Vis Vires
by Blood Red Tulips
And since the quarrel
Will bear no color for the thing he is,
Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,
Would run to these and these extremities;
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg,
Which, hatch'd, would as his kind grow mischievous,
And kill him in the shell
Brutus
- Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act 2 Scene 1
Present – 1995
(Malfoy Manor)
These were not the halls of a happy home.
No, it wasn't a warm place – it did not give the impression of a family that was relishing in the love they gave one another, but rather the fact, that they continued. That heir after heir was born, and that their beliefs were still there. They might have staggered across the thresholds of their ideas, of their philosophies, of the strict rules that controlled their sort of people, but they had not been truly swayed.
Not after all this time. After many, many years Malfoy Manor still had the grandeur and rigid preservation that a pureblood household should contain. It still possessed the marble stairs, the libraries, the nooks and crannies that spoke of all the secrets that a powerful family could accumulate after such a long time here in Britain.
It hadn't changed since 1941.
It hasn't changed since the day it was built, presumably.
It was the same now – just… different tenants, different house elves… a different purpose.
He had changed that purpose – turned a residence into a base.
The man – but he could hardly be called a man anymore, you see – who sat before a great, flickering fireplace in the Manor's main study – was acutely aware of this. He knew after years, after decades, after collecting his knowledge so carefully, that most things did not change. That you had to change them. You couldn't wait on things, you had to use your power, your knowledge, your own hands if it was needed – to change things to how they ought to be.
This man, or something more than a man, did not seem inclined to do anything more than stare into the flames, as they cast eerie shadows across his face – whiter than the sickening colour of bones. His scarlet eyes seemed to be calculating, always calculating as he watched the fire devour a log. His long, skeletal frame was a far cry from what it used to be, but he didn't care. No – it wasn't about appearances for this man. His long, spidery fingers were clasped, and if a person didn't know him, if it were say, a muggle, watching this man? They might be led to believe he was a grotesque statue.
But it would be the last day in a muggle's life if they should see Lord Voldemort, the statue looming over them. Perhaps they would find it funny when this freakishly serpentine man pointed a stick at them – that is before they started to roll on the ground, vomiting blood, their last thoughts being to how inhuman and high his laughter was.
Lord Voldemort turned his bald pale head as the sound of footsteps approached.
He knew these steps, of course.
They were fearful, and tentative, but, he thought with a deep amusement, they all were weren't they?
In this comfortable study, he had set up is own private sanctuary. There were books, there was a fire to stare at, there was a comfortable armchair to sit in and think of just how this would all work out.
And it would – he knew that.
He didn't have doubts.
He was more powerful now, than he ever was. He had his enemy's blood pumping in his veins. The years, yes, they had been unkind to him. He had been to the very precipice that life and death resided on, and turned back with a smile.
He shifted in his chair, a feeling of satisfaction coming over him.
Yes, he had survived.
And he would continue.
Always.
The armchair was a deep green in the darkness – as were the walls of the room. The curtains were drawn and corded shut, and maybe it was morning? Afternoon? Midnight? He didn't know, nor did he care. No matter the time, it was of no consequence. There was a constant battle to be won. There were always his acolytes at his beck and call. He had his familiar, a great snake by his side.
He smiled a lipless smile down at her. She regarded him, lifting her head, and her forked tongue coming out to taste the content he had in the air. She was quite something – her scales a bright green mixing silvers and greys and browns, until coming to a shocking finish at the white of her underside.
Her long, sinewy body was curled, and she looked quite happy, if snakes could display that emotion. She had just been fed – he had watched her swallow an entire owl. Mesmerized as she unhitched her jaw and spread it wide, fangs glinting in the light to pull the thing down her throat.
He wondered how much of a display it would be for her to swallow Pettigrew in his Animagus form.
Lord Voldemort's twisted smile grew wider. Perhaps one day then? When he is of no use and when dear Nagini is in need of feeding.
A gentle knock at the heavy silver door.
Ah, the one with the fearful footsteps had finally raised a shaking hand to ask permission to enter.
Lord Voldemort knew the man at the door would attempt to walk in with the regal essence he seemed to possess everywhere else – but ultimately would fail.
The snake-like man looked up from the slitted gaze of his familiar and back into the throws of the fire.
"Come in, Lucius."
The creak of the door joined the pops and crackles of the fire – the only sounds in the small room. A tall, pale man with a pointed face came into the room, closing the door softly behind him.
His Master had been right. He was afraid, very afraid.
His mouth pushed into a straight line, showed it.
His eyes, grey and colourless swirling with emotion, showed it.
The way his etiquette failed, his ram-straight posture turning into a hunch of submission, showed it.
He walked towards the arm chair that was facing the fire, and he knew, that there was a man, of great power who sat there.
A man who had crushed him.
A man who he had invited to crush him.
But still, upon reaching the armchair, he dropped to his knees - a place so unfamiliar to the man of many riches, and kissed the dark robes of his Master.
Lord Voldemort regarded the bent, pale head of his Death Eater with a mix of surging power and irritation, and then turned his blood-coloured gaze back to the fire.
The man grovelled he did – but, what was to be expected?
He was his Master.
He had waited a long time to be greeted in such a fashion.
