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alt_potterverse

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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She leaned forward. "What is your current relationship to James Potter?"
Tom had locked his gaze with Lupin’s as the latter spoke, swallowing hard. "I do not know what your ladyship knows of his... associates... the Weasley family," he said.
"We know that the Weasleys have a clandestine alliance with the Muggle king," she said, "and have promised the goblins of the Continent considerable treasure."
Lupin nodded. "Yes. They have, and James... supports them."
"I thought he might," Tom muttered.
"He has thrown his lot in with them entirely, which is part of the reason why I am here today. I do not know if anyone has told the king about the existence of real werewolves—I hope my old friend would not betray me by name—but if His Majesty finds out, it will not end well for us. He is a strong ally of the Church, and they would view it as a curse of the devil. A curse it certainly is, of course."
The Riddles and Severus contemplated this. Finally Merope spoke again. "You are estranged from your friend because of this political difference?"
"Yes, your ladyship. And he is estranged from me, I think. It began not quite a year ago, when he learned of something involving his wife...." Lupin trailed off uncertainly, glancing uneasily at Severus.
"We know of what you speak," Merope said. "Please continue."
"Well. I supported Mistress Potter in the business, as did Sirius. James has never quite forgiven it."
"You said just now that Potter’s alliance with the Weasleys is "part of the reason’ for your visit. Is the dispute over the revelations of last autumn the other part?"
"It is another part, your ladyship," he said. "The final reason is that Sirius is increasingly keeping to himself—well, to his new family. And that is understandable! I do not begrudge him that. But I fear that this will leave me unprotected if war should break out among us... and of the sides that have taken shape, I support your ladyship’s the most, from what I have heard of it."
"Our family and our allies mean no harm to your kind as a whole, Master Lupin, and we do seek to undo what Lord Malfoy has done to our laws and reestablish many traditional practices of wizarding England, Scotland, and Wales from a hundred fifty years ago—including, yes, the Wizengamot," she added as Lupin’s eyes widened. Tom turned to his mother and nodded in satisfaction, indicating to her that Lupin was not lying about anything. She took a deep breath. "I accept your offer. Kneel before me."
Lupin knelt and offered her his wand as he took the oath, swearing on his magic to serve her and her family.
Merope bade him rise and handed the wand back to him. "Now, I wish to discuss with you your lodgings. I understand if you wish to remain where you are for now, especially since you and Sirius have a system to keep your condition somewhat in check during the full moon. However, should war break out, I may order you to come to this barony to fulfill your oath. I will take your condition into account as best I can." She gazed at him. "An order from any one of this family will carry the same weight as an order from me, unless it conflicts with my order."
"Yes, your ladyship."
"Our first order to you is to return to Godric’s Hollow and find out from Sirius, if at all possible, where James Potter is currently staying. We mean him no harm. His son is a friend and was a guest at Lord Thomas and Lady Hermione’s wedding. We simply demand a seat at the table if any treating with the Muggle king takes place. It is more appropriate for us, as nobles, to negotiate with him, in any case."
Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "As you command." He prepared to leave.
"But first," Merope said hurriedly, "we invite you to stay and refresh yourself. There is wine, ale, cider, and plenty of food. You need not depart at once!"
The babies were starting to fuss, so Lupin quickly agreed. The family walked to the parlor that they used for receiving guests.
Tom was glad to have another wand, even if it did belong to a werewolf and a commoner. This fellow might not have been educated at Hogwarts, but he had learned magic from his talented friends—and from living near a village with many witches and wizards.
And if he serves us well and survives, Tom thought, we could offer him a knighthood. He need not remain a commoner.
They were just finishing their refreshments when an elf abruptly entered the parlor and scurried to Merope, desperately flashing a sealed scroll at them.
"An urgent message!" the elf panted. "An urgent message for Mistress and everyone!"
Hermione’s eyes widened and her heart began to pound as soon as she saw the wax seal. It was imprinted with the heraldic symbol of the Granger family. Next to her, Tom sucked in his breath and placed a hand discreetly on top of hers. She squeezed it, trying to calm herself.
