"You get in the biggest fight with people you care about the most because those are the relationships you are willing to fight for the most."
Unknown.
Family.
As much as Rhaegar tried to cut them out, as much as he tried to convince himself that whatever emotional connection they have to him was destroyed by their treacherous betrayals, he simply could not ignore the fact that the first signs of danger, he would instantly bolt.
Rhaegar could never allow any of them to suffer.
Riddle smirked. "Your very own weakness. That and your creature of a wife."
Rhaegar gave out a roar, and slammed Riddle's head into a nearby tree.
"Where is she?" He hissed.
"Does it matter?" Riddle rasped. "You will never see her again. Not unless you submit to what I say."
Rhaegar stared at him. "You're blackmailing me?"
Riddle's smirk grew wider.
"Do not look so surprised, Rhaegar Artrigos. I didn't think I would see you so soon. I didn't think that you would beat me- which was a foolish mistake on my part, especially as I've seen you in school. But I had wanted to see you for a long time. I also have followers. And I learn from my mistakes."
Rhaegar froze. "The Selwyns," he whispered. "They are on your side."
"My side has not yet made itself known." He whispered. "But soon, and yes, thousands more will come."
Rhaegar swallowed. "Not if I can help it. And they are working for you, aren't they? At least some of them."
Riddle's eyes glinted. It wasn't just the whites, Rhaegar saw that reminded him of blood. But the irises. They were turning the colour of blood.
"You bastard," Rhaegar whispered. "You think you can defeat me? One way or another, it will be you who will fall, I swear it."
Riddle sneered. "That sort of talk won't save your sister, Artrigos."
Rhaegar's hand around Riddle's throat glowed brighter from within. His eyes flashed. "Maybe. But you will still fall."
"I doubt it," Riddle sneered. "Now are you going to keep talking to me, or are you going to do what your instincts tell you to do and save your sister, or are you going to stall?"
Rhaegar looked at him with open loathing. "You turn my sister against her family, you destroyed her relationships with everyone, you slaughter millions of innocent people- our people! And then you take my younger sister hostage?" His eyes flashed brighter. "I may not be able to kill you, he whispered, but I can certainly make you suffer and wish for death."
Rhaegar whipped out his wand, and knocked the yew wand out of Riddle's hand. "Crucio!" He roared.
He didn't care that it was illegal. He didn't care if this turned him into someone- or something- he could never be. He wanted Tom Riddle to feel pain- the worst pain.
Riddle screamed as pain ripped and stabbed him, seemingly, to shreds. Rhaegar kept going, before he saw one thing.
Alarissa. He saw her face in his mind.
February 1945…
Hatred coursed through him as he looked at the figure of the man who had enslaved him as a boy, who had tortured and brutalised him, forced him to fight and to butcher thousands of innocent people.
He held his stolen wand aloft as he shouted, 'Crucio!' The thin, wiry man with a permanent sneer on his face screamed like a rat being ripped to shreds as Rhaegar tortured him.
"It's different, isn't it?" Rhaegar snarled. "When you're on the receiving end of the stick." He uttered the curse again and the man writhed in agony. "Tell me, do you enjoy squealing?"
He was about to torture the man again, when Alarissa came running up to him.
"Stop!" She cried out desperately.
Rhaegar paused, but his eyes flashed and he did not take his eyes off his once-tormentor-now-victim.
"Rhaegar," she said sternly. "Don't ever do this."
He stood still as a statue.
"He abducted, sold us, tortured us and turned us into monsters," Rhaegar said in a deadly quiet voice. "He kidnapped you, he whipped and chained you in iron! Why should I spare him? Who would spare him?"
"Because you are a man, not a monster," Alarissa insisted. "A man. Give yourself restraint. The will to rise above the rage. A beast would charge blindly, chew off its own limbs to escape a trap, it would charge forwards in its rage with the aim of ripping the prey to shreds, even if a spear or an arrow gets to it before it reaches its target- it will never see. You are not a beast. You are not a monster. You are a man. And you are much better than this."
Rhaegar halted the curse.
Riddle lay, still restrained by the ropes, breathing heavily, his eyes darting with pain.
"Where is my sister?" Rhaegar asked in a deadly quiet voice. Yes, he was disturbed. More than disturbed. He was horrified, shocked and disgusted that he should do this again, but Riddle did not need to know that. And he needed to know that Rhaegar was capable of doing a great deal more than he could have ever possibly imagined to save his family- and masses of innocent people.
"I'll repeat once more, Riddle and only once. Where. Is. My. Sister?"
Both men looked at each other with mutual hatred. It seemed to Rhaegar, that although they were technically men, the lines between man and monster were starting to become blurred, though hopefully, not more.
"The Selwyns took her," Riddle hissed. "On my orders. You honestly think that with Grindelwald gone, no one would remember the old ways- the ways which separates the pure from the tainted, the worthy from the scum of the earth? There are others, Artrigos, others who would achieve what Grindelwald failed. Others who would rise higher and shine brighter than he could have ever possibly dreamed of. By the time I am done, they will never even remember Grindelwald's name. Nor anyone else's. Tom Riddle is dead." He spat his own name as if it were the most loathsome thing in the universe. "I am VOLDEMORT!"
The surge of energy nearly took Rhaegar by surprise, had he not had the slightest inkling something was coming.
He felt it as soon as Tom Riddle- no, Voldemort- began to speak.
A slight gathering of energy in the air.
So he shielded himself- and fast.
But the ropes binding his adversary burnt away and Voldemort stood.
"Give me your answer, Rhaegar Artrigos," he said calmly. The dark wizard restrained his passionate hatred and impulse to destroy Rhaegar. In any case, although he would never in an infinite amount of years admit to that, he would have never been able to defeat him. "Your sister alive…. Or dead."
They stared at each other for a long time.
Even Rhaegar knew it was no use fighting. "What are these demands?" He asked softly.
"The next generation of Pendragon descendants." Voldemort answered. "Have them delivered to me tomorrow night. And your sister, and my son, Rhaegar Artrigos."
