#and it’s never said that other pureblood families are abusive (except the Crouch’s but that was more inferred)

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

find me evidence (in the movies or books) that Walburga and Orión were physically abusive

[jimblejamblewritings]

riddle means misery | part 2.

Summary: Y/N Riddle. Not much more has to be said. Everyone hates her. She’s evil... she has to be.

Warnings for the Series: 18+, this series is dark. Manipulation, dubcon verging on noncon, abuse of power, violence, ed mentions, death, blood

Pairing: unknown yet x black!reader

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N I:  My old readers will know, if I have multiple parts finished. I will post them. Except nearly the whole series to be put up tonight— up until the romance part until I decide who. 

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist) 

You didn’t move despite the charm being off until they were gone. Shakily, you pulled out your wand and muttered ‘Tergeo’-- you didn’t have enough magic to use ‘Scourgify’. You were happy no one was in the common room. Finnegan wasn’t in the room and you didn’t get a good night’s sleep because of it. Sirius wouldn’t hurt an animal just because they belonged to you, right? 

Relief filled your body at Finnegan sleeping on the arm rest of the couch in the common room. You immediately took her upstairs for her breakfast before taking her outside to use the restroom— the cat areas of Hogwarts were really convenient because you would hate a litter box in your room. Remus was the one who caught you crouched in the outer corridor while watching Finnegan enjoy her outside time, skipping breakfast because you didn’t want to deal with anything. You would just get food from the kitchen in a little bit. The house elves were never horrible to you. They were mean but at least they let you get food. 

“Please leave me alone.” 

“I’m doing you a favor by warning you.” 

“Warning me?”

“Marlene wants to duel you this afternoon but is willing to let your boyfriend take your place.” 

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

“Rosier kisses your ass, I’m sure he kisses other things.”

“I would never kiss him. He’s not my boyfriend and I’m not a whore.”

“What makes you think snogging means you’re a whore, your father tell you that?” 

You grabbed your cat and left. Remus stood and jogged to catch up with you. “Bloody hell, that’s true?”

“What’s true, Moony?”

“Merlin’s Beard,” you whispered as the rest of the group showed up. 

“Her father’s little letters told her you’re a whore if you snog someone.” 

All the boys started laughing. James adjusted his glasses. 

“You say you’re not a Death Eater but you listen to Daddy’s letters? That’s a bit heir to the evil throne, Princess.”

“Is there a reason?” Peter asked. 

You knew walking would result in them following. You just adjusted Finnegan in your arms. “Snogging leads to dating.”

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

“No point in dating if they’re not the one you’re set up to marry,” you mumbled. 

“That little marriage list wasn’t a joke? And here I was going to compliment You-Know-Who on having some humor in his murderous body… wait, my name was on it.”

Sirius blocked you in with his arms. “Nope, nope, you’re not leaving until I know why my name was on it.” 

“You’re a pureblood,” you muttered.

“What?”

“You’re a pureblood from an old family.” 

Sirius’ hand held your throat, not applying pressure but threatening to. “I’d never date you.”

“It’s not about what you want! It’s a marriage arrangement, you don’t choose it. It happens when my father takes over, you think he cares what we want?” 

“When?” Sirius’ hand around your throat dropped. 

“My father gets stronger by the day and no one is doing anything about it. It’s obvious what’s going to happen. Voldemort will take over and everyone will fall in line or get killed. Muggleborns will have to give up their wands or die and purebloods won’t marry anyone less than a pureblood until we’re all that’s left. That’s life when he wins. When.”

“How are you even allowed to be here?” 

You turned at the random voice. The Great Hall had cleared out from dinner and you were faced with a bunch of your fellow students that only heard you say your father was going to win and kill them all. 

“You should be in an Azkaban cell,” another student said as they all started to walk by. 

“No, I’m not…” 

Your words weren’t finished as you ducked under Sirius’ arm to leave. Finnegan scratched your arms as you were lifted into the air and she jumped to the ground. Your wand hit the ground and you watched James pocket it. Everyone was laughing as the shorts under your skirt were vanished to reveal tiny blue panties with stars on them. 

Your face felt hot as your hands held up your skirt when you felt the panties disappear. You couldn’t cry. Crying would only make it worse, you were sure. No one had ever seen you cry at Hogwarts for that exact reason. Well that was a lie. Up until he graduated at the end of your third year, Lucius had seen a few tears. You hated that he had seen so much of you in a way you knew pleased him and your father.   

“Drop her!” 

