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Hermione glanced at the others. Tom was attempting to make himself look bored, but he was not succeeding. Lady Merope presided in the high seat, attempting to make herself look serene, but also not succeeding. She was nervous and eager in turns—and Severus Snape was anxious indeed. Hermione wondered who the guest was that Snape would be nervous about meeting him... or her.
On the other side of the doors to the great hall, a distinctive pop of Apparition sounded. The house-elves were waiting for the guest to appear. In a minute, the doors creaked open, and the elves eagerly led a wizard robed in black across the grand room toward the high seat. Hermione examined the man as he approached. He was moderately handsome, about the age of Severus—or perhaps a few years younger—and with very dark hair. She was quite sure that she had never seen him before, and she did not recognize his resemblance in anyone she did know.
"Lord Regulus Black of Canis Manor, heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Black," declared one of the elves.
Hermione’s eyes widened. She noticed that Tom’s did as well, but only for a moment. His eyebrows instantly narrowed in suspicion as Black reached them and bowed.
The four rose and welcomed him. "My lord," Merope said feelingly. "You are most welcome."
Black smiled, but it did not last. "Thank you, my lady Riddle. You are gracious."
"Let us discuss this in a private sitting room," Merope said. She descended from the seat, Tom, Hermione, and Snape following. She led the way to a small parlor that Hermione was quite familiar with, opening the door to let them all enter.
Once they were seated and the door sealed tightly—Snape cast several spells, Hermione noted with interest—Merope spoke again.
"My lord Regulus, you do our house honor by coming. It is courageous of you to do this at such a time."
"Thank you," he said again, "but it is at times like this when I think it’s most crucial to make a stand, my lady."
Tom gazed curiously at the wizard. So did Hermione. Was Regulus about to swear an alliance on behalf of his family? That was important....
"As you know, my lord grandfather Arcturus no longer has a seat on the Wizards’ Council... because the Wizards’ Council no longer exists," he said dryly. "This fact changes a lot of things. But before I continue, I must ask that the young people swear not to reveal what they are about to hear to anyone outside this room, if you please, your ladyship?" He seemed uncertain at the end, asking permission—which made sense, as Tom was her son and Hermione her ward.
Merope looked startled for a moment, but she nodded her consent. "As long as it is not the Unbreakable Vow. That’s not to say that I discount the risks you take, Lord Regulus, but Tom is my only heir, and Hermione is to marry him. I’m sure you understand...?"
"I do. All oaths have consequences to one’s magic or one’s well-being if broken, after all...." He trailed off awkwardly.
"And frankly, it is not in their interest to tell others about you," Snape put in. He turned to Tom and Hermione with eyebrows raised.
Merope spoke up. "If either of you do not wish to hear this, you may leave, of course."
Hermione shook her head, followed swiftly by Tom. "I wish to hear," she said. She raised her hand, holding her wand. "And I swear I will speak of what I am about to hear to no one except those in this room." The tip of her wand flared briefly.
"I swear this as well," Tom chimed in, holding his wand aloft as it gleamed.
Regulus nodded. "I accept your oaths." He twined his fingers together and stretched his arms in front of him. "Very well. First of all... I have been telling information to Severus. For a long time, this included privileged information from the Wizards’ Council itself and its members."
Tom did not seem wholly surprised by this, Hermione noted.
"Even though my grandfather is no longer on the Council, and Rodolphus Lestrange appears to have Lord Malfoy’s ear exclusively, I mean to continue in this role," Regulus continued. "But... I am also here to offer my wand if it... should come to blows, as I fear it will. Malfoy has been very aggressive against your family, as you of course know far better than I. And my grandfather, frankly, believes that Lestrange will have him killed at some point, now that he has manipulated Lord Malfoy into killing his own son. I hope my grandfather is wrong, but he is a wise man—yes, Lord Thomas, he is, even if you disagree with some of his views"—Hermione noticed that Tom was scowling scornfully at this—"and I fear that he may be correct. I do not yet know what my parents think of your family, so I am making this offer only on behalf of my own family, and it must be secret for the time being. If I need to make it public, that will release you from your oaths of silence."
Merope spoke up. "I understand the danger in which you have placed yourself, Lord Regulus," she said, "and your gesture does not go unfelt. It is a great honor to have the support of anyone from the House of Black, an ancient English wizarding family."
