Immortalis

Let it be said in my defence that I have a problem, a debilating disease which prevents me from actually keeping one title and end plotline. Serves me right for not planning out everything. For those of you who were reading ‘San Fairy Ann’, let me apologise. A few changes have been made in Chapter One but everything is essentially the same.

Let us give thanks to Undefined, without whom I would have no sense of grammar.

i m m o r t a l i s

[three]

“Bury me above the clouds

all the way from here

take away the things I need

take away my fear

hide me in a hollow sound

happy evermore

everything I had to give

gave out long before.”

Fix me now, Garbage

03: Loyalties

7.12.1997, Sunday 0801
Infirmary, Hogwarts

Draco’s eyes fluttered open, his hand immediately reaching for where his wand would have been. Instead of that, he found his fingers closed about folds of cotton fabric. Where in Slytherin’s name am I? The clinically white walls and prim, soothing blue checked sheets coupled with the disinfectant smell rendered his question redundant. “I hate infirmaries.” He declared morosely to the wall.

“Welcome back, Mr. Malfoy.” Poppy Pomfrey breezed in at that opportune moment and proceeded to tuck the quilt more firmly around him. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, just wonderful. Considering I nearly plummeted to death mere-,” Draco ceased his speech and gave Madam Pomfrey a quizzical look. “-er, how long ago was it?”

Pomfrey sighed and grasped his right arm firmly, checking the shoulder for any signs of swelling. “It’s a bright and early Sunday morning. As the Yanks say- you do the math.”

After checking his leg and the right side of his face for any possible unhealed areas, Madam Pomfrey handed him a large mugfull of Pepper-Up Potion (“not that you need any more ‘Pepper’, Mr. Malfoy”) to counteract the effects of the Sleeping Draught she had given him the previous night. By the end of it, Draco was awake enough to sit through an entire day of speeches about the sexual quirks of Flobberworms.

“You’ve got a few visitors. Your father sent you an owl as well- I’ve left the note right there on the side table.” Madam Pomfrey sighed voluminously. “The entire Slytherin Quidditch team is outside right now. Who shall I send in first?”

“Sycorax. Tell the others I’ll see them in the common room.” Madam Pomfrey nodded and left, looking mightily relieved.

“Draco, darling!” Those two tremulous words were the only warning before something soft and green descended on him. “My brave little dragon, are you all right? We were all so worried when we saw you drop like that.” Sycorax unwrapped her arms from around his neck and sat down more comfortably. She was still wearing her Slytherin Quidditch robes, though the wig was gone.

I’m sure you bloody were. “I’m fine.”

Sycorax leaned forward and kissed him delicately. “You’re quite sure? What happened?”

“I’m-,” The memory of his weird hallucination shot to the forefront of his brain. I’m going mad. Why else would he be dreaming of Harry Potter and himself being friends? “-not quite sure.”

“Oh.” She seemed slightly taken aback for a second, but then her eyes narrowed. “That awful half sister of yours wouldn’t let any of us near you.”

Draco sat up straighter in the bed, a confused look in his grey eyes. “Celeste was there?”

“She stayed with you till Madam Pomfrey’s arrival. I thought you said that you didn’t get along with her?”

“I don’t.” Confusion gave way to annoyance and he waved his hand dismissively. “She’s from mother’s first marriage. Celeste never stayed with us- Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel took her in as a favour to mother. Father sends her money every month to keep her away.”

“I didn’t know your mother was married before.”

He grimaced slightly as his annoyance at her line of questioning grew. “To some Mudblood. Father doesn’t like us to speak about it.” Draco reached for his father’s letter, stopping before opening it and looking up at Sycorax. “This is private. Leave.” He fixed her with his unwavering grey gaze.

“Well, I-“ She seemed too shocked to phrase a sentence. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. “You have absolutely no regard, Draco.” Sycorax’s voice was cool and hard, like her greyish blue eyes. “I am trying so very hard to be your girlfriend-“

“You already are, Sycorax.”

Her usually collected self cracked slightly as she stood up. “It certainly doesn’t seem like it. You could at least pretend to-“

He interrupted her once more, too tired, worried and confused to play their game. Something about his feelings at that moment made him want to lash out and deflate something. “You pretend enough for both of us.” Did Pomfrey give you Veritaserum as well? Sycorax is not going to be pleased at that little gem.

“I am going to attribute that to the medications.” She had gone very white, and the vibrant blond of her hair just seemed more like bleached sunlight. “I’ll speak with you when you’re in the mood to be civil. Goodbye.”

Oh, excellent conversation, Draco. Went perfectly.

*

8.12.1997, Monday 2014
Dumbledore’s Office, Hogwarts

“Do you know why I have called you here?”

Albus’ blue eyes gleamed seriously behind half-moon spectacles. Harry met them with his confused green glance. Slowly, he shook his head.

“No, I don’t, Professor Dumbledore.”

“Harry, I know you had plans of staying here for the Christmas break but-“

Harry’s fingers clenched into a fist. “But sir! I don’t want to go back to the Dur-“

The headmaster raised his hand and caused Harry to become silent. “Let me finish, Harry.” He smiled comfortingly, but Harry remained a little wary. “Harry, this is an extremely dangerous time for you. News has reached me that Voldemort’s next move is to reacquire you.”

“I thought Hogwarts was the safest place for me.”

Dumbledore sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. “Hogwarts is a safe place, indeed it is. But I will be absent during the holidays; along with much of the staff- and the safety of Hogwarts alone will not enough to protect you from him. He has become a madman, Harry, obsessed with vengeance on you. The signs have been getting stronger for a long time. In a way, it is lucky, for instead of planning something else, he is concentrating on you.” Dumbledore smiled wanly. “Not so lucky for you, however. The time has come, Harry, for you to follow the same path I advised your parents to take. Use the Fidelius Charm and go into hiding.”

“But-“

“I know such a path is alien to you, Harry, but my only concern is your safety. It will be just for the holidays, you can return to Hogwarts in January with the rest of the students.” He paused for a moment. “They need never know.”

Harry looked seriously up at the headmaster, his face pale. The outline of the scar against his skin was more livid than ever, the pains had become much more frequent. “Yes, sir.”

“Then you shall need a Secret Keeper.”

Harry’s stomach twisted, his eyebrows knitting in worry. “Sir- whomever I choose as a Secret Keeper- they’ll be in as much danger as I am. More.”

He nodded solemnly. “I won’t lie to you, Harry. Your Secret Keeper will indeed be in peril, but only if that fact was known. As of today, nobody outside this room knows of this. Once you choose a Secret Keeper, tell only that person of your intended place of stay.” Dumbledore pushed a thick book towards him over the desk. “Do not even tell me where you are going! It is possible that I may be captured- and there are many ways of loosening an unwilling tongue.”

Harry opened the book and flipped through the pages.

“Page 117- I’ve marked it for you. It gives detailed information on the Fidelius Charm- read it over just to familiarise yourself with the process. I can perform the actual charm. Harry...have you any thoughts on whom you will choose?”

He narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded. “Sirius Black.” He said simply. This was his chance to allay every last doubt Sirius had about Harry’s trust towards him, and Harry was not going to miss it.

“He will be honoured.” Dumbledore reached out for a quill and parchment. “I will write him immediately. And Harry- tell no one of this.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy tucked the book under his arm and stood up. “Thank you, Professor.”

*

Monday, 2148
Outside Ron Weasley’s bedroom

“Ron-,” Harry knocked on the door urgently. “Ron, wake up. I need to talk to you.” He didn’t raise his voice because Dean slept in the next room.

“Lumos.” A muffled voice said, and light streamed through the slit underneath the door. There was a loud yawn and then the door creaked open to reveal Ron in a red night robe. It looked expensive- Harry supposed it was, for the Weasleys stopped having to worry about money after Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes marked the highest profit of any business in Hogsmeade for forty years. “Harry- it’s past nine thirty and we have a Council meeting early tomorrow.”

Harry ignored him, shaking his head. “Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Sleepiness was replaced by curiosity. He closed the door behind Harry and sat next to him on the large, four-poster bed. “Why weren’t you at dinner? We were looking for you- Hermione nearly had an anxiety fit. Course, that could have been because Dean was taking it so casually…” Ron sniggered. “You should have heard her- ‘don’t you have any concern at all? Isn’t he a friend of yours? ‘What if he’s…” He tapered off as he realized Harry wasn’t listening.

“I won’t be able to write you over Christmas.”

“Huh? Why?” Ron sounded surprised.

“I’m not going to be at Hogwarts, Ron.” Harry raised a hand to stop his best friend’s questioning. “Dumbledore told me not to tell anyone…but I have to tell you. Just don’t blab to Hermione, I don’t want her to worry.”

“Harry, what is it? You’re not going off to fight You-Know-Who without us or anything, are you…?”

