Datasets:
mickume
/
alt_potterverse

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
1
text
stringlengths
0
57.5k
What could she even say to that? It was all too true.
"Yes, Luna," Harry said, giving Hermione a pained look. "That may be, but I’m sure this isn’t making Hermione feel better."
"No, it’s exactly what I needed to hear," Hermione said at once. "I was questioning things in my own mind before I came here, because"—she lowered her voice to nearly a whisper—"it seems that he was right that some of our associates’ families are up to more than they say they are."
Harry looked uncomfortable and a little bit irritated at that. "Luna and I were just talking about that," he said, "and I wonder if my parents and godfather are part of it. Their letters lately have been very... cagey. I cannot explain exactly how, and I doubt you would notice unless you had corresponded with them a lot before and knew them very well, as I do. There’s just something different about their recent correspondence. I also wonder about Neville’s parents. If it has to do with"—he spoke in a hush—"removing Malfoy, then they almost have to be part of it. No one family can do that by themselves. I wonder what Sir Percival is really doing."
"So do I," Hermione muttered. "I wish I could find out."
"It won’t be long before we visit our families for the winter holidays," Harry said. "I can see what I can find out from mine."
"And I from my father," Luna added. She gazed at Hermione. "You are fostered with Lord Thomas’s mother, aren’t you?"
Hermione nodded.
"You can send me owls if you become lonely," she stated. "He should be kind to you again, like Harry is kind to me, but if he isn’t ready to do that yet, then please don’t let him keep you unhappy."
Hermione still did not quite understand Luna, and her blunt manner of saying exactly what she thought was still a bit jarring, but at times like this, she was very glad that Luna did.
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
Lord Armand Malfoy smiled arrogantly as he surveyed the small family dining room. His son Abraxas and his loyal ally Rodolphus Lestrange were there, enjoying his fine wine, as they discussed what to do next. Lestrange had come with good news: The plan for the Riddle situation was in motion. Hopefully, one problem would be resolved relatively soon.
However, despite the good tidings that he brought, Lestrange looked displeased about something. Malfoy could not work out what it might be, even as he studied his fellow nobleman’s face. Lestrange appeared wary and suspicious about something. Malfoy glanced at the goblet before him. It held only wine, but perhaps Lestrange had figured out what "potion" he drank and disapproved of it. He would not have thought Lestrange capable of either thing, though. The fellow was not that bright, for one, and he certainly was in no position to get on a moral pedestal. Malfoy knew full well that Rodolphus took his pleasure from half the Muggle wenches in his fief’s village, which was a disgusting thing for a pureblood wizard to do—but in a way, who could blame the man for looking outside his marriage for that? Lady Bellatrix might be half Rosier, with good blood from civilized people on that side, but the other half of her family was from this barbarous country where wizards still let witches defy them. Perhaps their magic was sometimes equal in power to that of a wizard, but it was more volatile and prone to emotional outbursts. Lady Bellatrix was proof enough of that.
Well, if Lestrange disapproved of his potion, he had best keep it to himself, Malfoy resolved. He was the high lord of the wizards and witches of all lands that the Muggle king—or his client monarch in Scotland—ruled. His word was law now. Really, there was little point in even having a Wizards’ Council anymore. It was a relic of that primitive, rambunctious institution that they had called the Wizengamot. The time was drawing near when he should just dissolve this Council and place the magical people of this land under the authority of a single lord.
He decided to propose just that. "I have been thinking," he began, his sharp gaze darting from Abraxas to Lestrange. "When your grandfather first came to this country with me"—he nodded to Lestrange—"along with the others, we decided upon certain things in order to placate the natives. Their Wizengamot would be replaced with a Wizards’ Council, they would be allowed to keep their titles if they swore to me, their school could admit Mudbloods if they were pledged to wizards or witches of known magical blood... but eighty years have passed, and most of my generation has died, as well as some of the one after mine." He smiled at Abraxas in a way that was almost a leer. "They have had time to get accustomed to the new order, and most of them have grown up knowing nothing else."
"That is all true, my lord," Lestrange said deferentially.
"Well, I think the time has now come to consider dissolving the Wizards’ Council. We have already made the biggest move to do so, of course, with the law granting lawmaking power to each of us—in other words, to me. I realize that this would be a loss to your family, Lestrange, but I would offer you some compensation for it."
