View Full Version : Life of a Killer by Antonin Dolohov
December 6th, 2003, 6:09 pm
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Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, its all JKR's except for some of the plot.
Antonin Dolohov is one of Azkabanís most notorious and dangerous prisoners. A Death Eater by the age of sixteen, Dolohov was eventually captured in 1981 after the fall of the Dark Lord. He was imprisoned in Azkaban Fortress for a wide range of crimes, including multiple counts of Muggle torture and the murders of the Prewitt brothers.
Dolohov escaped during the mass breakout of January 1996, only to be recaptured six months later in an attempted invasion of the Ministry of Magic. Once again, Dolohov escaped Azkaban in 1997 and was at large until the eventual defeat of the Dark Lord in 1998. Since then he has remained imprisoned in the Fortress. Here is his story.
Azkaban prison, how I hate this place. More so now than ever. Now the Dementors are gone, we are guarded by the Aurors and specially trained Hit Wizards, at least until the Ministry finds an alternative. The effect of the Dementors is no longer, but then, they were never such a problem to me. Yes, I felt their presence, but my determination to escape and rejoin the Dark Lord, along with knowing that I had remained loyal to him and my fellow Death Eaters, kept me somewhat sane during my first stretch in Azkaban, while the Dementors were still around. I always had the feeling that Lord Voldemort would rise again, and then it would only be a matter of time before I was free. The Dementors tended to feed on the weak first, as it is easy for them, and I was always relatively strong during their rule of Azkaban.
No longer are my happy memories and hopes sucked from me, but I feel worse now in that I no longer have any hopes at all. The Dark Lord has fallen; we can not rejoin him and as much as I hated the Dementors, with them around there was always a chance of escape. The Fortress is now more heavily guarded by charms and locks than ever before, and there is no hope of the Aurors ever being persuaded to free us as the Dementors were.
So here I am for the rest of my life, locked in this tiny cell.
December 6th, 2003, 6:10 pm
Chapter One Ė The Beginning
Considering where and how I grew up, itís probably surprising that I ended up choosing the path in life that I did. My parents were purebloods, but our family wasnít rich like a lot of the pureblood families were, and so I grew up on a Muggle street in a rough area, in the east end of London. We werenít poor to the extent of not being able to afford new robes and such, but we definitely werenít rich. My father had a fondness for Muggles and I was always encouraged to mix with them. I was an only child and every kid needs someone to play with. I didnít know the difference in those days. All I knew was that my mother used to tell me that under no circumstances was I to mention magic or anything magical around my friends.
So most days I would be out in the street, playing with the other kids. I learnt a lot out in those streets. A lot of activity went off there, and I got my first glimpse of the criminal underworld. Fair enough Ė it was the Muggle underworld, and Muggle crimes, but it gave me a taste for the life. It was the 1960ís and organised crime was at its peak; gangsters ran every part of the east end. If nothing else, I learnt the most important rule. Itís something I still stick by today: No matter what, you trusted each other, and you didnít grass anyone up. Itís known by muggles as Ďhonour amongst thievesí. A number of the future Death Eaters could have done with learning this.
Officially, I attended the local Muggle School, because my parents thought it would be good for me. I didnít go regularly though. None of the kids did; we much preferred to hang around the streets causing trouble. There was always something uncouth going off in our street: somebody trying to sell stolen goods, or a fight of some sort, whether between gangs of kids or between the adults. The Muggle police were a common sight as well, always looking for someone or something.
However, by the time I was due to start Hogwarts at the age of eleven, I was becoming tired of the Muggles. I was starting to resent having to keep quiet about the magical world of which I was so looking forward to becoming a part. I was beginning to see how useless and pathetic Muggles were. I didnít want to mix with them any more. I was gradually coming to hate these kids who I had been friends with, and after I started school they came to hate me as well. When I returned home that first Christmas holidays, none of the kids on the street would talk to me -- not that I wanted to have anything to do with them by then anyway. But they had rejected me for going away to school, and this only re-enforced my dislike of them.
