Datasets:
mickume
/
alt_potterverse

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
1
text
stringlengths
0
57.5k
"And of course, this is why Harry’s father and the Weasleys dislike Sirius’s fiancée," she glowered. "Her first husband fell fighting for the other side!"
Tom glowered back. "Do you think we should tell Potter about this?"
She considered. "Yes," she finally said. "He was not happy when the Weasleys gave their news. He dismissed the meeting early and disbanded the group. He is angry with his father already. He needs to know."
Tom and Hermione took Harry aside privately the following evening to give him the bad news. His green eyes grew wider by the moment as they explained the full story to him—minus the information from Regulus Black, which they had sworn not to talk about with others.
"I cannot believe it," Harry gasped at last. "How could they do that? And not to tell Ginny anything?" He gazed out. "This must be what my father was keeping secret in his correspondence. And are Neville’s parents part of it? Do they support this?"
"I was not able to tell that from what I read in Weasley’s thoughts," Tom said. "I am more concerned about Dumbledore." He gazed at Hermione. "You said over Christmas that you had overheard him arguing with McGonagall about the Weasleys."
Hermione nodded. "Harry knows about that. I told him, and we agreed it had to be the Weasleys that they were discussing. Dumbledore was convinced that the Weasleys were insincere in whatever they were saying—promising—but McGonagall believed that they meant it and criticized the behavior of the boys in particular as evidence to support her opinion."
"I remember. This is put in a very different light now," Tom growled. "It sounds as if they have offered concessions to the pretender that will harm witches. So—witches, anyone who owns goblin-made property, wizarding nobles who oppose Malfoy—I wonder if they have made any other promises that betray the magical population of Britain?"
That observation was left in the air, for Hermione and Harry to contemplate.
"I am going to leave my father’s house," Harry said abruptly. "Sirius needs support."
Tom and Hermione shared knowing, secret grins.
Castle Parselhall at Hangleton.
Merope read Tom’s letter—which Hermione had also signed, she noted—and set it down abruptly. She turned to Severus in concern.
"Lord Regulus and his family were correct," she said. "There is an alliance with one of the Muggle pretenders to the throne. They were wrong about who made it, though."
Severus raised his eyebrows.
"It is not Malfoy and Lestrange. It’s the Weasley family—and very likely Albus Dumbledore."
Severus sat own in his chair, his brow furrowing. "That is not good news. That basilisk—I understand exactly why your son did not want it left at Hogwarts, even if he did not know at the time how dire this was. We need to have a plan for getting it away from Dumbledore as soon as possible."
"That may not be very soon, Severus. It cannot be Apparated, and it’s too cold to transport it by non-magical means. At least Dumbledore cannot get into the Chamber of Secrets without the complicity of a Parselmouth, and Tom is the only such at Hogwarts."
"Should we tell our allies?"
She considered that. "Let’s tell Lord Regulus. He is our chief ally now, after all, and since his grandfather was already on the trail of this when he died, he deserves to know first. We can discuss together, with him, what to do about telling the others." She gazed out the windows at the thawing grounds. "Tom and Hermione also tell me that they are concerned about the security of their wedding. It’s a valid concern."
"Their wedding should not be held on the date that we give out publicly," he said. He turned away from the landscape and faced her. She moved to face him but found it hard to meet his eyes. "It should be held—quietly—at an earlier date, with only the invited guests aware of that. Otherwise... the ceremony will be targeted. They are correct about that. Regulus is convinced that the elf source was killed, and I fear that he is right, but he was sure that Malfoy had not given up his plan to force you to marry a loyal man of his own. Frankly, I think we should make the first move."
Merope’s face turned grim. "Severus, I don’t even know what that move should be. What if Tom is right about Lord Malfoy, and he is deathless? And apparently we may have more than one enemy to fight before this is over. The ground is thawing. Summer is coming quickly."
He gazed out at the grounds once again, thinking.
Castle Draconis, Godric’s Hollow.
Lady Narcissa Malfoy passed through the great, heavily warded double doors to the private family quarters of the castle. Her beautiful face was pinched; she held a document between gloved fingers as though it bore a curse. She reached a blank expanse of wall, removed the glove on her right hand, and—keeping the scroll under her arm—drew out a small knife to nick her hand. Wincing, she pressed it against the stone surface.
A door outline appeared for a moment and then completed, revealing a heavy wooden door. It swung open of its own accord. Narcissa healed her hand and entered the room, making sure to close the door behind her.