Rhaegar gave a harsh laugh, ignoring the icy fear and panic rapidly building up within him. "That will take centuries to find, if ever. And there is believed to be more than one family descended from Arthur Pendragon. If you haven't killed any of them, that is."
"Don't play coy with me, Artrigos." Voldemort replied. "You know who the descendants are, even if you don't do as much as whisper them to yourself or in another's ear. Your friend Harald can attest to that. He's not as discreet as you."
Rhaegar felt his horror mounting. "What are you talking about?"
"Harald's wife Elisabeth and consequently, his son Alexander are two of the Pendragon descendants. They should be enough. I want them brought to this exact location, nine o'clock, tomorrow. Them and Athelinda and my son."
Rhaegar could not speak. Not for a moment. But somehow he miraculously found his voice. "He is not your son." He managed to say.
"I beg to differ. He is an heir of Salazar Slytherin. As am I."
Rhaegar went very still. "So you did open the Chamber of Secrets."
Riddle- no, Voldemort- he had to remember that- laughed. "So you did suspect that. I always knew, somehow. But yes, you get my meaning. I want my son and his mother delivered to me at the exact same time, as well."
Rhaegar narrowed his eyes. "If not," Voldemort continued. "Then I am afraid you will still regret it for the rest of your life, and I'm certain others will as well, if they survive."
"Those who threaten us, often do not survive and neither are the ones who attack," Rhaegar said, more dangerous than ever.
"Neither are the ones who oppose me," his enemy said quietly. He gave a thin, blade-like smile.
And then he disapparated.
Ice and dread flooded Rhaegar, and soon they would be replaced with heat and panic. He needed to find Philomena. And he needed to contact Harald. Fast.
Jason Selwyn left the ministry.
Alright, so things didn't go so well.
In truth, his fiancé's family despised him, at the very least. He knew he should have asked her parents for her hand in marriage and introduced himself to the rest of the family, but he was too frightened, admittedly.
But keeping it at arm's length had probably been worse.
When asked about her famous, legendary brother's opinion, Philomena had replied. "He would rather get Dragon Pox."
Duh, he had made a total mess of things, as the American diplomat in the ministry would say.
He entered his home, his parents currently, probably out at another social event. He did not begrudge them that.
He frowned, realising that the House-Elf was currently not present, and was about to call her to take his coat when he felt something grab his collar and slam him against a wall.
It was still dark, somewhat. His home did not have the proper Atlantean lighting and energy that Philomena had grown up accustomed to- even for the wealthy that was absurdly hard to gain, and costly, though easier to maintain, better and safer than candles.
But he could make out the outline of a powerful, lean and muscular young man, rather tall, very handsome and strong. Very, very strong if his grip and strength was anything to go by. And by the way he was being gripped, Jason thought that he was only using a miniscule amount of his strength.
"Who-" he managed to croak out. "Who are you? What are you doing here? I have nothing you can possibly want." A lie, but he wasn't as rich as, say, the Malfoys and the Blacks, though his parents were.
"Save your snivelling, Jason Selwyn," the voice was not something he had ever heard before. "Where is she?"
"Who?" He croaked.
"My sister," the voice said again, before the man's face came into the light.
It was Rhaegar Artrigos. Jason's eyes widened, and his face became very, very white. Bloodless, in fact.
"Wh-What is this?" He managed to squeak. "Wh-wha-"
"Enough games, Selwyn." Rhaegar ordered. His blue eyes shone deadly beams into Jason's soul. He was tall, elegant and intimidating, without ever having to extensively groom himself. "Where. Is. My. Sister?"
Jason had never been so afraid. He had never heard anyone sound so dangerous before. He swallowed which was a struggle. Surely Rhaegar would never harm him? Especially not now that he was about to be married to-
"Answer me!"
Jason jolted a little at the sound of Rhaegar's voice.
"I- I don't know," he squeaked. "She went out with my mother. Long before I arrived. They said they were buying her wedding dress-"
But they would not have needed to go to an ordinary shop. Dresses were designed- custom-made by known names in fashion, for the wealthy. And if Jason was to arrive this late- and he probably usually did- why go out?
His grip tightened. "You're either lying or a fool," he said, before brandishing his wand and silently summoning Veritaserum seemingly out of thin air. He grabbed Jason's nose- none-too-gently- and Jason felt like it was being ripped off his face. He opened his mouth to gasp and the bottle tipped itself in. Rhaegar struck him in the chest, causing him to gasp, inhale some of the liquid and splutter.
"Where is my sister?" He repeated.
"She went out with my mother," Jason said in a dull, monotone voice. "I don't know what for. She left sometime about midday and contacted me using the fire."
Rhaegar nearly cursed out loud. Jason was telling the truth. The dress-shopping was just a guess. That meant that Philomena could be just about anywhere, in any condition. She could be safe or she could be in as much danger as Riddle said.
No, Voldemort. The boy he had vaguely known in school was dead- destroyed by a monster- no, an abomination. There was no denying it. No monster would ever go to the same lengths as he did.
"Did your mother like your sister?" He asked quietly.
"She was very pleased- in fact, overjoyed beyond her dreams when she learnt I was to marry an Atlantean." Jason continued in the same monotone. "The bloodline would remain pure with her, even if our descendants were to marry Muggles, Squibs and non-humans, like you did."
Rhaegar felt boiling rage nearly spill forth and onto this unfortunate young man when he heard that. Alarissa was worth an infinite amount more than Lady Selwyn! But he restrained his rage. When he next met Lord and Lady Selwyn he was going to drill that lessons in their heads, even if he had to beat it into them!
"She wasn't too pleased that your sister acted all defensive towards your wife," Jason continued. "But she kept her mouth shut, she didn't do or say anything although she wasn't pleased judging by the way she looked when Philomena would say something every time someone said something on the matter- or your wife, personally, though few dared. They feared you as I did."
Huh.
Rhaegar mentally shook. He turned even colder. His sister. His sweet sister.
If he never saw her again…. The last thing he said to her….
"And your father?" Rhaegar pressed.
