A/N: Hello, fair readers. I really hope that you enjoy this, my first story about CP Coulter's Dalton.
I own neither Dalton nor Harry Potter. Dalton belongs to CP Coulter; Harry belongs to J.K. Rowling. These two women are far more brilliant than I could ever hope to be.
Just a note: The story begins during Christmas break of HBP/Dalton.
The peacock peeked through the window with hungry, resentful beady eyes. With all of the scurrying and cursing in the kitchen that day, his food had been long forgotten. The room into which he peered appeared almost as cold as the snow-strewn ground. A small fire spat in a grand old fireplace that once might have held some good-sized boar—or perhaps, given the history of the place, several dozen house-elves. The bird cocked his head slightly to the side as a clump of black-cloaked people scurried into view.
The Woman, the peacock noticed, fawned over what couldn't possibly have been a man… could it? He shuffled closer, beak almost touching the pane when, with a cry, the bird flew away in fear, a second moon in the black night, fleeing from the great snake that had slithered suddenly into view of the window.
Out of the corner of his eye, a Death Eater hissed, "My Lord! I believe we're watched! Narcissa, I thought you promised we'd be safe here."
Narcissa Malfoy glanced lazily out the window. "It was only my husband's peacock." Her voice caught ever so slightly on the word "husband," so that Yaxley did not notice… although his Master did. With a glint in his slit-like eyes, Voldemort folded his paper-thin lips into a smile.
"Ah, Narcissa," he hissed, "I hope that our dearest Lucius is doing well?"
Narcissa blinked. "He is… He is doing very well under the circumstances, my Lord. He is ever eager to rejoin you—"
Voldemort hissed but said nothing.
"—and I'm sure would be honored to know that my Lord has deigned to honor us with your presence this evening, especially as it is Christmas."
Voldemort smirked. "Thank you, Narcissa, for letting us come. I am sure there is nowhere else anyone would rather be tonight." There was a smattering of agreement from the crowd of Death Eaters with varying degrees of forced sincerity. "I do hope we didn't interrupt any private celebration of your own, Narcissa." Voldemort's eyes lingered on the small pine tree bedecked with fairy baubles in the corner, the unopened presents underneath it, and the grand feast growing cold upon the table.
"Of… of course not, my Lord." Narcissa's eyes were glued to the floor as she curtsied before him, trying to conceal the flash of annoyance she felt. "My Lord is always welcome to our home."
"It is the highest order you may bestow!" Bellatrix exclaimed from the corner. "Forgive my sister, my Lord! For your presence is, by far, the best gift we can all hope to receive any night of the year, especially on Christm—"
"Thank you, Bella." Voldemort turned to those assembled. "Now, to the reason I called you here."
As if on cue, the Death Eaters gathered round the table, still groaning under the weight of the feast. Some looked to Narcissa for some sort of approval. Timidly she spoke, "Please... you may eat whatever you like." The Death Eaters waited only as long as it took Voldemort to magic himself a plateful before tucking in themselves.
Voldemort raised his hands. The Death Eaters fell silent. "And now to business. Now, I understand we should never count our dragons before they're hatched, but as I understand it, our plot to kill Dumbledore shall be completed before the school year ends." His eyes lingered on Draco, who sat silently between his mother and Severus Snape. He paled but nodded.
"Then the rest shall fall into place swiftly, shall it not? How are things at the Ministry?"
His spies at the Ministry all gave positive reports: an Imperious Curse placed here, a conversion there. Names spiraled higher and higher in terms of importance; the departments of Magical Law Enforcement, Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and Magical Transportation all had key employees under their influence.
"I am pleased with your efforts." Voldemort smiled. "But you must continue to work if we are to infiltrate the Minister's own office." He turned to another Death Eater. "And with the muggle Ministry?"
This debriefing was also positive, if slightly less progressed. Voldemort nodded. "Good. I am looking now to start a second phase of my plan. England will soon fall to my hands. I can feel it." He closed his eyes for a second, savoring visions of chaos known only to his black heart. "But the befouling of our blood is not contained only to this sceptered isle." He stood. "France, for example, has often been known for beautiful witches and handsome wizards… unnaturally so. Their mixing with veela is… understandable, I suppose." He smirked, and many male Death Eaters guffawed bawdily.
Voldemort continued. "But regrettably so. The whole race is all but poisoned by these sirens' blood. Those who have sinned thus must pay dearly. But I speak not of France. I speak of a larger problem. Even before Salem, American witches and wizards have mingled with every sort of filth possible. We must look to these atrocities first, for such a large nation will take a long time to conquer. But it shall be the gem in our diadem."
He paused for effect. The Death Eaters murmured to each other in surprise at this new plan. "My Lord!" Bellatrix exclaimed, breathless with excitement at such a prospect. "How will you accomplish such a feat?"
"We must act carefully," Voldemort began. "This operation will take many different stages. Montesquieu! Colbert!" Two Death Eaters stood up. "The Southern part of America—those states which made war with the rest of the country—in those states are many ancient families whose blood is pure and who are deeply sympathetic to our cause. Go among them. Garner support for our cause. They will be easily won. Have them rally under us. I understand you have relatives who married into their families?" They nodded. "Have them introduce you to their society. As I understand, it is a complex, if well-connected social circle."
