The Gang of Four

In 1964, four baby girls were born to families of privilege and power. In 1982, only one graduated from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What happened to the others has been shrouded behind secrecy and lies. But fifteen years later, the past will be unraveled, and history rewritten, when Lord Voldemort’s return recalls his greatest supporters and enemies back to the place that started it all: Hogwarts.

The Gang of Four

Prologue – The Ties that Bind

August 5^th, 1975, Chateau Royale, Canterbury, England (Official Troy Residence)

The rolling heat of summer dropped over the spacious lawn behind the house and filled the air with the light perfume of lilacs.

Helena Troy Potter smiled graciously to her companions as she sipped lemonade. "Isn’t the day simply marvelous?"

From beside her, Phoenix Potter nodded in agreement. "It’s a perfect day, and those cooling charms the workers put up seem to be working just right."

Aunt Madeline, who never had a good word to say about anything, simply grunted. "Sun’s too bright. And I’m getting hungry."

"We have sandwiches." Helena pointed to the tray next to them. "Besides, don’t tell me you’d rather be in Nice, they’re having those dreadful storms just now."

"Hrmph. Lesser of two evils, I say."

Helena and Phoenix shared a hidden smile. Aunt Maddy may be a grouch, but she was everyone’s favorite Troy. One of the few to break the norm of marriage and family life, Aunt Maddy was a vocal spinster who spent her days Porting between Nice (where her house was), Canterbury (the ancestral home), and Vienna (her favorite vacation spot). She was also the source of all gossip within the Troy family and their prominent associates.

So, naturally, Helena poured her aunt another glass of her best lemonade and put on her best gossip face. "So, did Vivienne tell you who’d be here today?" She knew Aunt Maddy couldn’t well say ‘no’, as that would damage her reputation as Knower-of-All, and sure enough, the wizened witch responded to the challenge.

"Oh, yes. And wait ‘til I tell you what the Kneazle dragged in."

Helena and Phoenix leaned closer.

Aunt Maddy’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Roanald Snape is coming."

"Why, of course he is. He’s daughter is just a step away from Matronship."

"Ah, but that’s not the story. He’s bringing Angelique Malfoy with him!"

"What? That-that whore? The nerve of him to bring her here, to Troy sacred ground, after what he put his poor wife through!" Helena’s opinion of the unfettered Ms. Malfoy was well known in Troy circles.

Phoenix clucked her tongue in sympathy. "How terrible for his children."

Aunt Maddy hooted. "That’s not that half of it! She’s bringing that bastard daughter of hers with her!"

Helena gaped openly, forgetting her normally impeccable manners in the moment of truth "Bring her here?" Two red spots of anger appeared on her cheeks. "Who does he think he is, treating this family like a pack of Squibs?"

"Oh, my," Phoenix gasped. "Is he looking for trouble? Just because no one talks about the affair openly doesn’t mean we don’t all know about it. Angelique, well, she’s a big girl and if she wants to face down a pack of wolves she can, but that poor child of his, why, she’ll be torn apart." She raised her eyebrow. "If the kids learn anything in this world, it’s that loyalty to family is absolute. They’ll hate her for sure." A note of sympathy entered her voice. "That girl can’t be more than ten or eleven. After this charade, she won’t have a friend left when school starts."

Helena narrowed her eyes. "I certainly hope not."



Helena and Phoenix continued to lounge on the lawn chairs though Aunt Maddy had retired to the house, complaining of the heat.

From her spot under a sprawling oak, Phoenix could see the magnificent house on one side and the lake on the other. Directly in front of her was the tent pitched to keep the food and company protected from the elements, but she knew that just beyond it lay the full-sized Quidditch pitch.

She took a long swallow of her lemonade. "Delicious. I’ll have to tell our house-elf to get the recipe."

Helena laughed. "Oh, anything cold tastes good in the summer."

"Mmm... Maybe so, but I think I’ll give it a try. Speaking of which, I just hope Evie and Jamie aren’t too hot out there on the pitch."

Helena waved her concerns away. "Even if they are, you know they won’t notice a thing. They’re far too obsessed with the game to pay attention to anything else."

