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Dataset card Data Studio Files
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This was horrible in every way. Merope had been a second mother to her, and for four years, she had had little contact with her own parents—but they were her parents. Nothing that had happened to her had taken that away or truly severed that bond, she realized belatedly. The fact that she had been away from them for so...
I knew that something would happen to them, she thought as she recalled their departure from Parselhall. They offered to invite me to visit in the summer! I knew when they walked out the door that it wouldn’t happen. I knew. Deep inside, I knew.
Her own parents—her household—had been massacred by violent wizards. They never stood a chance to defend themselves. Her cousin and his captain had defeated them, yes, but only by the element of surprise—and good luck.
Unbeknownst to her, Tom was thinking of the same thing. Why would the other four have left after Malfoy was shot? he thought. Lestrange, all right—he knew he had to revive the old man—but why would the others leave? They should not fear Muggle arrows or blades. Had they done what they meant—
A loud, shuddering sob from Hermione interrupted his increasingly disturbing thoughts. Tom pulled her close. Yet another muffled sob choked in her throat as she reached for him. He took her hands in his and gazed at her.
"I’m so sorry," he said.
"Don’t be. None of this is your fault," she replied, holding him close. He squeezed her hands.
"How can I ever forgive myself?" she cried, burying her head on his shoulder. Tears streamed down her face. "I wasn’t there for them. I could have saved them, for all I know!"
"Hermione," he said, "I don’t think you could have. Malfoy—what we just learned from your cousin about him—it confirms my fears. I really don’t think you could have. Unless you were prepared to use something extremely violent against him. And even then, he could have healed himself, unless his body itself was destroyed...
"My family," she whimpered. "Almost everyone who served my parents—everyone I knew growing up as a little girl—dead! And my cousin hates me because of what I am. It’s just like Malfoy himself, in a different way."
He held her silently, not knowing how to answer. It was all too true.
"I wanted them to know their grandchildren," she whispered. "But—I must have inherited the problem—and now—"
He remained silent for a moment more before responding. "We will have a family."
"I wanted my parents to be part of that."
He closed his eyes as he held her. He had no idea what to say. There was nothing to say.
"And it’s so sudden. Tom, this is it. This is the beginning of the war."
He sighed, then stiffened. "Yes. It is. They will be avenged, Hermione. We will avenge them. We were not able to strike the first blow, but we will strike the last."
The outskirts of Hangleton, earlier.
Peter Pettigrew waited nervously outside the grounds of the barony of Hangleton. Snape and Riddle had dismissed him to his own manor, refusing to allow him to meet his old friend Remus. It was, a sense, the final straw. For months now, Snape had been eyeing him with barely concealed distrust, dismissing him from Lady M...
And that was the other problem Pettigrew faced. Right now he had been able to conceal his darkest secret, the betrayal to Lord Armand Malfoy of his old friends’ and Severus’s plans, but eventually Riddle’s skill would advance to the point of being able to pull out any secret that was not magically concealed. It was pos...
Lestrange wanted to execute his wife for killing a rapist rather than forcing him to wed their daughter. Malfoy had killed his own son. He had also killed Arcturus Black. Yes, the remaining Black family—minus two of Lord Cygnus’s daughters—had allied with Lady Riddle, but what chance did they stand? They had not been a...
Snape and Riddle had to go, Pettigrew had finally concluded. It would be his life or theirs. He had carefully considered the scheme that he knew about, the scheme that he knew Lestrange and Malfoy were planning for Lady Merope. Caractacus Burke was a greedy bastard, but Pettigrew did not believe that he would kill his ...
Then, too, there was the unexpected boon that was Malfoy’s attack on Lady Hermione’s parents. With any luck, Riddle and Lady Hermione would fall honorably attempting to defend the Muggles. That might even be the best outcome, for the young pair to die before they learned what befell Parselhall....
The way was clear, and the company was on its way. They seemed to be delayed in coming, which Pettigrew supposed was not that surprising. All sorts of things that could cause delays could happen in a battle. He turned around and gazed backward. The walls of the town of Hangleton loomed, warded by Lady Merope’s more por...
Whack! Armand Malfoy struck Rodolphus Lestrange across the face. Instantly the latter’s nose began to drip blood.
"It should work!" Malfoy raged. "It should heal any injuries! Why isn’t it working?"
"My lord," Lestrange blubbered, "it saved your body from death! That arrow went to your brain."
