1. The Black Queen
AN: The "Poison" comes from the song "Poison" by Rita Ora . I fell in love with this song, and at the time, when the outlines of the story began to appear, I knew I was going to use it. "Queen" is the highest noble title for a woman. I wanted the Maleficent title to outrun Tom's title.
I am not native English speaker, so please, don't hate me for my mistakes.
I don't own Harry Potter. Rowling do.
Enjoy and please share you thoughts about it!
These are your foot soldiers. They have the least freedom and the least power, but because they're willing to sacrifice themselves for their betters you can't win without them.(...) This is your rook – the king's fortress. It is the only piece on the board that can legally take the king's place at any time. Its role is to confuse the enemy. (...)The bishop. Slick and dangerous, he has huge power. I think of him as the queen's bit of rough.(...) The king. Almost always weaker than you'd think – all the pieces protect him but he almost never helps anyone else, because if he does he could die. (...)The queen. She's a complete bitch. But if you want to win, you have got to work with her.
C. J. Daugherty "Night School"
She threw her long, jet black waves on the arm of leather armchair. Her slender legs were overhanging on the other side, painting in the air notes familiar only to her. Green eyes stared passionately at the flames, tracking every its lick. The fingers of the left hand were tapping on the seeable ribs, as if they were the keys in her favorite piano, and the fingers of her right hand played a completely different melody.
From the mouth came murmurs, quiet whispers, sounding like words. An educated musician, having seen her, might think she had no idea what she was doing. The movements of her feet, her hands, and the sounds she made were in no way connected with each other.
Because they do not have to connect, she would answer, They are thoughts, galloping in my mind, not allowing me to sleep, not allowing me to breathe.
It's a libretto, she added, which can not be heard.
Her peers would say she was mad. They would say that it is not proper for a woman her age to sit in a dark room at such late hour, even if it is a Common Room of her House. They would say that it does not fit for her to sit in that way, her hair not combed, she was not dressed in the best garments, but in one of her oldest nightgowns.
You bring shame to your family, her stepmother would say with disgust, You also embarrass me and my son. Why can't you be like others girls your age?
You are not my mother, she said for the first time, ignoring the presence of her father, You are only the woman my father is fucking.
Her father never hit her before. The daughter did not know whether it was a curse, her behavior towards her stepmother, a blinding truth, or a memory of her mother. The girl did not apologize despite father's request. Later, threats only aggravated the matter. The thirteen-year-old ride off of every her dress, skirt, shirt, blouse, which was in a bright shade. She throw away all necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets that were not her mother's.
Her eyes were not longer bright, her lips were not smiling. The mansion was quiet and grim, the brunette's voice no longer decorated her father and stepmother's balls, the piano stood in a dusty room not touched for three years.
She is sixteen now, she is in Peron 9 and ¾, her father is standing in front of her, her stepmother is beside him, and she sobs because she has to part with her dearest son, Edmund. She orders him to stay away from trouble, from this Eileen Prince, who poisoned his young mind and if he can not handle something, then he has to go to his older sister.
Father tries to reach to her, says goodbye, wishes her good luck to befriend Robert Lestrange or Orion Black. Their family is a family of pureblood wizards, there was never a halfblood, muggleborn, muggle. For generations they have been close to the Malfoys, the Flints and the Zabinis. They were related to one of the Peverell brothers, Ignotus, which meant that they were on a one family tree with Salazar Slytherin, but it was not in a beautiful straight line, so it was impossible to prove and display it. They had the status of a respectable, wealthy wizard family, although the desire to do more wandered somewhere in the middle.
Father touched her throat with his fingertips, then move up to her cheek. She did not shake, though her skin had burned her with the specter of events several years ago. Her father's eyes were gentle, full of love and parental pride, but also sad. He pulled her to him, dipped her face in her hair, absorbed her scent, because he will not feel it until december.