Phoenix laughed. "You’re right." She arched her neck to get a good look at the inside of the tent. "Looks like the house-elves are almost done... Oh! That no-good husband of mine—"

"What’d he do now?" Helena asked lightly.

Phoenix shook her head in mock anger. "Stole a slice of pumpkin pie before it was even cool! And he claims he’s been watching his weight..."

"Oh, Phoe, don’t mind Harold. Goodness, with all that exercise he gets on his job, he’ll always have good health. Now, Alex, on the other hand," Helena shook her head, "Ever since he’s become Minister, he doesn’t pay attention to what he eats at all! He’s always so busy with this emergency or that catastrophe, some days, he doesn’t have time to eat anything."

Phoenix sighed. "Well, it is hard times we live in, Helen."

Helena nodded and sighed as well. "What can we do? The Dark Lord is rising, and so few stand against him."

"People fear him."

"Yes, and with good reason." Sorrow shadowed Helena’s beautiful face. "I fear before this war is over, there will be nothing left to save."



Evelyn Potter grabbed onto her broomstick and, skirting around the adults, ran out of the tent, a glass of iced pumpkin juice in her other hand. As she slid out of the tent and around the corner of the house towards the Quidditch pitch, she nearly ran over a girl.

"Oh, sorry!" Evelyn jumped back, trying desperately to keep her juice from spilling. She looked up and down at the girl. Evelyn had never seen her before. The stranger was about her age, slightly taller, with long black hair, gray eyes, and a pale, lithe figure.

Evelyn grinned and, dropping her broom, stuck out her hand. "Hey, I’m Evelyn."

The girl looked at the proffered hand for a moment, then shook it. "Reysanne Malfoy."

"I’ve never seen you here before." Evelyn picked up her broom and started to walk towards the pitch. Before Reysanne could respond, she added, "Oh, and where’s your broom?"

"My broom?" Reysanne looked startled at the question.

"Yeah. Aren’t you going to the pitch to play?"

"You’re playing Quidditch?"

"Why, ‘course we are. We always do. Didn’t Aunt Vivienne tell you to bring your broom?"

Reysanne shook her head, no.

Evelyn sighed, exasperated. "I can’t believe she forgot to tell you! She usually never forgets these things. Well, we better go to the broom shed then."

"What? Why?"

"Why, to get you a broom, of course. How else will you play?"

"Play? You mean, with you?"

Evelyn laughed. "Well, it’s not like the adults would let you play with them. No matter how good you are, they’ll run you over. Come on."

Reysanne had to run to catch up with Evelyn, who had now stopped in front of wooden door.

"Hold this, will you?" Evelyn handed over her broom.

Reysanne stared at the polished handle in her hand. It was perfectly shaped, made of the best oak with straight, neatly trimmed twigs at the end. A coat of satiny polish covered it, and even her sweaty palms didn’t make the surface slick. And at the very top, in curvy, gold letters, read Nimbus 1000.

Evelyn knocked on the door. "Come on, open up now! Open up!" She turned to Reysanne apologetically. "Sorry, the door’s getting a bit old now, hard of hearing." She banged loudly on the door. "OPEN UP!"

"Alright, alright," a creaky voice answered. With a loud squeak, the door swung open.

Reysanne followed Evelyn in and gasped. All around her were brooms. All four walls, as well as the shelves in the center, were filled with brooms of all different sorts, though here and there were a few empty spots. Perhaps a half a dozen Nimbuses, several of the latest models of Comets and Cleansweeps, as well as a few older models and a couple of Shooting Stars. There was even a Silver Arrow on the top of one shelf.

Evelyn walked up to one shelf and examined the contents. "This is where Aunt Vivienne keeps the extras. You can borrow one." She turned to Reysanne. "So, what do you normally ride?"

"Well…I—" Reysanne stuttered, "—I don’t."

"Oh, don’t be so shy about it. I’m just asking ‘cause the extra Nimbus isn’t here. And the Cleansweep flies better at heights, but the Comet’s faster on turns. Just asked what you’re used to, ‘cause you’d probably like that better."

"Well, I don’t really know..."