You heard that and the shouts of various spells before you found yourself floating back to the ground. Evan Rosier was throwing spells at anyone he could see. Severus looked at you with mild disgust. 

“Why didn’t you do anything?” 

“James took my wand.” 

His face softened and you were actually grateful to the Marauders for once. If the Death Eater posse knew how little magic you possessed, they would stop helping you. He cleaned up the scratches you got from your cat. Severus summoned your wand and some shorts. A blush covered his face. 

“I thought the shorts were more appropriate for me to grab.” 

You thanked him and pulled the shorts up with a vengeance. Evan stopped hexing people only when the Death Eater posse were the last in the hallway. 

Bellatrix reached out to hand Finnegan back to you. “Those mudbloods will be the ones rotting in Azkaban cells if they don’t mind themselves. We can hex them some more.”

“No,” you said quickly before realizing you needed to say more. “School hexes are stupid. They’ll realize Hogwarts isn’t the real world.”

Evan nodded. “If you change your mind, we’ll be glad. I’ve been itching to drop someone from the third floor.” 

The posse walked off, laughing about spells they’ve been wanting to do for a long time. Your life felt like hell. You knew it when you found yourself wishing the Marauders would choose to publicly mess with you that day so others wouldn’t. You would actually even take them shoving you into the Black Lake again like they did in third year. At least they wouldn’t throw rocks at you at first. Every meal was now eaten in the kitchen because the Great Hall was the biggest source of your humiliation. You went to the owlery to get another letter from your father. There was one from him and one with no markings or signatures. You opened the non marked one to find a single sentence:

If you go to Astronomy tonight, you might slip from the tower. 

“Hey, Princess!”

You didn’t even look up at James, just shoved the letter in his arms so he could destroy it like he wanted and ran. You didn’t think they were joking. Taking a failing grade in Astronomy was worth it if it meant you were going to live. You had gotten many threats over the years but no one had been bold enough to threaten to kill you. A lot of letters saying you should die or be dead. But none saying they would kill you. 

In the safety of your room, you cried and hyperventilated on the floor. The bullying was expected, the torment was often, but the moments you truly didn’t feel safe were far and few between. You listened to the letter and didn’t attend your Astronomy class. You skipped breakfast the next morning as well. 

Instead of going to the Great Hall, you went straight to the library. Exams were coming up and you needed study materials. You looked over when you felt stares. A group of seventh years from different Houses were there. The girl in front rolled her eyes. 

“What are you doing, Riddle?” she asked.

You didn’t answer. Maybe it would have been better to say nothing and move on. You just tried to get your books. One of the thick novels smacked you in the face repeatedly.   

“You don’t know how to speak, brat?”

“What do you want?” you asked. 

“Come to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m studying, O.W.L.s ar—”

“That wasn’t a question. You’re leaving with us now. Hogsmeade or your cat might go missing. It was a stray anyway, right?”

You dropped all of your books and left with them. They sandwiched you in so you couldn’t even think about running. You felt one of them grab your wand out the waistband of your skirt. The undeniable crunch of your wand snapping reached your ears only a few seconds later.   

“We’re getting firewhiskey at the pub,” one of them said. 

“I can’t drink till next school year.”

“Learn we aren’t asking questions, unless you want another hex.” 

You followed them to the pub where they trapped you in the booth. You listened to them order— someone got you a butterbeer and multiple shots of firewhiskey. Three shots were placed in front of you. 

“Drink.” 

They laughed when you coughed as the alcohol burned your throat. The girl who spoke earlier grabbed your chin. 

“When your father takes over, you think all little muggleborns are going to let you take our wands?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you didn’t hear the fir—”

“Prove it. Prove you’re not a Death Eater then, that you like us mudbloods… I know what I do when I like someone.”

You hit at her wrist. “No, let go.” 

The group laughed. 

“She’s not into girls, I bet,” someone else said. “Sweetheart, we’ve got plenty of mudblood boys too.”

You panicked and hit at her wrist again. You didn’t like this game. Snogging was supposed to be something special according to your books. You didn’t want to be kissed by any of them. You didn’t like any of them. The guy behind the girl raised a brow.

“I thought you wanted everyone to know you weren’t your father.”

“No kissing, you already broke my wand.”

“That was just part one.”   

“Let go, let go!” 

She hissed when you hit her particularly hard. Before the girl could get out another word, a wand was pointed at her throat. 

“She told you to let go. I don’t think she’s friends with any of you.” Lucius sneered. 