She was a copy of her mother, she did not resemble father in any way. Hair, eyes, nose, mouth, facial features, body posture. The only thing that belonged to her was voice and character, so different from her mother. The voice was angelic, not high nor low, perfect for singing, and with her present appearance, so unlike her. Her mother was a sweet woman, always smiling, full of joy. If she had not died, her daughter would have been the same.
Answer all the letters, all right?, he begged, Not only about the grades or making wishes. Please, sweetheart, only you...
Do not say anything, she interrupt him, And do not lie, because it does not fit you. I'm not coming back this year for Christmas.
She grabbed the trunk and did not even look back when her father was calling for her, pleading. Since that day, two weeks have passed, not much has changed, except for the mass of letters that just burned in the fireplace. She did not read any of them, but she felt that Edmund would come to her in a few days, passing on the bitter words of her father. They will not send the howler, for that she was sure it would be a foul on the honor of their family.
The fire slowly died down, her body was aching, her jaw accustomed to constant clenching was pleased with the change. She did not sleep a wink all night, lying in a chair in the same position without changing the repertoire of gestures. She did not have to worry about classes, it was Saturday, for several hours if her inner clock was not wrong, so she would not be worried abut sleeping on them today.
It was gossip that worried her. She could only find out about them at meals, having just heard the conversation of other students. She could not boast of a large number of acquaintances, mainly, because her behavior changed. In the third grade she was social butterfly, and she would have dare to say that even Gryffindors were ready to be friend with her, despite the gap between the Houses. Everything changed when she realized she was a Slytherin. It took her three years, exchanging sentences with stepmother and cheek from her father. Slytherins take care only of their business, they trample over people to to achieve theirs aim, they have no friends, only allies.
On this August day, a small, spoiled girl discovered what she could do to make sure no one will hit her in the future, nobody would push her around. Authority. She desired power. She was sensitive under the shade, so she built a wall, and began to prepare. She did not want to be married to the Minister of Magic or to be the Minister of Magic. She wanted changes, a change that would make her the Queen, she dreamed of absolute power. She knew it was hard to accomplish, but she was ambitious and cunning, and her natural skills and beauty only made her work easier.
She wanted to get rid of all the poisoned minds in the world of wizards. She did not care about the blood status, she was interested in the skills. She often wondered if it was good that there were only two girls in her year, Isabella Max and her. Somewhere there a huge potential may be wasted, and in Hogwarts fools were receiving a great knowledge. She thought that school should be divided into years, of course, and additionally to the group: basic and advanced. Some students cannot continue to follow the material, because professors give others more time. The Ministry was similar. The highest rank was the richest, not the most skilled.
Only her gender interfered with her goal. In muggle and wizard's Great Britain wars took place, but only in muggle's world women could begin to work on equal terms with men, gaining the rights that she dreamed of.
If only I had come to power, she thought.
"Look at what the cat dragged in." she heard. She peered away from the red light and lazily turned it over to the speaker.
Malfoy leaned on the back of her chair, his gray eyes wandering around her bare legs and naked neck. His hair was ruffled, his clothes unbuttoned, he smelled of wood. She shifted her gaze to the boy behind Malfoy. Usually Nott's perfectly flattened hair were spread all over, his uniform undo, his shoes drenched in mud. She did not have to look at the third one to know where they were.
"I should now deduct you points for pacing on the Forbidden Forest during nighttime." she said without commenting his earlier statements.
"You will take away points from your House?" Nott interrupted. The brunette got up, adjusted her nightgown so that she was now down to her knees and clenched her lips in a thin line, which with her plump mouth was a huge achievement.
"From this I am well known, Nott," she said calmly but firmly. "What did you even think you were doing? If you were lost in the Forbidden Forest, it would be a horrible for the school, though I must admit, that this vision is tempting."
"Oh," Malfoy muttered. "Would you be worried?"
"I wouldn't have to, Malfoy. You are talented wizards, Slytherins, not cowards. You would come back alive, because if not, I would resurrect you and murder you again. What worried me was the closure of the school. It would be very likely after the situation two years ago."