"My father stayed quiet the whole time," Jason said. "He barely said a word to Philomena. He seemed occupied, somehow. Secretive. He didn't say anything, though, to either of us, whether or not he was pleased."
Rhaegar went on mercilessly. "And the rest of your family?" He asked.
"My sister seems jealous and spiteful of Philomena. She seems to be scheming. My brother is even more secretive. I often catch them whispering to one another when they think no one's around but I never cared to find out what they must be talking about. I didn't think they mean harm. I don't think they'd dare."
You'll be surprised, Rhaegar almost said.
"My brother seems to be angry all the time, nowadays. Sullen and resentful. Bitter, especially every time we go to cities like London and he sees everything. He seems angry, especially when he sees Muggles. But all my family disdain them, so I don't think there's anything different about that."
"Has he been going somewhere?" Rhaegar asked.
"Yes," Jason replied. "Many times. He never said where. When I asked, he told me he liked to meet with some new friends now. I never asked anymore. He seemed satisfied after he met them, and determined, though for what I never knew. He still seems angry, though. And bitter. He said once he wanted the world to change."
And that's how he reels them in, Rhaegar thought. Him and Grindelwald. Not a promise of the past, where Pure-bloods were treated like royalty and Muggles were slaves. No, that only worked for a limited amount of people. They needed a cause. Something worth fighting for- a future, not the past. Muggles were fast multiplying and birth rates for witches and wizards, as well as magical creatures (that he had learnt from Alarissa) were dropping. Muggle innovations and discoveries were long exceeding that of wizards, the majority still using candles for lighting, and only adapting Muggle technology, such as radios, vehicles and other things, to their own usage, whereas Muggles finally learnt how to fly.
Like Athelinda, he thought. She had been just as bitter and angry.
Vaguely, he recalled Jason Selwyn's brother. He remembered a tall, dark-haired young man with a scowling face, dressed in emerald-green robes, looking possibly envious at the family manor- one of many mansions, manors and castles that belonged to the Artrigos family. The lighting, the ornaments, the decorations, food and architecture…. This mansion was a shabby, little cottage bare of luxuries compared to the palatial Artrigos home, and their family were among the oldest, the wealthiest and the most renowned Pure-blood families in Britain.
He wondered how bitter and resentful Voldemort's followers must have felt when they saw the Atlantean cities, towns and even villages. Not a single beggar in sight. Was it any wonder that they would be so bitter- because they resented the fact that Atlanteans were living far better than they were? Not a single beggar or tramp lived in any settlement owned and dominated by Atlanteans, all of them so wealthy even the poorest had a great deal of money to spare. The houses, villas, mansions and manors, the castles, even the small cottages and chalets were immeasurably beautiful and the architecture unparalleled in beauty. The academies, the libraries, the soldiers' training grounds…
How they must have felt, Rhaegar thought. And compared it to their own homes. And he felt ashamed that he never realised this before. Then again, if others had gained so much as a whiff out of this knowledge, they would turn aggressive. Demanding more. Never leaving them alone, and eventually hunting Atlanteans down en masse and slaughtering them, like the days before Arthur, Guinevere, Merlin, Igraine and Morgana. No wonder few outsiders- non-Atlanteans- were welcome in their settlements, and not without vows of secrecy.
But there were those who suffered. But the Selwyns were hardly suffering.
Jason was innocent though. Foolish and cowardly he might seem. He muttered a spell that took out the effects of the Veritaserum and uttered another spell.
Rhaegar whispered a spell. He needed to contact Harald. And he needed to contact Alarissa. And he needed Jason Selwyn to do something for him. He didn't trust Voldemort to keep his word. He would be a fool if he did.
Rhaegar knew he was in big trouble, even if his beloved, precious, little sister, whom he would do anything to save, was not in Voldemort's clutches.
Elisabeth. Her and Harald's son, Alexander. Apparently Voldemort knew the identity of some of Arthur Pendragon's descendants, if he was correct, before even Rhaegar did. How long before he figured out the Artrigos family were among them- if Rhaegar's suspicions were correct, that is.
No, he did not have much time at all.
And he would never consider handing anyone else, certainly not his own family, on a plate to a psychopathically, evil monster- no, an abomination- such as Voldemort.
Rhaegar cast an illusion within Jason Selwyn's mind- conjuring images, thoughts, supposed realities and events that never actually happened. Alarissa may want him to apologize later, but for now….
Jason went to the fireplace.
"Marcus," he contacted his brother. His brother's scowling face appeared. Rhaegar stood next to the mantelpiece making sure that Marcus Selwyn could not see him.
"Where are you and where are you coming back? There are people we have to meet at the Antipodean Opaleye." He said naming a fashionable, highly expensive, gourmet restaurant, popular among the wealthy elite.
His brother's face scowled. "Important guests?"
"Yes. From ministries overseas and the International Confederation of Wizards." Jason replied. "Where's Mother? She and Philomena left together this morning. Olivia went too. Tell them to meet us there. These are not guests we can afford to snub. Ministry members will be there as well, including the Minister's right-hand man. We need to be there. No exceptions. No arguments. And some important members of the Volsung Atlantean clan will be there as well. The Artrigos family and Avantador."
Marcus perked up. "Artrigos? Avantador? Avantador will be there?" His dark eyes brightened and flashed hungrily. Avantador was Harald's surname.
"Yes, along with his wife and child." Jason said. "For some reason. Nightfall, around six, I'd say. Be there. Contact Philomena, Mother and Olivia. Oh, and Father. Make sure you're there as well. Rhaegar Artrigos is coming, and my soon-to-be-in-laws, their second son and eldest daughter, along with her son. They're not known to like me."
Yes, Rhaegar thought. The exchange will take place, but under my terms and on my grounds- or so Voldemort thinks.
Or rather, the Selwyns would think that. And they were not as cunning. They would eagerly jump at the opportunity, if the hunger on Marcus' face was anything to go by.
