4 Down With The Patriarchy? (2)

Nymphadora looked her captive in the eyes and slowly drew a vial out from her moleskin bag. She smirked down at him. "It's just a little veritaserum. Don't worry, Professor. I have no intention of letting you die just yet. We need to have a talk first. I have so been looking forward to this," she practically purred, her bright eyes boring into him.

Having one of the most powerful wizards in the world at her mercy was intoxicating. It barely even took her any effort. She only had to wait at the right place for the one moment Dumbledore would be most vulnerable. Easy as pie.

He was completely focused on fighting off the curse. He might have been able to apparate out if he had his wand, but she had taken care of that. She wanted to remember this moment, forever. In fact, she wanted it to feel even better so that it would be imprinted in her memory like a searing brand.

Without thinking too hard, she pointed her wand at the bound Chief Warlock. She trusted in her instincts. This would give her what she wanted most. It would also be damn fun.

"Crucio," she whispered.

Dumbledore screamed and his back arched off the chair uncontrollably. He thrashed around, sending his bound form toppling to the ground, where he continued to convulse like he was having a seizure.

Believe it or not, Dumbledore had never suffered the effects of the cruciatus curse before now. It wasn't the fastest curse, nor was it the strongest. Its strength lay solely in its ability to cause incomparable pain.

It was like an infinite number of knives, needles, and red-hot pokers were piercing into every last cell of his body. Dumbledore's throat was raw from his uncontrollable wails.

"How does it feel!?" Nymphadora seethed, "They did this to my mother for far longer than this you whiskered wanker! Where were you!? My parents trusted you!"

As she raged, the power of her curse climbed. It fed off her anger like nothing she had ever experienced. The angrier she became, the more pleasure she felt from the feedback of the curse. Dumbledore's hoarse screams only enhanced her bliss.

It felt good to make powerful men fall. Was she supposed to say something like Down with the patriarchy! and flash her tits or something? Nymphadora let her anger fade and slowly began to giggle. The curse fizzled out and her magic calmed. Dumbledore's agonized screams were replaced with her manic laughter.

Nymphadora walked up to her old headmaster and stepped down on one of his hands, feeling the bones crack under her heel. "You're going to tell me everything I want to know, old man," she promised, smiling. She could see why her dear aunty Bella always wore that manic grin. It intimidated the masses quite well. Albus certainly had a tinge of fear to his subdued, wrinkled face.

She forced his head up off the ground and stuffed the entire bottle of veritaserum in his mouth. Three drops was the standard dosage. There was no way to tell what exactly would happen to someone who overdosed on the truth serum, but he would sing like a canary. Maybe for the rest of his life.

She dragged his chair back up and settled him down, facing her. He looked dazed and confused from the pain, along with the potion starting to sap his will. She wound back and delivered a powerful slap across his cheek. He barely reacted.

There was only one question on her mind that would decide his fate. She slapped him again and questioned, "Did you know my parents were going to be attacked!? Were you warned!? Speak!"

Dumbledore fought the potions effects for an admirable amount of time, but soon dropped into an emotionless trance, speaking haltingly.

"Yes... Severus..." he droned.

"Of fucking course, Severus. Merlin, Dumblefuck, you're a real piece of work. I was going to make this painless, maybe give you a drought of living death to keep you under while that nasty curse did its work. Peaceful enough, in my opinion. You'd have been found eventually. At the very least, Voldemort would find you here when checking in on his trinkets. Wouldn't that have been a nice surprise for ol' snake face?"

She slapped him across the face again, rocking his head back violently. Using her hands instead of magic still held more of a satisfying, personal touch. Also, how many people could say they've bitch-slapped the Defeater of Grindelwald?

Nymphadora had plenty of questions prepared for him when she concocted this little scheme. Now, though, she found that she really couldn't give two shits about Dumbledore's plans and secrets. He had let her family die, and, really, that was all she needed to hear. Her path was clear. She already had everything she needed.

"Now... Now I'm going to make you hurt. Physical pain doesn't really interest me that much, not for you, my dear old headmaster. It's so pedestrian. Any Death Eater can use the cruciatus curse until the victim's mind snaps. I'm trying to be a better witch! Only nuanced, artful forms of torture for me, thank you very much!" she declared happily. She'd save the cathartic punishments that ended with lots of screaming for the Death Munchers. They deserved a little taste of their own medicine.

Besides, Dumbledore wasn't evil, probably, he just pissed her off to no end by pretending to be a paragon of goodness. Maybe he had good reasons and excuses as to why things had to be a certain way, but Nymphadora didn't care. Her mother was dead. 

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on Dumbledore's new clingy piece of jewelry. "You shouldn't have been so greedy for that ring, Albus. Well... I suppose we can use it once, together. It would be a shame if you never got the chance after searching for it for so long... We're going to have so much fun," she said gleefully.

She levitated the horcrux-infested Resurrection Stone off of his finger and onto the ground of the shack. The withering curse stayed glued to him like a leech, despite the removal of its source. She took a few steps back and aimed her new Elder Wand carefully. Moment of truth.

"Avada Kedavra!" Nymphadora spat, hatefully, as she conjured up every last ounce of her rage and released it towards the twisted artifact that housed a portion of the soul of her greatest enemy.

A stream of green light rocketed from her wand and struck the corrupted Deathly Hallow. A burst of black mist was carried along with the magical discharge and a scream rent through the air inside the shack, shaking the walls.

Huh, neat. Guess that worked. When in doubt, killing curse. A good life lesson.

One horcrux down, five to go.

When the light show ended, Nymphadora crept forward carefully and gently picked up her second Deathly Hallow. What an efficient outing. Two Hallows for the price of one.