"I remember exactly how you looked with distaste at all of this. Poor Lizzy was also scolded by your look, when she said that the mudbloods would get what they desire. Do you know that after that conversation with you she shut down? She even thought to move to the dormitory of the third year."said Cantankerus, occupying the girl's previous place.
She raised her eyebrows up, released her full lips, gave him a look of disdain. Nott was a good wizard, not outstanding, but still useful and brunette could only whine at his ego. Cantankerus had a lot of classes with her, so she could look at his development. She knew that without a husband she would not be a capable part of society, but she needed someone equal to her, and Nott was far behind her.
"You say it like you hoped it would move me. Isabella expressed her opinion, and I mine. She should think before she says anything. Her moving out would be for me only benefical. I'm going to talk with her about this at breakfast, thank you very much for bringing my attention to this subject, Nott."
She saw the boy blink several times, before laughter burst out of his mouth. Cantankerus was a cheerful boy, who wondered the girl because the mischief was not Slytherin's feature. The Sorting Hat is never wrong, you only needed to look at her and what happened when she embraced her inner self.
"You're so adorable!" She tilted her head to one side, not understanding what he meant. Her eyes were astonished, her brows were almost met, her lips gently open. They said that she was soulless, cold, her face always showing dissatisfaction. Where did it come from? "You are such a delight! I have to hug you!"
She stepped a few steps aside, avoiding his embrace, noticing the Head Boy behind her. She bumped into him, and he managed to catch her before she fallen. His hands tightened on her shoulders. Magic swirled in her lower abdomen, buzzed in her blood, even her hair got a dose. The Head Boy is not someone to be ignored, and the girl must be ready for anything.
"Nott, that's enough." he whispered softly, and his companions remembered his existence. The brunette broke out when he was not about to let her go. "I apologize, Miss Travers, Nott does not seem to be himself today."
In his voice she could hear the promise of pain. A chill ran down her back, she was paralyzed. She always avoided the Prefect, tried not to look him in the eye at meetings, they never patrolled together, they greeted by nod only. Something was wrong with him, the girl could not put finger on it, but the feeling was still in there. This year was supposed to be different, she was supposed to be different, stronger, but his magic...
"It's all right, Riddle." she raised her head, the emerald green met with chocolate brown. She changed her stance, her back bent into a perfect bow, her chest pulled forward, her chin up high. "I have know Nott for a long time and his lack of manners is no foreign to me."
Curiosity flashed through his eyes, and Miss Travers lost ground beneath her feet. Apparently, not only was femininity her obstacle to absolutism, but also Riddle.
How can anyone have such a dark aura?, she thought, not noticing how the boy looked at her, People named me the Black Queen, and I she was groveling at his feet like he was the King himself.
She did not succumb to the craving, did not give in, did not look away. Even when Nott began to apologize for his behavior, which had not happened before. Only Malfoy's words distracted her from Prefect.
"What are you doing here so early?" he asked, then looked at watch on his wrist. "It's only a few minutes after five."
"Thank you for reminding me, Malfoy," she said, and the corners of her mouth rose gently. "I take forty points from Slytherin, twenty from you and twenty from Nott, for not following the rules and leaving the castle during the night."
"Mal, don't be like that!" Malfoy complainted. "We were friends, didn't we? Do you remember how I carried you on my back, because your legs hurt?"
"No." she said shortly." And do not call me Mal."
"Tom was not punished," Nott said. "Why?"
"Do not color me stupid. Riddle is the Head Boy, and I he cannot be punished for three simple reasons, not to mention the most common fact that prefects cannot subjugate each other. First of all, his condition is impeccable as opposed to you, so he did not have to be in the Forbidden Forest with you. Secondly, I certainly do not want to have an enemy in someone who has the trust of almost all of Hogwarts teachers. Thirdly, you don't annoy the wizards more powerful than you.