It was a relatively small room, with a bed, two chairs, a table, and a bookcase in close quarters. A narrow doorway indicated a smaller room adjacent to it, a storage closet that had been repurposed. Bellatrix Lestrange sat in one of the chairs, reading a book, scowling deeply.
Narcissa took her seat and handed the document to her sister. "Lucius just returned from his high lordship’s castle," she said tautly. "Apparently, he has procured a civil divorce for Rodolphus. This is the announcement."
Through the narrow inside doorway, a smothered snarl echoed.
"Adelaide, come out at once and speak to your aunt," Bellatrix snapped.
She emerged from the tiny room, her face contorted in a way astonishingly like her mother’s. Bellatrix scowled for a moment, but then she supposed that, even if she were determined to look like that, at least she did not resemble her vile father. Since her mother and aunt occupied the two seats, Adelaide remained standing.
"You may sit on my bed," Bellatrix said. Adelaide complied.
Bellatrix then turned to her sister, her eyes wide and angry. "And what do I care if that bastard has divorced me? He hasn’t been faithful to his marital vows in years. He could not keep his dick out of the Muggle whores of the village—"
"Bellatrix, your daughter," Narcissa said sharply.
Bellatrix and Adelaide exchanged indifferent glances. "Do you really suppose she doesn’t know about these things?"
"It’s uncouth. You sound like an English churl, not to put too fine a point on it."
Bellatrix sneered. "Our father is English. The English churls seem to treat witches better than Normans. Far better to say "uncouth’ words than to threaten one’s wife with execution and take the side of a rapist against one’s own child! I’m very glad indeed for you that the worst you have to worry about from Lucius is that he might have a social faux pas."
Narcissa looked chastened at that.
Smugly Bellatrix continued. "As I was saying, Cissy, I don’t care if Lucius’s grandfather did that for him. It’s good riddance, as far as I am concerned! I have wanted to be rid of the Muggle-fucking lout for years. What interests me more is when and how this situation might change." She gazed scornfully around the small, hidden, windowless room. "You know that if anything happened to his high lordship, Lucius would assume the title."
"Would he?" Narcissa said darkly. "I am not convinced that he would."
"What do you mean? Do they suspect?"
"Of course they suspect!" she exclaimed. "It’s a matter of time before they force the truth out of Lucius! Fortunately, he himself cannot use the blood ward, but of course they suspect! I think there are problems with the idea of anything "happening’ to Lord Malfoy in the first place...."
Bellatrix gazed sharply at her sister. Adelaide glanced at Bellatrix in confusion. "Mother? What does she mean?"
Narcissa shook her head. "Don’t worry about it. I won’t speak of what I cannot prove. In any case, if he did die, how do you know that he would not have picked Rodolphus to be the new high lord? And then there are other factors. I am convinced that Lord Black is scheming. He wants revenge for his father’s death."
"Yes," Bellatrix drawled. "I am sure he does. Did you and Lucius have anything to do with that? It will not go beyond these walls... obviously."
"We did not. I think I know what happened now." She eyed them. "This cannot go beyond these walls either. Lucius has since then discovered a secret entrance to the castle."
Bellatrix’s eyes widened in surprise.
"It has a Malfoy blood ward on it, meaning that it would have allowed Lord Malfoy secret access. I believe that the passage itself must date from the time when Godric Gryffindor built this castle, though; it looks original to the structure."
"You think Armand Malfoy sneaked into the castle and poisoned Lord Arcturus himself?" Bellatrix exclaimed. Her face paled, as did Adelaide’s. "But that means he could get in again!"
"We have since then added charms to make it more difficult. But yes, that is what I think happened. Orion Black has remained furious about it. Our sister Andromeda is not very communicative, but I think she is with her husband Regulus on this. And I also wonder if that branch of our family is interested in allying with... the blood-traitors of Hangleton."
Bellatrix’s nose wrinkled. "It would be a disgrace if they did. Still, the Mudblood informed me of the vile thing that was done to my daughter. The one time I will ever be grateful to a Mudblood for anything."
"Riddle has a group of friends that followed him for years," Adelaide muttered. "They have openly defied the law and worn old symbols on their clothing. I think they have performed the illegal holiday rituals, too. And those families are allied with Lady Riddle now."
"So," Narcissa said, rising to her feet, "you should ponder this, sister. Lucius and I are not assuming that he will ascend to his grandfather’s position, if his high lordship is even close to death—which I highly doubt. Rodolphus might—or there might be war."