"I know damn well what it did!" Malfoy exclaimed, his single eye fixed upon Lestrange. "I was there! I was the one observing my body from outside, as if I were nothing more than a ghost! I just don’t understand how an arrow shot by a filthy Muggle could produce an injury that my tonic cannot cure. Why hasn’t an eye reg...
Lestrange cast a spell at his nose to stop the bleeding. Although the flow of blood stopped, the pain from the injury remained despite his spell. That led him to a conclusion. "My lord," he said glumly, "the Muggle nobles we killed had a witch daughter. A Mudblood, yes, but still a witch. And the man who shot the arrow...
Malfoy seethed in anger. "If he is a Mudblood, that’s another reason that we should return to that place and slay him!" He scowled. "But... at a future date. You may be right, Rodolphus," he said, attempting to calm himself. "You may be right. And even if he himself is not a Mudblood, he could be one of those rare Mugg...
Lestrange bowed. If he were honest with himself, he was thrilled to lead this raid. "As you wish, my lord."
Malfoy sighed heavily. "I had intended to be there myself. There is... the possibility... that we cannot take the blood-traitor woman in this attack." He seemed to hate uttering the words. "I meant to have a contingency plan."
"What do you mean, my lord?"
"There is a certain curse from my homeland... the homeland of your ancestors too, Rodolphus," he said, smiling evilly. "But... I suppose you could pass her this curse just as well as I." He opened a cabinet and rummaged through it, at last emerging with a large, fairly crude gold brooch. A miniature form of an uprooted...
But that would mean that this is— Lestrange gazed at Malfoy, truly shocked for once.
"You know the incantation that activates the curse, then," Malfoy said, noting Lestrange’s look.
"Yes," he said. "It is... this is a very dark thing, my lord, especially in conjunction with the measures that you have taken to protect yourself. The wizard lords of the Franks banned this curse three centuries ago and confiscated—"
"All of the artifacts bearing it except this one. I renewed the curse with my own magic. You are to use it on her if you cannot kill all of them in the raid," Malfoy said flatly.
Lestrange almost did not want to handle the object, even though he knew that it was not active until someone spoke the words. Gingerly he took the brooch from Malfoy and placed it in his belt purse.
"One last thing," Malfoy said. "Make sure that Wormtail does not survive. He cannot be trusted, and he will have outlived his usefulness to us after this."
With that, Malfoy departed to his private quarters, leaving Lestrange to relish the task ahead of him. He took a deep breath and strode through the door into the great hall.
Nine pops shattered the air, and nine figures—eight wizards and one witch—appeared in the clearing before Peter Pettigrew. He gazed upon them, quickly identifying them. Lestrange was there, of course. Pettigrew feared and loathed him, but he knew that he would be there. He was wearing a heavy gold locket around his nec...
He examined the others. There were the Carrows, whom he disliked nearly as much as he disliked Lestrange. Amycus Carrow grinned maliciously at Pettigrew. There was Sir Fenrir, who now called himself Greyback. He was another disgruntled former Gaunt vassal. The other wizards were less familiar to him, but after a moment...
I suppose it’s better that Burke is not part of this himself, Pettigrew thought as he led the cloaked and hooded group past the first set of wards, the ones that only kept out curses aimed at the Muggle villagers. It would be despicable to order Lady Merope to marry a man who personally killed anyone in her family. The...
The secret entrance to Parselhall that he would be using actually led to his own manor house. It was not personally easy for him to use it. It was through this tunnel that Morfin Gaunt had appeared to carry off his poor mother to a horrible death by serpent venom, and its other entrance was in the dungeons. He was not ...
Pettigrew let them into his home, closed and locked the door behind him, and led them into his cellar, where the secret tunnel waited for them. The eight wizards and one witch illuminated their wand tips in the darkness. Lestrange gasped in amazement and delight as Pettigrew sent a heavy bookcase away with a flick of h...
"I only serve you, my lord," Pettigrew said, keeping his gaze on the ground.
Lestrange smirked, though Pettigrew could not see it.
"My lord," Pettigrew ventured suddenly, feeling a spark of courage, "might I ask—might I inquire as to the whereabouts of his high lordship and Caractacus Burke?"
Rodolphus’s nostrils flared. "His high lordship has better things to do than deal with blood-traitors, half-bloods, and Mudbloods," he said, trusting that Pettigrew either did not know that Malfoy had led a raid on Muggles, or that he would not dare speak up to contradict him if he did know.