My first day at Hogwarts was like a dream. Iíd grown up with magic of course, but for the first time, I didnít have to hide what I was, as I was surrounded completely by magical people. At least I thought I was, until I overheard a girl saying that her parents were non-magical and the first she had heard of Hogwarts was when she had received her letter. We were standing outside the Great Hall, waiting to go in and be sorted, and what this girl said hit me as wrong. Muggles shouldnít be here; this was the magical world. A place away from Muggles. How could someone who didnít know anything about magic ever be as good as someone who had grown up with it, someone with pure blood?
I was sorted into Slytherin House that day. I soon learned that Slytherin was the purest of the houses, as it was very rare for a student who wasnít pureblood to get in. This pleased me, as I was sick of Muggles by now and didnít want to be with them any more. I was glad that my new house mates were almost definitely all magical.
I soon became friends with the other boys in my dorm: Cade Travers, Evan Rosier, and my soon to be best friend, Rodolphus Lestrange. Evan and Cade were with me the day I got captured. Unfortunately, Evan never made it to Azkaban - he went down fighting, got killed by one of the Aurors. Cade was taken into Azkaban along with me. Rodolphus, like I said, was my best friend. We were inseparable and the trouble makers of our group. Partners in crime, some would say. We were always concocting some plan or other, always getting into trouble and dragging the others down with us most of the time as well.
We made friends with some of the older students as well. Lucius Malfoy was the unofficial leader of our little group, mainly because he was two years older than the rest of us, apart from Rabastan. Lucius was kind of like an older brother to me really, looked out for us all. Stan was Rodís brother. He was the sensible one and got us out of trouble most of the time. He had this way of convincing the professors; he was trustworthy. Between them, Malfoy and Stan took charge of us. It was some kind of unspoken rule that anything we planned had to be authorised by one of them first.
So there was the six of us, for the most part, and we eventually became very interested in the Dark Arts, especially once rumours of the Dark Lord started circulating. The Dark Arts took our interest far more than any of our lessons ever did. Once our interest in this was known around the Slytherin common room, we soon recruited more members to our gang, Severus Snape being one of them. He knew more about the Dark Arts when he started at Hogwarts than the rest of us put together, even though he was two years younger than me. We were very keen to get him with us; he excelled at Potions, which provided very useful to us.
The Black sisters were ever present in our lives. Whether this was because of the appeal of the Dark Arts or the appeal of certain members of our group, Iím not sure. I suspect the former for Bellatrix and the latter for Narcissa. Lucius and Narcissa were together from the age of fifteen - their fifth year at Hogwarts, my third. I imagine there was always something between them. The Malfoys and the Blacks were family friends, and like most of the noble pureblood families, the children were expected to marry into one of the other noble pureblood families. I never really had much to do with her, really. I tolerated her because of her relationship with Lucius, but that was all. She always seemed to look down on the rest of us like we werenít good enough - me especially, as I didnít have the rich upbringing that she did.
Bellatrix, however, was different from her sister. She was a tall, pretty girl, a year younger than us. She had long dark hair and stunning eyes that could mesmerize you from the other side of the room. I think every one of us had a thing for Bella at some point; you couldnít help but find her attractive. Well, maybe not so much Lucius, but the rest of us definitely did. Rodolphus ended up marrying Bella, an arrangement that had been planned by both of their parents since they were small children.
For the first few years of school, our hatred of the non-pure students was nothing more than taunting and teasing in the corridors around Hogwarts, an occasional hex here and there on students we especially disliked. However, by my third year, things were starting to change. Severus, then a first year, had a particular dislike of two certain Gryffindor students who would often be the cause of most disputes. James Potter and Sirius Black . . . how Snape hated them. I never had a particular problem with them, myself. They were both purebloods, and although they were both obviously against the Dark Arts, I preferred to target my dislike towards the Mudbloods and half bloods. I never worked out the full story of why Snape hated Potter and Black so much, except that it got worse as the years went on. Bella was Siriusís cousin, and she shared Snapeís hate of him as well. Sirius hadnít fitted in with the rest of the Black family, and eventually he left the Black house and never spoke to Bella, Narcissa or his brother Regulus again. The Blacks were well known for being true purebloods. They were all for the purification of the wizarding race, and Bellaís dear cousin objected to this and showed it. He was a complete blood traitor, and people actually thought he was Voldemortís most loyal servant. When I first heard that, I took it as an insult to the rest of us.