He shook his head, feeling rather morose. “Just the opposite. Dumbledore wants me to use the Fidelius Charm because most of the staff’s going somewhere over the holidays. He said it’s not safe for me, because Vol-er, You-Know-Who’s after me again. Sirius is coming after everyone leaves…”

“He’s going to be your Secret Keeper, then? Bloody hell, Harry, this sounds really serious. Maybe we should tell Hermione…she knows a bit more about this sort of thing.”

“No!” Harry’s voice was firm. “I don’t want her worrying, Ron- I’m going to write a couple of letters to her and you’re going to send them to her every week using Hedwig. That way she won’t be suspicious.”

Ron shook his head and sighed. “Why’re you telling me, Harry? Especially since Dumbledore told you not to?”

“Well…er, you’re my best friend.” Harry looked down, the serious bent to their conversation making him a little uncomfortable. On one hand he didn’t want Ron to worry, and on the other… “My scar’s been hurting a lot more the past few months, Ron. And the nightmares are worse-,” he shuddered slightly. “I wanted you to know, just- just in case…” He didn’t say it- but both of them knew the end to the sentence. Just in case I don’t come back.

“I don’t like this Harry…I really don’t like this…”

“It’ll be fine- he only found my parents because of Wormtail. I’m coming back at the start of the term, anyway. Just don’t tell a soul.” Harry reached over and gave Ron an awkward hug, releasing him too quickly. “I’d better get off to bed. Thanks.”

*

9.12.1997, Tuesday, 1800
En route to Hogwarts- a letter

Harry-

Dumbledore just sent me the letter through Fawkes, and I’ve borrowed him to reply to you so that he won’t be intercepted. Phoenixes are much too smart for that, as you know. I’m coming to Hogwarts as soon as school’s out and there are less people around. I needed to send you this before because I’m not sure if I could say everything I liked face to face. Somehow, I just get all tongue tied- I’ve never been the one to be sentimental. It was more James and Remus’ thing.

I’ve always been a secret keeper- not in the magic sense, but in the mundane one. I’ve always kept secrets for James, Remus, Peter and myself. I think most of the secrets have been my own. I would be proud to be your Secret Keeper, Harry, and thank you for the chance to redeem myself. I know James and Lily would have forgiven me for convincing them to change to Wormtail at the last moment- but I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself. So, for utterly selfish reasons, I’m glad I can play a part in keeping my best friend’s son safe.

I sometimes like to think of you as the son I never had, and while nobody can ever replace James, I love you just as if you were my own. I’ve often wished that I were there for you in the beginning, when you were growing up. Just to tell you what wonderful parents you had- and how much Remus, Mary and I loved you. The Dursleys are only your family by blood, but we’re your family by choice.

You’ve asked me to be your Secret Keeper, and now I’m going to ask you to be mine. It’s very important that you know this, Harry- I’ve told Dumbledore but I felt this would be better coming from me. Please, please remember this if anything happens to me. I can’t explain to you why I never told you before- just take my word that it was because of my work…and because it was too hard for me. I know we’ve never quite told you about what happened before you were born. It’s time we did- I’ll tell you about my life and what I know…but I warn you that even my understanding has gaps in it.

Six months after I graduated from Hogwarts, I got married to the woman I loved. I know she loved me too. Her name was Noelle Vablatsky. She was everything a man could want- smart, beautiful, interesting. In school, she and Mary (that was Remus’ girl) had been so close you had to pry them apart to get a minute alone! Fifteen days before our first anniversary, she packed her bags and disappeared. I believed she left me and I hated her just as much as I had loved her. A year after that, Dumbledore told me tha she didn’t walk out on me. She left because she was putting me in danger, because one of Voldemort’s inner circle had sworn to kill her. And the Death Eater carried out that threat. Dumbledore refused to tell me in the beginning, but he finally cracked and said that a Death Eater called Narcissa Havisham betrayed Noelle to them.

I couldn’t act on it because by then Lily and James were on the run from You-Know-Who- that changed everything. I didn’t have time for revenge; we just tried to keep each other alive. Everyone was suspicious of everyone else. We knew there was a spy in our midst- I remember being suspicious of Remus and Mary, even! Finally, the Fidelius Charm was performed- and I told neither of them. That was my greatest mistake. Then the night happened- that horrible night. I supposedly murdered Wormtail- I was sent to Azkaban soon after. I can still see Mary crying outside my cell before I was taken to Azkaban- the only other time I can remember her crying was when I told her Noelle was dead. I remember her turning to Remus and saying, ‘James, Lily and Peter were murdered by the person they trusted with their lives. I can’t believe in anything any more, Remus. Goodbye.’ And then she walked out. I can remember it down to the last detail- because it was the last time I saw my friends for thirteen years or because it hurt so badly that they thought I was capable of such a thing.

Remus left Britain after that, he told me he traveled all over Europe and Asia looking for some kind of peace. He didn’t come for you because the Ministry wouldn’t let a werewolf take care of a child. Mary Moran threw herself into her career- she’s a professional Quidditch player. I think she plays for Ireland now. I don’t know. She refused to see any of us. Even though she knows I didn’t betray your parents- Peter did, and she trusted Peter. What happened changed her the most. But before it happened she loved us all- you most of all. Mary still does…she’s just very afraid of showing it in case she gets betrayed again. I can’t blame her.

That entire story’s point was this- if anything happens to me, Noelle’s parents Grigory and Cassandra will fill my shoes. They’re wonderful people, they’ve seen you as a baby. I know you’ll like them- and they’re much better than the Dursleys. My Gringott’s vault will get keyed to you if something goes wrong. I know nothing will go wrong because the entire Order is focussed on protecting you, but it’s best to be prepared. Don’t take any unnecessary risks before I get there.

Till I see you,

Sirius

*

19.12.1997, Friday 1010
Vault #713, Gringotts Wizarding Bank

Albus Dumbledore straightened his cloak and hat as he dismounted from the cart, feeling inordinately glad to be on motionless ground again. The Gringotts goblin- Griphook- gave Dumbledore one more piercing glance before striding up to the door of vault #713 and stroking it gently. It melted away, as it was meant to, and sixteen expectant faces turned. Fawkes sailed into the room and took up his perch. Dumbledore stepped in and nodded gravely at Griphook.

“I’ll wait outside for four knocks.”

The goblin repeated the stroking motion to apparently empty air and the door reappeared. There was seating- a rectangular table with sixteen chairs and three fireplaces built high so that the faces inside them could be seen. A life-sized golden statuette of a phoenix was the dominating centrepiece. The clock hanging on the wall chimed and the large hand moved to ‘Time for the Meeting’. Almost immediately, the fireplaces blazed to life and a face appeared in the first one. There was a flurry of activity as the wizards and witches took their seats, leaving their wands on the table in front of them.

“Welcome, my friends, to the Order of the Phoenix.” It was Dumbledore who spoke, even though he remained seated. The seats themselves were quite high, making conversation easier. “I think we should start by hearing reports- Madame Maxime, since you appeared first, why don’t you begin?” He turned and smiled at the visage in the fireplace.

“Thank you, Dumbly-dorr.” Her voice echoed thickly in the room. “The Giants are even fewer than we expected- many of them have migrated outside of the normal area. We ‘ave been reduced to negotiating with them individually, which is why this task ‘as taken two and a ‘alf years. So far-“ She paused and looked down, obviously consulting her notes. “Most ‘ave pledged neutrality. We ‘ave ‘ad a few close calls with giants who are vehemently on the Dark Side, but an almost equal number ‘ave consented to join with us. There remains fourteen giants whom we ‘ave to confer with. Hagrid and I ‘ope to be back by the summer.”

There were a few murmurs at the news, but they were silenced when Dumbledore spoke. “How are the both of you?”

“We are doing as well as can be expected, Dumbly-dorr.”

“Thank you.” He swiveled slightly to face the others at the table.

Doris Crockford shook her head. “This entire thing makes me worried, Albus. From the looks of it, he’ll have a few giants on his side- the vampires and hags have always gone with him-“

“Not to mention the trolls, banshee, most werefolk, dementors...and who can forget those advance teams of Veela? They’d distract our teams and then the entire squad would be slaughtered while they were in the haze.” Dedalus Diggle shuddered.

“You-Know-Who’s always had the Dark Creatures on his side. The goblins, as we can see from their allowing us to hold a meeting in Albus’ Vault, are on our side. The elves and faeries are violently opposed to Dark Magic, but won’t ‘draw steel’ with us.” Sirius Black imitated the high, solemn elven voices. “The dwarves were always carefully impartial.”

“Too bad we can’t find the Erivalli. They’d be really useful.” Cuthbert Turpin mumbled thoughtfully. It was too true- the Erivalli’s healing powers would be sorely needed soon enough.

“We cannot find the Erivalli unless they want us to find them- they are well known for their Conceal-,”

Albus Dumbledore stopped Remus Lupin as a face appeared in the second fire. “Her!” Sirius stood, his face contorted in unadulterated hate. “What is that murderous bitch doing there? Dumbledore!”