Pettigrew knew, of course, but he indeed did not say anything about Lord Malfoy. He still had something else to ask. "And... Burke, my lord?" he said. A horrible idea had suddenly entered his head. Rumor had it that Lord Malfoy had procured a civil divorce for Lestrange. That would only free him from any financial obli...
Lestrange did not reply, but continued to grin malevolently. A cold weight settled in Pettigrew’s gut. Surely not, he thought in growing panic. "My lord, is he dead?" he squeaked.
Carrow sent a hex at Pettigrew, making him jump in pain. "Not that we know of," Carrow snarled. "He is likely taking shelter with some of the dog lords of the North."
Alecto Carrow snickered at her brother’s label for the Blacks.
"Since he is a traitor, so he is not his high lordship’s choice for this anymore," Amycus Carrow continued. "Our lord Lestrange wears the mark of your blood-traitor liege’s family. You can determine what that means."
What have I done? Pettigrew thought in horror as they reached the other entrance, the one that opened into the dungeons of Parselhall. What have I done? Lestrange is a rapist and a violent murderer. He will—
But it was too late. The nine invaders burst into the dungeons, wands drawn. Pettigrew stood there, stricken, feeling all the weight of betraying his oath. For a terrible moment it seemed that he could do no magic whatever. He tumbled to the ground as a physical weakness hit him.
No, he thought. I can try to warn them. Reaching for his wand, he transformed into a rat and scampered away. He knew all the nooks and crannies of the castle, and there were still routes that Snape had not warded against rats.
Severus and Merope were in the family wing, sitting in the parlor with the twins, anxiously awaiting the return of Tom, Hermione, and Remus Lupin. Severus was horribly certain that Hermione’s parents were already dead, and he belatedly wished that they had not rushed off. Surely Lupin would not let them sacrifice thems...
He heard scratching at the door and leapt out of his seat. Hermione’s cat was upstairs in the couple’s bedroom, along with Tom’s snake. Had it gotten out? He flung the door open and looked down. Instead of a fluffy orange-brown cat, a large grey rat scratched at the door—a rat with nine digits on its front feet.
The rat transformed into a pudgy, ugly wizard. Peter Pettigrew gasped for breath. "My lord! My lady! The castle is overrun—"
Severus grabbed the man by his collar. "Overrun?" he snarled. "You betrayed us, didn’t you?"
"Severus," he gurgled as the man’s large bony hands found their way around his throat. "I didn’t know—I thought—Burke—but it’s—Lestrange—"
Merope was on her feet, her wand in hand, her eyebrows low on her forehead in anger—and not anger at her husband, Pettigrew realized. Severus whirled around. "Go!" he exclaimed. He gazed at the small twins. "Take them...." His gaze shifted to Pettigrew. In a flash, he cast a spell to knock the smaller man out cold. "Ta...
"Leave you here by yourself?" she exclaimed, grabbing up the infants. "Severus, you must come with me! You’ll die!"
Severus had resigned himself to that probability. "I have to stay here in case Tom and Hermione return. If I die, at least the future of our families will still be safe. Go, Merope! And remember that I love you." He gave her a pained, desperate glance.
There was no time even for a parting kiss. With a miserable look on her face, Merope held Eileen and Padrig close and Disapparated.
At once Severus revived Pettigrew. He slapped him across the face. "You will fight by my side," he snarled. "You will fight with me and die with me, rat!" He supposed that there was a chance that Lord Regulus would return—indeed, he certainly would come, but the question was whether it would be in time to save him.
Pettigrew nodded penitently.
"Who are they?" Severus demanded.
"Lestrange, the Carrows, Selwyn, Rosier, Fenrir, Crabbe, Goyle, and Rowle."
"Shit," Severus swore. He stood no chance against that many. "Not Malfoy? Not Burke?"
"Burke betrayed them, and Malfoy was probably hurt in the raid on the Grangers." He could not meet Severus’s black eyes. "They mean to force her to marry Lestrange!"
"And that is why you turned against them." He regarded the man with utter contempt. "You didn’t care if I was killed. You just didn’t want that foul bastard to rape and murder my wife." He did not wait for a reply. "Malfoy was hurt? What of the young people—and Lupin?"
"I don’t know."
This got worse and worse. Since all of these people were here, and Malfoy himself had only been injured, Severus had to consider the possibility that all three of the defenders were already dead. The thought of the young couple, so recently married—only sixteen and seventeen years old!—cut down by that monster and his ...