Our initial interest in the Dark Arts stemmed largely from Evan. His brother was about six years older than us, and in his final year at Hogwarts the year we started. He joined the Dark Lord not long after he left school and was soon sending Evan regular owls about what he was doing. We were all interested to hear what was going on. When a letter arrived we would all meet in our dorm to listen to what he had to say. We all agreed that we wanted to join as soon as we could.
Lucius and Stan left school and were soon joining up with the Dark Lord. Rod and I could hardly wait until we left school and could join ourselves. In the mean time, we took over the running of the group of Slytherins who were interested in the cause. We were gradually increasing in number now, as more and more people were becoming aware of what the Dark Lord was doing. The ones who stand out in my mind are Regulus Black, Bellaís younger cousin, and his friend, Barty Crouch. I always got the impression that Reg only became involved with the cause to impress Bella and the rest of his family. Reg always tried to live up to his familyís expectations, though he ultimately failed. Barty Crouch was an unlikely member of the group but probably one of the most enthusiastic. His father worked for the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It was his job to capture the Dark Lordís followers, which only made Barty keener to become one. He hated his father, and this was one way of showing it.
Every member of our group eventually joined the Dark Lord in some way. Some with more success than others. The lucky ones ended up here in Azkaban, the less fortunate ended up dead. All for Lord Voldemortís cause, all for the purity of the wizarding race that we all so strongly believed in.
December 19th, 2003, 3:55 pm
Chapter Two Ė Joining the Dark Lord
The fact that we were silent said it all really. It wasnít a trait we were known for, being quiet. We stood in a cold, dark room; Rodolphus was leaning his back against one of the bare walls, trying his best to look calm and collected, though I knew he was anything but. I walked around the small room, desperate to take my mind away from what was about to happen. The room, however, provided no distraction, as it was completely empty apart from us.
I was feeling a mixture of excitement and anticipation with a good helping of nerves thrown in as well. My stomach was churning and I felt physically sick. This was the moment we had been anticipating for the past four years. At last, we were going to meet him.
The crash of a door opening brought me back down to earth. I can vividly remember the image of a figure standing in the doorway, disguised by a black cloak and hood. An image I would soon become used to. This time, however, was the first I had seen a Death Eater dressed like this, and although I had known about the masks they wore, I hadnít been prepared for it. I later found out that new recruits never were told the identities of the other Death Eaters until they had proved themselves trustworthy. Some never found out the identities of all the others at all; it all depends how far up the hierarchy you go.
I could hear Rod breathing heavily beside me, obviously feeling as apprehensive as I was. We even laughed about it afterwards. The hooded figure motioned for us to follow and, with a slightly anxious glance at each other, we both walked slowly across the room. Knowing that room now, it must have taken all but a few seconds to reach the doorway, but at the time it felt as if hours passed in those few steps. The Death Eater led us through a maze of corridors all as cold and dark as the room we had just left. I couldnít have even remembered the exact route we took even if I tried, but now I know this was the desired effect. The room we had left was, in fact, on the same corridor as the one we arrived at some ten minutes later. The tour through the manor was just to disorientate any potential spies.
The Death Eater showed us into the room, which was much the same as the other one, only larger.
ďWait here,Ē he said gruffly.