Rhaegar had to play the game. Voldemort can't be allowed to have any options. He doubted the Selwyns knew about Athelinda and Sigurd being married to and sired by him, respectively. He would have wanted to play his cards right and impress his crowd. Tom Riddle never spoke about his background in Hogwarts. Voldemort would not speak about his private weaknesses either. In fact, he would kill to keep it secret.
But he wanted them. And Voldemort will play along- or get nothing. Or rather, the Selwyns would play along and Voldemort would not yet know the meeting would take place.
He had to play his cards right. Or rather the pieces on his chessboard.
Marcus' face was gone, but Jason Selwyn was currently stunned. Rhaegar had thrown a stunning spell at him once he finished his spell.
He needed to book a large, luxurious place at the Antipodean Opaleye. Invite members of the ministry, the International Confederation of Wizards and Harald. And although he would want nothing more than for Sigurd and Athelinda to be kept hidden, now he had no choice. Voldemort's followers might sense a trap. So he needed them to see the prize, not as a cheap bait bought in a Muggle shop.
He contacted Athelinda, his parents and Willamar. They were hysterical when they heard what had happened, but he insisted on the plan. His parents and Willamar reluctantly agreed to let Athelinda go along, but not Sigurd. Rhaegar insisted. They had no other choice. They can keep him safe.
He contacted Alarissa. "Where are you?" She asked worriedly.
"Safe," he said. "And so should you be. Rest." He swallowed. He didn't know what he would find and although he knew he had taken the worst and won, he can never be to certain that the next battle was something he would survive. "I love you." He said. "I'll see you soon."
Alarissa's mirror blanked. She was in bed, dressed in a white silk dressing gown with seed pearls over a pink negligée. She had been reading, praying desperately for Rhaegar to come home. And she prayed again.
Although it might seem hypocritical and selfish that Rhaegar would dangle his sister and her son over the enemy's hungry eyes, and Harald's son and wife, he had his reasons. Alarissa was weakened with pregnancy. The Fey were among the most- if not the most- powerful earthly creatures. But Alarissa's strength and magical power would go to nourishing and conserving this child, nurturing its growth and magical abilities, defending it if need be- even if Alarissa died, the child in her womb would be able to continue growing until it was ready to come out. It would be fed and safely defended. The problem was it took twelve months for a pregnancy to complete as opposed to a human's nine months. And a year was a long time to be in danger in. They could easily kidnap a child, but a pregnant woman? Not as mobile- she could not use portkeys- apparently that was determined by new healers, to have harmful effects on the unborn, even the ones whose mothers used portkeys frequently. She certainly could not disapparate. The luxury restaurant prevented that with wards.
Rhaegar thought all of this as he silently readied himself. Jason Selwyn was still under his spell. He did not use the Imperius Curse. He didn't need to. He simply used Atlantean magic. Besides he had enough of the Unforgivable Curses. He went back home and took Jason with him.
He did his pre-battle rituals- practiced by not only Atlanteans, but Spartan soldiers, Japanese samurai and many others- exercises to strengthen and prepare his body, ate, and then went to the bathroom, bathed, shaved and trimmed his hair using magic, anointed himself with oil and groomed, combed his hair.
He put on trousers and a white shirt and over that, robes with a razor-edge collar, crisp cuffs and tasteful black over-robe, cut through like a tabard. But underneath that he wore the light-weight body armour of the Volsung warriors. A crimson dragon badge pinned to his front, but no medals.
He couldn't summon any other warriors. He already contacted Harald to let him know what was going on, with the assurances that his own son and wife would not be harmed.
Rhaegar knew they were running out of time. Soon Voldemort would suspect, if he hadn't already. If he wanted to use Sigurd to be the usher and builder to a new Camelot Age the way he envisioned it, Alexander, Harald's son, and not to mention Alarissa's and his child- needed to be exterminated. First he would think that Alexander and Elisabeth- possibly, if she weren't killed- would be the ones he could use to bring in the new Camelot. Raise Harald's son alongside Sigurd who would know him as a father and worship him. Until he realised that his son was already Arthur's heir, as well as Slytherin's. Then he would kill Harald's boy, Alexander to prevent him from having a rival. Would Voldemort kill his own son when he had fulfilled his uses, to prevent him from becoming a threat to himself- a rival? Sigurd was destined to become one of the most powerful wizards in the world when he grew older. Would Voldemort consider him a threat? Rhaegar and Alarissa's unborn child certainly would be- if Voldemort considered Muggles and Muggle-borns a threat, a hybrid child, would be far too powerful and far too dangerous to contain- especially if the child was a grandchild of the Fey rulers- and a Dark Lord, Grindelwald, or else the descendant of Arthur. She would not be allowed to exist.
And yet… Rhaegar knew there was more to this than Voldemort showed him. He might be able to beat him in combat, but he did not know where Voldemort put his horcruxes. He had more weaknesses, especially now that he had a wife- non-human and thus in danger by witches and wizards and an unborn child- not only a hybrid, but a descendant of Arthur OR of Grindelwald? Too dangerous for a potential Dark Lord, such as Voldemort to take. And Voldemort already knew that his loved ones, friends and any innocent were his weaknesses.
Everything is at risk.
Athelinda was paler than normal. He knew that this was the first time she would see her estranged husband's followers and they would see their son.
"How much Atlantean magic does he know?" Rhaegar had asked her quietly while they were still preparing.
She shook her head. "Not much… But I taught him to, you know, detect magic, how to disguise himself, others, his own Magical Signature, and how to expose hidden things." She swallowed.
Rhaegar closed his eyes. He really hoped he would be able to cast some sort of illusion, so that Sigurd and Harald's son, Alexander. But no, Voldemort would know. It was no use railing at Athelinda. She had already paid the price, or was about to.
"Whether or not we survive this," he said, "in the heat of the battle, when the enemies are distracted, you will need documents for yourself and your son. No magical community would be safe for you." He handed her a manila envelope. She opened it with shaking hands.
