hunting him down he would be able to do one good thing. Save Hallie from Theodore Rookwood.

A part of Henry still held a grudge against Theodore for it had been him who had stopped Hallie from being murdered at the hands of Henry. Of course he was doing this on the orders of Theodore's Father, oh the irony. That had caused Henry to be shoved to the bottom of the death eater ladder, made him victim to Du Hunt's torturous wand. Theodore needed punishing, not just for his wrongdoing of Hallie but for pushing Henry further down into his pit. The death eaters had been his way of redeeming himself, working his way up in something he was good at to escape the need for drugs. Rookwood had stopped that happening and now he was going to pay. Justice would prevail.

Looking down at his amended list Henry stowed the parchment into his pocket and moved on from the window of Babbity Rabbity and up the stone steps to Gringotts. The sun was shining down from the sky above yet along the alley it was nothing but windy. The scribbled parchment didn't quite make it into Henry's robes, instead it was taken into the breeze and found itself landing with a slap against the window of Babbity Rabbity, the writing on display.

'Good afternoon, Sir.' The goblin greeted Henry, opening one of the double doors and allowing him to enter.

Henry didn't reply, instead he simply entered the bank and headed straight towards the counter passing goblins measuring galleons and gazing at rubies down magnifying glasses.

'Yewbeam.' He told the goblin at the high counter furthest from the door.

'First name?'

'Henry.'

'Key?'

Henry flashed his golden key.

'I'll have a goblin take you down to your vault, it isn't that far in and I suppose you could easily walk there without the need of the cart but nonetheless I'll call for a goblin.'

Gringotts’ dark and hallowed halls were a familiar hunting ground for Death Eaters who ruled over the goblins with iron wands. It was to Gringotts that, once Babbity Rabbity’s was shut up, the last of the parents and children who had taken to the restaurant for the day shooed away, Theodore Rookwood wandered having donned a suit once more. It had been a long, wearing day and he wanted to deposit his pay cheque and get home to his daughter. He wanted to kick Adriana out, get her to go and be twenty-two for once in her life and have bath time, dinner and bedtime to himself for once. No doubt, he wouldn’t be far from sleep himself – let alone the infant.

It wasn’t clear whether or not things were getting better with him and Hallie or not. It seemed to be their pattern of relationship – a few weeks of fineness bookended by misery. He felt they weren’t quite in the fineness again but things seemed to be level and calm and once he entered the chilly main banking room filled with clerks and milling witches and wizards, Theodore thought to himself that perhaps he’d indulge her. Maybe he’d pop into the flower shop before he went home completely and have a bouquet sent to her – a big one, too. Then perhaps the whole terrible business of their inability – or his, really – to maintain their marriage could be forgotten in the meantime.

After depositing his cheque into his account, watching with rapt attention as the goblin weighed the gold before sliding it down a chute that would lead to his vault, Theodore took a minute to wait as the goblin muttered that he needed to go and check that something wasn’t waiting for him. Rockfeld had been the Rookwood liaison for decades now. He was a kind old goblin and certainly they hadn’t treated him well but brusqueness was expected from the Rookwoods. Theodore had always tried to be pleasant but goblins made his skin crawl – house elves, too.

Glancing across the bank, Theodore tapped his fingers on the raised mahogany desk, taking in the different faces. It was then that he spotted Henry Yewbeam. Theodore’s stomach lurched a little but before he could act he was distracted by Rockfeld who handed over a shrunken package. Theodore thanked him and pocketed it before sliding off away, wishing him a good evening somewhat distractedly. As a goblin reached Henry, Theodore took his wand from his pocket. He turned it anti-clockwise a spell danced through the air, seen only to the caster.

Imperio.

The goblin took a deep breath and his lips parted into a feral smile, revealing his pointed teeth. He extended his hand to the first tunnel leading down to the newer vaults. A few doors stood in the way but as the goblin began to walk, Theodore carefully followed – watching, waiting.

This was the time for his revenge.

The goblin was called over and Henry was took escorted towards a set of doors that led to the vaults. Yewbeam hadn't been aware of the other wizards in the bank, had he been more focused on his surroundings perhaps he would have learned that going into the depths of Gringotts with a pointy-toothed goblin wasn't the best idea.