And it was undoubtedly deserved.
"Good day, Lucius. Tell me, how is Draco?"
The man, who had kissed his robes with such fervour, straightened and came to kneel in front of the Dark Lord. He seemed to quake with fear at the mention of his son, and his white hair glowed in the firelight. His aristocratic bone structure was an echo of his ancestors, people that Lord Voldemort had known, in his long, seemingly endless lifetime. "He is well, my Lord. Eager to be inducted into your service."
"Undoubtedly," the Dark Lord said in a high voice, devoid of true meaning, "he shall be a faithful Death Eater, won't he Lucius?"
"Yes, my Lord."
Said Lord turned to see his precious Nagini coiled beside the Malfoy follower, watching him with a flashing interest, tasting his sweat and unshed tears at the thought of his son, on the air with a pink tongue. Lucius glanced at her from the corner of his eye, then looked up to see his Master watching the exchange – the man returned his pale grey eyes to the floor.
He dared to speak. Perhaps to change the subject from his precious son – named for the dragon of the sky.
"Nagini is looking remarkably better having eaten, my Lord. You take such exceptional care of her," the follower said.
He did take great pains with her, the Lord realized.
She was special.
She was his.
But she did not fill the void of the possession he had sought and in the end had put the snake in its place.
The possession that had escaped him.
The long, pale inhuman fingers curled around the arm of the chair in a slow and yet, deliberate movement. Lucius flinched as he thought they were going to the wand that was tucked precariously close – in the skeletal man's robes.
"Yes," the cold-blooded Lord agreed - a rare occurrence. "She is a beautiful creature… I wonder… do you recognize her name?"
A note of alarm swelled up in the Malfoy patriarch. The reedy voice which had so often called for the death of many a man as powerful as he, had contained a certain playfulness. A certain air of reflection. Lucius shook, wondering if perhaps these were the last words he would hear.
"N-no, my Lord. I do not."
Lord Voldemort chuckled, the sound coming strained from a mouth that contained no lips. "Of course you wouldn't, Lucius. Do not worry. Her name must have been banished from the tree…"
Lucius' mouth went dry, with fear or a sense of disabling curiosity – he did not know. "The tree, my Lord? My family tree?"
The Lord seemed to have lost himself in a reverie, for he was quiet, until finally he spoke. "Yesss…" the serpentine hiss came from nowhere, causing Lucius to jump, despite his kneeling position. "Now do not bother me with your questioning, there is more important work to be done than to reflect on the naming of my familiar, Lucius. Ask Severus to come into my study when he is finished with the potions in the drawing room. I want an update on Hogwarts and its doddering Headmaster."
The Lord did not look at him as he normally would have done – to reinforce his commands with a poke into his mind. He simply stared into the flames before uttering a hissing, "Leave me now, Lucius."
Lucius Malfoy nodded quickly, and leaned to kiss the robes of his Master, then straightened, backing away quickly from the chair and its occupant. He had never seen the Lord so deep in thought, so evidently deep in thought he should say – and to be honest, it scared him so badly he felt his stomach clenching with a threat of bile coming to meet his mouth. "Of course, my Lord. He will be here as soon as he is finished."
He did not wait to see the affirmation from his Master as he left the room. Lucius Malfoy knew there would not be one, and should he wait, the wand his Master was so adept with would be pulled out to greet him with a painful curse.
So he left, no doubt running in the halls of his own house to reach Severus Snape.
He had started his control of the Malfoys years before the pale man that had knelt before him before had even been born.
His father, Lucius Malfoy's father, had been the first to follow him blindly.
His father had been the first to pull him into the fold of these purebloods – wizards and witches that would embrace his philosophy.
They had, and he knew he owed his dead acolyte that much.
He also knew that he owed it to the past, dead Malfoy patriarch to have met his pet snake's namesake.
He had met her in this very house.
Within these ornate walls.
He had met her in the ballroom below him - the Malfoy Manor ballroom in all its splendour. With witches and wizards dressed to the nines. Purebloods at their best, mingling and chatting, as a young man who was named Tom Riddle, who was now feared as the great Lord Voldemort, rubbed shoulders with them.
He had met Nagini right here, and the fact was… the house hadn't changed.
He was going to change everything… He was going to get all he desired. The world at his fingertips, no – in his very grasp.
He could squeeze it and make it pliant like putty into the mould of his ideas, of his true ideas…
But like always, the pureblood house and all its rooms, all its delirious affluence… had not changed.
Nor had the memory of meeting her – it was always there.
Like the very foundation of this manor, the memory did not change.
She stayed cemented there, no matter his mixed feelings of hatred and wretched confusion towards her – the thoughts of her still had their same effects, and his damnable rushes of what could be called contempt, did nothing to warp them.
Lord Voldemort closed his eyes, revealing an almost vulnerable array of tiny blood vessels and veins coated by the thin skin of his eyelids.
He thought of her, he thought of the woman who had compelled him to name his most adored possession – his familiar – after her.
Hereby my disclaimer for the entirety of this story. I do not own any of the characters (except the original characters you come across) nor the world created by J.K Rowling and I seek no profit.
On another note, feel free to review or to leave any comments you might have! Thank you for reading!