They all scampered away. Lucius gave you a hand out of the booth. Just like when you were eleven, you immediately clung to him. He led you out the pub and apparated you both to Diagon Alley when you mentioned that your wand was broken. Ollivander wasn’t even surprised to see you. He was one of the few adults you liked. You knew he didn’t like you— you had caught him talking to one of the other customers when he thought you had left. But, he always treated you like a normal customer to your face. At least he knew how to put on a facade.  

“Let’s try a different wand this time, Miss Riddle. I’ve been giving you the same replacement for years. Try this, beech wood with a dragon heartstring core. Ten inches, unyielding.” 

You cleaned the dust off the counter. Ollivander nodded. You reached into your bag but Lucius paid before you could even fish out the coins and count them. He took you back to Hogsmeade and began the walk to Hogwarts.  

“They’re still messing with you? I told you to tell your father after I graduated.”

“He’d kill everyone, even the purebloods.”

Lucius chuckled. “That’s what happens when you’re a Daddy’s girl. Well, you’re almost done and then you can join him. I think they should all be scared when you join us… You’re wearing the bracelet?”

You nodded. “It’s nice. Thank you for the jewelry.”  

“It looks pretty on you.” Lucius took your hand and kissed it. “I’ll see you around.”

He turned to leave. He had to know about the marriage list. You sighed because Lucius definitely thought he was the number one prospect and was going to do anything to stay that way. You’d quicker marry Sirius than him and that said a lot because you wanted the arrogant boy to drown himself in the lake every other day. You felt light walking into the castle, though. 

Lucius had kept you out long enough that everyone already had gone to bed. The castle seemed empty. You couldn’t wait until it was actually void of students. Summer was your liveliest time even if it was short. The Great Hall was always playing music on the record player when you were cleaning with the house-elves. You were surprised they still didn’t like you all that much despite the fact that you cleaned with them. 

The first thing you did one your first day of freedom was go to the pier to paint your nails. You weren’t really a make-up girl, partially because it was so expensive. But you were a complete nail polish girl. If you didn’t replace your nail polish every other Sunday then the world was coming to an end. 

Your second favorite thing about summer was quidditch. The quidditch pitch was free for you to ride your broom and scream at the top of your lungs. You just knew that you would have been an amazing Chaser. Having the castle all to yourself was always a dream. It was the real you that no one— not even your father— had a glimpse of. 

All the shine was dulled when September came back. You skipped the opening feast and ate in your room. You just wanted another day before all the crap started again. And like you predicted, the moment you stepped outside was the moment it started. Your prefect dropped your schedule in your cup of orange juice and then you slipped on a mysterious patch of ice when leaving the Great Hall. The ice patch broke some teeth. Madame Pomfrey wouldn’t help you, acting like you always had a tooth problem. 

You sat at your desk in your dorm room and brewed your own Skele-Gro. You didn’t take the potion until late at night because you knew that the process would be a bit painful for the teeth completely missing and you wanted to be passed out for most of it. Changing into pajamas, you got ready for the potion. You threw it back and dragged yourself to bed, closing the curtains around it. 

Your roommates noticed a cauldron that your foot had hit as you got into bed. It rocked back and forth before tipping all the way— the purple liquid spilling out of it. The cauldron knocked over other bottles and broke the herb and salt lines around your bed.

It was getting hard to breathe. Your eyes flew open to see nothing but black. Arms hit at whatever was on top of you. The giggling of your roommates was making you panic even more. Spots started to dart across your vision. Your hand tried to reach for your wand but it wasn’t where you left it. The pillow finally seemed to let you pull it away from your face. You sat up, panting heavily. All your roommates made eye-contact with you before going to sleep. Falling asleep again wasn’t an option. You grabbed your wand from one of the roommates’ nightstand and moved to change into day clothes. 

McGonagall looked extremely annoyed when you knocked on her door. “Miss Riddle, you’re out past curfew.” 

“The girls in my room tried to kill me,” you said between breaths. 

“That is a very serious accusation.”

“They put a p—”

“Miss Riddle, did you not hear me? That is a very serious accusation and we don’t take kindly to students throwing it around like nothing. Go back to your room before I give you detention for breaking curfew.” 

Your mouth dropped open. She wasn’t taking you seriously. You turned around to head back to the common room before deciding to take one more chance and go to Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore gave you the same look as McGonagall when the door was opened. You already knew he would say the same things as her but you tried anyway. You ended up grabbing your bags, your journals, and your cat from your room before camping out in a broom closet in the common room. Hopefully none of the quidditch players wanted to practice early in the morning. 