“Sirius. Sit down.” His voice was hard and to be obeyed. “The events which you are angry about happened a long time ago. I understand your pain, but now is the time to think beyond it. For the good of the entire wizarding world you must swallow your own grief.” He spoke to Sirius but his eyes were on Grigory and Cassandra Vablatsky as well. Apart from a slight slackening of facial muscles, the two gave no outward indication that anything was wrong.

“Welcome, Narcissa- I’m sure you know most of the faces around the table. For those who don’t know her, Narcissa Havisham-Malfoy is one of our deepest-cover spies.” Dumbledore turned back to her concernedly. “How much time do you have?”

Narcissa Malfoy’s face turned quickly, to check behind her, and grimaced. “I don’t know- fifteen minutes to half an hour.” Her pale eyes glistened and flicked between Sirius, Cassandra and Grigory. She seemed to want to say something, but decided against it.

“What do you have for us?”

“Mostly it’s just rumour and speculation- only the innermost of the inner circle have some knowledge of. I’m not even sure Lucius knows everything, and he’s his right hand man.” She took a deep breath. “Right now, the Death Eaters are all focussing on getting Harry- but the Collective doesn’t care about that. They have something very, very big planned...and Voldemort-“ There was a suppressed shudder around the table as she said his name. “-has to go along with it. It’s something that will shake the world- shake it into chaos and open the doors for the Collective’s takeover. It’s going to happen later- after April or May...”

There was a hush in the room after she finished- the words ‘world’, ‘chaos’ and ‘takeover’ echoing in every mind.

Arabella Figg broke the silence, banging her little fist on the table. “We cannot allow this to happen, Albus- whatever it is.”

“We need more information.” Vidya Patil, the ex-Minister of Magic for India, spoke slowly. “There is too little to go on...”

“Severus Snape will be joining us later in the meeting...if he can. It is quite possible he will be able to furnish us with more information.” Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We shall leave discussion of this matter till then. Arthur, tell us of developments at the Ministry?”

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. “Things are going even worse than expected- Cornelius Fudge plans to officially deny that You-Know...Voldemort has risen again next week. And the other Ministries of Magic take their cue from Britain because this is our problem.” He leaned forward in his chair. “And Underminister for Magic Lucius Malfoy isn’t helping any. Fudge is losing popularity among the people- something that would be good for us except for the fact that interim Minister for Magic would be Lucius Malfoy.”

There was a buzz of outrage at this. “But surely, Arthur, there is some way we can stop Lucius Malfoy from gaining power. This is an electorate, after all.” Mundungus Fletcher’s lip quivered with ill-disguised anger.

“No.” Gilbert Wimple, another Ministry man, answered instead. “Underminister is an appointed position and completely at the discretion of the Minister for Magic. Cornelius Fudge chose him and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Not about him being interim Minister- but we can surely do something about the elections. Educate the people, get the news out about him.” Minerva McGonagall was flushed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm. “It’s ignorance we have to combat.”

“We’ve already started printing our own daily newspaper- Veritas because the Daily Prophet’s editors are all bought off. Some of the Prophet reporters have come to us and we’re printing every single piece of evidence we’ve got…”

“That’s a good step.” Minerva nodded at Doris. “We must make sure Lucius Malfoy is not elected.”

Hagrid spoke from next to Madame Maxime in the fire. “’e wouldn’t be if Albus Dumbledore stood against ‘im in the ‘lections.”

“If Lucius Malfoy becomes interim Minister, I doubt there will be elections.” Dumbledore blushed slightly. “But thank you for the vote of confidence, Hagrid.”

“Yeh’ve got everybody’s confidence, sir.”

“How can he stop elections, Albus?” Marian Weasley, Arthur Weasley’s elder sister, demanded. “Aren’t there laws against those sorts of things?”

“Indeed. But Lucius Malfoy is brilliant at finding loopholes, and he has a more brilliant man behind him. It is possible to declare a Crisis situation and suspend elections if you have a two-thirds majority in the parliament with you.” Dumbledore’s forehead creased. “And they have no reservations in using extreme methods to gain that majority.”

“Dumbledore?” He turned sharply as the last fire blazed- a blurry figure in black appeared. Severus Snape looked behind him and then back at the fireplace, looking even more pallid than usual. Lines of worry creased his face. The picture blurred even more and a static noise assaulted the ears of the listeners- either the charm had been badly cast or Snape was in an area with high magical interference.

“We are here, Severus.”

“You…try and stop…in July…his birth-,” The static made many of the words unintelligible- every wizard at the table leaned forward to hear more clearly. Snape was talking quickly- it was obvious he didn’t have much time. “The Collective is…highly organised…must stop it…the Purge… of the muggle…catastrophic proportions…the Countdown to the…Hogsmeade and…to the sympathisers…” He stopped abruptly and turned once more, leaving the fire empty as he walked to the door and checked it.

His face returned, slightly puzzled. “Sorry- thought…heard someone…Dumbledore you must…all synchronised…the Fires…weeks…Astarte’s plan…total surprise and…ministry…have to save the…”

The sound of an opening door was heard in the background even as Snape muttered the spell to put out the fire. “Why, Sarhen, what a nice sur-,” were the last words the Order heard before the embers died down.

“Dear Lord, Albus…this sounds horrifying!” Amos Diggory was the first to react, his eyes flashing. “Don’t we have any more sources?”

Dumbledore slowly shook his head. “Dark Wizards are notorious for their mistrust. It is lucky that Severus has managed to penetrate so far- his sacrifices have been great.”

“The Purge…I seem to remember that. I know I’ve read it somewhere.” Remus tapped his fingers on the table impatiently.

“I should hope so, young man.” Arabella Figg had gone white, her lips pinched together. “The Purge was the course of action Grindelwald was going to take before Albus imprisoned him and what that muggle Hitler’s Final Solution was based on. Grindelwald didn’t have the idea first either- Salazar Slytherin was the one who first spoke about a Purge of Muggleborns from Hogwarts.”

“And we all know Grindelwald was Riddle’s mentor.”

Xiomara Hooch furrowed her brow and leaned back stiffly. “So what exactly is the Purge, then?”

“It’s just a cleansing of the Wizarding Race. Slytherin thought in terms of banning muggle-wizard procreation and sterilisation or termination of all remaining Muggleborns and halfbloods. Grindelwald’s Purge was meant to exterminate the entire Muggle population…who knows what Voldemort’s idea is!” Fletcher said. “But we can take some basic precautions…security and the like.”

“Arthur- did you hear the name that Severus said just before the fire burned out?” Sirius’ eyes looked suddenly serious. “Sarhen.”

Arthur Weasley’s eyes widened in realisation. “Oh God- Sarhen Lestrange…Jean Lestrange’s wife.” He softened his voice- everyone knew the Blacks warranted hate towards the Lestranges.

Arsenicus Black had been one of the best Aurors of his time- and he had once arrested Laure Lestrange, Jean’s mother, for Muggle torturing and thrown her into Azkaban. In retaliation, her husband Yves had brutally raped and murdered Arsenicus’ eleven-year-old daughter. Yves was never arrested because of lack of evidence, but Arsenicus had hunted him down and killed him in cold blood. After that, he turned his wand on himself. Sirius had been eighteen years old.

He showed no outward sign’s of emotion. “They’re in Azkaban…I heard Jean Lestrange screaming for his mother when I was in there. But if they’re in Azkaban…how is Snape talking to them? What about the Dementors? What does this mean, Professor Dumbledore?”

“It means Voldemort has taken Azkaban.”

*

Friday 1712
Platform 9&3/4, London

The Platform was a heaving, writhing mass of wizarding humanity. It seemed every single parent had come to collect their child personally, not to mention the many that had brought their entire families along. As always, there was a redheaded group huddled together- but this year it was much smaller. Percy was far too busy in his Ministry job, Bill had become an Unspeakable and was engaged in some top secret mission, Charlie was missing and Molly had been murdered two years ago.

The conductor aboard the Hogwarts Express blew his final whistle and the doors flew open. Students began streaming out, tossing trunks and baggage to relatives on the platform. There was a muffled scream as someone’s owl twisted free of it’s cage and swooped down, capturing a toad in its talons. There was another high-pitched yell as Neville Longbottom pointed mutely to the offending creature.

“He’s got Trevor!”

Back inside the Express, Draco Malfoy set down the research papers Hermione had given him with a curse. Trying to read them on the jerky ride had given him a headache, which was intensified by Crabbe and Goyle’s stupid antics. Sycorax was staying at school because her parents were supposed to be in Azkaban and the Dark Lord didn’t want Dumbledore to even suspect that Azkaban had been taken over.

He stood up, nodding for Goyle to take his bags. Draco was actually pleased to be going home- there were less people to deal with there, and most of them were his servants. He didn’t have to even think about that showoff Harry Potter and his fan club, or Dumbledore trying to see into his soul. Draco shivered involuntarily- Albus Dumbledore made him uneasy.