Inside were two Muggle passports, a driver's license, some papers, which on closer inspection appeared to be tickets of some kind, and a Muggle bank notice saying that a sizeable amount of muggle money had been placed in a Muggle bank account- But the name of the bank and the country in which it was from were blurred in her eyes. All of them had unfamiliar names, but the Muggle photographs- still and lifeless- was of her and Sigurd. There was also a blank piece of paper.
"When you are a safe distance- in London inside Heathrow Airport- that's the place Muggles go to when they want to board airplanes- their flying vehicles- to go to another country- the paper will tell you which country you are going to. Then it will quietly burn itself without attracting any attention or causing the sparks to spread and burn anything. And before you ask, don't worry. Planes are utterly safe. Muggles are ingenious when it comes to engineering." He gave a strained smile. "We truly have fallen way behind. We will give you as much time as you possibly need."
Athelinda's words- and her heart- seemed to choke up within her throat. "I- I can't just leave you! I can never leave you! Not now! Not ever- not ever again!"
He shook his head. "Sister." He said calmly. "You must. For the sake of your son who deserves to live free. For the sake of the Camelot that will be- it must never be in control of monsters like Grindelwald and Voldemort."
"Voldemort?" She whispered. Fear filled her. He gave a bitter smile. "That's the name he has given himself. The boy you once knew is gone, Athelinda. He has chosen his path and he is not turning back. You must save your son. He is all you have left."
Athelinda swallowed. "I'm to blame for everything, aren't I?" She said bitterly. "I went with him. I fell for charm, lies and dreams. I tore this family apart and it was never the same again. I conceived my innocent son with him and swore him a future he never chose, something which he knows and wants, and one that will endanger him for the whole of his life." Tears might have welled in her eyes, but Rhaegar admirably noted that they did not fall.
"Until he fulfils that destiny," Rhaegar said quietly. "Then maybe the future might not be so bad after all." He looked down. What future, he wondered, would his own child have? A safe one? Yes, she may accomplish things, but most of all, there was nothing more he wanted than for her and her mother to be safe. And happy. He looked down.
Then he looked up again. "He will live. That is the most important thing. That he grows up safe, happy, intelligent, strong, resourceful and good." He paused. He wanted to tell her a million things. He wanted to tell his wife and unborn child an infinite number of things in case he died, but not only were they not here, and he didn't know where to start, they just didn't have the time. His parents and brother too. He swallowed hard when he thought of Philomena, that aching pain inside, shredding his heart and soul. His sweet little sister.
If either of them died that night, the last thing he spoke to her about would have been…
Now he knew. He should have known before, actually. He swore now, that if they survived this, he would never again leave on a bitter note.
He wanted to convince Athelinda not to blame herself. But now…
He glanced at the clock. "We need to leave." He handed her a purse made of silk. It matched her gown, simple ivory silk.
"Inside are all your belongings." He said. "The people at the airport won't ask any problems. When you check in- that is, when you go to the counter and present them with these papers and the passports- they usually get your luggage that's too big for you to carry by hand. They take them and place them in the plane's baggage section. Two suitcases- which are more practical than wizard trunks, really- will be waiting for you there. They will appear when you take out the piece of paper. But they are filled with Muggle clothes and things, and instructions on how to use them, and your actual belongings- even Sigurd's toys and your books- will be in this purse. Voldemort will be expecting Atlantean magic and concealment charms- such as lockers and pockets folded within air and empty space. So we can't risk that. Put the documents in here." She did as she was told.
He took a deep breath. "If we don't make it…" he paused. "If we do, it will still be a long time before we meet each other again… I want you to know that I have never regretted having you as my sister." He looked her in the eye as he said this.
This would have been a blow to his pride, in other times. But Rhaegar now knew the value of time and family now. He wasn't going to waste it.
There was no use denying it.
His family was his life. If not more.
Rhaegar looked around.
The Antipodean Opaleye's foyer was a beautiful setting. Rich brown-gold velvet carpeted the floors and burgundy papered the walls in between gold-painted panelling. There was a grand staircase, with gold-plated bannisters, and railings on the upper-floor. This place, unusually for somewhere in wizarding Britain, had Atlantean lighting. So, Rhaegar knew it was better-lit than candle-light.
But still his eyes narrowed. If he could kill Voldemort everything would end tonight. And yet… He had a gut feeling that it was not possible. Something was not right. This was not the time for him to be defeated.
The ministry officials- who had hastily arrived- eagerly on the invitation of his parents- greeted them enthusiastically. They were sycophants. Toadies. But it would save them. Members of the International Confederation of Wizards were also there as well. Many people were looking wide-eyed and excited at this. He could see Daily Prophet and other news agencies' and magazines' reporters eagerly looking at them, and photographers, readying their cameras.
A public setting. He then tensed. He spotted the Selwyns.
Rhaegar had erased Jason's memory of their recent confrontation, and the false memories he planted- Voldemort's knowledge of Atlantean magic didn't go too deep and he wouldn't have had the time, even if he appeared here, to do a thorough search of Jason's dim brain.
Marcus Selwyn was there, scowling as usual. Olivia Selwyn was a tall woman, she was easily spotted in her golden-brown hair.
Athelinda was currently preoccupied with Sigurd. The boy was kept out of sight of the photographers and reporters. The restaurant's security guards finally pushed them out of the building.
Voldemort would have warned them about Sigurd's eye. So they would have wanted to see it to be sure.
But when Athelinda left… they knew they needed to hide it.
As for Harald, his wife and son…. Rhaegar also had to give them their best chance.
He didn't have much time to prepare for them. He supposed that always suspected that he would come for Sigurd and Athelinda. He magically created duplicates of Athelinda's and Sigurd's passports, driver's license and tickets, using some photos that Harald had sent him a long time ago- altered- and new aliases. They would not wear disguises. Polyjuice potion took too long to make, was complicated and it- and other enchantments- wore off. They would be hiding in plain sight- yet not plain at all.
Rhaegar looked at the approaching Selwyns. Philomena was with them. And by the miniscule, unnatural gleam and the barely-noticeable glazed look in her eyes, he deduced that she had been Imperiused.