Evelyn looked incredulously at Reysanne. "Don’t tell me you don’t know how to fly!"

Reysanne blushed. "Of course I do. I’ve ridden my mother’s Cleansweep 4."

"You don’t have your own broom? I thought all Malfoys were rich." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Evelyn tried to take them back. "Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I was just surprised, I listen to rumors too much." She coughed. "Here’s a Cleansweep 5, I think you’ll like that. Sorry about you not having a broom. You’re mum and dad must be the really overprotective type."

Evelyn quickly exited the shed and led Reysanne to the pitch. A crowd had already gathered.

"Evie, there you are." James Potter waved down at her from his broom. "What took you so long? You said you were only getting your broom from the tent."

"Oh, I bumped into Reysanne here, and she needed a broom. Aunt Vivienne forgot to tell her to bring one." Evelyn mounted and pushed off, and Reysanne followed.

"Reysanne, I’d like to introduce you to my cousin, James Potter. Jamie, this is Reysanne Malfoy."

"Reysanne Malfoy?" A sharp, sarcastic voice asked.

Evelyn looked over to see her friend, Arabella Troy, speeding towards them. "Arie, there you are!" She looked around and did a quick mental headcount. "Good, everyone’s here, we can start."

"On the contrary, I count one too many," Arabella retorted, glaring at Reysanne.

Lilith Snape tugged at Arabella’s sleeve. "Arie, please."

Arabella shrugged off her friend and circled her broom slowly around Reysanne. "So you’re Malfoy."

Reysanne ignored the exchange and stared at Arabella. "That’s right. I’m Reysanne Cassandra Malfoy," she said, the classic Malfoy drawl emphasizing the last syllable.

Arabella glared at the intruder. "What are you doing here?"

Reysanne flushed with anger. While she normally avoided confrontations, she was still a Malfoy by blood, and no Malfoy retreated from an open challenge. "Playing Quidditch, what does it look like?"

"You can’t play."

"Says who?"

"Me. I won’t let you."

"And who are you?"

Arabella smiled almost lazily, but those who knew her recognized the smile as a feral one. The cat was ready to pounce. "My name is Arabella Kensington Troy." She said each word as if it were a bomb that would shatter any opponent, and indeed, the names Kensington and Troy were enough to make many a respectable member of Chamber of Warlocks tremble, and her use of them together assured her the command of two of the most powerful wizarding families in Britain.

Reysanne paled and jerked slightly, but stood her ground. "So you’re a spoilt brat. Should that impress me?"

"How dare you speak to me that way?" Arabella hissed. "I’m the daughter of the Matron of Troy! What are you? Nothing but the bastard child of Roanold Snape and his mistress!"

"Arie!" Evelyn gasped at her friend’s use of such language.

"Arabella!" Lilith grabbed her arm. "Don’t say that!" She turned to the other girl. "Please...Reysanne, is it?...don’t mind Arie, when she gets hot-tempered like this... She doesn’t mean what she says."

"Quit it, Lil," Arabella snapped. "I’m right. She doesn’t belong here."

Reysanne jerked forwards, gripping her broom tightly. "You think you’re better than me? You’re nothing. I have old blood in veins. I’m a Malfoy. You hide in your little cocoon. What do you know about the world?"

"A hell of a lot more than you do, apparently. Who cares if your last name’s Malfoy? The only reason you have it is because your father won’t admit you’re his. He’s ashamed to dirty the family name with you."

"You’re an ignorant fool. You know nothing about me!"

Their spat was interrupted by a high, ringing laughter.

Evelyn floated in between them, chuckling and clapping. "Oh, please, stop. You two are making ridiculous fools of yourself."

"What?" Reysanne was caught off-guard by this odd intrusion.

"Stay out of it, Eve."

Evelyn merely smirked. "Here you are, arguing about which one of you is the better, when we all know that I’m the best."

Reysanne and Arabella were too stunned to speak.

"I’m a Potter. My father can arrest anyone he wants, my uncle is Minister, and my cousin is the best Quidditch player in England, (James blushed and sputtered at this), and I’m a direct descendent of Godric Gryffindor. I’m going to inherit half of the Potter fortune. I’ll control every Port in the world. How many Galleons is that? Not to mention," Evelyn tapped her broom. "I’m by far the better player."