The Yewbeam vault was one of the newer ones, not being an established family who deserved a high security vault down in the depths, meaning that the walk wasn't too cold. Usually to any visitor of Gringotts they are either shivering or end up feeling sick from a trip on the cart. Thankfully the cart wasn't something this goblin decided to use with Henry instead walking him further and further in, a somewhat fierce smile upon his face.

'Your vault, Mr Yewbeam.' The goblin announced a little more cynically than usual. Henry's eyebrows furrowed slightly, a little stumped as to why the goblin was behaving so unusual but shook this thought away when he handed the goblin his key.

Henry Yewbeam's vault was large, as were all the newer vaults. There was far too much space in the vault for Henry, in fact his entire family could have had the vault to themselves but as he had now been shunned that mean't a personal vault was necessary. Not that this vault was necessary at all, a small lump of galleons in the far corner were all that could be found in the vault. Henry may as well have kept them in a bag in his room at Sophia's however it had been Sophia's idea to deposit any gold at Gringotts so he wouldn't waste it, waste it on drugs.

Crouching down to scoop up the gold he heard the door shut behind him.

Theodore slunk down through the halls after the goblin and Henry, the former of whom left the doors open just enough for the other Death Eater to come in behind. Then, when they reached the vault, Theodore stayed in the shadows for a moment. He took a breath and redrew his wand, stepping forward to tap the goblin on the shoulder, sending him back to the main floor. Theodore then moved inside in the goblin’s place. With the flick of his wand, the vault door slid shut behind him.

“Evening,” Theodore called out coolly, twirling his wand in his fingers.

The sound resonated around the vault and Theodore reaffirmed his grip on the handle of the wand. He smiled charmingly, as though he was going to go forward and attempt to charm Henry out of his trousers and into his bed. However, that wasn’t his attention at all. No, rather, he intended to crucio Henry until he was one or two things – mad beyond repair, or dead.

“I think we need to talk, Mr Yewbeam.” Theodore added, airily.

Upon the closing of the vault door the little light seeping in from the cavern had been vanquished, oozed out much like how the light had in Henry's life. Although, unlike the times before, he wasn't alone. A voice came from somewhere by the door, a voice he recognised. Henry wasn't one hundred perfect certain who the voice belonged to but he would have bet the bag of gold in his hand it was one of the death eaters.

Pulling his own wand from the pocket in his robes and muttering 'lumos', Henry's eyes widened as the small light fell on the face of someone he hadn't hope to see. A face he'd seen almost every day after work. A face that haunted his memories when he mused on his failings for the death eater. A face that belong to none other than Theodore Rookwood.

Henry gulped. Theodore's wand was pointed strongly in his direction. The wizard before him was far more capable, far more talented when it came to the dark arts. He wouldn't be able to take him but he'd have to try. There was just one problem: Theodore was blocking the closed door. There was no way out.

Raising his own wand to match that of Theodore's he pointed it to the death eater. Fear was gushing through ever vessel in his body, yet the Gryffindor in him had found the light. If he got out of here alive he'd have to thank Sophia... If she was alive.

The death eaters knew Henry had betrayed them. Hallie had told Theodore he was staying with Sophia and now this was his punishment. Was Theodore going to torture him here or take him to Death Manor and be placed at the feet of Du Hunt?

'Where's Sophia? Have you done anything to her?' He asked instinctively.

“We have some unfinished business to attend to,” Theodore intoned gravely, his voice echoing around the vault, making it all the more stark just how little Henry kept within its walls. It probably grated on the nerves of the goblins to no conceivable end.

Theodore stepped forward, his shoes snapping on the icy tiles of the vault floor. The end of his wand began to burn as he held it back up again, the glowing red beginnings of the cruciatus curse threatening to break forward. Theodore inclined his head to the side, wondering genuinely why Henry was more concerned about someone else. It was his life that he should have been worried about.

“As far as I know she’s home and peaceful and all the rest of it,” Theodore flicked his wand again idly and smirked at Henry. “It’s you who has to be worried.”

He lifted his wand. Crucio, he thought venomously, the scarlet shooting out from the end of the wand, firing towards Henry’s chest.

Henry lowered his wand upon the news Sophia was well. Was this it? Was this how we would admit his end? Face Theodore in the eye, the man who took away him becoming a marvelous death eater. The man who had made his addiction worse as he'd retreated more to the sugar and spice after his failure at killing Hallie. A part of him was thankful. Henry Yewbeam wasn't a murderer, he was many things but wasn't a murderer. Theodore on the other hand, well, he would soon be more sinful than Yewbeam. It was ironic really.