"Do you know you just admitted-" Malfoy was having trouble choking on the rest of the sentence, but he quickly recovered, seeing her face. "Mal, you just admitted that someone has power over you. You said that Tom is better, teachers trust him more than they trust you. In addition... you complimented him."
She sighed heavily. She did not think this conversation would go that far. She was tired, her eyes burned from lack of sleep, her body demanding a bath, the best would be quick, cold stream, and they kept pushing.
"I did not say anything that wouldn't be true. He is older, more experienced, has the title of Head Boy and teachers do trust him. He feeds them his sweet lies, Abraxas, he manipulates them. I can recognize the snake when I see one. He has a gift that I do not possess and he uses it. If you would focus more, you could sense how his magic is attacking mine. Our skills are different, that's true, but I have never said he was better than me. He's more powerful, it's a fact. It does not mean that this state of matter will stay like that for long." she gave them a smirk, not paying attention to Tom. "I said he looked impeccably. This is a mere statement, not a compliment. And do not call me Mal."
There was a silence in the Common Room. Travers realized the importance of her words. She set herself as equal with a man, in the background she also promised that she would gain more power than he did. The stepmother would scold her on the spot, ordered her to apologize, although Riddle's name certainly had nothing to do with the respected wizard family. It began to ponder Miss Travers. What root could the Prefect have? Where did he come from and why did his parents give him such a weak name?
She did not have time to ask more questions when the most frightening laughter she have ever heard in her life filled the room. Magic came out of her body again. She felt her magic smoothing her skin, trying to calm her down, though it did not work. The power spilled all over her from head to foot.
"Travers, your hair..." Nott began, but did not finish his speech.
"I accept the challenge, Miss Travers," Riddle said. "I will be waiting for our final duel impatiently. And all you said, Miss Travers, I accept it as a high-level compliment. I will not hurt you, so you can mute your magic."
"It's not that simple, Riddle." she snapped, then quickly returned to stoic stance. "My magic senses danger and reacts to it. It won't stop until I'm at a safe distance from you."
"You can blame your ancestors for it, Mal." joked Malfoy. Passing them, she gave him another glaring look and then disappeared into the corridor to the women's dormitory. While walking toward the room, she could still hear Malfoy joking about the Medusa complex, which Nott reacted with a loud laugh.
She walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Isabella was asleep, and the brunette did not want her to wake up. She pulled out of from her trunk a burgundy shirt and dabbled on whether she should wear pants or not. Girls at school did not show up in the pants, and Travers wanted to be the first. The decision was made quickly. She grabbed black, wide pants with high- wasted, heels and a beautician, and headed for the bathroom.
She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Eyebrows, reddened eyes, greyish skin. Two nights in a row without sleep and that's what happens to you. Miss Travers knew good healing spells that can repair her condition without a few hours of rest. She grabbed her wand, drove it over her closed eyelids, below them and over the face. Everything went back to normal, and she could take the desired shower and plan the first hours of the day.
After cleaning herself up, she will to go to the library to finish herbology paper, write a Veritaserum essay for Slughorn and if she has enough time before breakfast, she will look for books that will help her to write a Transmutation essay. The library has been open since six, which means she will have time to nine to the end the assignments, and if not for Slughorn's desire to extract information about the potion of truth on ten pieces of parchment, she would finish it before breakfast, and later on, she would repeat the material for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, although her talent did not require it. She preferred to have everything under control, however, if she was short of time to read the 'Secrets of the noble Lord SS', she would give up the repetition for this little pleasure.
The book was found in the family library at the end of the holiday. She was halfway through 'How to understand the purity of blood?', so she left it for her stay at Hogwarts. She started reading it on the train and she knew, from the first page, that she was reading about her distant forefather. She decided to enjoy it a little longer and only consumed one chapter a day. Patience would allow her to skip this chapter and read the next two another day, but the title encouraged her so much! 'The purity of blood, and the magic of the muggleborns' has attracted the girl from reviewing the table of contents.