Rage welled up inside him and grief. His little sister. His sweet little sister who had run up to him, clutching a baby-book with her chubby little fingers, pleading him to read, or begging him to pick her up and swing her around. He gritted his teeth hard, and felt the threat of tears in his eyes.
At this point, Athelinda decided to show herself. Sigurd was by her side, pressed firmly against her, her hand on his shoulder, but his eye, the one that marked him as the son she spoke of once, was visible.
Athelinda stopped herself from shaking. It would not do to show any weaknesses. They would prey upon it immediately. The Artrigos family and the Avantadors who knew what was happening, silently thanked God that the Selwyns were not legilimens.
The Ministry officials greeted the Selwyns. Rhaegar dared not look into his parents' faces when they saw Philomena.
The Selwyns approached. Rhaegar did not bother to hide the threat and the loathing they saw on his face. The smug smile of Lady Selwyn vanished and she turned white.
"Shall we proceed?" The minister's right-hand man- an official in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, named Bartemius 'Barty' Crouch suggested. He was entirely oblivious to what was going on.
Rhaegar tilted his head.
They proceeded into the main hall of the restaurant where diners assembled. This place was lavish still, but the lighting was somewhat dimmed, though clear enough to see. What was the point in having Atlantean lighting if one wanted dim and candles could have easily done the trick? No idea. Atlantean lighting was expensive. But everything screamed high-class and luxury. Persian and Turkish rugs, antique tapestries framing the entrance, along with potted palms. Priceless paintings, curtains and wall-sconces with lanterns. Tables with white linen- from Egypt not Ireland- just to emphasize how expensive and luxurious this place was- crystal from Austria, Chinese porcelain and silverware or gold-ware in the private rooms.
Rhaegar froze. He made eye contact with the Selwyn siblings.
Thank goodness they weren't as stupid as to look smug, or happy in any way. But then again, the look on his face must have been utterly dangerous.
"Mr. Crouch," he said calmly. "How goes the search for Grindelwald's remnants?"
Crouch took a while to respond. It was as if Rhaegar was goading him, or he had some unspoken message there. He then began,
"The remaining splinter-groups are the most feeble of remnants we have encountered," he began, a hint of arrogance rising after his initial hesitation. "But they are still a threat. Soon they will be stamped out. Nothing escapes justice."
Rhaegar admitted to himself that he didn't like the sound of this fellow. But he sent a look loaded with meaning and threats to the direction of the Selwyns.
"Let's get to business, then," he said pleasantly. "Grindelwald's remnants are going or gone. Most of them are either dead, captured or hiding. Some of them-" his face darkened when he thought about this "-has even been subjected to the Dementor's Kiss."
Everyone winced. "Of course, we all know that such tidings don't bode well for any remnants being hunted down," he said. "Sooner or later their ideals, their ways of life and magic will be stamped out. That is, unless they find someone new to flock to- like bees or ants without a Queen. They need someone. Someone to defend them, and teach them new methods of brutality. Someone to keep their ideals alive and flourishing. Someone to make new plans and rally around as a central figurehead. Someone to give them the glory they feel like they deserve." His voice turned to acid.
Crouch froze. So did everyone else.
"I interrogated." Rhaegar said slowly. "All I got was a name."
Crouch's eyes flared. Little did he know he stood no chance- but it would not stop him from trying as hard as he could to stamp this person's followers to the ground.
"Who?" He demanded a little too loudly- now everyone else was listening in.
Rhaegar looked at him, eyes like twin blue fires. "Voldemort. Lord Voldemort as some call him. Isn't that right, Marcus and Olivia?" The audience turned towards the two members Rhaegar was smiling at- a smile that cut like a knife.
They froze. Marcus' eyes flared. Oliva's flashed. But it was Marcus who took out his wand and shot a jet of red light towards Rhaegar who promptly blocked it.
Everyone screamed and the diners drew back, some tripping over their own chairs in the haste to stand. Rhaegar threw a curse at Olivia, before her family could even react, startling her and causing her to crumple to the ground. She was on Philomena's left side. Rhaegar then threw a powerful, wandless spell that knocked Marcus off his feet, but the boy ducked behind an overturned table and shot a stream of spells at spectators. It was such a good thing he was outnumbered.
Barty Crouch- the last person he had expected started to retaliate. His parents got there first- Andreas had been a soldier in the Global Wizarding War. Katerina was one of the most formidable fighters he had ever seen. Willamar joined in, covering his sister while Harald shot powerful spells with and without his wand, while his wife and son were pulled behind.
Rhaegar was in the midst of it all. Powerful, unmatched and fearsome, he knocked them out, several to one, until Marcus, shooting a scowl and a glare full of hatred, grabbed his unconscious sister (he must have been smart in combat at least, but he didn't realise this was a trap), and disapparated.
How did he do that? As mentioned the restaurant had wards. Rhaegar frowned. Everyone not used to battle was shaking. Diners were slowly getting up from behind or underneath tables and chairs, and waiters and waitresses did the same. Barty Crouch went around, checking for any casualties or injuries, and Rhaegar sighed as he repaired the damage.
"Stupefy." He muttered and Jason crumpled to the ground. He would deal with him later. He waved his wand and repaired anything broken, smashed, dented and things flew back into place. Anything overturned floated back up and the paintings and tapestries which has scorch marks within them were repaired. A palm by the doorway had been overturned, dirt spilling out. The soil moved back in, not a grain left behind and the pot moved itself back to its original position. Even the food and drink came back to its original spot, least the patrons, and owners complained.
Philomena was safe. She was starting to blink rapidly. The Imperius Curse didn't last long. She started to look around blinking rapidly in shock. Her eyes flashed to Rhaegar.
"What happened?" She cried. She was as pale as a sheet.
Rhaegar sighed. "I told you what I found out." He looked at Athelinda. She understood. He grabbed Philomena's hand and pulled her aside. "It doesn't matter now. You're safe now. That's all that matters." His voice barely refrained from shaking.
Athelinda slowly and quietly pulled a shaken Sigurd out. Rhaegar looked at Elisabeth and Alexander. They understood as well.
