Chapter 4 Warnings and Revelations

'My lord,' said Igor, rising from his chair 'I was merely stating the facts.'

'Sit down old friend,' replied Voldemort, a charming smile on his face as he put a hand on Igor's shoulder 'and introduce me properly to your friends.'

Maltius and Evan seemed to be charmed by Lord Voldemort's manner. Although Maltius was by nature the more obstinate of the two, even he seemed dazed by the person in front of him. He exuded a feeling of power, coupled with ambition, which despite his friendly manner, lent him an air of danger. Igor, during the time Lord Voldemort sat down and gestured to one of the vampire servers, had recovered enough of his voice to comply to the order.

'My lord,' started Igor, gesturing towards the two wizards seated across the table, 'this is Evan Rosier, pureblood to the fifth generation, and his school friend Maltius Mulciber, pureblood to the seventh generation.' The two nodded respectfully when each of their names was called off, proud features on their faces when their ancestry was mentioned. 'They were both in the noble house of Slytherin during their time in Hogwarts.'

The charade did not impact upon the two and Lord Voldemort, despite knowing the facts, and much more then that, nodded, even going as far as smiling at the two.

'Friends, this is Lord Voldemort, whom I have mentioned to you on countless occasions,' said Igor smoothly 'a descendant of great Salazar himself and a former Knight of Walpurgis.' At that the eyes of the two opened up to their maximum possible extent, as they rose from their chairs to shake hands. Lord Voldemort rose himself, a few seconds later, and shook their outstretched hands. The interaction was interrupted by the arrival of a server, a pretty little thing, whose small frame posed far more danger than she revealed. Upon seeing Lord Voldemort she bowed from the waist, lowered the drink on the table and departed, giving him his privacy. Evan did not notice the interaction, choosing to focus his attention on her female attributes, but Maltius did. He raised an eyebrow, since vampires were always extremely formal and polite, but rarely displayed such obvious respect for a wizard. He thought about inquiring onto the matter, but decided against.

'I have met the girl's sire in Europe, Maltius,' said Lord Voldemort, looking Mulciber in the eye 'he has helped me out of a difficult situation and I have repaid him in kind.'

'Lord Voldemort, I…' started Maltius, for once a witty retort missing from his lips.

'Lord Voldemort always knows Maltius,' replied Lord Voldemort, raising his glass to his lips, 'he always knows…' Evan watched the interaction with a confused look, but chose the safety of silence.

'My friends,' started Lord Voldemort, setting his glass down onto the table, appreciating the vintage, 'I have heard excellent things from Igor about your, shall we say, preferences of blood, but I wanted to hear it with my own ears.'

'Mudbloods are corrupting our society,' started Evan impetuously 'and the House of Lords do nothing.'

'They are too reactionary,' intervened Maltius 'they have the power, but they use it only to maintain the status quo.'

'But certainly, the odds are in our favour,' said Lord Voldemort. 'Besides polluting the blood and acting as an annoyance, what harm do they do?'

'I beg your pardon,' started Evan, his anger rising up 'but have you thought of the future?'

Igor blanched at Rosier's nerve, frightened of the reaction his master would have. Lord Voldemort's anger flared, but it was obvious on his features for less then a second, his smile returning.

'I have given a great deal of thought to the future,' said Lord Voldemort. 'Forgive me, I was merely playing Morgana's advocate.' Evan, whose anger had caused him to speak up, closed his mouth, confused as to the next step.

'Please forgive my friend, Lord Voldemort,' said Maltius. 'He has had an unfortunate occurrence with a mudblood, one that caused him some grievance.'

'Really,' said Lord Voldemort, faking surprise, 'what has happened?'

'I got rejected from the International Cooperation Department,' said Evan, his voice embittered, 'and when I look back, that posting was given to a Mudblood in our year, Oliver Brown. I know he does not have the skills, but the Department head is a muggle loving idiot.'

Lord Voldemort's manner turned cold, and it was as if the temperature dropped a few degrees.

'And what do you plan to do about it?'

'I tried,' said Evan, 'but my father has no contacts in that Department.'

'I did not mean it like such,' said Lord Voldemort. 'If the position were open, I could speak to the Department Head in your favour, if you still want the job.'