It was always curious for her what had caused Salazar Slytherin to dislike muggleborn wizards and witches so much. This feeling could not appear out of the thin air, the sorcerer, despite his drawbacks, was not a fool. Something had to happen, and Miss Travers could not let go of the mission. She had to know.
She came out from the stream, thoroughly wiped the water from her body, then dressed. The hair was rolled into a bun, remanding her of wave, this hairstyle was fashionable recently, although it did not fit everyone, she applied eyeliner on her eyelids and on her lips bloody red lipstick. She used spells for makeup to last a dozen or so hours and she was ready to go.
In the dormitory she put on heels, which added ten centimeters to her, which with her height, five foot eight, made her look at many boys from above or in the eye without lifting her head. It gave her the feeling of appreciation, as if height was the determinant of power, not the ability to use magic.
She looked at her watch. In five minutes the curfew will end and she will be able to go to the library with no worries. She packed the necessary things into the bag, hung it over her shoulder and left. Passing through Common Room, she remembered conversation between her and the male Slytherins.
Nott, as usual cheerful, Malfoy invariably annoying. The issue was with Tom. His magic brought her barriers to release, and she hated it. Usually she was able to control herself, she had no problem managing her power, at least that she thought. She did not listen to her mother, when she told her about their female ancestors, she was eight years old and she was more interested in whether or not she would be allowed to play with her broom today. She barely remembered it and she knew only two of the most famous witches of her family, her mother's family. It was Medusa and the witch from which her parents borrowed a name for her.
Medusa was the oldest of her known ancestors. Mom said she was a beautiful woman, who served goddess Athena in the temple. Her charm has lured the god of the seas and oceans, Poseidon. Of course, she did it unconsciously. Poseidon enchanted by her appeal, had her on the sacrificial table, which did not necessarily pleased Athena. She punished Medusa, making her a monster with scales instead of skin and snakes in the place of her hair.
Medusa was a very power witch. She cast a spell at herself, that allowed her to turn every young man into a stone with one glance. She died after giving birth to her daughter, killed by Perseus.
Your genes can be awaken only by person with a huge resource of magic, mama said, If any of her descendants would succeed, I do not think they would be happy then, because the one who wakes it is the most dangerous, but also the one only, who can control her whole: her heart and her soul.
Foolish mom, she thought as she approached the library door, To believe in such nonsense. Maybe I have a piece of Medusa as her heir, but her gift has been not passed to me, and an event in the morning, it was just a pulsating magic in me, insisting on being free.
She greeted Mrs. Broyrin, the librarian, and found herself at the very end of the reading room. She spread the parchments, the inkwell, the quill, and the books she needed on the table, and started working.
If it goes well, she comforted herself in her mind, Then you'll read the desired chapter. Work hard!
If she was more focused on the environment, she might have noticed a pair of brown eyes staring at her curiously. If she was more attentive, she would feel like her hair tried to get out of the bun under the influence of that look. If she listened to her mother, she would have known that her magic had united an inseparable knot with another.
* * *
She entered the Great Hall walking proudly, ignoring the amazed glances. She searched for the blonde hair of her dormitory companion. She was sitting at a table with girls from the fifth year. She approached them.
"Isabelle." She touched her shoulder. The blonde stared at girl with her blue eyes, still not believing what she saw. "Nott informed me, that since our fourth grade your desire is to move to the dormitory of our younger colleagues, but your timid nature has prevented you from doing so. If you feel the need to move out, I do not see a problem. Try to do it before dinner, please. Enjoy your meal."
She left no room for a discussion. It sounded like friendly advice, but everyone felt the cold. Isabelle will have no choice, but to move. She enjoyed the conditions in which she lived. Travers rarely was in the room, sometimes even at night her bed was empty. Indeed, two years ago she was dissatisfied, but after a long time, it began to suit her. She should have know, that Nott would tell her, but she did not care about that then. Why did he do it? Why did he talk to her? Isabella did not know and did not want to know. Knowing this secret is not worth the anger of the Black Queen.