"Are not!" Arabella choked out.

"You—"

Before Reysanne could finish what she was about to say, Evelyn added quickly. "Race ya!" She took off, leaving Arabella and Reysanne gaping.

"Why you...!" Arabella swerved her broom around and tore after here with Reysanne in hot pursuit.

Evelyn reached the far pine turn and made a sharp hairpin turn around it. Not ten feet behind her the other two were in a dead tie, screeching around the same tree. Evelyn zoomed back to their starting position as the rest of the field scattered. She braked and executed as tight loop-de-loop and came to a stop. Arabella and Reysanne both jerked their handles back, activating the braking charm (and stretching it’s capabilities).

Evelyn grinned like a small child. "I win!"

"You cheated!" Arabella accused, slightly out of breath.

"Yeah, you had a head start," Reysanne added, equally outraged.

"Which just goes to prove what I said." Another cheeky grin accompanied the statement.

As Arabella and Reysanne pondered this rather confusing proclamation, Evelyn waved for everyone else to come back.

"Come, on, let’s play Quidditch."

The two feuding champions were soon caught up in the game, the hostility put away and the tension dissipated.



Two hours later, as everyone sat down to the late picnic lunch, Lilith pulled Evelyn aside. "What you did back there, that was brilliant! I never would have thought of it. Distracting them by bragging about yourself?" Lilith shook her head, amused.

Evelyn looked over to where Arabella was sitting. "Well, it worked. But next time, I’m not so sure." She raised an eyebrow at Lilith. "You know, I think it’s going to be an interesting year at Hogwarts."

"I agree. Look, Vivienne’s getting up." Lilith pointed to the front of the tent, where Arabella’s mother was standing at the center of attention.

The women of Troy and their families and guests gathered around. Vivienne Alton Troy, Matron of the House of Troy, stood proudly on an elevated pedestal before the assembly.

She beamed. "Today, I have a most wondrous announcement." She stepped to the side, and a blushing, radiant Diane Snape Troy stepped up from behind her. "Our beloved Daughter of Troy has conceived!"

The tent burst into applause.



Nine months later...



"We are here today to celebrate the coming of a new generation, one that will continue to bring greatness and excellence to the House of Troy. I have led for eighteen years, and I do not regret a day of it, not even today, when I hand the reins to the next daughter of Troy. The position of Matron is one of great power and responsibility to this family and this world. And I know our next Matron will serve us well. I am so proud and so honored to present to you the next Matron of Troy, Diane Snape Troy!"

The women applauded, then fell into revered silence as Diane stepped up on the pedestal next to Vivienne. In her arms, swathed in purple velvet blankets, was the product of her triumphant pregnancy. She smiled tearfully. "This is the happiest day of my life. I am so honored to stand here before you."

Vivienne took the child and kissed her on the forehead. She then passed it to the waiting Perenelle, who did the same and passed the child to Gwendolyn, and then Madeline, so to each Troy until the circle was complete.

Anastasia, the last and the youngest in the circle lifted the child high above her. The others linked hands and the two beside her grasped her shoulders. "By the Powers, we, Daughters of Troy, in honor and in glory, declare you to be a fellow Daughter and welcome you to the noble House of Troy!" Her voice dropped and a hush fell on the gathering. "Sister to sister, " Anastasia turned to her mother. "Yours in life and death." The others echoed the mantra.

"...Yours in life and death..."

Diane and Vivienne stepped into the center of the circle. Vivienne pressed her fingers to the sides of Diane’s head. "I give this family to you to protect and serve. I give to you my oath; Sister to sister, yours in life and death."

Diane put her hands on the same spot of Vivienne’s head. "I swear upon my magic, my honor, and my life as a Troy, I will serve and protect this family with everything that I am. I give to you my oath; Sister to sister, yours in life and death."

The magic swirled around them, binding both to their oaths. A blood oath cannot be broken. The oath of a Matron was of far older and far stronger magic.