Out in the passage, he saw Seraphine Malfoy exiting her compartment. She smiled and sped up to walk by his side. “Are you coming to visit us at la Chateau Malfoy for Christmas?” She asked rapidly, in perfect French. “Mama is having a party- all the important people are coming. The Lestranges, the McAllistairs, the Notts, Severus Snape, the Averys, the Bulstrodes, the Crabbes, Sibyl Trelawney, Walden MacNair, the Dela- er- the Lupins...along with the rest of the Malfoy family.”

“I’m quite sure I don’t know. Mother always informs me rather late, you see.” Draco drawled, smirking at his cousin. It was quite a shame really- despite her Veela blood Seraphine was not as striking as Fleur, or as sensual as Sycorax. She looked more like her human-blooded father than her supernaturally beautiful mother. Of course, that might be because her brother stole all the good looks in the family. “Though I mightn’t have time for silly parties these holidays. Father has some more important things planned...” He allowed the words to drop off his tongue with just the right nonchalance and was rewarded by Seraphine’s blue eyes lighting up with admiration.

She gasped, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You mean you’re going to meet him- the great Dark Lord?”

“Maybe.”

They stepped onto the platform together as Goyle brought both their bags. “Seraphine! Over here ma petite.” A tall, rather handsome young man who looked very much like Draco waved enthusiastically to catch her attention. He was wearing black robes, well styled and of a thick, expensive fabric. A few of the Seventh Year girls gave Seraphine dirty looks.

Her face broke into a wide, very un-Malfoy smile as she ran up and embraced him. Draco rolled his eyes. “Enough with the displays of affection already. Hello Valoir.”

“Draco.” The elder boy regarded him with a cool diffidence after he released Seraphine. “I trust your term was pleasant.”

“It was godawful, Valoir. Too many muggle sympathisers and traitors...but then, what can you expect from Dumbledore’s school?” Draco narrowed his eyes just a little, holding the gaze levelly. “Where’s my mother? She always picks me up.”

“Yes, there’s been a slight change. Uncle Lucius asked my parents to convey you home. They’re waiting outside- you know they hate such crowded places.” He spoke easily, but Valoir’s eyes seemed a little shifty.

Draco shook it off as paranoia. “Goyle, Crabbe- I’ll see you back at school.” He turned slightly and nodded at them. With some effort, he lifted his bags and shifted them more comfortably on his shoulders. “Let’s go then.”

They walked briskly through the portal and emerged into the Muggle station. Draco’s aunt and uncle were easily recognisable in the crowd- they were both blond and expensively dressed. It was quite obvious that his aunt was a Malfoy while his uncle was not; she had silvery hair, electric blue eyes and the same set of features that Draco and her children possessed.

As was the custom in the Wizarding World, the children were given the surname of the parent who was more powerful. While Michael Chaddingworth was powerful in the Muggle world- he had close blood ties with the monarchy- in the Wizarding realm his bloodline couldn’t be traced back three generations. The Malfoys, on the other hand, could follow their ancestry all the way back to the Founders themselves.

Muggles and Wizards alike turned to stare at Ariane Laureus Malfoy- she was breathtakingly beautiful. Even more so than Fleur or Sycorax, or even Valoir or Draco. Veela blood ran thicker in her veins, and manifested more because she was a woman. Her mother- Draco’s grandmother- was a Veela. She had run away when Armand Antonius had died, probably rejoined her troupe in Brazil. Veelas were immortal, being Dark creatures, though it was unusual for them to remain bound to one man for such a long time.

“Bonsoir, Aunt Ariane, Uncle Michael.” Draco greeted, smiling charmingly. I hate relatives. “How are you this evening?”

“Simply awful, Draco.” Michael Chaddingworth said in his upper class Oxford accent. “You’d think Hogwarts would manage to get a platform away from the Muggles, wouldn’t you? Can’t even bring the house elves. I mean, isn’t Dumbledore making enough with the place?” He paused long enough to give Seraphine a perfunctory hug. “Good to have you home, of course.” He added absently.

“You must be glad to get away from Hogwarts. I know Seraphine always is.” Ariane didn’t offer to lighten her daughter’s load. “Come along, the car’s outside. It’s such a shame Karkaroff took off when he did, leaving Durmstrang in such a state. Complete upheaval to shift Seraphine to Hogwarts. Still, where else could we take her? The only other schools that accept transfers are those American ones, and no daughter of mine is going to grow up with that kind.” She reached out and pulled Draco closer with a firm hand. “Careful of the Muggles, dear.”

The couple that she ‘rescued’ Draco from smiled, and he had an odd sense of deja vu. “Are you returning from Hogwarts, too? We’re picking up our daughter from there.”

For a few moments nobody answered, unsure of how to talk to them. Draco was quite sure that they were Muggles- their kind had a certain smell about them... Finally Valoir, who was the most courteous, cleared his throat. “We’re picking up my cousin Draco Malfoy and my sister Seraphine Malfoy. Seraphine’s in her Fifth Year and Draco’s in his Seventh.”

“Really, so’s my girl-“ He paused for a moment. “-she’s mentioned a Malfoy a fair few times. That would be you, eh?”

“Erm, probably. What exactly did-“

“Ah, there she is-“ The tall, greying man smiled and waved as the entire Malfoy clan turned to look.

“Granger.” Oh, this is just perfect. I knew I recognized that bloody hair.

“Malfoy, what are you doing talking to my parents?” Hermione strode forward from the barrier just in time to avoid Ron and the Weasleys crashing into her. Her eyes flicked briefly towards Ariane, Michael and Valoir, but turned back to him accusingly. “Were you trying anything?” She demanded, quite unnerved by the Malfoy clan surrounding her Muggle parents.

“Hermione, dear, Draco and his family were just talking with us.” Dr Anne Granger was rather taken aback at her daughter’s unprovoked hostility. It was quite obvious Hermione had not told her of the disdain with which some wizards held Muggles.

Ron and Ginny both came over, standing close to Hermione. “What’s going on?” The tall boy glared at the entire Malfoy entourage with open hostility. His patience with them had been severely limited after the death of his mother and the subsequent disappearance of his brother Charlie.

“Nothing is going on.” Anne Granger sounded quite annoyed. “Honestly, we’re all trying to have a civil conversation. Robert, I think we should leave. Hermione?” She turned slightly and smiled at the Malfoys. “We’re terribly sorry about this.”

Ariane and Michael remained suspiciously quiet during the entire episode, almost as if they were holding their breaths. Ariane’s hand was on her wand pocket, as if she was waiting for someone to give her an excuse to curse them.

“That’s a good idea, Anne.” Arthur Weasley interposed quietly, taking Dr Granger by the arm. He had been made head of the Muggle Disinformation Department and was quite eager to avoid a scene. “Let’s go.”

Hermione glanced back once at Draco, but said nothing. It was as if the air thinned as the Weasleys and Grangers left, making it possible to breathe again.

“Those Muggles.” Ariane glared around at the profusion of non-magical peoples. “One can’t decide whether one should even address them.” Her voice lowered. “If it wasn’t for our Lord’s strictest orders, I’d have cursed them the minute they spoke to me.”

“Orders?”

“Yes.” Ariane started to walk briskly, expecting the others to follow her pace. “It’s quite exciting, really. Master is planning something enormously huge- it will shake the entire world and herald his new rise to all. But-“ She placed a finger to her lips and smiled. “That’s all I can tell you for now. You will be made aware when the Lord sees fit.”

“Is that why mother isn’t here to pick me up?”

Ariane glanced at Michael for a brief moment. “Er- perhaps.”

A servant, uniformed in a deep red with black piping, stepped out of the car. ‘Car’ was hardly enough to describe the magnificence of the vehicle. It was large, heavy and painted a deep black; despite its bulk it was sleekly streamlined with gentle curves over the wheels and fine, neat work on the windows and doors. A dark green line incised the black metal flesh just below the silver door handles, running the length of the Cadillac. Mounted on the front was a silver ornament- the Malfoy coat of arms- a dragon, wings unfurled to either side and snout pointing towards the left perched on a triple-crested shield with a three pointed flag protruding from the left side. An ornate ‘M’ looped around the shield, becoming a part of it.

The servant nodded seriously to Ariane and Michael, his brown eyes resting for a moment on Draco before he opened the door and stepped back unobtrusively. Draco allowed Seraphine to enter first, letting Valoir take his place in the middle so that he could have the window seat.

It had become quite a habit with him, to look out of the window on his ride back home. What he enjoyed most was the fact that people continued with their lives completely unaware of his eyes on them- their reality was unchanged by him. The minute anyone heard his name, they subtly adapted to incorporate the change. Whether it was hatred, in the case of the Gryffindors and Dumbledore supporters, or fear, in the case of the Slytherins, or even greed, in the case of the many who lusted after his family fortune.

