For QLFC S5 R4
I was really inspired by how in the Industrial Revolution, the middle class were increasingly the wealthy ones, while the aristocrats held dwindling stores of money, and yet they still had a reputation to uphold so they'd still spend money lavishly and not work. Please enjoy!
Warning: Contains mentions of torture
"This must be kept a secret," her father hisses. Alecto leans back from him almost imperceptibly. Her eyes drop down to his hands, where he holds a bottle of firewhiskey so tightly his knuckles are white.
"Yes, Father," she says demurely back, complete and utter compliance in her voice. Anything more could be a trigger for a rant, an argument, a punishment. She's long since learned her lesson.
Her brother, though, has not.
"But why?" he asks, the two year gap between them stretching painfully long. Alecto holds her breath and prays. "The other purebloods could help us."
The bottle is smashed against the wall, and the two of them flinch as they're peppered with stray glass shards.
"You will listen to me!" their father roars. "And the other purebloods will not hear a thing about this, do you understand me? Otherwise—" he draws out his wand then, a long, jagged piece of cedar. He strokes a single finger down the wand, caressing every knob and every tiny spike.
He giggles. "Crucio!"
Her brother hasn't learned enough to navigate the trap-filled maze that is their father, but he's learnt enough. Alecto sees Amycus brace himself a second before the curse hits.
Her brother, her eight year old baby brother, let's out a guttural scream. His body twitches once, twice, then he topples to the ground in a full blown seizure.
Her father watches her, but she doesn't move. Alecto hates herself for it.
With another flick of his wand, the curse stops. Amycus curls up on the lavish carpet of their parlour, his arms wrapped around his knees. He starts sobbing then — great, heaving cries that shake his entire body.
"Don't forget what I just said," her father warns. He slips out of the room, the stink of alcohol lingering unpleasantly behind him. Only then does Alecto rush forward. She grips her brother's forearm and tugs him into a sitting position, but he's crying so badly he can't even stand.
"Why?" he asks, over and over again. His tear-stained face turns towards her, but she doesn't have an answer.
"Don't question it," she instructs instead. "We have nothing over him right now. He's the strongest so we have to listen to him. Otherwise, we won't stand a chance."
This is the only solace she can offer him.
...
"Ah, Carrow," a voice calls out to them. The party of four turns to see a stately figure stride towards them.
"Malfoy," her father says calmly, but she can sense the hidden delight running underneath. Alecto straightens up in turn. "What a pleasant surprise."
"Shopping for Hogwarts, I assume?" Abraxus Malfoy asks. "My Lucius here is entering his third year, you know." Young Lucius Malfoy joins his father's side and sweeps his eyes over their small family, dismissing them with a curl of his lip.
It makes the anger boil up in her, but she bites her tongue.
"Of course I know, how can I not?" her father says sweetly. "Every pureblood has heard of his achievements!"
"As they should," Abraxus says dismissively. He reaches into the coat and draws out a pocket watch, flipping it open in one smooth motion. "We must get going. Until next time."
"Yes, until then."
The Malfoy's take their leave, and the four of them continue on their way as well. Although she despises the pretentiousness of the Malfoys, that short interaction is enough to put her father in a good mood. He promises to buy them the best ice-cream later, joking jovially with them all the way to Ollivander's, where Alecto will be getting her very first wand. It gives her that extra bounce in her step.
The bell jingles cheerfully above the the door as they enter the store. Inside, it almost seems like time has slowed down. Even the dust mites dance freely through the air, glimmering in the sunlight. Her mother coughs and waves a hand around, her nose wrinkling.
"Excuse me," she calls, annoyance clear in her voice. "We're here to purchase a wand."
"Yes, yes," comes a raspy voice, and Ollivander peeks his head around a shelf. He scans Alecto from head to toe, then disappears again. Her mother sighs, tapping her foot in impatience.
But Ollivander reappears quickly, and he shoves a wand in her hand.
"Wave it around," he urges. Alecto gives it a good swish, but it doesn't feel right.
"No…" he mutters. He snatches the wand out of her hand, and then is gone.
They go through five different matchings before they find the right one. Alecto knows without even touching it that it's the right one.
Ollivanders beams at her. "This one is made of fir. My grandfather always called it the survivor wand."
Alecto runs her hand along the wood, equally as knobby as her father's. Yes, that was right. She was a survivor.
Alecto smiles down at her new wand in satisfaction.
"How much is it?" her mother asks, boredom clear in her tone. But underneath it is an anxiety that only the three of them can hear.
"This one is ten galleons," Ollivander says. "It was a little more finicky than any other."
"Ten galleons?" her father roars, his spittle flying. He lurched forward until he looms above Ollivander. The wandmaker steps back, his eyebrow twitching up in surprise. "You dare charge us ten galleons for this — this piece of crap?"
But Ollivander holds his ground. "There are other wand stores in Diagon Alley," he says, eyes steely. "You can take this wand or choose another one elsewhere."
Alecto sees her father's hand twitch towards his pocket for his wand, the anger clear in his face. She tenses involuntarily, wondering what'll happen to them if he makes a scene in such an esteemed store. But he clenches his fist and steps back.
"Fine," he says. He grabs their money pouch out of his breast pocket and carefully counts out ten galleons, before dropping them into Ollivander's hands. He slams the door shut on his way out, leaving an awkward silence behind him.
"Apologies," her mother says, but all of them can tell she doesn't mean it. They leave the shop then, quickly catching up to their father.
Their family files past Fortescue's without a word, and Alecto grips her wand tighter to her chest.
