The Pureblood Coup

Finally I am up to this chapter…this will be a very, very long one. Anyway…so much is going on in this fic…that I think it is bordering on insanity…and I am less than half-way done!


Chapter Ten: Festival of the Pure-Bloods


Minutes later, Lord Voldemort was inside the manor again gliding along the narrow corridor with a sense of clear-cut purpose about him as there were several strategic agendas to discuss. Wormtail was waiting on the left in front of the Drawing Room. The distant sound of violent, ancient music mixed with varying voices of hundreds came from somewhere far beyond the corridor. Yet he paid it no mind.

“Ah, Wormtail…Just who I need…Fetch me Snape and the Carrows, and bring us drinks while your at it” he glibly vocaled.

Wormtail bubbled complacently, “Yes, My lord,” and he bowed slightly. He was not clad in wizard’s robes, but a wizard suit of muddled brown and a stringy, lopsided tie, and behind a dusty traveling cloak. Pettigrew did not possess any dressrobes for the occasion, but at least he had this old suit.

Stretching a large hand outward, Voldemort boldly pushed out the Drawing Room door. For one split second, shock flitted across his face. It was a most alarming sight. Certainly this was not the same Drawing room he had eaten in only a few hours ago.

Then the red eyes fixed onto Bellatrix directly opposite him at the end of the room in the center. There flashed a menacing look on his countenance.

He did not move, as he observed her, and then he continued to take in the surroundings. The table and cabinets had been pushed into the back corner and the crystal chandelier and fireplace was no longer in use. Replacing them for light were hundreds of candles, floating above lining the sides of the walls. And in front, obstructing the view of the fireplace, was an enormous arrow shaped structure of pure, molten gold, and the entire room was smelling strongly of Dragon Blood incense.

“What is this?” Voldemort jeered aggressively.

“Isn’t it, fabulous?…It is for communion with you, My lord. This is my shrine to you, my precious relic to you. You see?... The shape of the ancient rune called, ‘Tiwaz’, meaning God.” Bellatrix’s voice was still confident, despite the displeasure Voldemort was evincing.

The altar was indeed in the shape of an arrow rune, which means literally, ‘a God’. It had two short sets of steps at the edges, gilded serpents guarding it on the sides. Bellatrix had constructed it out of 5,000 galleons of her vault, transfiguring the gold into the shrine for her cult leader. She did not count gold for much significance anymore, knowing she barely needed it, as Bellatrix thought she was getting closer to the genuine intimacy she had always craved with him. It was all for the plan to worship Lord Voldemort as her God, her Satanic God.

Now Bellatrix was kneeling at the center of the golden altar, at the summit of the steps, her robes pushed up past her hips. Leaning back on her elbows, her legs spread wide, her vagina was promiscuously exposed, currently leaking with heavy masturbation. She had been doing solo masturbation before as foreplay, and was now ready to remove her attire and reveal herself naked on the altar. In her hand, she wielded the short silver knife.

“Take me on your Altar top, my Lord! Take me senseless…I prove my worthiness through an offering of my pureblood…”

There was a flash, and Bellatrix’s right fore-arm spurted a red gash, and whipping her hand down, it splashed beneath the base of the altar, landing into a cauldron of Gabruithian fire, which was there representing his eternal reign, as it never burns out. It seemed she experienced the very opposite of pain from the deep abrasion, as she trilled in ecstasy, “FUCK ME MASTER!”

Voldemort continued to watch Bellatrix, gradually coming closer. Learning all he needed to know through Legilimency, he was relieved to learn she had not told any of the others of this shrine. Voldemort regarded Bellatrix as if he was seeing through her for the first time, and he did not like it.

Before she knew it, he was towering over her on the steps of the Altar. His hands reaching outwards. She panted in anticipation, still in her absurd posture, and with one hand, she took her robes off. Now Bellatrix was wearing a tight black corset like leather shirt. He loomed over her, but instantly the cold, white hands were closing around her throat.

He lifted her from the altar by the neck, choking her. Once she got away from what he regarded as the ridiculous thing, he relinquished his grip over her vitals.

And Voldemort turned away from Bellatrix with disgust and revulsion etched on his face, which is a very rare thing to see from him.

He flourished his wand, and the hundreds of candles the House-elves had arranged before, collided with each other forming a ring of fire above the room resembling a halo. Voldemort was aroused by the fire his nostrils flaring, the mouth twisting with pleasure. He manipulated the fire with his hands acting out the magic and it swirled the ceiling, and then morphed into a giant serpent. His hands from the distance, spanned towards the direction of Bellatrix, who cowered at the sight, and ran backwards to the wall.

“MY LORD!” She cried in terror, truly believing he was trying to kill her.