'Of course I want it,' said Evan, momentarily confused 'but Brown would never give it up.'

'He could be made too,' suggested Lord Voldemort. 'You only need to ask it.'

Maltius did not like the way the conversation was heading and was prepared to warn his friend. Evan held no such thoughts however, and he was quick to voice his desire for whatever Lord Voldemort was promising.

'Good,' said Lord Voldemort, finishing his drink. He tapped his wand on the globe that was on the table. Seeing the sum appear, Maltius reached into his coat, only to be stopped by Lord Voldemort placing the required amount on the table.

'In honour of our meeting, friends,' said Lord Voldemort. 'Now follow me.'

Once outside, Lord Voldemort withdrew an ornate quill from his robes, tapping it and saying 'Portus'. Reaching out a finger, they all touched the quill, the scenery changing quickly from urban to rural. A lone country house was present on the hill, flickering light from the ground floor windows signified someone was home. Recognizing the face, Evan was shocked to see his archenemy, together with his pretty young wife sitting at the dinner table. Lord Voldemort walked towards the front door, his three companions following him, sneered at the obvious muggle style and rapped on it three times. A chair scraping on wood and a feminine 'Coming' could be heard. A young woman, looking no older than 20, opened the door. Taking in the appearance of her four unexpected guests, she opened her mouth to let loose a greeting.

'Good evening,' said the woman 'you must be friends of Oliver.' Evan wanted to protest, but Lord Voldemort beat him to it.

'You are muggle, dear?' asked Lord Voldemort, slipping into the charming persona he so easily put forward, while putting a hand inside his robes.

'Yes,' laughed the woman, a pleasant care-free sound. To Lord Voldemort it felt as if a Goblin was scraping his brain tissue with a farm instrument.

'Avada Kedavra!' To the shock of his three companions, and the girl, the green light moved forward, striking the woman, leading to her body falling loudly on the carpeted floor. A commotion could be heard, as Oliver understood the significance of the words and jumped forward, wand drawn. Upon reaching the hallway he stood perplexed at the sight of four extravagantly dressed wizards, one holding a wand out, while his muggle wife lay lifeless on the floor. Tears rushing into his eyes he rushed towards her.

'What have you done?' sniffed Oliver, holding his wife's body. 'What has Mary ever done to you?'

'She was born,' answered Lord Voldemort curtly, and then turned towards his followers. 'Evan, is this it?' he asked, his nose curled up in disgust.

'Yes my lord,' said Evan, pleased at his rival's situation.

'Crucio!' Oliver started screaming, the weak hold he had on his wand lost as he trashed about in pain. Lord Voldemort ended the curse after fifteen seconds, not wanting his host to lose his mind just yet.

'Let's take this into the living room,' said Lord Voldemort, gesturing towards the mudblood. 'Igor, if you would be so kind as to close the door, it is impolite to conduct our business in public. Maltius, if you could escort our gracious host to the living room, please.'

The two snapped to attention, falling easily into their prescribed roles as Voldemort took charge of the situation. Evan followed him into the living room, a bound up Oliver alternating between fear and tears for his wife.

'Now Evan,' started Lord Voldemort, 'I would ask you give me some more time to work with him before you get your revenge. I promise to leave him relatively unharmed.'

'Of course my lord,' replied Evan, his hand twitching for his wand. 'I am grateful for the chance.'

'Now mudblood, you will see the dangers of defying a wizard,' said Lord Voldemort as he began his work on Oliver. 'Crucio!' The curse hit Oliver a second time out of many, eliciting even louder screams than before. Lord Voldemort seemed to revel, the screams music to his ears. Careful not to drive him to insanity just yet, he stopped the curse with a regretful look.

'Poor fool,' said Lord Voldemort in a condescending tone. 'Do you realise now the dangers of defying a pureblood?'

'What?' asked Oliver, in a state of shock. 'What do you mean? What have I done to you?' The impudence of asking a question of the Dark Lord earned him another round of Cruciatus.

'I do not explain myself to filth,' said Lord Voldemort once the curse ended. 'Let that be a lesson for the future, short as it may be. I did promise Evan I would leave you unharmed, but I can not let your attitude slide. Surely you understand.'