You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t sleep in your room anymore. What if you accidentally knocked over a cauldron and it happened again? They actually tried to smother you with a pillow. The worst part was they almost succeeded. You decided to walk through Hogsmeade to try and come up with a solution. Also to comfort yourself by buying new nail polish or something. You wanted another research journal. You were old enough now to take your research seriously. Exploring the Dark Arts so you could figure out how to defend them was important to you. Especially because your father’s letters revealed more and more to you. You thought that it would be nice to sit at the bar in Three Broomsticks and drink some wine on the weekends while talking about a spell your father taught you when you were six that was three times worse than the Cruciatus Curse. Maybe The Ministry, particularly The Aurors, would find it very useful.     

You stumbled as a hex hit you, causing you to fall and get a cut on your chin. Ignoring the blood, you looked at your coins in your hand—  there was some money to spare. A butterbeer before going back to the castle seemed like a great start to working on the journals. Besides, you needed to be out of the castle a little longer. You paused when you reached the window of Three Broomsticks. Four faces were talking animatedly to each other and a terrible solution appeared in your mind. You might make yourself a target but it was worth a shot.  

“Are we actually gonna do it?” Remus asked. “We never even figured out who to ask over summer.”

Sirius took the salad that the waitress brought. “Not my fault two of you are straight as a damn whistle. A boy sub is so much easier to find, I know so many. Shit, I’d even ask Archie again. He’s a switch but wouldn’t mind and the breakup wasn’t bad. We would’ve had someone by now.”

“That’s comfortable with four doms?” 

Peter swallowed his bite of food. “If they’re comfortable with fucking Padfoot, they’re comfortable with four doms.” 

That made the others chuckle. The boys had been seriously considering actually going through with the throwaway suggestion one of them had made the summer before when they broke into the Potters’ alcohol cabinet to finally try some because they couldn’t wait one more year to be legal. An alcohol induced night and the fact that they were already way too comfortable with each other led to finding out they’re all doms— which shocked James who thought Sirius was a sub the entire time, vice versa with his friend. 

They began to think more and more about it but never really figured out who they would even approach to ask. They might have been known around school but there were still some things they wanted under wraps which was why they were so hesitant on Sirius’ suggestions even though he knew the most people out of all them— the problem was they loved to kiss and tell which was why he slowly stopped kissing and just went on dates. 

James only could think of people on the quidditch team and didn’t want that messy dynamic of being team captain and sleeping with one of your teammates. He wasn’t about to be accused of benching someone or being harsh during practice because of sex. So they were back to square one of brilliant idea with no possible execution.                      

You walked into the pub with determination. The Marauders blinked when you stood in front of their table. You poked at your thighs and James had to bite back a laugh because you were dressed just like his grandpa— he was positive that he had seen that exact pair of corduroy pants and pink t-shirt in the closet. Even your little tote bag looked old.

“Ring Leader?” Remus acknowledged you. 

“I need friends,” you said. 

“Go find the posse. Aren’t you already friends with th—”

“No. I need good friends… so everyone else will leave me alone.”

James set down his butterbeer. “What do we have to do with it?”

“People will stop if I’m friends with you. No one messes with me if you four are in charge of humiliating me. It can’t be much different if we’re friends. I want that every day. I want it all to stop. I’ll pay you. Whatever you w—”

“I think my money alone is enough for the four of us.”

“Please! M-my roommates t-t-tried to kill me. I can’t be alone and I don’t think I can go back to my room… I need h— I’ll do whatever you want. Give you money, do your homework, review you—”  

“Sleep with us,” Sirius said jokingly before shoving his forkful of salad into his mouth. 

“O-okay.”

He looked up with wide eyes, nearly choking on his food. “Moony, get up… Princess, sit. Fuckin’ pathetic. You know that, right?”

You slid into the booth, acutely aware of how little space there was with both Remus and Sirius in the booth. You were stiff as Sirius brazenly squeezed your breast. That never happened to you before. A gasp left your mouth when his hand started going for your belt buckle. His hand slid into your pants, moving past your underwear. His fingers spread you open but his face read disinterest. 

“You agree and this is what it is, understand that? Those tits? Ours. Your mouth, ours. Ass, ours. This pussy…”

Your mouth dropped open as he plunged his fingers into you. 

“Ours.” His fingers left as quickly as they entered you. “We get you whenever we want. All four of us. We’re doing you a favor acting like your friends. You owe us. You’re not our sub.”

“What’s that?” 

“How sheltered does You-Know-Who keep you?” Remus asked. 

Sirius continued his first point. “You’re not our sub. Don’t act like it either, understand you’re a plaything. A toy. Do you understand that?”

