The Great Hall of Hogwarts was buzzing with loud voices. The fear could be seen on many faces as they got the news about the breakout at Azkaban.
Hermione and Ron were focusing on the news about the disappearance of Harry. The two had been waiting eagerly for a few months for this day to finally arrive, when their friend would finally be free from the torment of Azkaban and be reunited with them, but once again, just like after the event of the final stage of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry Potter had gone missing.
Neville, by Ron's side, was more focused on the paragraph just below the headline. Bellatrix Lestrange was among the prisoners who escaped.
He felt his blood boiling at the thought that his parents' aggressor was in the open. Neville had spent countless nights dreaming of the day he would take revenge and make Bellatrix feel the pain his parents felt.
Later on, Professor McGonagall came to the hall. Even against the bombardment of questions from the students, the Deputy Headmistress stood calm and ordered everyone to return to their rooms.
Later, she announced that all outdoor classes and Quidditch training were canceled.
…
..
.
At night, in the quiet confines of the Slytherin girls' dormitory, Daphne Greengrass lay on her bed, the Daily Prophet still clutched in her hand. A slow, rare smile played across her lips as she traced her fingers over the image of Azkaban's shattered walls. The chaos below the headline was no surprise to her.
Her master had planned it all.
Voldemort's plan was brilliant, as always. The breakout was but one piece of the greater puzzle, a step toward the glorious future he promised. Blood would be purified, order would be restored, and those who opposed him would be crushed. Along the way, her sister would also survive.
But Daphne's thoughts were far from political at that moment. She clenched her thighs together, heat pooling between them at the memory of her master's touch, the way his cold fingers had traced her skin, sending shivers down her spine. The moments they'd shared were burned into her memory, fueling her desires during the long, lonely nights. At first, it was an obligation, a deal in exchange for her sister's treatment, but as she spent more time with Voldemort, Daphne became addicted to the sexual feeling.
Yet for weeks now, Voldemort had kept her at arm's length. "Focus on your mission," he'd commanded in his serpentine voice. She obeyed, of course... she always obeyed... but the ache within her grew unbearable.
Her body wanted him. Needed him.
Her hand found its way under her panties. She rubbed herself harder, her fingers digging inside, desperate to relieve the pressure building in her core. Her back arched as her body responded. She squeezed her thighs together, trapping her fingers in between, a low moan slipping from her lips as she imagined his hand replacing hers. Her hips bucked against her hand; the pleasure surged through her, her muscles tightening in time with the pounding in her chest.
She was so close, but it wasn't enough. Nothing was ever enough.
What has she become? After her family meeting with Voldemort and her agreeing to give herself to Voldemort in exchange for her sister Astoria's cure, the Dark Lord called her every day. For her parents, it was just about learning more from the Dark Lord himself, but that's not what she did with him. Compared to the first time when Voldemort only kissed her, the other time, Voldemort fully made her body his. At first, she tried to deny it, but having her body constantly in heat, constantly being brought to orgasm to the point that it changed something inside her. Now she craves those sensations.
She remained on the bed, breathing heavily.
Her gaze fell to the vial that was on the nightstand. The liquid inside shimmered faintly, its color shifting between rosy pink and deep crimson. A love potion, potent enough to bend the will of any who consumed it. She had procured it through careful, discreet channels, paying handsomely to ensure its effectiveness.
Daphne's lips curled into a smirk.
The potion wasn't for Voldemort. She would never dare to manipulate him.
No, it was a tool, a means to an end.
Her master would reward her finally, of that she was certain. Complete this mission, and in a few weeks, the school term would end, and she would be back home and be able to go whenever she wanted to her master and have him inside of her.
She left her room, the vial concealed in her robes, and made her way to the second-floor girls' lavatory. The corridors were quieter than usual. With no difficulty, Daphne got to her location and entered the lavatory.
Hannah Abbott was already there, standing awkwardly near the sinks.
"Good," Daphne murmured. She was worried that something unexpected could cause her plan to fail, but seeing the girl standing there made her feel at ease.
She was the target that Daphne had selected for Voldemort's plan.
Daphne's time with Voldemort was not just spent in lustful moments, but also Voldemort would make sure she was competent enough to cast many dark spells, among which were the three unforgivable curses.
Having become good enough to perform the Imperius Curse, Daphne took the chance on one occasion to Imperio Hannah. Looking at the Hufflepuff girl in front, Daphne decided that it would be wise to renew the curse upon her to make sure the mission would be without any problems.
IMPERIO.
The familiar rush of power coursed through Daphne as the spell took hold. Hannah's body relaxed, her expression going slack as the curse bent her will to Daphne's.
"Listen carefully," Daphne said, "You'll take this."
She pressed the vial into Hannah's hand. "Later tonight, you'll mix it into some chocolate and give it to Justin Finch-Fletchley. Make sure he eats it. Do you understand?"
Hannah nodded slowly, her movements mechanical.
"Good girl." Daphne patted her cheek mockingly before turning to leave. At the end of each meeting with Hannah, Daphne made sure to make her forget about her interaction and make everything look like it was Hannah's own idea.
She has been planning for months, carefully selecting her target. She just hoped that everything would go well.
That night, Justin Finch-Fletchley was waiting in a dark corner of the Hufflepuff common room away from any possible gaze. He was nervous and did not know why Hannah had called him at such an hour to meet. Finally, on Hannah's approach, Justin shifted uneasily, his eyes darting around the darkened common room.
"Hannah... Why did you want to see me? It's late, and... I don't understand what's going on."
Hannah, her face calm and blank under the curse, offered him a small smile. "Calm down, Justin. It's nothing to worry about."
She reached into her blouse and pulled out a small piece of chocolate wrapped in yellow. "This will calm you down a little," she said. "Let's talk after."