A little smile curved on his lips as the car gently accelerated forwards. The Malfoy family fortune was indeed extremely vast and extremely inaccessible. Most of the money was tied up in investments, the diversity of which only Lucius and a magical accounting genius by the name of Andre Medoc knew. Quite a large sum was set aside for appropriate charitable contributions- Lucius called them his ‘Decency Donations,’ for as long as he paid them he would remain ‘a decent chap.’ Money had an astonishing way of inducing amnesia of unpleasant events. There was a good-sized heap of Galleons in Gringotts, but Lucius had made it quite clear Draco would only be taken there after his eighteenth birthday. Most of the money, however, was in secret accounts in Switzerland, to be utilised for matters that were not for general knowledge.

“Are we going to Malfoy Manor?”

Ariane quirked her lips slightly at the mention of their ancestral home. Lucius, being the only sane male heir had been offered the Manor first. Of course, the Malfoy chateau in France had been given to her instead. Still, it was something that Ariane was still slightly annoyed about, for she dearly loved the Manor. “Yes, Draco. Those of us that cannot journey to Azkaban without arousing suspicion have taken up residence there, I’m afraid you’ll find it quite overrun.”

“Mother- is it safe to talk so freely?” Valoir asked, slightly surprised.

Ariane smiled- and even though it was a smile of smugness rather than happiness, her face lit up and eyes glowed a deep blue. “Michael and I have so many Concealment, Sealing and Anti-Surveillance charms on this car it’s a wonder she hasn’t overloaded.”

“I mean-“ He quickly glanced in the direction of the chauffeur who had opened their door. There was no partition between the two sections; Ariane was just turning around to speak with them.

“Oh.” Ariane’s smile widened further. “This is Jaric Giles from the Collective. He’s merely here to observe, report back and blend in with our lives- he’s a Watcher. The Collective has dispatched a Watcher to a few key members the world over. Lucius lent him to us for the day.”

Jaric turned, burning into each of them with his coal black eyes. “I am pleased to make your acquaintance.” He said stiffly, his voice scratched as if he didn’t speak often. He turned back to driving and Watching, which seemed to be his primary virtue.

Ariane turned back to them. “Isn’t he simply a scream,” she mouthed.

The drive was long- taking a good one and a half hours before they reached the little town of Welwyn Garden City. It was peaceful enough, with one hospital, one public school, and one small pub. There was a large shopping mall- along with a smattering of small shops and businesses. There was a lot of greenery- WGC could have been the poster-town for the tranquil hilly English countryside. It was just 60 miles North of London if one took the I18, but far enough so that nothing too astounding happened there.

The Cadillac sped over the smooth road until, quite suddenly, it turned into what seemed to be a solid wall. A moment of dislocation and then they were in a small dead end alley. It was clean, with a large gleaming steel dustbin on the left and a small grungy window to the right. The Cadillac stopped. Ariane stepped out and muttered an incantation over the window. With a small, annoying pop, it opened to reveal the Malfoy emblem in fine-fashioned whitely gleaming silver. She held her hand over it, each finger touching specific points. The entire symbol began to glow- the small dragon came to life and leapt out of the ornament, settling on Ariane’s shoulder.

There was a dull grating sound and the entire dead-end wall slid out of place. The Malfoy grounds could be seen though a thin, semi-transparent veil. Jaric Giles revved the engine and quickly pushed through the spatial dislocation barrier into the scene, for Malfoy Manor was not really in Welwyn Garden City at all. The actual location was a closely guarded secret, as were the seven access points. Welwyn was just one of the two in England, there were five others in foreign countries to which the Malfoys frequently traveled. The Manor itself was connected only to an internal Floo Network that allowed access to every Malfoy residence the world over, and the Grounds had a single guarded Apparation point further away from the Manor proper.

The living-silver dragon bugled and lifted off, flying slowly in front of the car. It was a magically created Guide- disarming the charms and enchantments ahead and renewing them behind the Cadillac. The Guide had been magically taught to recognize those who were permitted entry into the Malfoy grounds- the rest were led into a prison.

The grounds themselves were vast- lawns lolled to either side of the driveway and carefully cultivated flower patches lined the grounds. The flowers themselves were beautiful- tulips, begonias and the like- all charmed to gleam silver. The lawns suddenly stopped, falling sharply into a rocky cliff-face that dominated the southwestern part of the grounds. A churning sea beat against it, the pounding waves interlaced with the hoarse cries of seagulls.

The manor was built higher up, on strategic ground where one could see in every direction. It was large and sprawling, made entirely out of wood. The roofs sloped gently, and were tiled a mossy green colour. The walls were not painted, and the grain of the white wood showed. A thin greenish smoke blew out of the chimney. There were several peripheral buildings dotting the greens- the Lady Ravenna Malfoy Library, the Armand Antonius Skygazing Facility, the Malfoy Moratorium, the Salazar Slytherin Memorial Building, the Laureus Malfoy Portrait Gallery.

Interspersed with these were the famous Malfoy Rose Gardens, which grew the only variety of Chinese Dragon Rose still in existence. Further back, just before the woods, were the Stables to the West and the Endless Labyrinth to the East. It was said that the Malfoys had abandoned traitors inside the maze for centuries, just to observe them wander lost and starving with magical means. Nobody except Lucius Malfoy had ever entered the Maze and come out alive, but that was because Lucius had known how to escape. Hidden underneath the maze were the torture chambers and cells, which were accessible from the main house.

But the cleverest secret of all in Malfoy Manor was the fact that nobody actually lived in it.

The real house was build under the upper Manor, and had Magical deflection charms on it. The Ministry, monitoring only the house above, would never imagine anything sinister going on and the Malfoys could continue their lives untroubled. Even when it came to surprise searches, they never found anything because they were looking in the wrong place.

“You go on in, Draco. There’s a meeting in the Library that we have to attend.”

Draco glanced sharply at his aunt. “Seraphine and Valoir as well?”

“Yes. Lucius firmly stated that you were not to be present.” She now looked decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, darling, but it’s your father’s orders...”

He suppressed the desire to roll his eyes and hoped that Seraphine wouldn’t think he had been excluded because he wasn’t to be trusted, especially after his boasting about meeting the Dark Lord. “Thank you for picking me up. Au revoir.”

Draco slid out of the car and strode to the entrance. He didn’t even have to knock; a ghost dressed like a butler opened the carved wood door immediately. “Welcome home, Master Draco.” He said solemnly.

He hated being called Master Draco, but supposed that it was better than Master Malfoy…or God forbid, Lord Malfoy.

“Good to be home, Darius.”

“I have already opened the other entrance for you, sir. Please, walk this way.”

A portion of the wall was open, revealing a gaping hole and marble staircase. Draco quickly walked down it, and Darius closed the entrance by pulling the large, heavy looking Quidditch trophy that had been tipped at a 45-degree angle, straight.

The marble courtyard was pure white and grey- a huge crystal chandelier hung above a central table made of solid silver. It was extremely old- a Malfoy heirloom- encrusted with murky emeralds. A handsome, dark-haired woman leaned against it with a casual air, smoking a cigarette. She was unnaturally pale, with dark red lips and fine features, delicate under the heavy silver jewelry she wore. There was an understated power about her, and her fur wraps indicated that she was quite wealthy.

Her large dark eyes turned towards him when she heard the click of his leather shoes against the stone. She didn’t smile, but her tilted her head in a welcoming sort of way. “Hello there, Draco.” There was still the faintest trace of a European accent in her tone.

“Elizabeth- I didn’t know you were visiting with us.” There was a fractional hesitation before Draco smiled in greeting.

Darius wafted down the staircase and bowed deeply. “Is there anything one desires, Countess Bàthory?”

“A Bloody Mary would be excellent for my purposes, Darius.” The butler bowed once more and disappeared.

Elizabeth took a deep drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke out through her nose. She dropped the stub from her hand and crushed it on the white silk carpet with the sole of her Gucci slipper, uncaring of the burn damage she had done. She pulled the wrap closer around her and undulated towards him with a languid air. “How has school been?”

“Hell, as always.” Draco raised one eyebrow and smiled- he always did like Elizabeth Bàthory. “The Mudbloods are practically running the place, Elizabeth.”

He was rewarded with a tinkling laugh. “Indeed.” She pursed her lips and regarded him, a little affronted. “And how many times have I told you it’s Erzsebet, not Elizabeth. Wind your tongue around some Hungarian.”

“Erzsebet.” He muffed the pronounciation, but it was quite a difficult language.

“Ah- but your blood comes from the French side of our family. I should not be surprised.” She smiled, displaying two rows of white teeth, perfect except for slightly elongated canines.

He had never quite understood how Elizabeth Bathory, the Blood Countess, was related to the Malfoy family. She was Hungarian, a noblewoman related closely to the King. Historians calculated that over her long and cruel reign she had murdered over 650 servants, mostly young women. Lucius had once told him that she wasn’t a Malfoy, but had mothered a Malfoy child in secret, and therefore become part of their bloodline in the sixteenth century. “I didn’t know you were visiting.” Draco repeated, slightly curious as to why she was in Britain.