Harald lowered his wand.
"Voldemort." Rhaegar said. "That is his name. The next Dark Lord."
Athelinda had gone. Sigurd- after getting over his initial shock- quickly began to bombard her with questions. He sounded in awe and excited.
"Hush." She whispered. "I'll tell you later."
They got out of Diagon Alley and ended up in London. Athelinda checked her purse. Inside the small clutch were change of clothes for her and Sigurd. Travelling clothes. Muggle clothes. Far less elegant and expensive than what she was used to wearing. It struck her that she had never worn anything other than luxury brands. She sighed. It wasn't something she should be proud of.
"Come on." She said. She pulled them into a public bathroom and slipped the clothes onto her and Sigurd. As for the ones she had worn, she folded them and placed them in her purse. There was also money there. A huge amount of Muggle money. Muggles had paper-money, like they did in Kataris as well as in other Atlantean settlements. She grabbed Sigurd's hand.
She didn't even have time to say goodbye.
Rhaegar wanted no association with her and Sigurd to Voldemort's name. If they were to discover he had once been Tom Riddle…
There were people who could testify that she had known Tom Riddle- was even rumoured to have gone out with him. And oh yes, she was a 'widow' with a young son. They only needed to put two-and-two together.
Which was also why they could not say- except to Dumbledore- who opened the Chamber of Secrets. Only they had to make sure he never came back.
She needed to leave. And then she would return with Sigurd when he was old enough to start school.
Cars were scooting down the road. A lot of cars, she noticed with surprise. As anyone could imagine, she had never seen so many cars in her life.
I wonder how you drive, she thought.
Athelinda handed Sigurd a pair of sunglasses. "We're among Muggles, now." She reminded him. "No talking loudly, especially in regards to the magical world: any magical people, creatures and enchanted things."
"'Cos they don't know we exist?" Sigurd lisped. "Yes." Athelinda replied.
"Oh." Sigurd munched on the Honeydukes chocolate bar his mother gave him. Athelinda watched as a woman dressed in a coat with a hat and a dotted veil, like the one she had on, as well as gloves, moved slightly forwards, not enough to get too close to the oncoming cars, and raised her hand. She waved to get someone's attention and next thing anyone knew, a car came towards her. This one was yellow. It had the words Taxi Cab printed on it and on an illuminated sign sticking on top. The woman got in. She could see her telling instructions to the driver- a man in a black suit with a cap of some sort on his head. "Interesting." She said.
The man nodded, he turned back around and the taxi cab sped off to the right- a certain direction, so Athelinda knew that the woman had told him where to go.
This must be what some Muggles do for an occupation, she thought. She looked at her son. She held his hand tighter.
Athelinda moved forwards, craning her neck to see if there was a car just like the one she had seen. As it turns out there was. She spotted on in the distance and when she was sure that the car was approaching and could see her, she signalled like the woman had done, waving her hand, clutching her son-and her purse- tightly.
The cab saw her. It whizzed straight towards her and the tyres screeched as it came to a stop. She opened the passenger door. "Get in, darling."
The driver's eyes bugged as he looked at her. His jaw dropped. "Um-er…"
"Heathrow Airport, please," she begged him. "Uh-um-uh-" he stuttered. "Sure." He finally managed to say.
It was her Atlantean looks. Muggles weren't used to seeing it. Wizards only saw it in newspapers and magazines. She sighed. "The Airport."
He speedily went off.
It was a while before they even saw the airport- a huge building, with vehicles like birds- somewhat- but with small wheels in comparison to its hugeness.
Is that thing supposed to fly? Athelinda thought incredulously. How does it even work?
Looking out the window, palms smudging the glass, mouth agape, Sigurd then frowned.
"Mummy," he asked. "What are those?"
"Ah. First time flying?" The cab driver asked cheerfully. She sighed. "Yes."
"They're airplanes, lad," the driver said. "They take you up to the clouds, they do. That is, if you've got enough money for it."
His mother frowned. "What happens if you don't have enough money, though?" Sigurd asked confused. "Well, you can't leave the country to go on holiday, can you?" The driver replied. "Or you take a ship. And that's only if you've got enough money for that. Sometimes you go on the really bad ships- the smelly places, dirty with lots of rats and too many people. Horrible places." He shuddered.
"So you've been on a ship before?" She asked him. The driver sighed. "Oh, yes. When I was a wee lad. My Dad's from Norway and Mum's from Sweden. Moved here right after the war, when the Nazis came."
The Second World War, Athelinda thought. For a second she almost thought the Global Wizarding War. Then she remembered the Muggles had their own war at the same time the wizards did.
I wonder what that was about, shethought. Out loud, she carefully said, "The Nazis?"
"Yup." The man's friendly face darkened. "They came alright. Weren't satisfied with Germany so they came east, then west, then north and south. Tried to force a lot of things. Royal family of Norway went into hiding, fought to liberate their people, they did. The Nazis came and they implemented their evil ideas into the place."
Athelinda frowned. "Their ideas?"
"You know," the man shrugged. "Nazism. The idea that they were the 'Master-race' and every other race were slaves." He frowned. "They started rounding up Jews, Gypsies, and people who fought against them, and threw them into camps where they were killed or worked to death."
Athelinda felt a horrible chill rise within her. Her face slowly became pale. So it happens in the Muggle world too.
Sigurd frowned. "Jews and Gypsies? That's stupid. It's not their fault they're Jews and Gypsies."
Athelinda was silent. "It never is, lad." The driver's tone was dark. "But some people think it's a crime to be born into something you can't help but be. Even if you didn't choose it. Some people don't accept what's different. They don't think outside the box, so they don't like other people thinking outside of it, and they don't like seeing anything from outside the box. They blame them if they so much as seem better than the others, 'cos they don't like to think they're the ones, failing, you know? It's easy to blame someone for everything that goes wrong, then look around, get up and find a solution to the mess. Then they grow angry. Then they start to hate. And when you start hating, it's hard to be happy and to love again. Soon the only happiness you can have is when other people are hurting."