Miss Travers saw the perfect place to have breakfast. Not too far from gossiping students and not too close to them. She was almost there, when she heard the call.
"Mal, come sit down with us!"
The Great Hall seemed to be frozen. Travers arrived for a meal in pants, and now Abraxas Malfoy invites her to spend time together? The girls were green with envy, though they couldn't do anything about it. Attempts to harm the brunette would not end as they would have liked, and they would probably have landed in the Hospital Wing. They went back to eating, not expecting an answer from her, and the rest followed them with the conviction, that nothing more disturbing could happen in their lives.
The brunette paused, the click of his heels stopped. She greeted the professors and the headmaster with a nod and then turned to Malfoy. She was put in an awkward position and it would be rude to refuse. She did not like to do what people demanded of her, although she was not yet a Queen, so she had to keep appearances.
"Do not call me Mal, Abraxas."she demanded, sitting in front of him and Riddle, and next to Nott.
"Do not be like that, Mal! Don't you see how perfect we are for each other? Mal and Malfoy! We have been united in heaven!"
"Your name is Mal, Miss Travers?" Riddle asked, interrupting the conversation. "Everyone always uses your last name or pet name, and when the list of the rounds and duties of the Prefects appears, there are only the first letter of the name and then last name. We have not worked together yet, have we? I would also like to add that you look phenomenal today."
She clenched her jaw. He noticed, and that means a patrol in the near future with him as her company. He should stop with this cool courtesy, because of it the girls do not chase after him, but after Malfoy. She put on a toast on the plate, buttered it with jam, poured tea into the cup and after that replied.
"Thank you, Riddle. You are also presenting marvelous." she replied flattering with the same, or maybe even more, reserve."Yes, we did not have a patrol together yet. I exchanged between the Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors. I was the only snake that could bear them and the only one that was accepted. And no, my name is not Mal."
"So how shall I call you?" he pressed, seeing that she had see through his game. She sent him a forced smile, which usually worked on teachers.
"Travers is fine."she assured him. She took a sip of the tea and bit a bit of bread. Red flashed in Riddle's iris, and she immediately tensed. She could see how his fingers clamped on the fork, his mouth forming a thin line. Another reason why girls do not choose him is that, only the teacher have soft spot in their hearts for him. The peers sens his aura, powerful, strong, dark. They see him outside the classroom, after all.
"I wish we could be on the first name terms." he whispered. She swallowed, licked her mouth discreetly and pushed the plate away. She lost her appetite.
"I do not like your or mine name."she said after a moment's of thought. After the words were said by her, Riddle put down the cutlery and became anxiously distressed. "It is not suitable for you, it is common, ordinary and you are unique. Do you have a middle name, Riddle?"
"Marvolo."
"And that is a strong name." she said. "Maleficent Victoria Travers. That's way they keep calling me Mal. Please, let's not address me by my name, so I won't have to call you by yours."
Cantankerus grabbed a patch of her shirt in silent admonition, and Abraxas begged her with a look to stop. She moved uneasily on the bench, her heart slammed harder, she no longer felt superior.
"Maleficent, call me Tom." he murmured before he stood up. He walked to the exit from the Great Hall, but stopped on his way out, turned around and looked at Maleficent. "I will try to organize a patrol for us soon. Be patient."
His voice sharp like razors hurt her ears. Maleficent's eyes narrowed, suggesting the forthcoming explosion. She blinked several times, getting rid of tears. Why didn't she make any sensible insult? She was capable of it!
She jumped up and then followed Tom, ignoring the shouting Malfoy and Nott. She chased the Head Boy to the stairs to the dungeons. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to her, so that their noses could almost touch. In these boots she was his height, their eyes on the same level. She ignored his pleasant smell and the distance they shared.
"Maybe you are the Head Boy, a favorite pupil of the teachers and an incredible wizard, but soon I will be number one, I will fuel the fire. I'm the Queen, Riddle. And who are you?"