Elizabeth waved her arm. “It’s tourist season at my beautiful Csejthe Castle. I charmed it to look like a ruin, but they still traipse all around it. Last year, one Muggle who claimed to be my descendant actually stole my old diary.” She shuddered. “It’s awful.”

Darius arrived at that moment, with a tall glass filled with scarlet liquid and ice cubes on a tray. “Your drink, madam.”

She grasped it with her long fingers and nodded. “That will be all, Darius.” With a glance at Draco, the butler disappeared once again.

Slowly, with a cautious precision, she tilted her head and brought the side of the glass to her lips. She opened her mouth wide and bit down- there was a sound of crushing glass for just a moment. A few droplets escaped the glass and fell to the floor. Elizabeth’s throat constricted and the liquid slowly started to drain. She curled her lip slightly to wipe the glass fragments from underneath them, and Draco saw the liquid oozing up her long, curved canines.

When she asks for a Bloody Mary, she sodding well means it.

When the glass was empty she stopped, releasing her hold and straightening. Her eyes shone brightly and her pale cheeks were just a little flushed. Elizabeth seemed to be looking for a reaction from Draco. He was quite determined to give her none, and kept his face impassive. She smiled. “Good. At least Lucius has taught you the virtue of keeping your thoughts to yourself.” She reached out and patted him on the cheek quickly- her fingers were deathly cold. “It will serve you well in life.”

She sounded suddenly wise and old. It was hard to conceive that Elizabeth Bàthory, who looked in her twenties, was actually over 400 years of age. But that was one of the most well known Vampiric qualities.

“Do you know where my parents are?”

“Lucius is at Azkaban...and your mother, of course-“ She noted Draco’s unknowing expression and stopped speaking. “Didn’t Lucius tell you?” She demanded.

He debated whether to lie, but something about Elizabeth’s dark eyes made him tell the truth. “No.”

“Oh hell. Typical Lucius.” Her teeth clenched together, there was still a trace of redness around her lips. Elizabeth looked up, as if suddenly remembering his presence. “She’s gone to visit with the Macnairs. Lucius should have told you sooner and spared you the disappointment. She won’t be home for Christmas, I’m sorry.”

Draco narrowed his eyes. Mother loathes Walden Macnair...and Christmas is her special holiday. Celeste is visiting… “Elizabeth, I know you’re lying to me.”

“Then accept my lies. If I had wanted to trick you, I would. You’ll know in time, Draco.”

“No.” His voice was firm, his grey eyes glittering with determination. “I refuse to be lied to about Mother.” Narcissa was perhaps the only person that Draco could talk to, that actually listened to him. Lucius loved him because he was his heir, his friends liked him because of his Gringotts account…Narcissa was the only one who loved him for him.

Elizabeth looked bemused, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Are you going to make me tell you, little boy? Go ahead.”

His features slackened slightly- Lucius had not raised him to be foolhardy. “Please, Elizabeth- you have to tell me. Everyone’s been avoiding my questions about her…” His hands clenched and his glance fell to the floor. “Oh God…she’s not dead, is she?” He asked, in a very small voice.

She shook her head, slowly raising a hand and placing it on his shoulder. “I told Lucius to tell you. If he shirks his responsibility he cannot blame me for assuming it. Draco,” she reached out and pulled his face up, looking into his eyes. “Draco, your mother is in Azkaban.”

“Oh.” Draco sighed in relief. “Is that all? Why didn’t you tell me before?”

“No, Draco. Listen. Narcissa has been taken to a cell in Azkaban. She is a traitor- she was passing information to the other side. The Dark Lord has yet to decide her fate.” Elizabeth squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry.”

Mother is a traitor? Yet somehow it made sense, she had always been more tolerant and open-minded. Hell, she was married to a Mudblood. He jerked away from her touch, taking a few steps back as he remembered what Voldemort did to traitors. “She’s going to get the Kiss, isn’t she?” His voice was hollow, laced with desperation.

“It is up to our Master.”

“Can I see her?”

“No. Now I have usurped your father’s prerogative and told you; it is time for you to show me that you can be a Malfoy. Be strong. I know you love your mother dearly, but as a Malfoy you must love your cause more. We trusted her and she betrayed us, Draco. She betrayed you.”

I don’t care. “Did Father tell the Dark Lord about her spying?”

Elizabeth nodded, but hastened to approve Lucius’ actions. “It was only right- his loyalty is to his master first and foremost.”

In that fraction of a second after the words fell from Elizabeth’s lips every ounce of admiration Draco had for Lucius vapourised, leaving nothing but an overwhelming feeling of hatred. In his mind, it was Lucius who had betrayed them.

I’m going to kill him.

“His loyalty should have been to his wife and to his son.” His face was stone, smooth white marble, but his eyes accused. “How can you defend him?”

“Do not question me. You have no right. I tried to spare you the humiliation of knowing Narcissa is a filthy, double dealing traitor- be grateful!” Her eyes narrowed, gleaming reddish at him. “I will not be spoken to in that fashion by any being. Don’t push me, Draco- you are but mortal…”

“I’m sorry.” He was quick to apologise- Draco didn’t need the vampiric wrath of Countess Bàthory on his head. “My emotions sometimes take control of my tongue. I am truly grateful-,” …for nothing… “-to you.”

She accepted his words with a sigh. “I should have been slightly more lenient. After all, you are of her blood. But remember- a Malfoy is governed by the mind.” She reached over the table to a pack of Yves Saint Laurent cigarettes. “Now, go unpack. I am sure Lucius has made plans to further your education these holidays, and while he is away I am in charge of you.”

He nodded and complied- but had made up his mind to go to his mother, whether Elizabeth Bàthory liked it or not.

*

20.12.1997, Saturday 0815
Draco’s room, North Wing, Malfoy Estate

Draco massaged his temple with a weary sigh, turning the page. For the thousandth time, he cursed himself for asking Hermione Granger to do him a favour. What she had given him wasn’t research- it was a doctoral thesis on Dementors, their origins and their effects. It was a good thing she hadn’t written it on parchment, because the roll would have been too thick to carry. Well, maybe he didn’t regret it all that much. After all, it was interesting to have a stimulating conversation. Crabbe and Goyle didn’t have three brain cells between them, he had to be very careful of what he said lest they ran and told his father, and Sycorax, though capable, was not interested in talking.

He scanned the page lazily but sat up once he reached the ‘symptoms’ section, reading the entire page over.

The Effects of Dementors- contd.

The Alterius Spell is a Dark Magic curse that was more prevalent during the early centuries; no records of its use exist after the 17^th Century AD. The Alterius Spell is a stronger variant of the Imperius Curse and only work if used within three days of birth. It changes the outward personality of the child, increasing the potentials of the qualities the spell worker demands. Though laymen call it the Soul-Switcher Curse, this is exaggeration; the Alterius Spell does not change the soul or basic character of the person. It merely suppresses it in favour of others.

The reasons for it’s discontinued use are varied- but it is mainly because it requires permission from the Triumvirate, which comes at a great and unpredictable cost. The Triumvirate has demanded everything from an interesting story to a human sacrifice for making the course of Fate bend. Apart from this, the curse will immediately be broken if the cursed goes against any of the parameters set by the spell caster.

The cursed often suffers from visions from the alternate timeline that would have occurred if he or she had not been cursed, headaches and/or rebellious impulses from the suppressed self. Dementors have a particularly interesting effect on Alterius Cursed wizards. Due to the unique nature of Dementors (who were created for the sole purpose of exploring a wizard’s deepest thoughts, as mentioned in The Origin of Dementors) they bring out the worst memories and fears of the alternate self, rather than the cursed one. Exposure to Dementors is extremely dangerous and should be avoided at all costs as it will have long-term side effects.

Possible Symptoms: Chronic nightmares- often of the same scenes that were seen when first exposed, increased frequency and intensity of alternate timeline visions, headaches/migraines, unexplained urges or impulses, nausea

“Master Draco?” Darius’ distinctive voice carried straight through the doors, causing Draco to look up from Hermione’s work.

Draco was reluctant to tear his eyes from the page… He could barely believe what he was reading. “Enter,” he muttered absently.

The ghost wafted through the door with enviable poise, coming to a halt a few feet from him. “Sir, I have been unobtrusively monitoring the conversations of various guests as per your instructions, and overheard something I thought you would wish to hear immediately.” Draco ducked his head, so Darius continued. “Lady Malfoy is to be sentenced on the 31^st of December.”

Draco nodded slowly, concentrating every ounce of willpower he had not to scream. Lucius had taught him well indeed. “The Dark Lord usually allows his victims enough time to go insane before sentencing them. This hastens my plans considerably…” I have to get there before they do anything to her… All thoughts of the Alterius Curse vanished from his mind like thawed snow- he had much greater concerns. He opened his drawer and retrieved a quill and a folded up rectangle of thick paper.