The attackers burst into the hallway. Steeling himself for death, yet casting wards to protect his body from at least some of the spells that would be coming, Severus entered the fray.
Tom and Hermione stood up. Hermione was still teary-eyed, but she recognized that it was time to return to Parselhall. There was nothing they could do. Her parents and almost all of their servants had died, falling to spells or fire, but her cousin’s people held the castle. He had even managed to injure Armand Malfoy. ...
As soon as the disorientation vanished, she glanced around the great hall of Parselhall. Something was not right. It was too quiet—but no, she heard something in the distance, something that sounded like... shouting... and crashes....
Tom gazed at her, wide-eyed. He gripped his wand. "It was a trick," he said. "They wanted to get us out of the castle." His eyes narrowed. "Pettigrew." He uttered the name as though it were a malediction. His handsome features settled into a mask of fury and dark determination that would have frightened Hermione for hi...
They were at the great doors that led to the main hallway when a particularly loud pop of Apparition sounded through the hall. As one, they whirled around, ready to attack.
Merope stood there, her face angry and set, her expression never so closely resembling her son’s. There was almost no physical similarity between them, but at this moment it was clear that they were mother and son.
Next to her stood Lord Regulus Black and a young woman with short, bright orange hair, dressed not in the formal, elegant robes of a noblewoman, but in simpler clothing that would enable her to fight easily. Hermione and Tom had seen her only once before, at their wedding, but they recognized her. This was Regulus’s pu...
"I have sent word to my brother," Regulus said, his wand drawn, striding forward. "He and the werewolf Remus Lupin should be joining us shortly."
Tom nodded briskly and flicked his wand, opening the great doors. At the end of the hall, nine wizards—or eight wizards and a witch?—were fighting against Severus and Pettigrew himself. That was a surprise to Tom, but perhaps the wretch had had a change of heart at the last second for some reason. He still was not to b...
"You should stay in a safe spot," he said to Hermione.
She gazed at him, her brown eyes hard and determined. "I will not. I am part of this family now. It’s the only real family I have left, and I will fight with the rest of you."
He looked for a moment as if he wanted to argue, but then he changed his mind. Together the group of five dashed down the hallway, joining the fray.
Severus counted quickly as the newcomers joined. Tom and Hermione were alive after all, and nine against seven was... not hopeless. But—oh no—
"You shouldn’t be here!" he shouted as Merope joined in, taking on Greyback and Amycus Carrow at once, clearly wanting to take revenge against two traitorous vassals. "I told you—"
She sent the werewolf to the ground with a curse and cast another curse at Amycus Carrow, producing a splash of blood as his right forearm opened. A few feet away, Tom—who was dueling Selwyn—gaped in shock and approval. "This is my castle!" Merope exclaimed. "I should be here if anyone should! They’re safe with Lady An...
Severus, who was dueling Lestrange, shook his head in amazement and alarm—but also pride in her.
Tom noticed what dangled from Lestrange’s neck. His dark eyes widened in outrage. "You!" he roared, flinging his current opponent—Selwyn—aside. Selwyn crashed against the stone wall and slumped to the floor, winded, his vision momentarily unfocused.
In the back of his mind, Tom knew that the thing to do was to kill Selwyn while he was down, but he was fixated upon the locket of Salazar Slytherin. Rodolphus Lestrange, the filthy beast of a man, was wearing it, befouling and defiling it by the very act of having it on him, this object that belonged by right to Tom’s...
Lestrange yelped as some of the hair from the back of his neck caught in the chain. The chain was too strong, too heavily enchanted, to break, and the force of Tom’s pulling caused him to bend his head and let it slip off. Tom let out a roar of triumph as he held the object in hand, distracted from the violence and cha...
Severus was utterly dismayed. "What are you doing, Tom? It’s just a piece of—" His words were cut off as Lestrange hit him with a violent curse. He doubled over, bleeding from the mouth.
Lestrange moved in to kill. As he raised his wand, Merope shot a nasty hex at him, the same one she had just used on Carrow—except this one hit Lestrange in the stomach. It tore through his outer robes. A spray of blood shot from his body, and he clutched his gut in pain.
"Put it away and fight, Tom!" she exclaimed, bringing him back to reality. He blinked, shocked at what he had nearly let happen, and stashed the locket in his own belt purse at once.
At that point, Rowle, Rosier’s knight, hit Merope herself in the back. She collapsed to the floor.
"Don’t kill her!" Lestrange gasped, healing the hideous wound, though it would leave a bad scar. "She is mine!"