Lupin was looking distinctly awkward at being present for this. "Shall I go?" he asked. "I would not intrude—"
Merope shook her head. "No. You must stay." She passed the letter to Hermione, her face distraught and frightened.
Chills ran down Hermione’s body as she took the letter and began to read it. It was short.
Lady Riddle, Hermione, and family:
We are under attack. A very old, white-haired wizard stands at our gates with several wizards behind him. It is a small force, but they can all do magic. The wardspells that you placed on our castle four years ago are weakening with everything they do. I know little of magic but I can tell. The attackers’ spells are chipping stone away. It will not hold. I am sending this by the old owl that has perched on my bedchamber windowsill for years. I hope and pray that it knows what to do. If you receive this message, please help us.
Hermione began to breathe rapidly and irregularly as she dropped the letter. It fluttered to the floor. She gazed at Merope, eyes wide in horror. "We must go," she croaked. "Not you, of course—the babies—but I have to go—"
"I am going too," Tom said. He had read the letter over her shoulder. "We have a defensive agreement with them... and they are family." He stood, pulling Hermione up and supporting her around the waist.
Merope gave her son and daughter-in-law a pained look. "I would go," she managed, "but I cannot—"
"I would not ask that of you," Hermione said.
Severus already had his wand in hand, but Tom shook his head. "You should stay with Mother. I don’t want her here all by herself with the babies, unprotected." He gazed at Remus Lupin. "You. Lupin. This is your first task in our service." His voice brooked no opposition.
Lupin rose from his seat anxiously, holding his wand. "Yes, Lord Thomas."
The three of them linked hands together and Apparated at once to a spot a safe distance from Castle Grange.
Tom was the first to recover from the dizziness of Apparition. Holding Hermione tightly around the waist in case the sights were distressing, he scanned the horizon. Beyond the copse of trees in which they stood, Castle Grange stood.
Tom could tell that the ramparts were severely damaged, and the keep had been battered, but the castle stood. He squinted.
"The banner that flies over the castle has an otter," he said in absolute shock. He turned to Hermione. "That’s—"
"The heraldic animal of my family!" she exclaimed. "They still hold it! How?"
Tom exchanged a dark look with Lupin. The werewolf had obviously had the same thought he did. "Hermione," Tom said reluctantly, "it may be a trap."
Her expression dimmed at that. She gripped her wand tighter. "We should still go," she said. "Shield wards for ourselves, of course. If it has—fallen"—she almost choked on the word—"we’ll learn soon enough." She took a deep, shuddering breath and stepped out.
No witches or wizards fought in front of the castle walls, though as the party of three approached, they could see more evidence of a magical battle etched in the stone. Tom’s brow furrowed in confusion, and his dark eyes became very alert as the drew near.
They stopped in their tracks from the sound of the male voice above, but they did not sheathe their wands.
A man whom Hermione did not recognize, a swarthy man with a dark head and well-trimmed beard, glared sternly down at them.
"Who are ye?" the man demanded in a Scots accent. He eyed their wands with dislike, though, as he held a sword, he could do nothing to them from a distance.
Hermione stepped forward. "I am Lady Hermione Riddle, formerly Granger, the daughter of the lord and lady of the castle! We have come to fulfill our defensive obligations." She eyed him in return. "To whom am I speaking?"
The man sneered. "Ye come too late, witch! Oh yea, I know what ye are."
"Too late?" she cried, nearly collapsing to the ground.
Another man appeared beside this one, holding a bow. He shot the visitors a look of utter loathing—and this face Hermione did recognize.
"Cousin Charles?" she cried out, suddenly realizing—to some extent—what had happened, though she still could not understand how, and she still hoped that she might be wrong—
"You will address me as Lord Granger now," he said, drawing his bow on them. "I defended this castle! I held it against the onslaught of sorcery, even after my uncle and aunt were ruthlessly murdered!"
Hermione nearly swooned. Tom caught her, preventing her from falling on the stones.
She gazed at him, tears welling in the corners of her eyes, her beautiful young face distraught. "Tom—" she exclaimed, her voice breaking.