"The time is swiftly coming for all witches and wizards who value our way of life to support each other," Regulus said. "When my lady wife and I visited my grandfather in the North recently, he offered a very disturbing theory."
"And what might that be?"
"He thinks that Malfoy and Lestrange might have made a formal alliance with one of the Muggle pretenders to the throne. Apparently he heard that magic had been sighted in one of the Muggle skirmishes. I need not say," he said dryly as everyone in the room, including Hermione, gasped, "that this possibility, if true, poses a grave risk to us."
"I did not know this," Snape admitted. "You said nothing of it."
Regulus gave him a dark smile. "I decided it was better to say in person, so that everyone could hear it directly from me."
"That is terrible," Tom declared, as all heads turned in his direction. His face was stormy, his eyebrows narrowed in anger at the very idea. "The Muggle pretender Stephen has offered the church everything it wants, and anyone who thinks they would not try to poke their fingers into wizarding business is fooling himself."
"Tom," Merope said gently, "mind your tone, please."
"He’s right, though, my lady," Regulus said, his voice grim. "It’s one thing to live a virtuous life and honor one’s God, but there are those who regard magic itself as evil... and of course, the only way that witches such as your ladyship can retain your position is if Muggle power over our culture is kept to a minimum." He considered. "I was thinking more along the lines of the winner of the Muggle crown being beholden to Malfoy and Lestrange, and therefore aiding their bloody vengeance against all their enemies, but your son is right as well."
"He is a profligate spender, a blight on the national treasury, and his noble supporters back him in part because his cousin is a woman," Snape added. "They have no reason to object to anything that Malfoy and Lestrange would get him to do, if there really is an alliance and it’s with him."
"And the Muggle "Empress’ Matilda is little better, if she’s the one they are backing," Tom sneered, on a roll now, his words heated. "She’s a foreigner with foreign ties and foreign ways. We don’t need any more of that in this country."
"Tom," Merope began, her tone sharp.
"I’m sorry, Mother," he said at once, but to Hermione’s ears it sounded insincere. He turned to Regulus. "I apologize, my lord."
Regulus nodded. Then—to Hermione’s shock—he turned to her. "What do you think, Lady Hermione? Your parents are Muggle nobles. Do they have a preference?"
Hermione was startled. "No, Lord Regulus, they have always been neutral in the conflict, preferring to maintain what they have rather than risk backing the wrong person. They have wanted to keep the peace, always, valuing that above other considerations."
Regulus nodded again. "That’s good to hear. Always better for there to be no complications." He smiled darkly. "That said, Lady Merope, I am afraid that your son is correct. Both of these Muggle pretenders are... compromised... and Lord Thomas, I would like to remind you that the Empress has also made offers to the church to solicit their support. It’s just for the best if wizards stay out of a Muggle conflict entirely, and it troubles me deeply that it may be too late for that."
"What can we do, in your view?" Merope asked.
He sighed. "My grandfather is trying to get to the bottom of the rumor about magic in a Muggle battle. It may be that we’re worrying about nothing, and I hope that is the case. But if we are not, then we will have to consider intervening as well to... eliminate... those who are most deeply involved."
So it may come to war after all, Hermione thought unhappily. She spared a glance at Tom, whose dark eyes were gleaming with a disturbing light.
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
Rodolphus Lestrange glared furiously at the wizard who cowered before him. Although he was still a fairly young man, his face was covered in dark pockets and scars.
"It’s because I took a false oath," he whimpered. "My own magic is revolting against me for it."
Lestrange sneered disdainfully. "If it were that simple, oathbreakers could be readily identified by sight. It looks very much to me as if you are in need of a health potion."
The other wizard shook his head. "It’s a curse. I know it is. Please, Lord Lestrange, I cannot let this happen to my son. He is about to speak, but I yet have time to change my mind."
"Your son will be unaffected as long as you have not told him about our agreement." Lestrange rose from his chair. "Your part in this is crucial. You have picked the winning side, but I will only reward loyalty, not cowardice. We have been thwarted, and now I believe that Severus Snape has murdered one of my most loyal vassals. He’s beyond the reach of justice as long as Merope Riddle rules the barony of Hangleton. I insist that you go through with this, Wilkes."
Castle Parselhall at Hangleton.