Abraxas had listened to this speech with growing indignation. His father might be right that most of the witches and wizards currently alive knew nothing else, but they did know about their country’s magical traditions. Tradition was extremely important to magical people. They also knew the reason for the Wizards’ Council. Abraxas did not believe for a second that his father could dissolve the Council without objections from the populace, even though he personally would someday benefit from it if it happened. Unless Father has other plans for me, he thought bitterly. What was that ugly look about when Father had spoken of most of his—Abraxas’s—generation having died? Did Father really intend to extend his own life indefinitely, even if it meant seeing his own offspring die of old age first? And what would Lestrange—and Arcturus Black, once he learned of it—think of having the little power they held taken away?
Lestrange did not seem at all upset by the proposal, much to Abraxas’s surprise. "I would support you in that, as in all things, my lord," he simpered. Abraxas was disgusted; Armand smirked.
"The compensation that I have in mind is for you to ascend to being my loyal advisor," Malfoy said. "As for Lord Black... frankly, he has been trying for a while to thwart me. I have only now realized it. He balked at granting Caractacus Burke permission to wed the blood-traitor Lady Riddle. I am sure that it has to do with the fact that he is of native blood. I will not punish him, but he will not be granted compensation." Smugly Malfoy drained his goblet. "I do not know how I had failed to notice it until recently. It’s as if there has been a fog about my mind that suddenly lifted. I wonder if he was cursing me... or perhaps one of the elves."
Lestrange’s eyes were glittering, and he was hanging on every word. His sharp gaze darted from father to son. Abraxas suddenly felt very uneasy. Lestrange cannot be trusted, he realized in a flash.
This plan to dissolve the Wizards’ Council could not stand, though. If Lestrange—damn him!—really did support Father "in all things," then he would support him after a change of heart. If not, then... Abraxas would have to dirty his hands. It was unpleasant, but sometimes unpleasant things were necessary. Lestrange did come from a family that was short-lived in the male line. He himself was approaching the age at which his father had begun to decline. There were things that could be done.
When he and Lestrange finished their goblets of wine, Lestrange rose to leave and bowed to Lord Malfoy and Abraxas. He passed through the doors. Abraxas did not act until he could no longer see Lestrange’s long shadow.
"Obliviate," he whispered, pointing his wand at his father’s back.
The silhouette of Lestrange suddenly reemerged from the shadows, outlined by the candlelight of the stone hall. He leered at Abraxas, whose blood ran cold at the sight.
"I thought so," Lestrange said, smugness and anticipation suffusing his voice, somehow turning the three syllables into the toll of a bell the morning of an execution.
Abraxas pointed his wand straight at Lestrange’s face. His hand trembled for a moment as he tried quickly to think of what to say. Feigning ignorance would only get Lestrange to tell Father what had just happened—and what, apparently, Lestrange had deduced had been happening for a while. In a flash, he realized that the thing to do was to send Father unconscious and take care of Lestrange—but the moment of hesitation had cost him the chance.
Lestrange strode forward into the candlelight, his face angular and hideous in the flickers. He swished his wand through the air, disarming Abraxas. Abraxas scrambled for his wand, but Lestrange cast a spell to bind him.
"What is the meaning of this, Lestrange?" Armand said, his eyebrows narrowing. He drew his wand and pointed it at the younger wizard.
Lestrange stood unafraid. "My lord, your son has been performing Memory Charms on you and doing I know not what else," he sneered. "Very likely poisoning you."
"That’s a lie!" Abraxas finally gasped.
"It is not. I caught you in the act, traitor."
"I have never poisoned Father—unless you mean the accursed potion he insists upon taking."
"Wait," Armand said, glaring at Abraxas. "You swore to me that you would not reveal the potion to anyone else. It was an Unbreakable Vow."
"I have not said what potion it is, Father," Abraxas sneered. "As you will observe, I am still alive."
"He doesn’t need to say what potion it is," snarled Lestrange. He pointed his wand at Abraxas’s face. "My lord, he has defied your will on numerous occasions, I believe, when you desired to punish the blood-traitors and rebels among our people more harshly than this coward wished. He also wanted to defy your will to disband the Wizards’ Council just now. Have you not noticed changes in your memory of late, my lord? Especially over the past two years, since the Mudblood and blood-traitor Lady Riddle came before us?"
Armand considered this thoughtfully. "Now that you mention it, I have." He shot a suspicious look at Abraxas. "I seem to remember wanting to punish the half-blood for wearing those foul barbaric knots on his robes in defiance of my order... and declaring the entire family rebels for their offense against the Lestranges."