“Tell me about our fortifications, Darius. I must escape from the compound unsuspected and, if possible, unseen.”

Draco sighed and poised his quill in readiness to take down his butler’s words. On the table in front of him was a detailed map of the Malfoy Estate, creased a little from wear. It was a normal map, exactly like its Muggle counterpart except for the fact that it displayed where the person holding it was. Right now, a green dot was placed towards the northern end of the manor.

“We have a perimeter patrol- no, Master Malfoy, they don’t include the woods- seven teams of five wizards each. Ever since the Death Eaters’ came here security has been really tightened up, sir. Apart from that, we have random patrols throughout the compound with just one-man teams. The Apparation point is guarded by two of the best guards- Lupin and Bulstrode in the day, Nott and Avery by night. Not to mention the various enchantments your father set up all over the place, Master Malfoy.”

Oh, this is going to be a piece of cake. “The perimeter patrol- do they have a set pattern to their movements? They sound like the easiest bet.”

“They do have a pattern, sir, but I’m afraid I have been remiss in supplying you with complete information- the Patrol is a canine team. Specially trained crups, sir, vicious to the core.” Darius wrinkled his nose in ghostly disapproval. “They refuse to be fed by the house elves- only pureblood wizards.”

He lifted his quill, regarding the drawings of Estate security carefully. “This isn’t going to be the hard part, Darius. The fortress of Azkaban will be the hard part.” He looked up at his servant, obtusely glad at having an ‘adult’ presence. Does he count as adult? Darius was bound to them by magical oath, like the house elves- he had served the Malfoys for generations. He was contractually bound to follow Draco’s orders until Lucius returned or gave him specific orders not to serve his son.

“Indeed, Master Malfoy. Azkaban is legendary for it’s impregnability.”

There was something about the supernatural calm on the ghost’s translucent features that lowered Draco’s guard. “The Dementors give me the strangest dreams, Darius. Of horrible memories that I never knew existed.”

For a moment, the butler did not know what to say or do. He looked straight at his master, something he had never done in all his years of service. “Dementors have the power to bring the greatest wizard to his knees. There is nothing shameful about fearing their kind.”

“No…I suppose there isn’t. Though Father says that fear is weakness.” He could almost see Lucius Malfoy’s pale, cold face as he lectured him. His teacher, his master, his judge, jury and executioner…his father… And the man he had sworn to kill. His father had once told him that a true Malfoy honours his oaths. I’ll show you how much of a Malfoy I can be.

“Of course, Master Draco.” Their brief moment was gone, both slipped easily back into their preordained roles as master and obliging servant. “If I may ask-,” he hesitated; it was not his place to question.

“Go ahead.”

“Once you are inside, sir, how do you intent to emancipate Lady Malfoy and depart? More than that, Master Malfoy, where will you go?”

“As to your first question- I simply do not know yet, and as to your second, I will come back here, Darius.”

The servant raised one pearlescent eyebrow. “I daresay Lord Malfoy might object.”

“I shall worry about the great Lord Malfoy, Darius. You needn’t fret about it.” He bit his lip and slumped back into the cushioned chair. His pale fingers clutched his forehead and he closed his eyes, deep in thought. A slow smile suddenly spread across his face and his eyes flickered open, glittering maliciously. “Perfect.” He breathed to himself. “Darius…I’ll need a few things…my Tebo hide coat, jodhpurs and riding boots-”

“As you wish, Master Malfoy.”

*

21.12.1997, Sunday 0812
Azkaban, Voldemort’s Headquarters

“My Lord!” Lucius Malfoy burst into the room after a perfunctory knock.

His master was not pleased, but quieted Nagini’s annoyed hiss nonetheless. “Lucius…do try and practice those excellent manners your father taught you. What is it?”

“Poltergeist- our spy at Hogwarts- has just sent me more news- master, the accursed one has disappeared.” He bowed his head low, thanking Slytherin that he had remembered not to name Harry Potter in front of his Lord. “All efforts to trace his whereabouts have failed.”

“What?” Voldemort rose out of his chair, anger radiating from him. “How? Poltergeist was supposed to have him under strict surveillance! You told me this spy was capable, Lucius…”

“Indeed, Poltergeist is, master…this is undoubtedly Dumbledore’s doing. He has secreted the boy from us.” Lucius bowed low and kept his eyes down. “My Lord, I beg pardon for myself and the spy for allowing him to slip through our fingers. We rely on your mercy.”

Voldemort shook his head and sat down, drumming his fingers on the armrest. “I have already lost him- I cannot afford to lose one of my best placed spies and one of my inner circle Death Eaters over the same matter. You are forgiven, Lucius, and your Poltergeist as well. But Lord Voldemort has a long memory for failure…I will not be so generous if there is a next time.”

“There most assuredly will not me, master.”

“Now I must think. I must find the accursed one- the time draws ever nearer when he will come of use.”

Lucius looked up briefly, avoiding his master’s smouldering red eyes. “How will we find him, my Lord?”

“It is a simple matter of playing on the weaknesses, Lucius… Dumbledore and his muggle-loving following all share the same weakness, and we must use this to our advantage. These are desperate times, my Death Eater, and they call for desperate actions.” He waved his arm; Lucius bowed once more and slowly moved out. “Leave me…I must think.”

*

22.12.1997, Monday 1732
Apparation Point, Malfoy Estate

“Spread them wide, Ms. Havisham.”

Celeste couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucius Malfoy’s guards loved this part of their job. This time, they didn’t look like heavily muscled Neanderthals- they were dressed in black robes and spoke with a swagger. Death Eaters, she thought bitterly. The larger of the two checked her for concealed weapons, taking an inordinately long time about it. He straightened up, looking highly disappointed that he hadn’t found anything dubious.

“You were expecting a couple of AK47’s and a Kalashnikov, perhaps?” She snapped, noting his look. You’d think I was a gangster out of some Muggle movie. “Give me a break.”

The sandy-haired one grinned, looking quite affable and Celeste felt like she had seen him somewhere before. He was tall, lean and quite handsome with brown eyes. He looked in his thirties. “Standard procedure, Ms. Havisham. Isn’t that right, Bulstrode?”

“Uh huh.” Bulstrode grunted and held his huge hand out. “Wand.”

Celeste took a step back, her grey eyes moving from one to the other. “You’re not serious?” She received no response. “But I am Narcissa Malfoy’s daughter! I see you have your wands, so why not me?”

“Narcissa Malfoy is a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. You should be ashamed rather than proud to have her traitorous blood. The only reason you’re being let in is because Lucius has not countermanded his standing order facilitating your entrance each Christmas.” The slighter man’s congeniality vaporised, his tone curt. “Either we take your wand or you Apparate out, Ms. Havisham. Those are the rules.”

Hand shaking slightly, she yielded up her wand. “Can I go now?”

Bulstrode shoved her wand into a compartment and waved his own in front of it. ‘Celeste Havisham’ appeared on the previously plain label. “Get it when you leave.” He glanced at the other man. “He’ll take you to the manor. No funny business.”

She nodded and followed the guard out, increasing her stride to match his athletic one. It was quite a walk back to the Manor- a good twenty to thirty minutes. There was usually a broom or some kind of muggle car to take her from one place to the other. A few people, dressed like Death Eaters, sauntered down the same path that they were traversing, obviously having come from the Library. Celeste stared in surprise- as a rule the Manor was off limits to anyone but Lucius, Narcissa and Draco. Looks like this has become Death Eater headquarters… One of the black-garbed people turned as she passed.

“Professor Havisham- I didn’t know you were here!” The voice crying out from under the mask was unmistakable- Seraphine Malfoy. A taller Death Eater leaned closer to the girl and muttered a few angry sounding words to her. Without another word, Seraphine turned and continued walking down the path.

“Stupid girl.” A woman’s voice hissed, the wind carrying her words to Celeste. “Think before you act. Don’t reveal yourself to-”

The guard tapped her on the shoulder impatiently. “Ms Havisham- let’s proceed.” He waited until she turned and began to walk before following. “By the way, I’m sorry I haven’t introduced myself. Lupin. Romulus Lupin.” His voice was back to its previous friendly tone.

“Oh- I knew I recognized you from somewhere. I’ve met your brother Remus quite a few times. He used to teach at Hogwarts, I was told.” She nodded, his proximity reminding her just how long it had been since she had been on date with a man. That was one of the problems with being a teacher at Hogwarts. In her opinion, none of them had any sex drive. Except Ramsey, he was only too willing-, she dismissed that option with a mental snort. Hell would freeze over before Celeste Havisham got that desperate. “Call me Celeste. Only my students call me by my second name.”

“Fine…Celeste… So how long will you be staying this time?”

Celeste smiled prettily, tucking a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. “I don’t know. I usually take the Hogwarts Express back to school with Draco, but it depends on my mother, really.” She shrugged.