After Regulus Black’s visit, Hermione very much wanted to write to her friends about the development, but she had sworn a magical oath not to speak of it. If they learned, it would have to be through Regulus’s brother, Sirius, who lived with Harry’s parents. That seemed unlikely; Sirius was not treated as one of the family anymore. However, there was nothing that Hermione could do about it—other than break her word. It was frustrating, but she had to keep this secret. Regulus’s life might depend on it. His usefulness as a source of information certainly did.
Fortunately for her, she did have communications from Luna and Ginevra—Ginny, she thought with a smile at the nickname—about other, highly interesting subjects. Within a month of her arrival, Luna sent her a barn owl bearing a letter. The owl remained perched on the diamond-paned window of Hermione’s room. Crookshanks stared back at it in a territorial way, as if to say, "This is my space, and any prey here belong to me."
"Sorry, owl, but there are no rodents in this castle," she muttered as she popped the seal on the letter—a seal bearing the imprint of an eagle, since Luna’s family were distantly related to Rowena Ravenclaw. A few years ago, she would have felt a fool for talking to an animal in a serious manner, but magical creatures and letter-carrying owls were different. The barn owl understood, spread its wings, and soared through the open casement down to the ground to find prey as Hermione read her letter.
This has been an interesting summer. For one, I have been away from Lovegood Tower quite a lot. Harry invited me to Godric’s Hollow to meet his parents and godfather, and naturally I accepted. They offered for Harry to share his godfather’s room and me to have his bed, but I did not want to inconvenience them. I have been returning home at night, with the Apparition assistance of Harry’s mother. She never went to Hogwarts, but then you know that. It’s a pity and a great wrong. She learned how to Apparate from Harry’s father and godfather. I can’t wait to learn how to do it myself, either next year or the one after that.
Hermione felt an inexplicable pang at the idea of Harry’s inviting Luna to meet his family. Since they did not live in the same village, that was a serious step, even for a witch and wizard who could travel magically. This is nothing to me, she told herself. Harry might have fancied me at the very beginning, but he knew better than to seriously consider someone who had a title and was promised to another boy, especially after Tom and I became so close. A hard lump formed in her throat at those memories. Harry has some Gryffindor qualities in him and might have considered a romantic "rescue" if Tom and I had never had those moments, if we visibly cared nothing about each other, but we did. I can hardly blame Harry for turning his eyes to a witch who was actually available, and I am glad that he is happy and does not have to think about the stress and troubles of playing the romantic hero in an unhappy noble betrothal. Finding some odd, twisted comfort in this morose thinking, she continued reading the letter.
Harry’s godfather Sirius is meeting a witch, though! Her name is Marlene Valant and they say—Harry’s father and godfather, that is—that she was at Hogwarts with them. She used to be McKinnon, from Hogsmeade in Scotland, but she married a Muggle. She is a widow now, though, after her husband fell in service to the Empress Matilda a year ago, and she hates hearing of the Muggle conflict as a result. After he died, she moved to Godric’s Hollow. She has a one-year-old daughter. Harry’s father seems oddly ambivalent about the relationship. I don’t know why. She is very nice and Sirius seems happy. One would think he would want Sirius to have a household of his own.
Sirius also spends time with a friend of his and Harry’s father’s who lives in an isolated cabin in the forest. This wizard is a werewolf, so naturally he does not reside in the village itself, but I have met him. The full moon comes only once every lunar cycle, after all, and he is safe at all other times.
Harry’s father—and mother, to an extent—correspond frequently with the Weasleys, the Longbottoms, as well as with High Master Dumbledore occasionally, I think. I don’t know, but I have seen the seal of Hogwarts on one of their letters. They never talk about anything from those letters, though. Of late, even Sirius and his werewolf friend have seemed a bit put out about it, almost as if the Potters, Weasleys, Longbottoms, and Dumbledore are keeping them in the dark on purpose. I have written to Ginny, who tells me that the older members of her family are definitely keeping something secret from her, her brother Ronald, and the twins. It is all very suspicious and I think it must relate to... well, I won’t say, but you know. Harry agrees with me. Unfortunately we have made no progress toward discovering what our families may be doing. It was dreadful to hear that Lord Thomas was tortured at Hogwarts and it does seem as though war is inevitable someday, so I think our elders should tell us what they are up to. We’re not children anymore.