Bellatrix scowled again. "As miserable as that prospect is, at least it would mean that Adelaide and I could get out."
"If we all survived such a war," Narcissa said pointedly. "What makes you so certain that we will? No one trusts us, Bellatrix. Lucius and I have no allies except our own vassals."
"What?" she breathed, horrified.
"It’s true. The Blacks do not trust us, Lord Malfoy doesn’t, your former husband certainly doesn’t, and the Riddles seem to detest us because of our family name."
"Why do you care about that pack of blood-traitors?"
"I don’t care about them. But I am no fool, Bella, and I see signs that they are seeking something higher than what they have. If there is war, we might face the prospect of a Black or a Riddle in the seat that Lord Armand Malfoy currently holds. Obviously, if there is a war, and Rodolphus and Lord Malfoy win, we are all lost. But if not... what would you rather have, a half-blood with a Mudblood wife ruling wizarding Britain? Or a Black, as we are by birth?"
"Are you suggesting allying with that lot? Half-bloods, blood-traitors, and a Mudblood?"
"I’m suggesting nothing except that you should ponder what I’m telling you." She pushed the door open; from the inside, it did not require a blood sacrifice. With a single, pointed look, she left her sister and niece to their thoughts.
Castle Parselhall at Hangleton.
Winter was turning into spring, and Merope was noticing changes in her body. It might not have been noticeable if she were carrying only one child, but with two, she noticed that she was beginning to gain weight and that a bump was now visible. A small one, one that she could still conceal with the right robes, but nonetheless....
In the morning light of their bedroom, Severus stretched and turned to her. He smiled as he noticed what she was examining.
"They will be born healthy," he said, kissing her cheek. "I know it. Look at how well they’re developing now."
"I certainly hope so," she said. "It does look good." Her eyelids fluttered closed as he touched the place. It was still so wonderful to share the joys of a pregnancy with the child’s (or children’s) father—her husband. Sir Thomas had abandoned her before Tom was born, and even during the pregnancy, there had been the awful, terrifying secret between them—the secret of her magic, the secret of the magic that their child would certainly have. Merope could not yet detect the magic of these two, but one generally couldn’t until about half term, if then. Sometimes a prospective mother never did, and had to wait until the child was able to produce a magical outburst to know that the child was a witch or wizard.
She and Severus got out of bed and began to dress themselves. "I hate to mention this subject again," Severus began, "but we really must make plans. Having Tom and Hermione’s wedding on a secret date is only the beginning. As soon as the date that we give out passes, we will be attacked. We need the basilisk of Slytherin, and we need to consider attacking first."
"With the basilisk?" Merope said, frowning deeply. "Severus, I don’t want to do that."
He sighed. "Our allies will not want to risk their lives for us if we are not using all the weapons that we have ourselves."
"A basilisk is not like a dragon. It can easily be killed. It’s best as a surprise attack, not a weapon that everyone knows one has. Roosters aren’t exactly difficult to come by, Severus," she said wryly.
He considered that. "That is true... and it would probably persuade the allied families to accept limited use of it."
"Do they know of the basilisk?"
"You’ll have to ask your son that," he snarked. "But if he has discussed Slytherin’s chamber with his friends at all, I think it’s safe to assume that the parents at least know we might have access to it."
"I’m sure that he has told his friends about the chamber over the years." She stared out the window. "What of this new threat? We have not heard anything from Regulus yet. This is a difficult one, Severus. I almost feel that we should make an alliance with the queen-pretender, to counter this... but...."
"I think that would be a grave mistake. Her forces are losing the Muggle war." His words were grim. "We have two choices. Either make a very late play for the Muggle throne yourself, based on your ancestry—"
Merope laughed darkly. "Tom would approve of that, I’m sure! But it’s an absurd idea, no offense. That line has not ruled any part of this island in six hundred years."
"Or somehow consider a way to undermine the Friends of the Founders’ influence with the Muggle Stephen. What that might be, I do not know."
She thought about it. "The Weasley family refused to take the oath of fealty to Armand Malfoy, who—vile as he is—was King William’s choice to rule witches and wizards, and was retained by William’s sons. I wonder if Stephen knows that. I would imagine not, and I doubt he would be impressed if he did."
"So, inform him that the Weasleys refused to swear fealty to the same man that we are going to openly wage war against?" Severus said, grinning.
She shook her head. "I didn’t say it was a good idea."