“Repeat what he said, Princess,” James said. 

“I’m a toy.” 

“Good girl. Whose?”

“Marauders,” you whispered. 

Sirius zipped your pants back up and went back to eating. “You learn quick. Waiter! Can we get… what do you want?” 

“Porridge breakfast and a butterbeer.” 

“Side of fruit or potatoes?”

“Fruit, please.”

The Marauders talked around you as everyone ate. They were mainly pissed that you were staying in their room because you were scared of your roommates. You couldn’t exactly say you were excited. You had never kissed a boy let alone slept with one. Not to mention this wasn’t just one but four. Worth it wasn’t quite the word you would use but it was the only option that you had. The only option you could visibly see. You finished down your butterbeer when James, Peter, and Remus stood up. 

Without delay, you stood up so Sirius could exit the booth. James stretched before slapping your ass. You walked with them wherever they wanted to go. You figured for a couple weeks you would have to be seen everywhere with them before you could ditch them to be alone when they didn’t want you. 

They spent almost the entire rest of the day in Hogsmeade. Peter squeezed your ass as you all entered the common room. No one else was there but you guys so he had no qualms about changing into a rat. You squeaked in surprise at the Animagus form but picked the rat up and carried him up the stairs. Peter leaned against the doorway as you packed up all your stuff. He snorted at seeing the cat your roommates stole for them that one time. His eyes roamed over everything. You had a lot of weird shit. 

“They actually try to kill you?” 

He chuckled a bit when you nodded and pointed to the pillow that you were leaving behind. The Marauders rolled their eyes when you and Peter returned with all your stuff. They moved all their trunks to the front of their beds so they could move the desks around and create the tiniest space for you. You stacked your two trunks against the wall to create a makeshift headboard. 

Remus duplicated his mattress for you. Finnegan’s cat bed was put on top of the third trunk at the foot of the mattress that was going to act like your desk. It was lucky that the others only owned owls. Finnegan didn’t have to adjust to new pets. You barely finished putting up your stuff when you felt yourself get grabbed and put on a bed. Without making a fuss, Peter murmured the vanishing spell and you found yourself completely naked. On instinct, you covered yourself as the boys just stared. Remus clicked his tongue. 

“Not bad, less tits than I thought. Alright, Riddle, turn around.” 

Shaking a bit, you started to move. Apparently too slow for their liking, you felt yourself get turned over. Peter grabbed his wand, muttered a birth control spell, and then pulled you up by the hips. You inhaled sharply as he entered you. He didn’t even wait for any adjustment, just kept pushing himself until he was fully in. His hand snaked around to start rubbing your clit as he rocked you back and forth on him, needing you more wet so it would be enjoyable for him. 

On some principle, you knew that first times were merely a concept. But that wasn’t what you were taught. And after reading so many romance books, you didn’t care how others talked about it, you wanted it to be the special times like the books. You were hoping to at least face them, get a kiss… maybe even someone say you looked pretty. Peter started going faster to chase his high. The pain and discomfort started to turn into weird pleasure. 

“Tummy feels funny,” you tried to warn someone. 

They all laughed. Peter slapped your ass before grabbing your hair and pulling you up. 

“It’s called cumming.”

Your romance books were wrong in the descriptions, then. It felt a lot different from what you had read. Peter jerked your head back slightly.

“You need to ask us permission.”

“Please,” you whispered. “Can I cum, please?”

“No.” He pushed you back down.  

You felt the warmth of his release and soon Peter pulled away. You were pulled by your ankles to the edge of the bed so your bottom half was hanging slightly off it— your feet would’ve been touching the ground if it wasn’t for the rough pace that James set. He groaned and Peter chuckled. 

“She’s tight isn’t she?” 

“Her pussy’s got a fuckin’ grip.”

“That good?” Remus asked, sitting on the bed. 

“Riddle’s good for one thing.” He pulled all the way out to slam back in. “Made to take a cock.” 

They started talking about you like you weren’t there. You listened as they started naming all the things that they wanted to do to you. Taking you all at once made you nervous. This already felt like too much with one of them at a time. You heard a lot of things that you were unsure about. Getting tied up, edging, choking, messing with you in class. But not a single soft thing was mentioned. Of course not. They made it clear that you were a plaything and not their sub. You buried your face in the mattress when one of them threw out the word whore and it stuck. Remus’ face was suddenly next to you as Sirius replaced James. 

“Snogging doesn’t make you a whore, Princess, but this does. This is what you’re gonna be, right, a good little whore for us?”

