9.
She swallowed hard.
"There… is a law," he began, in an almost didactic tone, eyes half-closed. "A universal law of magic, as ancient as the first drop of blood spilled in this world. A law I, for a long time, ignored."
He fell silent. A deep silence, as if it froze the air around him. His eyes stared into nothingness, as if reliving an ancient, distant moment.
"When I tried to kill that child…" he said finally, and though he spoke with coldness, there was a bitter edge in his voice, "I was struck by the weight of this law. The spell ricocheted. The curse turned against me."
"The law of karma, Skeeter," he continued. "The universe, even in its silence, does not ignore intentions. Nor does it let crimes go unpunished. That is why insignificant trash like these must be punished whenever possible, do you understand?"
He gestured toward the prisoners.
Nervously, Rita lowered her head slightly and murmured something almost inaudible:
"With the measure you use, it shall be measured to you."
Mortavius raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"What did you say?"
She hesitated, unable to answer.
Mortavius's expression was one of curiosity, then Snape, with boredom and disdain on his lips, stepped forward:
"It is a biblical proverb, my Lord. She quoted… the Scriptures."
Mortavius narrowed his eyes. He was silent for a few seconds.
"Luke 6:38…" he muttered more to himself. "I know she quoted the Scriptures. I remember them well."
His expression hardened. A shadow passed over his eyes. Memories. He shook his head slowly, as if dispelling irritating recollections. Then, he turned his gaze back to Rita.
"And never recite it again in my presence."
Rita swallowed hard.
Then he changed the subject.
"So, Skeeter… what do you think these men deserve?"
The question thundered through the room. It was not asked in anger, nor as a threat, but as a suspended verdict. Rita swallowed again. She knew exactly what was happening. A test.
It was not merely a question. It was a tightrope stretched over an abyss.
She felt the weight of countless eyes on her. The Death Eaters, eager, like hyenas awaiting a command. Snape, immobile but observant. Parker, amused, jingling coins provocatively. Thorfinn, arms crossed, frowning, silently rooting for her to fail. And even the prisoners… eyes full of plea, hope, and terror, waiting for a word that might be their only chance at survival.
Sweat ran down her temple. She inhaled slowly. And still without answering, she looked at Mortavius… trying to decipher. Did he want compassion? Or was he expecting her to succumb to corruption as well?
Rita remained standing, motionless, eyes fixed on the cages. The four men still alive stared at her, conscious prey aware of the blade hanging over their throats.
Mortavius did not repeat the question. He simply stared at her, his red eyes like burning coals framed by mortal pallor. It was a silence that devoured.
"I…" Rita began, her voice faltering. "They… are monsters. Each one, in their own way. But…"
Her mind spun. Sweat formed on her temples. And if she said they deserved to die? She would be complicit. If she said they deserved to live? She would sound weak, banalized, or worse.
"Please!" cried the magnate, gripping the bars with raw fingers. "I have children! I swear… I swear I can change! I will change!"
Rita shrank.
"I am not evil, I just… wanted people to have peace… The system…" the doctor tried to justify himself, voice faltering. "I treated hundreds per week… overcrowded hospitals, no resources… no rest, no peace… Those people had no options."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
Doubt tore her apart. Part of her wanted to shout that none of them deserved mercy. Another part… wanted only to survive with a minimum of decency intact.
Abraxas sneered at her side, whispering with cold contempt:
"If you can't decide, give them to the dogs. At least they'll serve as a feast, since they're worthless as citizens," he said, in a tone as casual as if commenting on the weather.
Rita's stomach churned. Slowly, she lifted her chin.
"They should not be freed," she said, each word like crushed glass. "But they also do not deserve to be torn apart as meat for amusement. Deny them light. Deny them hope. Lock them in shadow… where they will live forgotten, like worms in a cell without sun."
For a moment, only the sound of the prisoners breathing in relief, even without understanding the proposed fate, filled the hall.
Mortavius nodded, satisfied.
"So be it, then," he said, voice sharp as polished steel. "The hunt is postponed, boys."
A restrained sigh passed among the Death Eaters.
Thorfinn muttered something bitter to Parker, who restrained a smile. Abraxas kicked a stone. Rodolfo Lestrange snorted:
"Women… always crying for the weak."
The prisoners fell to their knees, crying, thanking, sobbing.
With a lazy gesture, Parker Hollow raised his wand. The cages slid like invisible sleds and were carried away.
Then Narcissa approached Rita. Leaning close, as if sharing a secret, she whispered:
"Congratulations, dear… You have just condemned them to a fate far crueler than death."
Then she stepped back with the same icy smile.
Rita remained silent. The sinister implication of Narcissa's words unsettled her heart, but she had no time to dwell, for Mortavius turned to her again:
"Tell me, Skeeter… why did you come to me?"
Rita felt the pressure rise in her throat but maintained her composure. She adjusted her glasses slowly before answering.