To this day, I never found out for sure who this Death Eater was. No one ever does. There is no particular reason behind this; itís just some kind of in-joke. I believe it was Augustus Rookwood we met that day, but I canít be certain. It was weeks after that I met Gus for the first time officially, so it was hard to tell, but thinking back to that voice, it certainly sounded like him. Gus was a good man, very clever. For years he worked in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry, spying for our side. It was only because of a certain person thinking that saving his own skin was more important than anything else that Gus got caught and sent to Azkaban. Gusís presence in the Ministry certainly helped us on many occasions. He was able to find out information we would have never been able to get hold of otherwise.
The Death Eater left us again in the new room.
ďSo now what?Ē Rodolphus had said to me in a hushed voice, as if someone might be listening. I shrugged nonchalantly, but before I had time to answer, the door opened again. Two more hooded Death Eaters -- again, never identified -- entered and stood either side of the door. They were followed by a tall dark-haired man who had a certain presence about him.
He stopped directly in front of us and looked us up and down, as if inspecting us. I remember Rod looking distinctly like a fish, his mouth wide open. I looked back at the Dark Lord in awe, feeling decidedly shabby when I saw his stunning black robes with silver trim. If I had admired him before, it was nothing to how I felt now. It went beyond respect and admiration. I wanted to be exactly like him, starting with some flashy robes. I swore to myself right there and then that I would be one of Lord Voldemortís top men. I would walk by his side, be involved in the decision-making and planning. He would know exactly who I was and call me by my first name. Without him even speaking, I was ready to dedicate my life to Lord Voldemort and his cause. I was prepared to die for it if necessary.
And this was exactly what the Dark Lord wanted us to do; he wanted us to be willing to do anything, including dying. Every Death Eater had to swear to this, as Rodolphus and I did that day. Although now I realize how few of us would have actually stuck to this if it was necessary. Maybe only a dozen or so of us. Not that I think the others didnít mean it at the time, but now I doubt they would have gone through with it. Most couldnít even face Azkaban, and talked their way out of it by saying they were being forced under the Imperious curse. Others, like Karkaroff, preferred grassing up the rest of us rather than face Azkaban. All of the Dark Lordís most devoted servants either went to Azkaban or died for the cause.
Lord Voldemort spoke to us briefly, asking who we were and what we thought of the cause. I was relieved he never asked about my parents, as I had no idea what I would have said if he had. Either he already knew or he didnít care; I never really found out.
Someway or other, we must have impressed him because after only a short time, he told us we would still have to prove ourselves despite the fact we were already friends with Malfoy, Stan and a few others. This wasnít news to us; we had certainly expected it, so we both nodded dumbly. With a satisfied looking smile, the Dark Lord turned and left the room without so much as another word. The two Death Eaters who had remained silent throughout followed, closing the door behind them.
We looked at each other, confused. Was that it? Did we stay here, or were we supposed to go now? After realizing that we didnít know our way out of the manor, we decided we had better stay put. We spoke only briefly to each other while we were in that room, partly because we were aware that we might be being listened to and partly due to the fact we both had so much going on in our heads.
The door opened again and in strolled Stan, looking as casual as anything.
ďAlright then?Ē he asked, sounding more like he had bumped into us in the Three Broomsticks than at Lord Voldemortís Head Quarters. He laughed at our puzzled expressions before telling us we had to report for Ďdutyí the next day. We had been accepted. My heart and mind were racing as Stan told us we were the youngest Voldemort had ever taken on. He didnít usually even consider people who hadnít left school. But, due to our high recommendations from Stan and Lucius, who were fast making names for themselves among the Death Eaters, he had agreed to see us. We were later to find out that our being still at school had a lot to do with it. Lord Voldemort had a special job lined up for us: he wanted a spy at Hogwarts, and that was to be us. Albus Dumbledore had become headmaster there five years previously. He, along with the various charms and such on the castle, made Hogwarts highly impenetrable by the Dark Lord and his followers. The only way for them to know what was happening there was by having spies among the students. Rod and I were the first to do this job, but it was later passed on to Bella, Snape, Regulus and Barty Crouch in turn, after we left Hogwarts.