Voldemort screamed with a mixture of rage and arousal, and then the giant fiery serpent vanished into a pile of water, splashing onto the floor.

Next, Voldemort turned back to the shrine and concentrating he spent the next minute making it vanish. It takes a lot of concentration just to make a potion disappear, let alone something as big as this fifteen-foot long altar. The remnants of the Dragon’s Blood incense billowed up like the smoky remains of an actual fire. And the altar finally was gone. The cauldron, although that was left with the fire in it, was kicked by Voldemort's boot, actually skidded the floor to rest by the fireplace.

He turned around, to see Snape in the threshold of the Drawing room, yet the Carrows had not arrived yet. He did not say anything to Snape, but instead addressed Bellatrix, “Now…present yourself before me like a proper Death Eater, Bella, and NOT like I am residing at headquarters under a whore-house…”

Bellatrix, without thinking dropped to her knees, as is her habitual custom spoke matter-of-factly, “I beg my atonement, My lord….”

“You will be getting just what you deserve tonight Bella!”

He went behind Bellatrix and with deliberate force he pushed her shoulders down further, until her chin was only an inch from the floor. She was still half-naked, only in a tight black corset with thigh-high fishnet stockings, and no knickers. Bellatrix was laughing wickedly and smiling, as for some reason she thought she was going to get shagged up the ass. So she was laughing at Snape watching what she thought would be her pleasure and she gloried inwardly in the attention she was getting, while Snape was being ignored. Her black eyes sparkled towards Snape standing in the meager light emanating from the doorway. Snape saw Voldemort raise his arm, and for a moment he almost laughed as he thought Voldemort was actually going to spank Bellatrix! He probably thought as he could not see well inside, they were only shadows to him.

But then Snape saw that Voldemort was actually holding his wand raised, calculating what to do. Snape thought Belltrix was posed there like his Lord’s little puppy dog and he remarked abruptly breaking the momentary silence, “You should collar her, My lord.”

Voldemort responded with some amusement, “Perhaps I should, Severus. But some other time, as I know what I shall do with her…”

At her Lord’s assent to Snape’s comment, Bellatrix had lurched in anger, but before she could retaliate, he pummeled his wand through Bellatrix’s anus, sneering harshly, “Crucio!”

“Yeow!…Yeow!,” Bellatrix screamed like a feline cat.

Voldemort had stuck half of his thirteen-and-a-half-inch yew wand up the witch’s asshole. It did not matter if it was unsanitary, for wands come into contact with dirty things all the time and further, he had inserted the wand through plenty of vaginas over the years, so as to utilize the contraception spell, which is totally safe-proof.

Her anus became internally bruised and blistered, which is the effect of a prolonged crucio on an isolated region of the body. Voldemort could of done this to her face, but he wanted it done on a spot nobody would see, for the simple reason, he could avoid a dilemma, and Bellatrix revealing the truth if people asked curious questions.

By now, the blossoming from her round, curvy buttocks was a red river, and it fell like a waterfall making little crimson flowers of blood dot the floor. He continued to fist her with his wand, thinking it was the perfect torture to punish and correct the dirty, wanton witch’s behavior.

Finally he was done, Snape had been quick on the uptake: casting the muffliato incantation over the area. So nobody could have heard Bellatrix’s screams.

He wrenched his wand out of her creamy, yet dry-skinned buttocks, and without communicating it was over, he suddenly transported the long table and chairs back to their usual place, whilst Snape turned the chandelier off magically and then directed his wand from a distance, conjuring a purple-flamed magical fire.

Bellatrix sprung, grabbing her robes, her face turning an increasingly ugly, blotchy red, until she resembled a beet.

The Carrows were now present, standing beside Snape, holding a crystal decanter filled with drink. Bellatrix placed her robes and red velvet cape on again.

Snape said, “Ingenious method of Crucio, My lord…” And as Bellatrix tried to sneak by, he waspishly whispered, “Enjoy your spanking, Bellatrix?”

She retorted through clenched teeth, “It was a formal punishment Snape.”

And Bellatrix and Snape each exchanged with each other looks of mutual loathing. Bellatrix marched, still proudly out of the room, limping slightly, yet managing not to wince at all, as it was if she was desensitized from the pain. She had finally gotten her much deserved comeupance, as for once Voldemort was treating Belltrix cruelly, unlike the recent Malfoys being targets. Of course, he had punished her many times before, but this is perhaps one of the more severe incidents.

Swiftly, Snape raised his wand, locking the drawing room door, and checking for the detection of muffliato, still being on the vicinity to keep out eavesdroppers, whilst the Carrows demanded of him why the floor was sopping wet, as their shoes squeaked as they approached the table.

Snape shook his head, shrugging, and feigned looking bewildered to cover up this situation for his master. He said colloquially, "I dunno..."