The Head Boy's Secretary

Continuation of....

Chapter Nineteen: Dark Adventures Underground


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The Squibs plus the young witch were made to serve the Dark Order. The men mingled around with their master, getting their thirst slaked.

Alice and the others were allowed to some finally. Alice was the last to get a flagon, when she noticed the shortest of Master Riddle's men. Alphard Black, more boy than man actually, was watching stealthily.

And the beer tasted bitter and horrible. Well, it was a hearty blend, and it was the first time she’d tasted beer.

She looked into her glass, and examined it. Could it be tainted with poison?

The ice-cubes had some peculiar little blobs. Alice plunged her hand in the cup. Out came cubes coated with yellow grime. Alice held it up to the light, staring. The ice-cubes were encased with bugs!

How childish! Alice whispered to Alphard haughtily, “You’re nothing but a wicked, wicked little boy! And you shan’t get the best of me. I’m not frightened.”

Alphard grew disappointed with the gumption in Miss Alice’s demeanor. Privately, Alice pondered if the bugs would make her sick and prayed this was an inaccurate assumption.

After servicing the men, the women were permitted to stand about and loiter, mingling with the men. But none of them would talk. They went off in their own groups, conversing in enigmatic whispers.

Alice saw the Black boy standing around a group who happened to be his older cousins.

There was an outburst suddenly. Alphard emerged from the fold raving. Mercurially, the lithe boy alighted on a seat, standing on it like a stage. “I want blood. I want to hurt, I want power, and all things bad!”

Everyone saw Alphard now and gawked. For the youngest follower had shouted this proclamation. Alphard’s young eyes were emblazoned with belief. Alice saw that he was swept up in a cult, and no longer knew himself.

Riddle’s eyes in contrast were calm, cold. “You’re Master knows your heart.”

Riddle stepped back and set his own flask down with a thud. He strode to the Squibs and suddenly each of them were bound.

Alice was levitated off the ground through a hovering charm, and the chains bound her breasts, they bound her torso and legs and shoulders.

For the next several minutes they were forced to observe the organization perform the most base, and disgusting of rites. It was some kind of ritual, none of which could be understood by an outsider. Except one thing. The Dark Order hated Goblins and considered them an inferior race.

This was stuff not even the worst nightmares can concoct. Treasures boxes, which turned out to also be coffins were emptied. Somehow, they’d exhumed the bodies of goblins. They had been entombed under the castle grounds for centuries, not a single living goblin knew their ancestors were buried under Hogwarts after the Goblin wars. So this place was a grave, a grave for goblins. And what happened next was the highest degradation a consecrated ground can suffer.

Their bodies of course were small, and shrunken more from being lain in tombs than from being Goblin. The swarthy faces had haunting, staring eyes. Alice cried, but none of them paid it mind. The empty husks were subject to the greatest of humiliations.

“Underneath, Dolohov,” said Master Riddle cruelly. And he coerced the follower to animate the corpse, to let it lie on him, caressing Dolohov. Master Riddle smiled, looking most oddly tender and pleasured at the voyeuristic interlude.

Within moments all of them were partaking in spilling their seeds or putting their mouths to corpses. Riddle took a goblin by its ears, and twisted the nose. He threw the body like it was nothing, like it had never been alive. Alice couldn’t believe what evil she was witnessing. This was hell, this was demonic.

Alice shut her eyes again and murmured, “I want to go to bed. Let me out, let me just go home. Lord, please!”

At the height of horrific passion, Riddle was screaming with pleasure. He looked so wicked and powerful, and Alice could not believe a mortal could be this bad. What of Satan, if that entity even existed?

The Squibs along with the girl were thrown from where they hovered in chains. Out of the ground, there was an ear-splitting crack! The ground broke open. Alice looked down below, and feeling such despair couldn’t wait for that ground to swallow up and take her. Anything to get away from these monsters! At once the chains were released, and they descended into it.

Each lady fell, tossed into the pit. One of the ladies would die that night, sacrificed like a lamb. But Voldemort made sure that it was not Alice. For even he, did not wish to waste magical blood. But as for the wenches, those dirty slatterns to be fair were nothing but Squibs!