Peter, who cleaned himself up and was now dressed, smacked your ass. “Letting four guys fuck you all ‘cause you can’t take a few jinxes. Pathetic.” 

Sirius groaned. “Call her that again.” 

“Did she clench up, did you mean to, sweetheart? Getting worked up at being called our pathetic slut?” 

You were just trying to hold back on the funny feeling and your stomach knotting up. Taking a chance, you looked at Peter. 

“Can I cum? Please. Can I?” 

“No.” 

You nodded and dropped your head back against the mattress, hoping that Sirius would be done sooner rather than later. Remus grabbed your hips and sunk into you. The other three were either cleaning themselves up. Your bottom was sore as Remus pounded in and out of you. They said they wouldn’t always take you like this but you felt that more often than not you would have to deal with all four of them. You winced when Remus pulled out. 

“Go pee before you get an STI,” he said, more clinical than caring. 

They watched you wobble over to their bathroom. Your eyes squeezed shut as you went to the bathroom. No one said that it would hurt a little bit. You flushed the toilet and looked at yourself in the mirror. You couldn’t even give yourself a pep talk. So you just washed your hands and went back into the room. They didn’t bother you as you dug through your trunk for some pajamas. 

(part 3)

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[pet-genius]

The Death Eaters as a Cult - Part 2

Follow-up post to this post, exploring the DE dynamics and speculating on how Voldemort got them on his hook. Trigger warning: Cult abuse, I suppose.

The Death Eaters’ behavior at the graveyard reflects what was expected of them during the first war. LV refers to his Death Eaters as his “true family”, and yet:

Then one of the Death Eaters fell to his knees, crawled toward Voldemort, and kissed the hem of his black robes.

“Master... Master...” he murmured.

The Death Eaters behind him did the same; each of them approaching Voldemort on his knees and kissing his robes, before backing away and standing up, forming a silent circle, which enclosed Tom Riddle’s grave, Harry, Voldemort, and the sobbing and twitching heap that was Wormtail. Yet they left gaps in the circle, as though waiting for more people.

If this is how anyone in your family has EVER treated you, go to the police. No: Death Eaters were expected to crawl on their knees and to kiss their master’s robe. He had enforced such discipline that they all remembered their place in the circle 13 years later. He expected to be worshiped and humiliated his own people.

He also tortures them, for their failure to try to find him and resurrect him:

“It is a disappointment to me... I confess myself disappointed....”

One of the men suddenly flung himself forward, breaking the circle. Trembling from head to foot, he collapsed at Voldemort’s feet. “Master!” he shrieked, “Master, forgive me! Forgive us all!” Voldemort began to laugh. He raised his wand. “Crucio!”

He also manipulates them:

“Get up, Avery,” said Voldemort softly. “Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years... I want thirteen years’ repayment before I forgive you.

Wormtail here has paid some of his debt already, have you not, Wormtail?”

He looked down at Wormtail, who continued to sob.

“You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don’t you?”

Why does LV feel that Peter owes him anything? Peter resurrected him. But pleasing LV is impossible. He needs his followers to be driven by loyalty, not fear - they are not even allowed to be self-interested in the sense of wanting not to die. Peter might deserve pain, but one must ask why Voldemort of all people feels this way - Peter never hurt him.

Then, he expects Peter to show gratitude for what he would have had in the first place, had Voldemort not taken it from him: a hand. Peter falls for it:

“Yes, Master,” moaned Wormtail, “please, Master... please...”

“Yet you helped return me to my body,” said Voldemort coolly, watching Wormtail sob on the ground. “Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me... and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers....”

[...]

“My Lord,” he whispered. “Master... it is beautiful... thank you... thank you.”

That’s how Voldemort rewards his helpers: He stops the pain he himself inflicted.

These are Death Eaters with obvious vulnerabilities for Voldemort to exploit:

Barty Crouch Jr. has a very dysfunctional relationship with his dad. Sirius: “Crouch’s fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn’t much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy... then he sent him straight to Azkaban”.

Voldemort clearly took advantage of this, played up the parallel between Tom Riddle Sr. and Barty Crouch Sr., and BCJ has clearly come to see him as something of a father figure:

“I will be honored beyond all other Death Eaters. I will be his dearest, his closest supporter... closer than a son....”

[...]

“The Dark Lord and I,” said Moody, and he looked completely insane now, towering over Harry, leering down at him, “have much in common. Both of us, for instance, had very disappointing fathers... very disappointing indeed. Both of us suffered the indignity, Harry, of being named after those fathers. And both of us had the pleasure... the very great pleasure... of killing our fathers to ensure the continued rise of the Dark Order!”