He held her, not caring if these two hostile Muggles and this strange werewolf saw, not caring if anyone in the world saw. She was his wife, and she had just lost her family to violence—of what kind, they still did not know—and he would damn his own soul to hell before he failed to support her at this moment.
"I am her husband," he called out, still holding her as she muffled her sobs. "I speak for her. We have a defensive pact! I insist upon knowing what happened."
Charles Granger sneered. "We have a defensive pact no longer! You were not there for us in our hour of need, sorcerer. The pact is void!" He paused. "We defended the castle ourselves, without the "support’ of magic. Magic is a blight on the world! Nothing good comes of it! Your kind are an abomination!" He pointed his loaded bow at them. "And if you dare attack me, I will put an arrow through your eye just as I did the eye of that old bastard who attacked us!"
Despite the terrible circumstances, despite the fact that he had wanted to be the one to take Malfoy’s life, Tom’s heart leapt at this information. "Armand Malfoy? You put an arrow through his eye?" He smirked. "How fitting for a Norman bastard who came over with the usurper himself to die the same way that the old Muggle King Harold did—"
Granger scoffed. "If only he had! They eventually took down the wards, and in they came—Malfoy was his name? "Bad faith’ in the Norman tongue? Appropriate, but I hardly care. None of your kind deserve proper names any more than demons do!" He collected himself, glaring at the trio with hatred. "They came in, and his lordship—your father, witch—fell, and then her ladyship went down." He scowled. "Almost all of the servants are dead! They set fire to the keep."
Tom gazed at the structure. Yes, many of the markings appeared to be scorch marks. In his arms, Hermione let out a cry.
"They sent a letter to you lot by bird—I suppose you finally got it—and a messenger on horseback to me. Guess what message arrived first?" he gloated cruelly. "I came, with my knights, and we surprised the bastards! Six of ’em... the old man, a pathetic dark-haired toad next to him—"
"Lestrange," Tom muttered, as Hermione sobbed in his arms.
"Two who looked similar—one of them was a witch, though she was so ugly it was hard to tell at first—"
"The Carrows." Tom was taking a census of the names of the attackers, storing their names away in his mind for vengeance.
"And two others. Male. I came here, with my knight Sir Duncan by my side"—he nodded appreciatively at the dark-haired Scotsman who had first spoken to the small group. "We surprised them! I put an arrow through the old man’s eye... that scared away all of them except the one that acted like he wanted the old one to bugger him."
Hermione buried her head in Tom’s shoulder. This needless crudity merely made the narrative worse to her. My parents are dead, she thought, the horrible thought shooting through her mind, rocketing back and forth. My parents are gone, and my cousin makes comments like this.
"What I saw then—" Granger broke off, shaking his head in disgust, but Tom detected something else as well: fear.
The other man, Sir Duncan, spoke up. "The wound should have killed anyone. It would have killed a normal person. And the old man certainly looked dead. He wasn’t moving. But the toady one just loomed over the old man as he lay on the floor, and he poured this silver stuff down his throat—"
Tom sucked in his breath. He turned to Lupin, whose eyes were wide in understanding—and revulsion.
"The arrow came out of his head," Duncan said, shuddering. "I have ne’er seen the like. It just pushed right out like it had come in. The eye didn’t come back, but the skin healed up as if nothing had happened. That was some devil’s blood, I reckon."
"Not exactly. I know what it was," Tom said darkly.
"I am sure you do!" exclaimed Granger hotly. "Your kind are wicked! It’s unnatural. He should be dead! Even if the devil’s blood could heal a wound, that should have killed him! I don’t see how it didn’t."
"It did," Tom muttered, too low for anyone to hear him except Hermione and Lupin. "He repossessed his body after Lestrange fed him unicorn blood to heal the wound. This confirms my worst fear."
Lupin gazed at Tom in shock and alarm. In Tom’s arms, Hermione shuddered.
"They left right after that," Granger finished, eyeing the trio hatefully. "Is that what you wanted to know? My good knight Duncan and I took care of them. If we had waited for you, the castle probably would have been razed to the ground!"