"There are other isolated communities of purebloods located elsewhere. Scragham, Dorset, Loudon, Merribuck—you will go to these communities and convince them." He waved his wand lazily, and four pieces of parchment appeared with specific information for each Death Eater. "Those most easily won to our cause are listed first; the hardest are at the bottom."
"Thank you, my Lord," they muttered.
"Now to a more difficult situation. Because America is so vast compared to Britain, it would be difficult to control the whole country simply by overthrowing the government. Rather, we must act in stealth and patience. Barleyman here," he nodded to the stout wizard who stumbled forward, bearing a handful of pages of parchment in his hands, "has compiled a list of muggle schools for the elite. The muggle students at these schools will go on to inherit powerful corporations and hold prestigious places in their Parliament."
"Congress, my Lord," Barleyman whispered.
"Congress, I mean. Perhaps even become Minister."
"President."
"President, then! Filthy muggles!" Voldemort cried. "At any rate, our plan is to infiltrate these schools—not perhaps in the leading position of course, but as… well, as our dear former Head of House, Slughorn." Many smiled fondly at the mention of Slughorn, except for Draco, who scowled.
"Eventually, I hope to infiltrate all of these—"his mouth twitched slightly "—hallowed halls. However, to try this plan, we shall have a prototype school in a relatively remote area, which shall be—"
"—one Dalton Academy, in Ohio," Snape concluded, pointing to the name on the paper Dumbledore was holding. Members of the Order leaned in to get a better look at the paper from their places at the Weasleys' table.
"And who will be this new Slughorn?" Dumbledore asked.
"Coughlin." Dumbledore nodded, closing his eyes.
"Coughlin?" Tonks spat. Everyone turned to look at her. "Well, he was in my year. Slytherin prefect. All the girls were so in love with him. Thought he was…'charismatic.'" She snorted derisively. "What a prat."
"Nymphadora," Lupin said quietly.
Tonks sobered. "Sorry," she said. "But he was. Honest."
"Really—"
"Oh, it's quite true, Remus," Dumbledore said lightly. "If I remember correctly, during his last three years at Hogwarts, Filch confiscated approximately 387 love potions from several girls, all meant for him." He chuckled. "I won't disclose how many times he was caught with a girl in a broom closet."
Then he sobered. "If one man could lure adolescents to Voldemort, he would be the prime candidate."
"Then we must put an end to this immediately!" Molly Weasley exclaimed, possibly still sore from Percy's recent, disastrous visit.
"My dearest Molly," said Dumbledore, "stop him we shall. Remus?" Lupin looked up. "How would you like another teaching position? In, say, the United States of America? Severus will, of course, provide you with all the potion you will need for your transformations."
"But what can I possibly teach?" Lupin asked.
"If I remember correctly, a certain Hogwarts student was often spotted in the muggle literature section of the library…. Shakespeare most often. Am I right?" Lupin flushed. "Many creatures you taught to students at Hogwarts feature prominently in muggle mythology, you know. And, of course," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as they met Remus' gaze, "you won't be going alone. Nymphadora, go with him… just in case." Tonks flushed and Lupin paled, both mercifully missing Molly's triumphant grin and the significant looks that passed around the table.
"But that's not all, Headmaster," Snape sneered."A select few students are enrolling at Dalton. Crabbe and Goyle have volunteered their sons, although more students may follow, and" Snape gave Dumbledore a significant look, "Malfoy was also selected to go, if temporarily."
Dumbledore nodded, closing his eyes for a moment. He sighed. "Then we must do the same. Molly? Would you mind terribly if some of your sons and daughter, along with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger, went to a muggle school, if for a little while?"
"They'd be delighted," answered Arthur, almost before Dumbledore finished asking the question. Molly hit him and glared.
"I assure you, it would be for a little time only, and the time could be considered a study-abroad program of sorts. You know, I have often talked of exchanging students to Beauxbatons, for example. Maxime is very fond of the idea herself." Dumbledore glanced at Hagrid, who had straightened at the sound of her name and hit his head on the ceiling in the process, showering Order members with a fine layer of dust.
Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips. "I supposed that's fine, Headmaster, but… when you say sons… we only have one remaining at Hogwarts."
Dumbledore smiled broadly. "If the twins should go, I shall be more than willing to count whatever time they spend at Dalton as credit, and they shall be considered graduates from Hogwarts in exchange."
Mrs. Weasley looked like she could have burst with happiness at the thought. "Well," she conceded, "as long as Remus and Tonks keep an eye on them."
"Of course, Molly dear," said Tonks. Arthur looked as though Christmas had returned 363 days early.
"Your daughter and Miss Granger cannot attend Dalton, which is a school for boys," Dumbledore continued. "Ginevra shall instead attend a public high school close to Dalton, and Miss Granger shall attend Dalton's sister school, Dobry, in an attempt to raise suspicion regarding Coughlin and ensure that no other Death Eaters are in the area. She—and your sons, Molly—will be extremely safe, I assure you. Ginny will stay with Nymphadora and Remus." Molly sighed but nodded her head in ascent.
Dumbledore beamed. "Then prepare yourselves. You shall leave as soon as everything can be placed in order."
On the other side of the door, the boy named Harry Potter looked up at his friends in shock. "Well," he said, "looks like we're going to Dalton."