Stan showed us the way out of the manor, leaving us in the entrance hall. No one ever knew how Lord Voldemort acquired this large estate, and nobody ever asked. Stepping out of the darkness of the house, I squinted at the bright sunlight. I gazed around the grounds, trying to get my bearings, and then I turned to Rod, who was grinning. At the time I had no idea why, I suppose it was a release of emotions, but we both started laughing like crazy.
We spent the next few weeks, before returning to Hogwarts, at the Head Quarters. We were far too unimportant for Lord Voldemort to explain things to us; in fact we didnít even see him during that time, so Jugson was given the task. Every Death Eater hated initiating new recruits; it involved lots of explaining and often the most mundane missions. Needless to say, Jugson was less than impressed about being stuck with two sixteen year old boys. He changed his mind, though, when he saw how enthusiastic we were and how much we already knew about the Darks Arts.
So after over two weeks of Ďreconí missions, we stood face to face with the Dark Lord again. It was the day before we were to return to Hogwarts and we were in the same room we had met him in before. I remember the words he spoke as if it were only yesterday.
ďI am impressed boys, very impressed.Ē
Stepping closer, he took hold of my left arm as he continued to speak.
ďI know you wonít be able to Apparate to my side yet, but I think you are deserving.Ē
Pushing back the sleeve of my robes, Lord Voldemort pressed his fingers against my skin. I can still remember the burning; it seemed much worse that first time, but I suppose I got used to it over time. The burning was so intense I wanted to pull my arm away, but I forced myself to remain still. Lord Voldemort removed his hand, revealing the Dark Mark. I stood still, staring at it as the Dark Lord turned to Rod and gave him his mark.
ďDo you know what these are, boys?Ē
We both nodded; we had admired Lucius and Stanís when they had received theirs. The Dark Mark continued to darken in colour as he spoke. It also continued to burn, but less intense than before.
ďIt is a sign of your loyalty to me. It will be with you, just as I will, for the rest of your lives. Remember that.Ē
And I did remember it. Any time in Azkaban, when doubt about the Dark Lordís return entered my mind, the Dark Mark reminded me of his words that day. Just looking at the Mark on my skin told me that he would return to us, that he would free us.
By the time we had got back to the Lestrange Manor, the Dark Marks had started to fade. Rodolphus had proudly shown his arm to his parents, something I knew I would never do. Apart from our obvious difference in opinions about wizard purity and Muggles, I got on well with my parents. I never wanted to hurt or disappoint them so I had decided, even before I had met Lord Voldemort, that I would never tell them about becoming a Death Eater. Back at home that night I had kept my arm well hidden.
I had arrived early at Kings Cross the next day. I hadnít been able to stand being at home any longer, concerned that my parents would see my arm. I had told them I would make my own way to the station and had set off early in the morning.
I sat on my trunk on the deserted platform, relieved to be out of the Muggle world. The Hogwarts Express wasnít even in the station at this time. Eventually, students had started to fill the platform. Bella and Reggie had arrived around the same time as the train. We had found a carriage and Reggie kept watch out of the window for the others. One by one they arrived, Evan and Cade shortly after us and then Snape. We had watched in amusement as Barty tried to avoid his motherís hugs. His father, as ever, wasnít there. Rod had arrived just minutes before the train was due to leave. He had come running down the platform, Stan just behind him with his trunk. His parents appeared through the barrier at the last moment, just as the train set off.
The instant we were out of the station, Rod still trying to catch his breath, Bella started pestering for information about Lord Voldemort. We told them as much as we could about the past few weeks, which wasnít much as most of it was secret. I could tell Bella had been torn between her desire for information and jealousy that she hadnít been a part of it.
ďSo are you actual Death Eaters, then?Ē she had asked, the tone of her voice showing that part of her hoped we werenít.
I had looked over at Rod and slowly we had turned back our sleeves to proudly reveal the Dark Mark. Bella had gasped; Reggie nearly fell from his seat in his eagerness to see. Everyone was silent as they looked in awe. I think from that moment on we were held in much higher regard by our friends than ever before.
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