Rodolphus Lestrange gaped. "And he erased that from your memory?"
"I think he must have," Armand agreed.
Abraxas spoke up. "I certainly did, because it was a terrible idea! It was an insult to your family, Rodolphus. I do not deny that. But she is not sworn to you, so it was not unlawful. She did not even require a reason, though she did have one."
"Are you defending her?" Armand exploded. Some of his wine made a reappearance.
"It is the law—"
"We are the law! I am the law!" Armand rose and pointed a finger at his son. "Black was with you for that meeting. The two of you have been conspiring against me! Lestrange is correct!"
"Arcturus has done nothing to you! He has never raised his wand against you," Abraxas exclaimed at once. He realized that his own life was probably forfeit, but Black could not die too. There would be no other voice of reason on the Wizards’ Council.
"And you admitted that you have," Armand said darkly.
Abraxas swallowed. "It was for your own good, Father. You have not been yourself lately. Some of your ideas would lead to war amongst our people, I am afraid. I have attempted to find out what is happening, but I cannot."
"How dare you question your father’s sanity," Lestrange growled. "You only say that because you want to allow rebellion to breed and he does not."
"To the contrary, I want to prevent rebellion. He wanted to expel the Mudblood and half-blood from Hogwarts. They would only take cover behind the walls of that castle if that happened. Can you not see that?" he exclaimed. He turned to Lestrange. "Besides, I remember that you also talked Father out of stripping Dumbledore of his title for accepting the Longbottoms’ oath."
"I merely talked him out of it," Lestrange said. "I did not curse him. You think that there should be no consequences for that village or the school."
"They have done nothing illegal."
"It is an act of provocation!" exclaimed Armand. "I will not strip the High Master of his title, but I shall void the oath. He may not accept oaths from others. That is sensible, is it not? Why have I not thought of this before... or have I?" he realized, his voice dark as he glared at Abraxas.
"You probably have, my lord," simpered Lestrange.
"A wizard has raised his wand against me," Armand said. His face was cold and dark. His robes were white—a curious choice, Abraxas reflected wildly—but in the candlelight, he looked very much like an evil spirit. "This cannot go unpunished."
Lestrange broke into a grin. Abraxas’s blood ran cold, even though he had thought he had accepted his own death. "Father—no! I am your son, your ally! Lestrange does not have your interests at heart—"
"Why should he believe anything a traitor claims about his interests? Who damaged his mind? Not I."
"I didn’t either! It was already happening. You have not been yourself, Father!" he gasped. "I have tried to help you. I wish I knew what was happening to you. It is not the potion."
"If you think he was failing, then why did you not give him more of his potion?"
"Very true," Armand agreed gravely. "You believed I was declining, but you raised your wand against me. I cannot allow treason to exist, even in my own family. You looked to your own advantage instead of that of your lord. Lestrange is not even related closely to me, but he has been more loyal by far."
Lestrange smirked.
"Lestrange is a hypocrite!" Abraxas exclaimed. He could not move his arms, but he cast the most malevolent glare he could manage at the younger man. "He thought that a commoner like Burke was the only wizard fit to marry Lady Riddle, because she had had relations with a Muggle—but do you know what he does?"
"You fool," Lestrange said disdainfully. "Everyone knows that because women are entered and claimed, they are defiled in the act. Men—wizards—are not."
"Enough of this vulgarity," Armand said. He turned to Lestrange. "My loyal liege man, you know what you must do." He turned aside.
Hope left Abraxas in that moment, but he was not going to die pleading for mercy from the likes of Rodolphus Lestrange. "If he orders you to wait on him, you will get what you deserve," he said spitefully. "I believe from personal experience that a curse also falls on one who slaughters a unicorn, not just one who, like Father, drinks its blood."
Rodolphus swished his wand through the air at once, but he was too late. As soon as the words left Abraxas’s mouth, he collapsed to the ground, felled by the breach of his own Unbreakable Vow. He was dead before Lestrange’s throat-slitting curse struck him.
Lestrange swore violently. In his rage, he kicked the corpse on the floor. "Bastard!" he spat.
"Do not speak thus of him," Armand said in warning. "That, at least, he was not."
Lestrange instantly became penitent. "I beg your pardon, my lord. I spoke in anger."
Armand sighed. "It is a pity, in a way... but perhaps Lucius will be more loyal to the family. He already has a manor, after all. I believe that Abraxas must have coveted what is mine."