The red light at the end of Theodore's wand was growing more powerful, beginning to spark with excitement for the pain it was about to cause. Maybe Henry should have gotten high before his trip to Gringotts, used money from Eyelops' till to buy the spice. It would probably lessen the pain but Henry was a Gryffindor. He'd learned the hard way what that really mean't.

'Don't hurt her.' Were his only words before taking the curse. It was horrific. Every bone within his rotting body wanted to explode. The vessels in his eyes were fit to burst, sweat was dripping from every part of his body whilst the sound of his own screams intensified his pain. He'd been wrong before. Addiction wasn't his punishment, becoming an addict was the cause of this punishment. Had he stayed afloat, away from death eaters none of this would have happened.

Then, it lifted, momentarily. Henry gasped, staring up at the dark eyes of Theodore Rookwood. Would these eyes look into Hallie's tonight? Hallie's eyes were pure, holy. They were not tainted despite everything that she'd gone through and now Theodore's eyes would pollute her vision, confuse her, trick her into trusting the words 'I love you.'

'Hallie will find out the truth.' Henry spat.

The Unforgivable Curses were known to all Rookwoods on a different level than any other normal witch or wizard could claim to know the spells. There was chatter not so many years before Theodore was born that in the blood of the Rookwood there was purity, disease and the Killing Curse. Theodore had the luck or the misfortune to take all three and covet them within his veins. He conducted society with the purity of blood, was formed as a man by disease and was rendered who he was by the Killing Curse. He saved the spell for a special few – his father, his brother and Henry. It seemed ironic to him that the last on the list whom he wanted to kill the least was the one he took first. A precursor to greater triumphs, he supposed.

Releasing the spell, Theodore picked up the wand off of the floor from where it had been abandoned by his victim to be. He took a moment to conceal Henry’s wand within the inner pocket of his robes and he smirked a little. He knelt down and stabbed his wand into the Yewbeam man’s cheek, watching with muted satisfaction as the skin constricted around the wand, bracing to prevent the pointed end from slicing through his skin. Theodore didn’t sharpen his wand like his grandfather had the habit of doing. Then again, Raghnall was a special breed of bastard, who enjoyed seeing the split cheeks of his grandsons as much as he did their forms as they writhed under the might of the Cruciatus. Theodore shared that.

“Will she?” He inquired airily. “From who, I wonder?” He raised an eyebrow, sliding his wand down over Henry’s jaw, across his neck, over his chest to his left arm where he dug the end into the skin emblazoned with the Dark Mark. “Not you, Henry,” Theodore continued in that same light tone, as though he was talking to a friend or co-worker. It was conversational, as though he was commenting on a polo match or inquiring after the time from a stranger in the street. Theodore applied some more pressure to Henry’s arm, the end beginning to burn and sear as a flash of anger rumbled through the frame of the Rookwood man.

“You won’t be surviving this, Yewbeam,” Theodore’s voice dropped, growing guttural and bearing an erratic edge to it that seemed to suggest that Henry would determine his own fate, his method of dying, by his own response. As the blood lust set in, Theodore felt his blood begin to pound in his ears and he looked at Henry, wondering where along the line things went so badly wrong for the wizard. Crossing him, for one. Secondarily, allowing his own weakness to determine his fate. Again, by crossing him.

“See, if I had been you,” Theodore added, sitting himself down beside Henry. It was a kind of mocking body language, it implied relaxation but he was still the one in charge of the situation. He was the one with the wand that was steadily cutting into Henry’s skin, beginning to draw droplets of blood.

“I would have finished Hallie quickly,” his voice changed a little bit as his mouth passed over the name of his wife but he still maintained the air of sovereign nonchalance. “I would not have mucked around. She would have been dead within the hour of my picking her up and strung from the top of Borgin and Burkes’ for all and sundry to see but you waited. Bided your time like a fool. You failed. You left yourself exposed. If you had done it quickly, I wouldn’t have had a clue. But you crossed me. It was only that Potter brat who intervened, who saved you, and from all rumours I’ve heard, you’re not even grateful. But I’m disappointed, mainly because I didn’t finish the job.”  

“So, let’s do this again shall we?” Theodore got to his feet, pointing his wand at Henry. “We’ll start from where we left off. Oh, what was the spell? Crucio!”