Hermione considered the rest of this letter. It was quite interesting that the letters were flying so fast among the Friends of the Founders, and it was even more curious that they were not telling their children what was being discussed. Could it be that they did not quite trust their children’s discretion—or did they fear truth serum if any of Malfoy or Lestrange’s people decided to "question" pupils at Hogwarts about their parents’ doings? Given what had happened to Tom, perhaps it was not an unreasonable fear... but then, what were the parents’ doings? Hermione understood why they might want to keep their children unaware, but that did not provide any resolution as to what they were planning.
As for Sirius Black’s relationship, Hermione thought little about it. James Potter had lived with his best friend for years. Sirius had gotten himself disowned by his family for his associations. Of course Potter was jealous of any other claim on his friend, especially one that might take him out of the Potter household permanently. Luna and Harry were just used to seeing suspicious behavior, so they probably saw it where it did not truly exist.
Hermione composed a reply to Luna, folded it once the ink had dried, and left it under a pile of books. She would send it once she had considered it further—and once Luna’s owl returned from its feast. There were no vermin in the castle; Severus and Merope’s wards—and, in the summer and early winter, the prowlings of Crookshanks—had made quite sure of that after the appearance of rat damage a couple of years ago. The owl would have to fend for itself here.
Hermione left her room and headed down to the ground floor, passing Tom on the stone stairs as she did. He met her eyes briefly but said nothing. He was clutching a letter of his own, she noticed—but it was nothing to her. Let him have his secret correspondence with his friends! She knew a couple of them were coming to visit later, anyway. If he told tales about her to them, it was nothing she had not experienced before, she thought unhappily. That, after all, was how their separation had begun in the first place. He could complain about her all he liked. She was not going to let him put her aside. If she had to live the life of a noble in an unhappy match, then by God, so would the person responsible for it.
Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire.
"Arcturus Black was a part of it, I’ve no doubt," Rodolphus Lestrange said to Armand Malfoy as they munched on food halfheartedly in a side parlor.
Malfoy nodded. "It is possible he was even the instigator. It is a great pity that Abraxas got embroiled in treason, but Black was probably the one who started it."
Lestrange was less convinced of that. In his view, Abraxas Malfoy was more likely to have been the originator, since his father’s death would have meant that he would have become the high lord of all wizards in Britain. But it was also possible that he and Black egged each other on. Lestrange himself had not always wanted to take measures as extreme as Lord Malfoy did, but from the very beginning, Black and Abraxas Malfoy had been a team of negativity—a pair of doubters, casting cold water upon every suggestion that would have shown strength over the blood-traitors that troubled them. "If we do this, there will be revolt." "Our power is limited." "The castle is impregnable." Doubt after doubt after doubt, Lestrange thought—and what had it gotten them? The Riddle-Granger match looked very much as if it really would take place in a year or two, depending on how quickly the Mudblood completed her education—and her example would be an instigation for others. He and Lord Malfoy had created the new law banning any additional Mudbloods from Hogwarts after her, but it seemed like it might be too little, too late. There would be a fight over it unless they took care of the problem quickly.
Black would not even support having Lady Riddle marry Caractacus Burke anymore, Lestrange thought. His intentions for the marriage, and Lord Malfoy’s, were quite different to Black’s and Abraxas’s, which had centered on putting a pureblood ally in charge of a magical fortress and potentially having an infant Burke who was pureblood and would therefore cut off the young half-blood rebel from inheriting. Lestrange and Lord Malfoy now wanted the match to take place so that Burke could kill Lord Thomas and Lady Hermione. That would remove the threat permanently. They would not live in righteous indignation at having been deprived, which would be a motive for them to gather enemies of the regime under their banner. After the Scabior incident, Lestrange wanted them dead. Once Lady Riddle produced a healthy infant with Burke, the plan was for her to die too. Lestrange was finished with half-measures—but he was very sure that Black would not support this. Every time the subject of killing Riddle and Granger had arisen, he had shouted it down as a horrible idea. Lestrange also suspected that he had moral qualms about it, which just disgusted him; but the fact that the Riddle lady had only consolidated her power—making defense alliances with noble families, getting Severus Snape firmly on her side, accumulating wealth—had definitively proven Black wrong as to the strategy, Lestrange thought. Well—one of those alliances is a trap, and it won’t be long now.