"I agree, my lord."
"He attributed his own demise to a curse, but here I stand," Armand said. He gazed at Lestrange. "Do not fear his dying words. I believe it is merely a superstition."
Lestrange swallowed. "Then, my lord, you do expect me to...."
"Oh, not you. You have a household of your own. I think... Carrow. Yes. Carrow is your vassal. Send him to me after you return to your castle tonight."
"Yes, my lord."
"As much as I hate displaying the perfidy of those in my own family, it must be known that I tolerate no treason even from my own son. This must look like an execution. See to it that the body bears that appearance, Lestrange. After that, we will discuss new, proper laws." In a swish of white robes, he left the chamber, leaving Lestrange to mutilate the body.
Canis Manor on the Thames.
Regulus Black accepted the bundle of papers from Ted Tonks, his steward. He untied the string binding the stack together and cast a spell to banish the bulk of the papers, which he knew had been created by a magic spell. This left a single magic-protected document. He read it carefully, his forehead furrowing in concern.
"Thank you, Tonks. You may take your leave. Kreacher!"
In the next instant, the wizened house-elf appeared. "Master?" he croaked.
"I have word from our source that Lestrange has persuaded Lord Malfoy to execute his own son. Malfoy is also dissolving the Wizards’ Council. Go at once to Grandfather’s manor and tell him about this. Advise him to establish strong magical defenses on his fief, and especially on his castle. My parents live there too! They have no time to spare, if Malfoy and Lestrange mean to attack my family."
"Yes, Master." The elf’s face was drawn in alarm as he obeyed his master’s command.
Regulus scowled to himself as he considered his next decision. He really did not want to write this letter... but his brother did live in a village that was ruled by Lucius Malfoy. He dipped his quill in ink and began to write.
The Potter Cottage, Godric’s Hollow.
James Potter glowered at the letter that Sirius had just passed to him. "What is his motive?" he growled in suspicion.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Sirius carped. "I haven’t trusted him ever since he sent that scathing reply to me a couple of years ago when I suggested that Moony and I strike fear into Malfoy."
"In fairness to him, that was a terrible idea," James muttered under his breath. "But he has still chosen to remain in good standing with your parents and grandfather."
"Exactly," Sirius agreed. "I am pretty sure that he also writes to Snivellus. About this letter, I would think that he was baiting us to write back something that would look treasonous, which he could then pass on to the Malfoys... but...."
"But he is also worried about your parents and grandfather," James finished.
Lily Potter stepped up, giving both wizards exasperated looks. "It does not seem that complicated to me. Lord Regulus is warning you because he sincerely does not want you to come to harm despite your disagreements."
The wizards blinked, as if that had not occurred to them. James opened his mouth as if to argue, but he shut it at once. Sirius sighed and shook his head rapidly, in a rather canine manner, but not to contradict her. "I suppose that may be," Sirius admitted grudgingly.
"It is not our responsibility to protect him, though," said James. "I think we should write to the Weasleys, in fact. One of their sons has been knighted recently, by the king himself, and another is supposed to return from the Continent soon with the goblins. Armand Malfoy has only weakened himself by placing his faith in Lestrange. It will be easier for us now."
Lily scowled. "I do not like this. There must be a better way."
"Oh, it will be fine, my dear," James said, getting up and giving her a peck on the cheek. She barely moved, though he did not notice. "We can rule ourselves as we see fit."
"You had better."
Castle Draconis (formerly Castle Leo), Godric’s Hollow.
The scene on the tapestry behind Lord Lucius Malfoy moved. This part of the castle, the Great Hall, was outfitted with heavy textiles that told many proud stories, including the story of the Malfoy family and the conquest of this land. On this particular tapestry, a snake slithered around the neck of a lion, choking it.
Lucius frowned as he read the letter. His lady wife Narcissa sat next to him, reading the same document on the table before them.
At last they finished. Lucius heaved a sigh and met Narcissa’s eyes with his own. "I will not believe that my father was a traitor to the family. This is Lestrange’s doing. How will we tell Draco about this?"
"I do not know. Your grandfather... and Lestrange."
"Lestrange," Lucius said, distaste in his words. "Between us, my dear, I would like to remove him. He is a bad lord, and he should have known better than to accept the oaths of the Carrows. It has caused nothing but trouble. My father is dead because of this, his name tainted, and that upstart is trying to supplant him. To supplant us."
"And the way he treats my sister is atrocious," Narcissa said tightly.