Oliver, whose mental state was beginning to wane due to the Cruciatus, nodded dumbly.

'Expello Viscus!' said Lord Voldemort, his wand pointed at Oliver's belly. The pale yellow curse hit Oliver's belly, a little rupture appearing, followed by a violent explosion while his intestines spewed forward spraying the plush purple carpet. Oliver moaned, in pain he had not thought possible. Blood started pouring out of the cavity that had previously housed his entrails in massive quantities, causing Oliver's awareness to slowly slip. Voldemort's three followers merely looked on in fascination.

'I rarely do this, but I did promise Evan his fun,' said Lord Voldemort. 'Episkey!' The ruptured flesh knitted itself back together, emanating a purple glow. His entrails however, remained on the floor.

'His entrails can't be helped I am afraid,' said Lord Voldemort looking at Rosier. '…so you will have to be rather expedient about it.' With that Voldemort bowed his head slightly, his left hand gesturing towards the near cadaver of Oliver. Evan needed no further cue as he walked forward, wand in hand, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Much to Evan's disappointment, Oliver had taken his good-byes from the living only 5 minutes after Evan had started working on him. Rosier felt robbed of his victory of sorts. Oliver, despite missing one eyeball, an ear, his nose and an arm and a leg, was still in good shape and could have continued for much longer.

'The lack of entrails must have gotten to him,' said Evan looking at Oliver's corpse.

'I do apologise for that my friend,' said Lord Voldemort, a mockery of an apology painted on his face.

'His disrespect had to be dealt with, my lord,' said Evan, casting one last melancholic look at the scene and pocketing his wand. The other two looked at Lord Voldemort, awaiting instructions for the next step. Picking up his cue, Lord Voldemort looked around him, disgusted at the prevalence of muggle decorations in the living room.

'We are not finished yet,' said Lord Voldemort. 'No evidence of what has happened tonight can be left. Let us leave the house.'

Outside the house, the four wizards aligned themselves as an execution squad. Lord Voldemort took action, chanting 'Inferno'. A dawn of understanding on their faces, the three followers used the same spell, flames erupting from the tip of the wand, in the direction of the house.

The wood caught fire first, flames spreading upwards on the façade. Soon, the cracking of glass could be heard and the flames travelled inside. A moment of quiet foreshadowed the massive explosion as the flames hit the gas pipes, the muggle appliance disintegrating the house completely.

Abraxas sat at his desk in his lavishly appointed office in Malfoy Manor, Wiltishire. Unlike the family library, which by unspoken Malfoy Law remained unchanged throughout the ages, the office was remodelled according to the occupant's desires and tastes. Abraxas' reflected his personality. Dark wood panelling, imported from the far reaches of Africa, decorated with paintings of places he had visited during his youth, as well as a magical portrait of his father, a wizard Abraxas had respected greatly. The centrepiece of the room was a massive desk, with a dragon motif, a gift from his friend in Romania, encrusted with fire gems. Checking the letter a second time, to ensure it conveyed exactly what he had meant, a habit he had picked up in his youth in the Commons, he called out for Dobby.

'Take this letter to the owl!' snapped Abraxas, already getting up from his desk to go to the House of Lords.

'Yes Master,' replied Dobby, taking the outstretched letter and disappearing from the room.

Dobby approached the haughty eagle owl carefully, for she treated him no better than the Masters did.

'Athena,' started Dobby, trying to inject some authority in his voice, 'Master says to take this letter to young Master Lucius.' The owl hooted indignantly, staring at Dobby as though he was part of the food chain. The elf trembled slightly, but summoning up his courage approached to tie the letter to her leg. After a staring contest, when Dobby was considering delivering the letter himself rather than face the owl, Athena stretched out a leg, then unfurling her wings left through the open window of the Owlery Tower. Sighing in relief, Dobby decided to go back to his tasks, for he had many.