He returned his gaze to his lord. "That may be, your lordship," he said. "Either way, they certainly conspired together. Just before Abraxas died, do you remember what he said? He was quite eager to protect Black. Of course they were both involved." He sighed. "But what to do? Castle Black is as much of a magical fortress now as Castle Gaunt." Lestrange refused to use the name "Parselhall." "And I’m certain that they would not admit even your high lordship as a guest without searching you."
Malfoy leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "You are right, Rodolphus, but I have had another idea. You see, the Blacks seem to trust Lucius and Narcissa. I know this because Lucius idly mentioned that Narcissa’s aunt Walburga corresponded with her, mentioning that Narcissa’s father Cygnus would be moving out of his manor to Castle Draconis in Godric’s Hollow soon."
"Cygnus’s wife is a Rosier," Lestrange said. "She can obviously be trusted, being of civilized stock, but what about him?"
"It says something that he is choosing to live with Lucius rather than Arcturus, does it not?"
Lestrange was confused, as he tried to wrap his mind around the tangle of loyalties. "Your lordship said that the Blacks trust Lucius and Narcissa. Should they not?"
Malfoy gazed past Lestrange wordlessly. "Lucius and Narcissa are deciding on their loyalties, I think," he finally said. "I hope they choose correctly. And this brings me to my plan. With Cygnus in residence at Lucius’s castle, Arcturus Black will be even more inclined to trust them. I think that they would be willing to visit Lucius for a feast, and there is the opening."
Lestrange was still confused. "I don’t understand, my lord," he said respectfully. "Do you think that Black will visit Lucius if you are already known to be there? Because...." He trailed off.
Malfoy laughed evilly. "Oh, Rodolphus, that is not what I mean. You wouldn’t know, of course... but there is a secret entrance into the castle. It dates from before we Malfoys owned it, when it belonged to Gryffindor. I learned of it and used it to lead the surprise attack that resulted in his removal from the castle. The fool did not have any ward over it, relying strictly on secrecy... pity for him that he was betrayed." Malfoy smirked. "There is a blood ward over this entrance now, of course, but as I am the one who cast it, it will allow any of Malfoy blood into the castle. I do not think Lucius knows about it."
Lestrange’s eyes were wide as he took this in. "How did you learn of this, my lord? Did Gryffindor speak of it after he swore the oath to you?"
"No," Malfoy replied, "he did not." The tone of his voice indicated that the subject was closed. "Here is my plan, Rodolphus. It is the custom of the family to hold a leaving feast before Draco returns to Hogwarts. Your lady wife and daughter may be present; unfortunately I cannot spare you—"
"I am ever at your service," Lestrange said. "And they wouldn’t trust me, anyway."
"No, they wouldn’t," Malfoy agreed mercilessly. "On the day of the feast, before the guests arrive, I will sneak into the castle and dust the bed that will be Arcturus Black’s with poison. He will die in his sleep on the first night."
Lestrange considered this. "A fine idea, my lord. Will it be identifiable as poison after they discover that he is dead? Or does it not matter to you?"
"Lucius does not know of the secret entrance, so I do not care. Let the Blacks think that Lucius poisoned him. Let Lucius and Narcissa wonder if there is treachery afoot in their own household. Anything to break the bond between the families, and bind Lucius firmly to our side, is something you should support—and sowing chaos and mistrust would do it."
Lestrange smirked, agreeing wholeheartedly.
"Now, you have mentioned a plan to take care of the Riddle problem," Malfoy continued. "How goes it?"
"It should bear fruit soon, my lord."
Castle Draconis, Godric’s Hollow.
It was the end of summer, and Draco, the pride of his parents, the future Lord Malfoy of Britain, was to return to Hogwarts soon. This grand feast was being held in his honor, he told himself as he surveyed the head table where his extended family sat. There were his parents, his Black grandparents, his aunts Bellatrix and Andromeda, his uncle Regulus, and Regulus’s grandfather, Lord Black. Adelaide was there too, though she looked none too happy to be there. She had been worse than usual since Christmas, Draco thought as he ate. He did not know why, what had occurred around Christmas to make her so wretchedly unpleasant—unless Granger’s assertion was actually true, which Draco could not quite rule out—but it was extremely hard on his nerves and had solidified his resolution of not marrying her. And who would gainsay it? He was the only possible Malfoy heir, unless his mother had another child—which surely she was too old to do now. She was almost forty! If he renounced his cousin and proposed to Astoria Greengrass, as he fully intended to do someday, he was quite sure he would have his way. He just had to tolerate Adelaide for a little while longer. Once he had finished Hogwarts and was declared a master of magic, he would do as he saw fit.