Bellatrix’s vulnerability is obvious: She’s in love with Voldemort. He is constantly toying with her, promising intimacy and reward, but never delivering. He only uses her: Her vault, her duelling skills, her home. It’s interesting that she’s the only female DE outside of Alecto. Perhaps she was insecure about being female, or felt oppressed by her marriage, or perhaps she was failing to live up to her family’s expectation that she make pureblood babies, and Voldemort promised her a future where she’d be free of these constraints.

She’s supposed to be the closest one to him, the one he cares about the most, yet she too fears his wrath. Following the prophecy’s destruction:

“Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!” sobbed Bellatrix, flinging herself down at Voldemort’s feet as he paced slowly nearer.

“Master, you should know —”

“Be quiet, Bella,” said Voldemort dangerously. “I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?”

“But Master — he is here — he is below —”

Voldemort paid no attention.

He really should have paid attention to her warning that Dumbledore was coming. Instead, he threatened her even as she was begging forgiveness for something that was not her fault.

The chapter Spinner’s End shows how giftedVoldemort is at spreading enmity and discord among his followers. Not only do they not all know each other, the ones who do can never conspire against their master, because of the atmosphere of distrust.

“Before I answer you — oh yes, Bellatrix, I am going to answer! You can carry my words back to the others who whisper behind my back, and carry false tales of my treachery to the Dark Lord! Before I answer you, I say, let me ask a question in turn. Do you really think that the Dark Lord has not asked me each and every one of those questions? And do you really think that, had I not been able to give satisfactory answers, I would be sitting here talking to you?”

She hesitated.

“I know he believes you, but...”

“You think he is mistaken? Or that I have somehow hoodwinked him? Fooled the Dark Lord, the greatest wizard, the most accomplished Legilimens the world has ever seen?”

He is accusing Bella of heresy. He has clearly learned a thing or two about manipulation, having spent his entire adult life either under Voldemort or under Dumbledore. He presents himself as selfish for staying with Dumbledore, and he presents Voldemort’s words as gospel: “The Dark Lord does not complain that I stayed, so I do not see why you do.” He also takes pride in being closer to him and more useful:

“But what use have you been?” sneered Bellatrix. “What useful information have we had from you?”

“My information has been conveyed directly to the Dark Lord,” said Snape. “If he chooses not to share it with you —”

“He shares everything with me!” said Bellatrix, firing up at once.

“He calls me his most loyal, his most faithful —”

“Does he?” said Snape, his voice delicately inflected to suggest his disbelief.“Does he still, after the fiasco at the Ministry?”

The master stroke is the subtle insinuation that lowly half-blood Snape is closer to Voldemort than Bellatrix is. This makes her lose what little composure she had, and plays on her insecurity. Her interrogation ends shortly thereafter, and she seems satisfied with explanations that are frankly not very convincing.

“If he has forbidden it, you ought not to speak,” said Snape at once. “The Dark Lord’s word is law.”

Narcissa gasped as though he had doused her with cold water. Bellatrix looked satisfied for the first time since she had entered the house.

“There!” she said triumphantly to her sister. “Even Snape says so: You were told not to talk, so hold your silence!”

Bella is enforcing silence on her sister. This phenomenon exists in real cults too: Members enforce the rules on each other, the leader’s hands are clean.

Bella tells Cissy off for caring whether Draco lives or dies:

“Draco should be proud,” said Bellatrix indifferently. “The Dark Lord is granting him a great honor. And I will say this for Draco: He isn’t shrinking away from his duty, he seems glad of a chance to prove himself, excited at the prospect —”

I think this was LV’s pitch to Bella: She is the one who wanted to prove herself.

Bella is willing to give him so much, and he gives her nothing. Also, twice she claims that it’s a point of pride to be willing to die for the Dark Lord.

In DLA, he is particularly subtly abusive toward her:

“My Lord,” said a dark woman halfway down the table, her voice constricted with emotion, “it is an honor to have you here, in our family’s house. There can be no higher pleasure.”

[...]

Bellatrix leaned toward Voldemort, for mere words could not demonstrate her longing for closeness.

Why is Bellatrix halfway down the table? She has been unfailingly loyal, why is he punishing her with distance? Is he punishing her for being related to Narcissa?

“No higher pleasure,” repeated Voldemort, his head tilted a little to one side as he considered Bellatrix. “That means a great deal, Bellatrix, from you.”