Abraxas hoped Lucius would not be late. It denoted poor character and upbringing, attributes that a young pureblood must not be associated with. Cygnus had been detained at the Ministry and had left him a short note saying he will be there later on. As he made his way into the Three Broomsticks, responding to greetings from the local's usual customers, he was led into a back parlour, one which accorded sufficient privacy according to the young barmaid, a Rosmerta if he remembered correctly. Ordering a drink, he began reading the Prophet to pass the time. Thankfully, after finishing the first idiotic article, the door clinked, interrupting his disgust at the press. Looking up he saw Lucius holding the door for Bella to pass, then allowing Narcissa in and closing the door himself. After a greeting to Rosmerta, who eyed him suggestively, he was pointed towards Abraxas and the three began to make their way. It seemed as if they arrived just in time, for hordes of students clogged the bar, occupying all available space.

'Good day father,' said Lucius, holding the seat for Narcissa, while Abraxas rose to greet the arrivals.

'Good day Lucius,' replied Abraxas, leaning down to kiss Bellatrix and Narcissa's hands. 'Ladies, it is a pleasure to see you again. I hope your schooling is going well.'

'Very well, Lord Malfoy,' replied Narcissa, with Bella echoing her sister's words.

'Your father was detained at the Ministry,' said Abraxas, signalling the waitress ', but he promised to join us as quickly as he finishes.' The two sisters nodded, but Abraxas' attention was drawn on the duality. 'Andromeda could not make it?' said Abraxas, making a show of looking around. The reactions were worth noticing. While Narcissa lowered her eyes in embarrassment, Bella's chin went up defiantly, as her features contorted into a snarl.

'Bella dear,' said Lucius upon noticing her expression 'that is most unbecoming.'

'We're sorry, Lord Malfoy,' explained Narcissa. 'Our sister was detained and could not make it.' Abraxas frowned, but let the subject pass. These were Cygnus' daughters, and as such it was not his place to comment on the matter.

'None the matter, ladies,' commented Abraxas 'I merely noticed she was absent. Shall we have lunch?'

Etiquette demanded that any business they might have had to wait until the meal was finished. Eventually, Cygnus' arrival timed in perfectly as he kissed his daughters, shook Lucius' hand and greeted Abraxas and sat down.

'Where is Andromeda?' asked Cygnus, repeating Abraxas' earlier motion.

'She couldn't make it father,' replied Narcissa, eager to avoid conflict.

'None the matter,' said Cygnus, getting angry, 'I will go up to the school later on, and have a word with her.'

As lunch was finished, the younger wizards and witches present turned towards their respective parents. Although none would express curiosity as a muggle will, their interest was piqued. Abraxas and Cygnus were aware and were discussing inconsequential things to pass the time. Bellatrix's temper was the first to crack, as was to be expected.

'Father,' started Bella, raising her voice ever so slightly, 'I have no desire to be impudent, but I do believe you had something you wanted to tell us.'

'You never could hold your calm, could you Bella,' replied Cygnus, sighing. 'You must always have patience dear. Remember this advice and think matters through instead of jumping head forward.'

'I will father,' replied Bella, a tad of annoyance creeping into her tone.

'Children, the reason Cygnus and I have called you here today,' started Abraxas, looking straight at Lucius, 'is related to a Dark Lord rising.'

'A Dark Lord,' said Bella, her eyes gleaming at the perspective. 'How, I thought the Ministry held absolute control.' Cygnus shared a dreary look with Abraxas at Bellatrix's enthusiasm. Although Lucius had remained silent, his muscles tensed and he looked ready for action. Narcissa merely listened, such concerns not troubling her mind.

'Bellatrix,' started Cygnus, his tone more severe than the usual, 'first, the Ministry does not hold the reins of this country, the House of Lords does. Second, a Dark Lord is not an issue to be glad about.'

'What is his objective, father?' asked Lucius, cutting straight to matters that interested him.

'The Dark Lord Voldemort, as he has styled himself,' said Cygnus, turning his tone to a whisper, despite the privacy charms on the back room, 'preaches the complete annihilation of mudbloods, muggles and their sort.'

'I do not see a problem with that,' said Bella. 'If anything, we should support him in his cause.' Cygnus looked ready to murder something, a small creature preferably, but Abraxas interjected before he had a chance to voice his disapproval.