Uncle Regulus looked very nervous, Draco thought. He wondered why. Aunt Andromeda leaned in and whispered something in Regulus’s ear. She had apparently noticed Draco’s look, because as soon as she sat upright again, Regulus arranged his features into a look of forced calmness. Draco then shot a glance at Lord Black, who was eating little and seemed somehow ill... or perhaps tired. Why had he come if he was ill? It was true that as the patriarch of House Black, he always had attended this feast, but no one would have thought the worse of him if he stayed at home due to illness. But then, Draco thought, he didn’t look ill when he first arrived. It was only after he rested here for a bit. I hope he doesn’t spread a disease to all of us.
Aunt Bellatrix refilled her wine goblet for the second time. Draco looked down, scowling. She was a great witch, but her drinking habit often made her unpleasant to be around. Of course, a lot of the Blacks drank heavily... Draco hated to think it; that was his mother’s family, but so it was.
His father stood up to raise a toast to him—"the bright and glorious future of House Malfoy in this kingdom!"—and the guests joined in. Draco smirked to himself in pleasure.
That evening, Draco was disturbed from his sleep by the sounds of voices. Annoyance filled his mind as he awoke. There was a bit of light filtering through the glass, but not much; it was likely early dawn, and Draco was accustomed to sleeping in. Grumbling under his breath, he pulled a day robe on over his sleep robe and left his bedchamber, only to meet his Aunt Andromeda in the hallway. She cast him a darkly suspicious glance. Affronted, Draco sneered back at her.
"What’s the matter?" he asked, not attempting to be very polite.
She eyed him. "It’s best if we all meet together to discuss it," she snapped. "Come with me."
Draco’s annoyance grew as he followed her downstairs into a parlor. He took a seat next to his parents, who were glaring across the parlor at their relatives. Draco did not know what had happened, but his instinct was to take his parents’ side in it. He scanned the room. His parents, his two aunts, Adelaide, Uncle Regulus, his Black grandparents... where was Lord Black?
He did not have to wait in suspense for long. His father spoke, giving a deeply suspicious look across the room. "My friends and family," he began in grave tones, "I regret to inform you that his lordship, Arcturus Black, passed in his sleep last night."
Regulus and Andromeda seemed to withdraw into themselves protectively. "He was well when we all arrived yesterday," Regulus spoke up. "He only started to take ill after he arrived."
"What, exactly, are you implying?" Bellatrix sneered.
Regulus eyed her. "I think the implications are clear, sister. No one in this castle is unaware of what happened to our host’s honored father."
"You speak very boldly," Bellatrix snapped. She went for her wand. "Are you suggesting that Lord Lucius murdered your grandfather?"
Regulus did not reply, but merely gazed impassively at her. As he did, he wondered about Narcissa. What might she know? According to information that he had received from Snape, Regulus was very likely gazing into the eyes of a killer who, rather than acknowledging and defending what was a perfectly defensible deed, instead was pleased to let her enemies take the blame for her own act. Had she had an accomplice in killing Scabior? Was Narcissa to be trusted? She was a Black by birth, but she had married a Malfoy... but, at the same time, a Malfoy who had believed himself to be a target of Rodolphus Lestrange’s scheming. Who could be trusted? Regulus shifted his gaze and locked eyes with his uncle Cygnus, who looked genuinely stunned at the turn of events—stunned and angry.
"The sheets on his bed were found to be dusted with poison," Cygnus said tightly. "Explain that, if you can, Lucius."
Regulus and Andromeda gasped. As the shock subsided, their eyebrows narrowed in fury. Regulus reached for his wand.
"I had no idea!" Lucius exclaimed. His eyes were wide, either in surprise or a very good mimicry of it. "I would never poison a guest, least of all family!"
Cygnus gazed from his middle daughter to his eldest and youngest, studying their faces, trying to come to a decision. He winced, closing his eyes tightly for a moment. Druella, his wife, scowled, seemingly taking the side of her favorite child Bellatrix, but she had been raised according to Norman customs and did not contradict her husband in public.

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