Alice strained to see above. She was standing in a dark pit. The men above closed in, forming a tight ring. They were cloaked and hooded, donning their hideous masks again. Alice's imagination spun with tales of demons.

When the master stopped and came, Alice knew it wouldn’t be good. They were suddenly immersed in a nest of vipers, biting and clawing at her legs. The snakes multiplied, thicker and thicker. She felt them crawling on her legs, snapping and hissing violently. But somehow they couldn’t actually bite.

Shouts of crucio wrung everywhere. And Alice no longer knew what she was doing. She was going to die. Dragged down, under a nest of hideous creatures.

The creatures grew fiercer and cleverer and cleverer in ambushing the women, so that they didn't even know who'd be attacked next.

From above, faintly she heard a whispering. Master Riddle was using his tongue, amplifying his voice and hissing in a strange, arcane language. Alice did not know it was Parseltongue.

Riddle stopped. The men answered, chanting in Latin. There voices rung like the gongs of bells, deep and serious. It was like an order of monks at prayer.

At the last possible moment, Alice and the others were taken out. Again, nobody seemed to care that one of their number wasn’t moving. The innocent were always the first. The rejected Squib who was forced to be employed with the most lowly of jobs was gone. The woman had suffocated, buried under the snakes, smothered to death.

The dark figures were everywhere at once. Alice had discovered horror-land, as opposed to the usual magic, which had always seemed a wonderland. Tonight, having this dark adventure underground, Alice Whitman discovered just how deep the rabbit hole went. She’d seen magic that few would believe possible.

And there was little more she could take. She was the youngest, the Squibs were more hardened.

Some of the men now inched closer to Alice, looking eager. She knew these men probably wanted another wank tonight, or worse. But the mutilated clit was itching and burning and throbbing from the torture of the Cruciatus. The Curse was alive.

Alice twisted and writhed. She was chafed from the previous exertions and could not bear anymore penises, or dildos of any sort inserted up her.

“Don’t hurt me!” Alice shook and pointed a finger in accusation. “HE IS THE DEVIL!”

Some of them laughed mercilessly. Not a shred of compassion for this girl’s agonizing terror.

Alice stopped writhing and stared ahead. It was peculiar to see her staring straight ahead at a blank wall. The mind was filled with imaginings, and remembrance for what had been seen. She recalled vividly what they’d done to the bodies! And there was the boxes, the coffins and treasures. Some of the remaining Goblins were put in hilarious position, spindly hands outstretched holding their treasure. But the chests were empty, pillaged for gold. The followers would use it to increase their Pureblood families wealth. Taking the spoils with them to Gringotts.

But the empty boxes reminded Alice of that nightmare. Empty of contents like in her dream. A Pandora's box was opened, the universe, whether magical or supernatural could not be understood. And death was the ultimate unknown, and what if it brought total obliteration? Like an empty box. Nothing. Nothing at all!

“The devil!” Alice grew frightened again. Master Riddle was approaching, quite calmly, the long, yew wand readied. There was purpose, deliberate cold purpose as he reached the young Secretary.

None of the men cared. But some licked their lips and clutched at their crotches growing aroused once again. They may have liked that she called him the Devil.

“Oh! Do have pity on me, you men! My masters!….Don’t let him. Don’t let him.”

Their eyes grew greedy, tongues emerged licking their lips. Some went to their collars, or unbuckled their belts, eager to have this girl who called their Master a Devil!

But Riddle remained hunched over Alice on the floor. The Head Boy was looking calm, but also amused. There was no pain that came next. Only bliss, at last let out of misery.

“Imperio!” Riddle screamed. Back under the Imperius Curse. No longer may she utter a word to the followers. She was ignorant of the truth again, wool pulled over her eyes. “Obliviate.”

No longer would she remember this night. Everything went black. Dark. Alice could have died that night.

But next morning somehow she awakened in bed inside the great bastion of safety that was Ravenclaw tower. It was as if none of it had ever happened.