Her face flooded with color; her eyes welled with tears of delight.

“My Lord knows I speak nothing but the truth!”

Look how nice he’s being! Look how happy he makes her! Except this is immediately followed by teasing her about her niece’s marriage:

“No higher pleasure... even compared with the happy event that, I hear, has taken place in your family this week?”

She stared at him, her lips parted, evidently confused.

“I don’t know what you mean, my Lord.”

“I’m talking about your niece, Bellatrix. And yours, Lucius and Narcissa. She has just married the werewolf, Remus Lupin. You must be so proud.”

There was an eruption of jeering laughter from around the table. Many leaned forward to exchange gleeful looks; a few thumped the table with their fists. The great snake, disliking the disturbance, opened its mouth wide and hissed angrily, but the Death Eaters did not hear it, so jubilant were they at Bellatrix and the Malfoys’ humiliation. Bellatrix’s face, so recently flushed with happiness, had turned an ugly, blotchy red.

He is punishing with humiliation. Lucius screwed up the mission at the DOM and Draco didn’t kill Dumbledore, but what did Bella do? Nobody is safe. Instead of resenting the way she is treated, Bellatrix demonstrates her fanaticism:

“She is no niece of ours, my Lord,” she cried over the outpouring of mirth. “We — Narcissa and I — have never set eyes on our sister since she married the Mudblood. This brat has nothing to do with either of us, nor any beast she marries.”

[...]

“Many of our oldest family trees become a little diseased over time,” he said as Bellatrix gazed at him, breathless and imploring.

“You must prune yours, must you not, to keep it healthy? Cut away those parts that threaten the health of the rest.”

“Yes, my Lord,” whispered Bellatrix, and her eyes swam with tears of gratitude again. “At the first chance!”

“You shall have it,” said Voldemort. “And in your family, so in the world... we shall cut away the canker that infects us until only those of the true blood remain....”

Bella does not needanyone (a half-blood!) to teach her she must keep her family tree pure. She clearly doesn’t know crucial things about Tom Riddle, or is in denial. This is the same Bellatrix who killed her own cousin, so she is very capable of “pruning” her own family tree.

At the Malfoy Manor:

“Gold!” laughed Bellatrix, still attempting to throw off her brother-in-law, her free hand groping in her pocket for her wand. “Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his — of —”

She stopped struggling, her dark eyes fixed upon something Harry could not see. Jubilant at her capitulation, Lucius threw her hand from him and ripped up his own sleeve —

“STOP!” shrieked Bellatrix. “Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!”

She seeks only the honor of his [something], but she is scared to death of him. She will kill for him and die for him, but she is keenly aware of the possibility that he might kill her - yet she loves him. She is a true believer - without him, she is nothing, and her devotion controls her every interaction. In her defense, he does not let others kill her, at least - he saves her at the end of the battle at the Department of Mysteries and seems upset when she dies.

Bellatrix thinks independently once: She doesn’t trust Snape, even though her master does. This is not so odd - the half-blood appears to be undermining her, to have aspirations to griw even closer to Voldemort than her - her jealousy and insecurity override how brainwashed she is. The dynamic between the Black sisters exemplifies the way cults drive wedges between family members - not that the Black family needed any help with that.

Peter’s vulnerability is obvious: His own friends think he’s worthless. He clearly isn’t - he became an animagus too, and he tricked Sirius, kill 12 Muggles with a single curse, and perform the tasks to revive Voldemort - but Voldemort exploited Peter’s insecurity, and even whatever guilt Peter had felt at betraying his friends. Sirius says Peter always sought the protection of the biggest bully. His “uselessness” was the express reason Sirius switched with Peter - obviously, someone like that could never be pegged for a potential spy. Voldemort must have made Peter feel valuable, like there was something only Peter could do - and when Peter’s choices ran out, he showed Peter his true colors.

We’ve seen how LV treated Peter at the resurrection ceremony. We also have the way he bossed him around in the first chapter of GOF, and that he forced Peter to work as Snape’s “assistant”, as seen in Spinner’s End. Sending Peter to work for Snivellus was brilliantly cruel - Peter must have viewed this as the height of humiliation.

In Dark Lord Ascending, he is shrinking himself to near non-existence:

“Yes, m-my Lord,” gasped a small man halfway down the table, who had been sitting so low in his chair that it had appeared, at first glance, to be unoccupied. Now he scrambled from his seat and scurried from the room, leaving nothing behind him but a curious gleam of silver.

In part 3 - Draco, Regulus, Snape, Lucius, general dynamics, and more speculations!