Lost Boy 19

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Lost Boy

Postlude I

There was a box at Riddle House.  It was kept on the mantle of the master bedroom.  No one went there but the Dark Lord and his Lady.  The box was warded, however, so only the Dark Lord could touch it.

Inside the box was a voice.

The Dark Lord would take it out sometimes and listen to it.  It had passion.  It had feeling.  It had opinions.

The Dark Lady had none of these things.

She was a pretty mask of auburn hair and freckles.  They said she had been a Lost Boy but no one was sure.  She spoke prettily but never had anything to say.  Even her children barely spoke to her because there was no cause.  She sat beautifully on her throne and was absolutely silent.

A spy, Hartwig Potter, would sometimes come and kiss her hand and call her “Mother.”  She would smile at him, but never have anything to say in return.  He would look at her sadly and ask if she was happy.  She would say that she was.  He would tell her of his children, but her grass green eyes would only look at him vacantly.  The voice she used wasn’t hers. 

Her voice was in the box—punishment for the months she was held prisoner as a spy and revealed everything she had known about the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

Her voice was now in a box—but nobody who went looking for it could find it. 

The Dark Lord listened to it, remembering, but he never gave it back to her.