'Bellatrix, Lucius, Narcissa, do you know why we would not support him, despite his beliefs mirroring our own?' Not wanting to appear foolish, Lucius held his tongue, while Narcissa's eyes turned distant, analyzing matters through. Bella held no such compulsion.

'He follows our goals, he wants what we want, he has the means to achieve it. No I see no reason why we should not support a Dark Lord.'

'The reason, Bellatrix, is that a Dark Lord,' interjected Cygnus 'does not follow his preached beliefs. He uses them as motivation for his followers, whom he needs as steps towards his ascension to power.'

'A more practical approach is that instability is the festering ground for revolution,' explained Abraxas, his voice calm and steady. 'And revolution has adverse effects for those in power, by breaching the status quo. Think about a day when the names Malfoy and Black mean nothing and you can see the danger of instability.'

'The reasons are many,' said Cygnus, adopting the tone he used in the House 'but the conclusion is one. You are not to join any foolish crusade. More so, if you are contacted by the Dark Lord, you must tell us immediately.'

'That is valid for you as well Lucius,' said Abraxas, looking towards his son. 'We must not risk our families. If we are gone, our world would be one step closer to Dumbledore's ideals.' He spoke the name with fury, allowing the distaste he held for the aged wizard to worm its way into his tone.

'Lucius, ladies, it has been a pleasure,' started Abraxas, rising from his chair 'but I am afraid I must go now. Ask Rosmerta to send the cheque to my office. Cygnus, I shall see you in session.'

'I have certain affairs to take care of, but I will come to Hogwarts at around dinner time to speak with Andromeda. Please let her know I am coming. She has a lot to explain about her recent behaviour,' said Cygnus, getting up with a flourish of his cloak and stepping out, a quick nod to Lucius and the girls.

Abraxas paused for a second. Although a fully grown wizard, coined the Prime Triumvir by the press, due to his prevalence in the Malfoy-Black-Lestrange alliance, and an unyielding foe, capable of anything to preserve and expand the British Magical Society, he still had his odd quirks as any person. One as such, which had earned him much teasing from his wife in the past, in private only, was his sentimentalism. Hogsmeade had been the place of his youth. Granted it had been a while ago, but the Wizarding society was a conservative one. Change did not come often and although he could spot the odd new store here and there things were just as they had stood for centuries. Sparing a glance at the imposing castle on the hill he Disapparated.

Cygnus did not share the same sentimentalism for places-leastways, not in his current mood. Upset at the way Bella's eyes lit up at the mention of the Dark Lord, annoyed at Andromeda's impudence, angered at having to Scourgify the faeces of someone's dog, utterly abhorred at the thought of one of her daughters desiring a pet, glad that it was not in their nature, he shook his head at his own thoughts and climbed into the carriage. The livered servant closed the door behind him, revealing the Black family crest, the words 'Toujours pur' reminding the passer-by of the importance of its passenger.

'To the castle,' ordered Cygnus, relaxing into the velvet interior of the carriage.

The driver whipped the black horses, loosening the reins and the carriage began its short journey to Hogwarts, people moving to get out of the way. They had gone out of fashion lately, since Apparition could be used nearly anywhere on the British Isles, the Floo network providing for children that were unable to Apparate, but they were still used as a manner of statement. No self respecting witch or wizard would Apparate to the Ministry Ball. For Cygnus it was also a matter of convenience, allowing him to indulge in the odd glass of Wine without having to restrict the amount he had to drink.

Nonetheless, the short distance between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, as well as the unusual stamina and speed of the magical breed of horses he had obtained from Arabia led to a rather short journey. Soon he was striding through the large double doors, making his way past the chattering students filling the Entrance Hall.

Spotting the first reason for his visit to the castle, Cygnus made his way towards the arch that led to the dungeons. A large man, akin to a walrus, with an appearance that hid his importance in the connected Magical world, who went by the name of Horace Slughorn awaited him there.

'Cyngus,' said Slughorn, extending an arm, 'what an unexpected pleasure. What brings you to dreary old Hogwarts?'

'Horace,' said Cyngus, accepting the handshake with obvious warmth and friendship. 'I needed to speak with my daughters. And of course, since I am here I could not pass by the opportunity to see you.'