...
By second year, Alecto is the undefeated champion of the duelling club. The other students whisper that she uses underhanded methods, but so what? A proper dueller should take any advantages they get, even if that means casting before she's supposed to, or slipping puking pastilles in her opponent's dinner. Real life will never be fair and it irritates her when they go on about camaraderie and loyalty.
Duelling is a way for her to relieve her anger and tension, and she'd be damned if she let anyone tear that satisfaction from her. These soft mudbloods don't know the meaning of true fear, and she hates them for it.
And if an unintended side effect of that is that the students stay away from her in the hallways, then all is well.
Well, except for one person.
Alecto eyes the girl in front of her with a curled lip. The silly Ravenclaw girl had corned her after dinner, accusing her of cheating once more.
"If you have an issue with me," Alecto suggests, an idea forming in her head, "then why don't we duel it out right now?"
The girl's eyebrows jump up in surprise, but in a second a steely look comes over her face. She withdraws her wand from her robe and points it right at Alecto's face. Perfect.
"Fine then," she spits. "Let's duel then. We'll continue until one of us is disarmed then?"
Alecto draws out her wand as well. "Fine by me."
The two of them wait for a tension-filled moment. The Ravenclaw reluctantly nods her head instead of bowing. Alecto rolls her eyes and jerks her head in her best semblance of a bow. Then, they begin.
"Expelliarmus!" the girl yells, taking the initiative. Alecto steps to the side and fires back with her own disarming spell.
They continue that way for a while, the two of them. They circle around each other slowly, occasionally firing spells when they think the other isn't aware. But there's something tense in the air between them that tells Alecto that something big is about to happen.
The Ravenclaw girl looks away for a brief second. Alecto tightens her grip on her wand, and strikes out before she even knows what's happening.
"Crucio," she whispers.
The girl screams. Her eyes bulge open in shock and she chokes on air. The muggleborn girl has never felt this pain – has never learnt to endure it like she has. And Alecto feels powerful. She can see why it's her father's favourite curse.
With a flick of her wrist, she cuts the spell short. The Ravenclaw girl collapses on the ground, quiet sobs just beginning to bubble out of her. But Alecto can't leave just yet. She walks towards the girl and crouches down beside her limp form.
"There's more where that came from, yes?" Alecto croons. "Don't go telling anyone now."
Alecto leaves her there then, and walks sedately back to her dorm, humming under her breath. It isn't until she's undressing for the night that she notices a fairly large hole in her robe, from the duelling just earlier.
She mutters a curse under her breath. She glances around the room, making sure no one else is in the room, before pulling a needle and thread out of a hidden compartment in her chest. Quickly, she sews the hole shut. Alecto barely manages to hide it away in her hidden compartment before the door to her dorm opens suddenly, her roommates filling in.
The next day, she discovers the Ravenclaw girl quit the duelling club. The other students whisper about it and send her nasty looks, but she isn't bothered.
...
There are whispers in the Slytherin dorms of a new regime. A leader by the name of Voldemort is on the rise, with promises of culling the dirty blood that's tainted their Wizarding World. Amycus knows more about it than she does, and he relays the information to her periodically in the hallways between classes. He tells her about the alliances being drawn, and she reminds him to pick the winning side.
He nods easily, and then slips away. Alecto walks to class, pondering the information.
This could be their chance to be part of something great. This could be their chance to take part in a revolution. To take action, to not cower behind the old aristocracy and their fake wealth and power. This could be their chance to come up on top.
And then, just before Winter break, Amycus relays some crucial information to her. There'll be a meeting with the leader himself, and only those most dedicated to the cause should show up.
Hundreds arrive. Alecto stands beside Amycus in the crowd, surveying the group around her. Lucius, Bellatrix, and even Severus are among those in the crowd that she recognizes.
And in the center of it all stands Voldemort. His face stares stately out at them, charmingly handsome in its youth. In fact, all of them are on the young side. None of their parents have arrived here, and that's how it should be. The old aristocracy should die, and a new one will take its place.
Voldemort walks between their ranks in near silence, examining each of their faces. Some, he hails by name. Some, he notes almost dismissively.
When he gets to Alecto and stares straight into her eyes, her insides tremble with passion. She can see something in his gaze that tells her that she's made the right decision.
...
Alecto comes home late from one of her Death Eater activities and finds her father waiting there for her. She eyes him coolly from the entrance hallway, and his face visibly sours at her disrespect.
"Where have you been?" he asks, advancing on her. He's expecting her to back up, to lower her head, but she stays where she is and stares at him defiantly.
"I was out," she says shortly. His eyes flash and he reaches for his wand.
But Alecto is faster. "Crucio," she snarls. The spell hits him then, and it's painfully obvious that he's never experienced the curse, for all the times that he's used it. He slams himself against the wall, his entire body trembling with the effort of staying upright.
"You dare do this to me?" he hisses, his spittle frothing at the corners of his mouth. He looks disgusting and deranged.
"Crucio!" Alecto shrieks again. All the anger that's built up over time - all of that comes tumbling out and she casts her frustrations, her anger, her shame at him.
Finally, he collapses to the ground, unconscious.
She's tempted to use the Killing Curse - it wouldn't be her first time. But she doesn't. As much as she despises him, he's still one of them. A pureblood, untainted by non-magical blood. But he doesn't hold anymore power over her.
No, now it's his turn to cower in fear. She steps over his toppled form in the hallway and heads up to her room, her dark mark burning pleasantly all the while.