Hermione finally broke away from Tom. Wobbling somewhat, she stood and faced her cousin with all the courage she could muster. "Cousin," she said, her voice wavering. Against her husband’s protest, she sheathed her wand and held out her hands to him in application. "Please. Remember when we were younger? You called me a... know-it-all," she choked. A tear trickled down her face. "My parents—please—let me see them—one last time—"
"I am no cousin of yours, witch," Granger said coldly. "You could have stayed with normal people like your family, but you insisted on marrying a stranger to the family who shared your wicked ability. I know all about it! Quite a dowry they paid out, too. Enjoy the gold that should be mine, sorcerer!" he taunted Tom. "And you, "cousin.’ Your parents died because of you! They died because of your abnormality!"
Hermione’s cry of agony sent Tom into a rage. Without thinking, he shot a spell at the Muggles on the ramparts. They leapt away, each in a different direction. The spell struck a stone chimney behind them. In fury, Granger sent an arrow down at them.
"That’s my answer!" he spat. "Get out of here! Leave us!" He glared malevolently at them. "And know this, demon-traffickers. This family has always been neutral, and a very good thing it is! Whichever of the pretenders wins the war, I shall inform His or Her Majesty of this outrage. I will! They must not know that people like you run rampant in this country, attacking the castles of good people, surviving wounds that should kill anyone who hasn’t made a deal with the devil himself!" Behind Granger, a small child emerged.
"Father?" the boy said. His voice carried below.
Charles Granger turned to his son in shock. "Bryan! Go inside at once!" he exclaimed. "You mustn’t be out!"
Hermione let out another gasp of pain. The child, her first cousin removed, was named for her grandfather. She had never even known this boy.
The little boy gazed down at the group of three. "Father?" he asked, easing closer to the edge.
The boy stood about a foot away from the edge of the rampart. A chunk of stone collapsed, smashing on the ground. It was perfectly apparent to Tom that the boy had not touched it, nor had it been weak already. But Tom had seen the tiny yellow spark that came from the small boy’s hands right before the stone broke apart.
Granger smacked his son’s bottom, fortunately not noticing the spark. The boy scampered away.
He was not finished with his unwanted visitors, however. "Get lost! I never want to see one of your kind again! I will tell our next monarch what happened this day, and when I do, there will be no corner in the world dark enough to conceal your wickedness!"
Tom stood stock-still, glaring at the Muggle lord above him. "No, you won’t," he said. He raised his wand, defying the nocked arrow that pointed at him, and cast an invisible spell at the man.
Granger’s furious face softened. He gazed down at his guests, shook his head gruffly, and vanished as he headed back into the castle. Tom cast another spell at the swordsman, Sir Duncan, to similar effect.
He turned to Hermione, who was gazing at him with wet, wounded eyes. "My parents," she said. "They’re gone, Tom—and my cousin—they warned me—at the wedding, they warned me that he hated magic—"
"Shh," Tom hushed her, holding her close.
"His son is a wizard," she said through sobs. "Tom, he’ll hurt him when he finds out!"
"No, he won’t. I won’t let it happen."
She muffled another sob. "They died, Tom! Malfoy murdered them."
Tom could say nothing to contradict that. He cuddled her, placing his cheek on top of her head as he held her. "He will pay for what he has done. We know all of his secrets now, and he will pay."
Lupin gazed at the young couple compassionately. "I should leave the two of you to your grief," he said heavily. "Her ladyship wished me to go to Godric’s Hollow to talk to Sirius."
Tom gazed at the werewolf for a moment before nodding. With a sad parting look, Lupin Disapparated.
Tom trudged away from Castle Grange, supporting Hermione in his arms.
Once they were back in the woods, concealed by the shade of the trees, Hermione collapsed to her knees. Tom allowed her this, kneeling with her, holding her close. His robes became damp beneath her face.
Part of her wished she could just stay here and not have to face this new, terrible reality. The other part shamed her for the wish to escape, telling her that those she had lost deserved grief. She could not ignore that second voice, it turned out.