'Well in that case, I have a bottle of wine sent by Lord Delacour that was awaiting a special occasion up in my room,' laughed Horace, inviting Cygnus in his chambers.

The two descended the steps towards the Slytherin dungeons, the lighting growing dimmer as they reached deeper into the belly of the castle. A large statue of two gargantuan serpents strangling a lion, the symbolism evident even to the simplest Hupplepuff, barred the entrance to the heart of House Slytherin on earth. Horace cleared his throat, looked around for possible eavesdroppers and whispered “Cabernet Sauvignon”.

'Still choosing your password from wine names, Horace?' laughed Cygnus, shaking his head as he followed the Head of Slytherin into his chambers. Horace merely raised his shoulders, stretching out his hand towards two large armchairs near an inviting fireplace.

Although expected, given his friend's taste for creature comforts, the room's furnishings would have fitted in any of the Lord's manors. Large, massive furniture, made from dark, exotic wood, all of them decorated in a Serpent motif, with green being the preferred colour for everything from pillows to drapes. This far underground there were no real windows, but the illusion the tall stained glass windows gave was close to reality. Considering the late time of the year, and the cold weather that plagued Scotland, house-elves had lit a fire, basking the room in yellow-reddish hues that contrasted pleasantly with the emerald colours.

'Now, old friend, did I tell you about what Lord Delacour has discovered in Africa?...' started Horace, pouring the French wine into two glasses.

Knowing that Horace took it as his solemn duty to keep everyone of his friends informed to the comings and goings of his corner of the world, Cyngus made himself comfortable, listening to the customary report. After all, throughout the scattered gossip, there was bound to be something of importance.

Meanwhile, back in Hogsmeade, the cheery group of three had broken off. Bella had muttered something about meeting Rodolphus back at Hogwarts, since the elder of the Lestrange brothers had gotten himself a detention cursing a Hupplepuff who had got into a fight with his younger brother, leaving Lucius and Narcissa alone in the village. As she made her way up to Hogwarts, Bella smiled to herself. Not one of the two had commented or offered to come up with her when she said she was leaving. Lucius seemed to have taken an interest in her little sister. Anyone else would have had their life drawn to a sorry close, but Lucius was her dear friend, and one of the few that Bella would not object her sister spending time alone with. That was not to say that if Lucius hurt her, it would come to wands. That situation seemed highly unlikely though.

Lucius and Narcissa chose to walk down the main street of Hogsmeade, whispering softly to one another, but then turned right past a jewellery shop and got lost in the small, twisting alleys that led to the train station.

Bella's mind was drifting off, fantasising about the Christmas vacation, wishing time would speed up and the graduation ceremony would come already, while her steps took her towards the unused classroom in the dungeon that Rodolphus and she used for their extracurricular activities. The abandoned classroom had the advantage of having several hospital beds strewn about it, since the time it was used to teach the Healing Arts , and sufficient privacy charms and curtains to hide them from unwanted eyes. Pulling out a clock from within her robes, she realized that she had come early, Rodolphus having another fifteen minutes of detention.

Preferring to wait for him in the bed rather than stand looking idiotic outside, she entered the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Her hearing having never been her strong sense, as well as her attention distracted at the moment, she prepared to take off her outer robe, undoing the clasps, when movement in the bed next to the far corner caught her eye. Ceasing her actions immediately, she drew her wand from within the folds of her robe.

'Who goes there?' said Bella, shaking with fury at the thought of someone violating her space. No teacher wandered here, so it must have been a student. Two pairs of legs could be seen sticking out from under the white sheets, with the clothes thrown on the floor seeming strangely familiar to Bella. The two did not seem to want to reveal themselves anytime soon, but Bella was not noted for her patience.

'Accio bedsheet!' Bella chanted, the white sheet flying towards her outstretched  left hand. Dropping it on the floor, she turned her eyes towards the occupants of the bed, trying desperately to hide themselves. Bellatrix' manner turned ice cold, the temperature in the room seeming to drop several degrees, and her voice came out filled with anger.

'Andromeda, would you mind explaining what you are doing in bed with this creature?...'

To be continued…