Romulus gave her a slightly incredulous look but said nothing. “Oh. Of course.”

“How long will you be staying, Romulus? – I can call you Romulus, can’t I?”

“Of course, Celeste…I’m staying here for as long as it takes.” He said rather evasively. “We tend not to finalize our plans.”

“I can understand.” She laughed, feeling a lot less antagonistic than before. “But a little uncertainty- it’s interesting.”

He sighed rather volubly. “I suppose…but will you be attending the Christmas function at the Malfoy Chateau? My wife and I are both looking forward to it.” He emphasised slightly on ‘wife’. “I find Ariane throws the most magnificent parties.”

“I’m sure…” She replied, her enthusiasm slightly dampened. “But Christmas is rather a family occasion with me. It’s really the only time of the year when I see Narcissa.”

“Right.” Romulus looked straight ahead, keeping silent for a few moments before turning back to her. “If you don’t think me too inquisitive- Mrs. Malfoy didn’t- er, doesn’t- seem old enough to have two grown children. I’m not sure I understand how-,”

“Yes- mother’s only thirty-eight.” Celeste laughed easily, grey eyes twinkling. “Actually, I’m not quite as old as I look. I’m going to be twenty in a few-,” Eight. “-months’ time. Since I teach at Hogwarts, Dumbledore suggested I use an aging potion. So I look about twenty seven- old enough to have authority, in his opinion. It should wear off in a little while.”

They reached the Library and Romulus held the doors open for her. “We can use the Floo intra-Network to get to the house from here.” He explained, leading her into an inner room. Celeste tried to ignore the huge stacks of ancient books and the deliciously learned smell that hung about libraries- it would be so tempting just to lose herself in literature. A huge fire burned in the grate and a wizard sat close to it, watchful for Ashwinders.

He stood up and smiled crookedly at the two of them, his gaze resting for a few extra moments on Celeste. “Back on duty, eh, Lupin? And…you could only be Ms. Havisham, am I right?”

“Yes…how did you know?”

“My daughter has spoken of you- you’re her Potions professor. And you look too much like a dark-haired Narcissa for it to be a coincidence.” His eyes darkened slightly as he mentioned the traitor. “Jean Lestrange- good to meet you.” The Death Eaters seemed to assume she was on their side. “So, the underground manor, then?”

“Yes, thank you.” She took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped closer to the grate. With a quick motion, she tossed the powder in and the fire crackled. “The Lower Manor.” She said clearly.

A few moments and a splitting headache later, Celeste found herself on the carpet in the Atrium of the Lower Manor. She dusted herself off, glad to see that her latest Floo adventure had not caused too much damage to her appearance. Quickening her stride, she made her way to her mother’s chambers in the north-west Wing of the Manor.

The large oak doors that led into her bedroom were slightly ajar; Celeste pushed them completely open. “Mum?” She called, raising her voice. “Mum, where are you?” Hearing noises from the dressing room, she moved in that direction. “Dear Lord! Draco, what are you doing here?”

The silvery-haired boy stopped abruptly, shutting the drawer he was rummaging through with a harsh grating sound. “What are you doing here, Celeste?”

“I came to visit my mother, of course!”

Draco looked up abruptly and narrowed his eyes. “You don’t know?” Of course she doesn’t know, why else would she be asking? He dismissed his question with a wave of his hand. “Lucius found out Narcissa was a traitor- they’ve taken her to Azkaban.”

She paled, clutching a chest of drawers for support. “She’s what?” Celeste repeated weakly. “Oh my God…oh my God…they’re going to kill her.”

Show no emotion. “Looks like it.” He turned his back to her and clenched his teeth. The last thing he needed was Celeste screwing up his carefully made plans. “They’re not exactly known for leniency.”

“How can you be so calm? So cold and clinical!” Celeste accused, loathing filling her like acid and poisoning her words. The amicable exterior melted away in the heat of her fear-fuelled anger. “I never believed them before- but what they say is true. The Malfoys truly are soulless monsters!”

Draco didn’t flinch once, though his fingers balled into fists. Just stay calm. Ignore her. Be a Malfoy. “Are you done?”

“You don’t even love your mother enough to show some emotion!” With deliberate steps, she marched up to him and slapped him resoundingly on the face. “Bastard!”

Why do the girls always pick me to slap? The imprint of her fingers was outlined in lurid red on his pale skin. “Feel better now, Celeste?” He asked, with a sneer. “It doesn’t matter to me.” Draco shrugged and pushed past her, turning back briefly. “You can stay in Narcissa’s room as long as you want- but if you want to keep your head I’d suggest you stay out of the Death Eaters way. Merry Christmas.”

*

Monday 1800
Shores, Azkaban Island

“Out for a walk, brother?”

The voice that spoke sounded slightly mocking. They were all supposed to be brothers and sisters- it was the Dark Lord’s order. They were His only family; he had said it to them often. Still, there was truth in the nomenclature, for most of the Death Eaters had been forsaken by their own families because of their beliefs.

Charlie Weasley turned sharply, acutely aware of the fact that he was without his mask. “Who is that?”

“Come on, Charles- you’ve been here for about a month and a half. Surely you should have become more adept at voice recognition.” The Death Eater unfastened her mask and tipped her hood back, shaking out her gold hair. “It’s a chilly evening to be out of the fortress.”

As if to emphasize her point, a cool wind blew up from the sea and swirled around them. It stung their faces slightly, the salt in the air tingling their senses and ruffling Charlie’s hair into a proud lion’s mane around his overly pale face. Sunlight rarely touched the island, but lack of it could not have caused his chalky pallor or the worried cast to his fine features.

He seemed slightly annoyed by her intrusion. “Mrs. Lestrange, I’m so sorry. My mind was somewhere else.” He turned back to the magnificent view of waters spreading out to eternity on all sides. The sea raced up to meet the horizon and lost itself in the dreamspun sky, the twilight-tinted azure of the silken expanses merging seamlessly.

She shrugged, obviously not quite so impressed with the scene. “Where exactly,” Sarhen inquired, unable to keep the suspicion out of her tone. But then, she had never liked the Weasley family.

“I was thinking about loyalty…and duty…”

“My, my, truth from a Death Eater. I had fully expected evasiveness…but then, I have little experience with Gryffindors,” her grey-blue eyes begged him to flare up. “I should think that the Dark Lord’s newest convert shouldn’t need to think about his loyalty.” Sarhen seized his wrist and pulled back the black fabric of his sleeve, uncovering the symbol of a skull with a snake protruding from it’s gaping mouth burned into his skin.

“This,” she whispered, her voice carrying harshly to him. “This is where your loyalties should be, Charles Weasley, burned deeper than the Dark Mark on your skin. It’s too late to be having second thoughts, my boy, the Dark Lord has already claimed you as one of his and believe you me, nobody out there is going to take you back!”

Charlie jerked his hand from her roughly, his eyes ablaze with indignation. “My loyalties have yet to come under question, Mrs. Lestrange! The Dark Lord saw fit to grant me the honour of becoming one of his children, and unless you are questioning our Master’s capability I see no point to this conversation.”

“No, I’m not questioning his capability,” she amended rather hastily, not wanting to be seen as doubting Voldemort. “Look Charlie…I just don’t like traitors.”

“I’m not a traitor. My loyalties are at least as strong as yours.”

Sarhen nodded and extended her hand after a brief hesitation. “Then accept my apologies for being so harsh with you. Caution is just my way.”

“Accepted.” He shook her hand firmly, noting the slight mistrust still in her eyes.

“Right.” She pulled her cloak around her more tightly. “I’m going to go inside- it’s getting too cold out here. Do you want to come?”

He turned back to the sea and shook his head. “I’m going to stay out here for a while. It’s soothing.”

“See you later, Charlie.”

He breathed a sigh of relief as she turned and left, his eyes searching the vicinity for any signs of guards. They would not be suspicious of a fellow ‘brother’ out for a twilight stroll. He strode towards the rocky outcrop that protruded into the sea like a horizontal monolith. He shed his voluminous black robes and pulled off the shirt he was wearing, standing silhouetted in the dying sunlight for a moment. There was no use hiding his clothes- he had a feeling Sarhen would come looking for him soon enough. Charlie retrieved his wand from his pocket and quickly muttered the Four Point Spell; his wand pointed in the North direction dutifully. Charlie glanced at the skyline and slid the wand into his tan hide belt. He shivered with the cold, clenching his fingers as he regarded the black water.

This is it. You can’t back out now. Don’t think about what’ll happen if you fail…

Taking a deep breath, he broke into a run and dove from the rock into the frigid water. His head reappeared on the surface a few moments later, hair darkened by the dampness and plastered to the sides of his head. Charlie Weasley took one last look at Azkaban before setting off towards the West, his mind filled with determination.

Far above, Lucius Malfoy moved away from the tower window and walked briskly to Voldemort’s Chambers.