She scanned the ring quickly, finding it cleansed of the withering curse, as well. How convenient for her. She donned the ring and span it around her finger three times, calling, "Ariana Dumbledore."

A heavy pressure descended on the shack and the transparent shade of a young woman swirled into existence in front of them.

"Ariana..." Dumbledore mumbled.

"Brother," the shade spoke, her voice barely a whisper, "Oh, Albus... How far you've fallen..."

Dumbledore struggled through the haze of his potion overdose. His eyes grew bloodshot and he rasped, "Please... Forgive me... It was-" he stopped himself. His silence continued as he stared fixedly at the apparition.

Nymphadora studied Ariana carefully. It was somewhat hard to focus on her, as she had an ethereal quality, like she was not quite present. Nymphadora could make out just enough detail for her to manage a morph into Ariana's form with near-perfect accuracy.

Now wearing the face of his younger sister, Nymphadora slapped Dumbledore again, this time in Ariana's place. If anyone deserved to give the goat-buggering fool a slap, it was her. "It was what, Albus!?" she demanded in an approximation of Ariana's voice.

Spittle dripped from his lips and he muttered under his breath. Nymphadora backhanded him, catching the corner of his right eye with her nails. A line of blood dripped down his face, leaving a trail of bloody tears. She was getting good at slapping. How would it feel to slap Voldemort? Dumbledore barely reacted, his gaze fixed to the two ghosts of his long-lost sister.

"It- It- The Greater Good-" he jumbled, delirious. Nymphadora rolled her eyes. She couldn't listen to the old meddler any longer. It was obvious he had nothing of importance to say. Nothing she considered important, anyways. Just the same old, empty platitudes.

It's also possible she fried his brain already with the veritaserum, but she thought he was already mostly barmy before so it didn't really matter. She was also getting a bit bored. Bullying the elderly was not really her speed, she admitted. She conjured a gag and stuffed it into his mouth. Time to move things along.

"You're going to die soon, Albus. This won't be a quick process. That nasty little curse you were nice enough to contract for me will make sure you're dead, but not for about a day," she said maliciously, "You won't go out in a blaze of glory. No awe-inspiring duel to be recorded in the history books. No marble tomb on the pristine grounds of Hogwarts. No legacy left behind to infect future generations with your sanctimonious bullshit." Dumbledore's 'little sister' promised with a deadly smile.

"You'll just vanish! Gone! Kaput! Today will be the last day anyone ever hears anything about Albus Dumbledore!" she crowed.

"I have a feeling this will be the last chance you'll ever have to see your sister, Albie. I highly doubt they'd let you go to the same place where she resides. Wouldn't that be cruel to her?" Nymphadora circled around behind Dumbledore, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"No need to worry too much, Albie. I'm not a completely heartless monster. I'll let you spend your last moments with your dear sister. She can watch. Won't that be nice? Isn't that magnanimous of me?" she giggled.

Ariana stood silently, watching her older brother's end at the hand of someone who wore her face and spoke with her voice. Her expression was inscrutable, with barely a shred of emotion. Nymphadora wondered just how much of a soul survived after death, and how much of that soul could be summoned with her new Resurrection Stone.

The blood of the Black family was boiling in her veins. The more pain she caused her captive, the more her magic sang through her. Emotional, physical, or magical, it really didn't matter which. This was beyond the pleasure of simple dark magic. It was like her ancestors were telling her to continue. To push harder. To take more. To inflict more anguish.

Geez, the Black's were really fucked up, huh? Well, Nymphadora had always been a little fucked up too, so no big deal. Now, she was supernaturally fucked up. She considered it an upgrade.

Her magic urged her forward. Dumbledore had impressive occlumency shields, still holding firmly in place even through the veritaserum. He was spilling his guts, but his mind was still a steel trap. Weird dichotomy, that. She needed him to be a bit more... pliable.

Another giggle escaped Nymphadora's lips. He was at her mercy and she had all the time in the world. What fun. There were many ways to break a wizard's mind. She was even trained in resisting some of them from her auror days. Now that she was boosted by the elder wand, she could just bulldoze right on through. Power felt wonderful. She really needed to grab the third Hallow just to see if she would get some sort of big power up.

She was aware that absolute power corrupted absolutely... and blah blah blah, so on and so forth. However, she was pretty corrupt already, in her opinion. At this point, more power couldn't be a bad thing, right?

She was going to be doing what she wanted from now on, just like all these other rotten magicals. Trying so hard to be the good guy had left Tonks broken and exhausted. Nymphadora would be focusing on self-care! No more unpaid overtime for her!

Anyways, time to get started! Or finished, depending on your perspective. Albus certainly wouldn't be starting anything.

"Bye, bye, Albie," Nymphadora smiled, "I've never been fond of the nitty gritty of torture, so I'm going to put you to sleep before I shatter your mind. Then, I'll leave you to die from that curse in an alleyway in the middle of London. Enjoy your last few hours as a brain-dead vegetable!"

She waved the her wand and sent a simple knock-back jinx right into his face, shattering the chair beneath him and sending him flying back from the force of the spell. He crashed into the wall and fell to the ground, listlessly.

"Damn!" she exclaimed, "I wasn't expecting this thing to have so much oomph." She held the Elder Wand up and examined it. The feeling of its magic mingling with hers in some sort of feedback loop that left both much stronger was exhilarating.

Maybe she would only need one overpowered spell to do this? The Elder Wand gave her a much greater boost than she was expecting. Huh, maybe vanilla Dumbledore wasn't even that powerful? Only one way to find out.

Dumbledore's last sight in this world was his own sister bearing down on him, like a predator stalks its prey. She jabbed the Elder Wand into the side of his head and whispered, "Obliviate."

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