He rubbed his forehead. "Unfortunately, I do not have a better one," he admitted. "We should focus first on Malfoy and Lestrange, though. They pose an immediate, dangerous, personal threat to us. I would suggest an attack on Lestrange’s castle, now that Carrow is the regent of that fief and Lestrange himself is polishing Armand Malfoy’s arse."
The corners of Merope’s mouth tugged upward at that.
"Perhaps we should deal with the Weasleys by making a tentative alliance with some of the other Friends of the Founders, so that we would at least have a seat at the table. James Potter is a prick," he sneered, "but apparently Sirius Black will be strong-armed into a marriage alliance with us, and he has ties, of course. And the Longbottoms may be reasonable."
She thought about this. "All right. We shouldn’t act while Tom and Hermione are still at Hogwarts, of course. They are too vulnerable there."
"I am very glad that Hermione studied so hard that she will be a master after only four years," she continued. "I would have thought that Tom would be jealous, but he does not seem to be when it’s Hermione. He probably knows that he could have done the same thing if he had not put as much effort into his "family research’ and "alliances.’" Her gaze darkened. "But truly, for Hermione’s sake, I am glad that she has managed this. I would worry about her if she had to stay at Hogwarts an extra year after Tom had left." She shuddered. "She would be so vulnerable there without him."
"She does have other friends," Severus said gently.
Merope took a deep breath and let it out slowly, to relax herself. "Yes. She does. It would not be as bad as if she were truly alone... and she was estranged from Tom for so long, but our enemies did not do anything bad to her. Still, they are feeling emboldened. If everything had happened the same, but Hermione had to stay an extra year... I would worry about her. Malfoy and Lestrange would—" She broke off at once. "I almost would have considered changing the contract with the Granger family so that she did not have to complete her education before getting married. Fortunately, none of that will be necessary."
Rodolphus Lestrange strode into the great castle, his wand pointed directly at the back of the wizard who walked in front of him. To either side marched Selwyn and Rosier.
His high lordship is not going to be pleased, Lestrange thought. He was already inclined to be frustrated with Burke. And now....
Malfoy sat on the high seat, his eyes gleaming in righteous anger and satisfaction as Lestrange, Selwyn, and Rosier hauled Caractacus Burke before him. Selwyn held Burke’s wand.
"Burke," Malfoy said, "you have been brought before me to answer for insubordination and cowardice. My loyal vassals visited your manor with the intention of informing you of my plans for the scheme that we had agreed to years ago—and instead, you insisted that you would not be part of it any longer! You do realize the penalty for direct defiance of your high lord, I hope?" he concluded, a sinister grin on his aged face.
Burke gazed at Malfoy’s shoes, trying to juggle subservience with courage, not wanting to look the high lord directly in the eye but also not wanting to cower. "My lord," he said, "I do not wish to defy you. Please understand this. I am not a traitor. But I am nonetheless glad that Lord Lestrange has brought me before you, because I would speak with you about this plan. I fear it cannot possibly succeed, and I would like to demonstrate my loyalty to you by dissuading you from a scheme that could be disastrous."
"Don’t listen to this cowardly scum," Selwyn growled.
Malfoy held up his hand. "You say that it cannot possibly succeed. Why?"
Burke swallowed. "My lord, I have brought the locket of Slytherin before you—and of course, your lordship knows this, but Lady Riddle and her son are descendants of him. They are Parselmouths, and they could have access to Slytherin’s great weapon."
Malfoy’s nostrils flared. "That is your reason, Burke? I know much of Salazar Slytherin, more than you, and he did indeed create a chamber in the bowels of Hogwarts to keep a monster. But there is nothing for me to fear from that! Such beasts are easy to kill. I thought that your explanation would relate to the wards that Lady Riddle has placed on her castle."
"That is another factor, sire. They are simply impassable. Any force that attempted to storm that castle would be killed from above. They could shoot curses down at us, my lord, and we could not return them due to those wards! I have examined them. They let spells out but not in. No one is getting into that castle by force, my lord, with all due respect, and I beg you not to try it. It will only result in the loss of whoever goes."
"I have already been told that no one is getting into the castle by force," Malfoy said, his lips curling upward. "That is not my plan."
Burke believed that he grasped Malfoy’s implication. "My lord, do you think you have a secret way in?"
"I will not inform the likes of you of what I may know," Malfoy snarled. He pointed his wand at Burke threateningly. "I want an assurance of your obedience before I tell you anything."