Sigurd frowned. "But it shouldn't be like that."
"Then maybe you'll change things," the driver said. "I'm older. You're young. You look like you've got money. If you study hard, get a good job, look after your Mum and your family, look out for others… Well, who knows what you can do?" He gave the boy a wink.
Sigurd was silent as he contemplated this bit of advice.
At the airport, Athelinda paid the Norwegian-Swedish-born Taxi driver, and held Sigurd's hand as she went off.
Interestingly enough, soon a trolley appeared with two Muggle suitcases. Rhaegar was right. They were far more practical than trunks.
"Come on, Sweetheart." She held onto his hand as she pushed. Inside were lots of people in seats. Mothers cuddled and fussed over small children and babies. Men lit cigars and cigarettes (she hated the smell, and she had a strong feeling they were bad for them, as well) and paced nervously. People checked wristwatches. There was a long counter with friendly-faced staff in uniform sitting behind them. People were queuing up. Athelinda took a deep breath. She went and sat down, and reached into her purse.
She took out the blank piece of paper that Rhaegar had given her. Unfolding it, it took a while before ink started to appear in capital letters. AUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND.
Her jaw nearly dropped. It was isolated. On the other side of the world! They had to go through that extreme?
She swallowed. No, she did not have time to say goodbye. But she felt the threat of tears and stopped herself from weeping. She took out the papers. The passport had the name Amelia Katherine Sears on it. Her son was called Demetri Andrew Sears. Her occupation- she was a landowner in Britain- a wealthy aristocrat, who had married down the social ladder and young. She had been widowed by the war, with a young son. Apparently she was hoping for a new and better life in New Zealand- which was the reason people migrate to the British-yet-independently-controlled islands. The tickets showed that she was flying First Class- whatever that meant. Maybe they were going to give her special treatment? She frowned. This could mean that they would not be inconspicuous.
But on the other hand, she realised this was Rhaegar's way of saying goodbye. Of trying to do her one last favour. As if he hadn't already done her enough.
Athelinda choked up a sob. Her eyes blurred with tears. She couldn't help it. She- who had been the worst sister in existence- the most appalling- and her brother still went out of his way to look out and provide for her, protecting her son. "Mummy?" Sigurd asked. His small hand settled on her knee. She sniffled. "Come on, darling." She stood up, taking his hand. "I'll explain when we get there."
Athelinda walked up to the counter. Taking the passports and the tickets, she handed them to the man in the front. The man frowned as he read it thoroughly and then nodded. "Very well, Ma'am. Please step aside." Another man, dressed in the same uniform, picked up one of the suitcases in the trolley and placed them on… something- a small platform. Then she looked up. She was startled but almost kept it hidden. A scale, she thought. It was weighing baggage.
The man nodded satisfied. "Your name?" he asked although he could easily check the passport. "Amelia Sears," she said. He nodded. He wrote the name on a tag, looped and tied it around the handle of the suitcase. "I take it these two go together?" He asked, gesturing to the other suitcase.
Athelinda frowned, at least she didn't scowl. Obviously. "Yes." She replied. The man took the handle and pulled the weight of the suitcase inside, out of sight. The other man took the second suitcase and he did the same.
Finally, they were done. Athelinda still had her purse, and she wasn't letting go of it. She had her son and that was more important.
She went around. After specific instructions from a kindly lady in an airport uniform, they managed to find the way.
"You need to go as well," Rhaegar reminded them.
"I'm not leaving Harald," Elisabeth insisted. "And what about your son?" Andreas asked.
Rhaegar looked at Alexander. A few months older than Sigurd, he had hair like beaten gold- almost, if not exactly the exact same shade, its gleaming, slightly glowing strands, reflecting light and illuminating his face. His eyes were a stormy, yet sapphire blue and his skin porcelain. It was clear from his features would be incredibly striking once he got older. Right now his eyes were closed. He was asleep.
Rhaegar breathed out a sigh. "We can't stop fate. If Voldemort was correct…. How did he think it would be you anyway, what gave him that idea?" He frowned.
Elisabeth looked down. "My father was a proud man. It was a family myth, supposedly, one that we cannot confirm. But that was what he believed."
"Voldemort believed it." Rhaegar said. "And he was willing to blow the cover of his secret goal outright- without me even confronting him about that bit- and demand this of me, so what does this say, compared to the others?"
He looked at his parents, and his remaining siblings. "We will discuss this later. Jason has been exonerated. I made sure of that. Not even Crouch could jump on him as easily as he liked."
Who knew that little Barty Crouch could be so… temperamental? Eager to apprehend? Bloodthirsty? After spending thirty minutes with the fellow, Rhaegar was certain he didn't want to spend any more.
Merlin help us if that man ever becomes Minister for Magic, he thought. Barty Crouch would be the worst sort if he seemed power-hungry enough.
"But the same cannot be said for the rest of the family," he continued. "Lord and Lady Selwyn have both been sent under house-arrest, after questioning which bodes ill for the rest of their kin. Marcus and Olivia have prices on their heads. There is no sign of Voldemort, but he will be back- with a vengeance." He looked at Elisabeth. "And he will strike harder and faster than ever when the time comes. He's already attacked cities. He will want to make his move, now. He will not have forgotten you, or your son." She went very pale, as was expected. Her small boy lay, his head on her lap. "Think on that." He looked at his parents. "For now, we need to talk."
Yeah, family is more important, and few realise just how important until it's too late. So cherish your loved ones, as much as you can. I've had a personal family tragedy recently and I'm grieving, still. My grandfather passed away when I put up the last chapter. He was really a special guy. Now I'm worried about everyone else. How long do I have with them, and so on. I can only put my faith in God's Hands.
Yes, Athelinda will leave and she and her son will stay in another country, living among Muggles, until he is old enough. But their part has not ended yet in this story.
Harald's son Alexander, is more important than you know. The next story will be centred around him and Sigurd and their close friendship- like James-Potter-and-Sirius-Black, close.
For now.. Alexander is a small boy and next chapter Rhaegar confronts his mother- and finds out the truth.