Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Works are not mine. The characters and settings are owned by J. K. Rowling and her respected publishing companies e.g. Bloomsbury.
Double murder and Yuletide Celebrations.
Shadow I cast, well, it weighs more than my soul;
It's the only proof that I am here at all;
I will cordially invite you if you promise to accept;
Under no uncertain terms will you be second best.
Endless Grey – Young Guns
Saturday 21st December 1991
Hastily the man left the cosy warmth of his heated car, and stepped into the biting winds of Somerset winter. How he wished that he could be wrapped tight in the delightful warmth of his girlfriend's arms, yet he had to leave her on their anniversary night; Rita was understandable annoyed. Jonathan Banks truly did despise his job sometimes, especially at Christmas time.
It had been a busy past couple of weeks at work; the excited anticipatory climax to Christmas (which the majority of the nation experienced), had neglected a select few people, leaving them alone, depressed and suicidal. Of course, many did not act upon their thoughts, but a fair number had, leaving him to clear them up off of the ground.
The should-be snow-white perfection of the field across from him was ruined by the numerous footsteps, marring its surface. The frost-tinted shrubbery held little cheer, and the unmistakable sight of the SOCO tent just beyond the small kissing gate tainted the scene more than anything else could.
The small tent surrounded by yellow tape, had (in effect) ruined what should have been an idyllic picturesque winter wonderland, and it just seemed terribly wrong to him, alongside the men and women bathed in polythene leisurely walking around the scene, clutching small plastic bags to their chests, whilst conversing amongst themselves. It was all terribly wrong, then again, a double murder on Christmas Eve did tend to do that to someone.
"Sir!" a voice exclaimed, and the man physically had to restrain himself from lunging at his assistant. It was perturbing how excited the sergeant would get once confronted with a dead body, perturbing, disrespectful, and wrong. "Oh, it's absolutely ridiculous! Absolutely ridiculous! A double murder, a couple, a Vernon and Petunia Dursley. Their jewellery, clothes and money are still with their bodies, so I doubt that it was a mugging, but then again, the bodies are terribly revealing in themselves..." the young man trailed off, and DCI Banks wished to himself (not for the first time either), that he had a more sensible and respectful sergeant than Sergeant Devon.
"You are presuming it was personal?" the detective questioned, whilst striding towards the tent; he didn't need to strain to hear the hurried shuffling behind him – Sergeant Devon would never sacrifice the chance to see the victims again.
"Oh yes sir! Most definitely! It looks as if they've been bludgeoned to death, what with all the blood and bruising, but the coroner believes that there is another cause of death. Of course, we won't know the actual reason until the autopsy comes in, but she did say that she was worried about the strange scarring on their heads, she said something about some sort of infection. But the words are strange in themselves, sir, their child was found with the bodies. He's a little shaken up, but nothing worse for wear, so I don't see how the words upon the Dursleys' bodies make any sense, the boy is unharmed. He is however, extremely rude, I don't know if I have ever come across someone as rude as he is, it surely is disastrous for this country if the younger generation don't even stop to listen to their elders. I mean, if my father-"
"Devon!" Banks shouted loudly into the sergeant's face, causing several of the SOCO's to glance up and send sympathetic grimaces in his direction. "Do stop your incessant babbling right this instant! Now, explain to me – slowly, and with as little words as you can manage, who found the bodies, what is their estimated time of death, and what is this god-forsaken scarring you were nattering about!"
There was no embarrassment or repentance displayed upon Sergeant Devon's face, in fact, the younger man merely smiled at his superior. "Of course sir. This old biddy found the bodies when she was walking this vicious little Westie – nearly bit my arm off it ruddy did!" A cleared throat, and pointed look was directed upon the young man. "The woman, Ethel Morgan, hurried back to her house and rang the police. Coroner reckons that they've been dead at least eighteen hours, but again she can't tell us the exact time of death until she's done the report. But the really interesting thing is the words on the corpses' bodies," he explained, excitement shining in his baby blue eyes.
They were at the entrance of the tent now; another five more feet and he would to encounter a further two more dead bodies to the countless he had had the misfortune to see from his decade in the police service. He had seen many bodies, and witnessed the results of many deaths, however the corpses of Vernon and Petunia Dursley had to be one of the most gruesome one's he had ever beheld. Bile burned the back of his throat at the sight of Vernon's chest splayed open, with his entrails pooling around his body, whilst the bruised and battered form of Petunia, whose mouth was open in a silent scream caused him to flinch away.
"Can you see the words, sir? They're right there on their foreheads," Devon excitedly explained whilst pointing an unnecessary finger at the congealed bloodied words. "'Child abuse', that's what it says sir, but their son doesn't seem to have been abused at all! It's all terribly interesting isn't it sir?"
"Interesting is not the word I would use Devon, but yes, it is slightly strange," he enunciated slowly, and his mind churned with possibilities.
"How do we proceed?" Devon's unusually sombre voice asked.
With a firm voice, the detective inspector answered. "We question the son once he's been okayed by the medics; we're going to get to the bottom of this one way or another." However, the man didn't know if he would be prepared for the answers, after all, the severity of the Dursleys' death couldn't possibly lead to anything good.
"Is something bothering you darling?" the blonde woman enquired softly from the bed; concern edged her voice, and a worried look crossed her face, as she took in her boyfriend's tense shoulders. Jonathan sighed at her words, yet couldn't help but smile; Rita was (in Jonathan Bank's opinion), the most amazing woman he could have ever met. She was kind, caring and witty, and he was hopelessly, irrevocably in love with her; yet there was just something more about her, something almost magical. He always felt that there was something hidden beneath her surface, akin to electricity crackling, something wild, and something more.
"I'm fine Rita love," the man tapered off whilst considering his next words. It was against the rules to inform a civilian of an ongoing investigation, he knew this, but he had told her details of previous cases numerous times before and she hadn't told the press – she was to be trusted. "It's just this case
I'm on, a grisly double murder, but there's something strange about it."
The blonde woman nodded at him to continue, whilst raising a delicate hand to sooth his muscles.
"Go on darling, I'm sure I can handle whatever you're going to say," she softly said, yet a gleam had entered her eyes, a gleam that didn't bode well for the Detective Inspector.
Smiling grimly at her, he continued. "They had...words carved into their heads, accusing them of child abuse, yet their son was perfectly fine, if slightly morbidly obese. So we interviewed the son, and he told us about this nephew that had been living with them since the child was a year old, but the horrible thing was that the son didn't even know his cousin's name despite the fact that they had been living together for nearly a decade! The whole family called this little boy a 'freak', because he could apparently do things that should be impossible, as if he was performing magic, and his family," Jonathan spat the word out, as his face darkened in fury, "beat him for it."
Gasping in horror, the blonde woman raised her hands to her face in shock. "T-That's an abomination! How is he? Did you find him?" she fired questions at him, shaking slightly when Jonathan only grew grimmer.
"We searched the house, but there was no sign of him. According to the couples' son, Dudley, the cousin slept in the cupboard under the stairs, and it was despicable. We shone a UV light, and there was old blood practically everywhere in that tiny space, on the ratty little cot, on the shelves, on the walls, eurgh, I wish I could murder those bastards myself!" he moaned, whilst burying his head in his hands.
"Y-you didn't find him?" her small voice asked, and Jonathan shook his head once again.
"According to the son, his cousin went missing in June after a particularly nasty beating, Vernon, Dudley's father, beat him within an inch of his life and abandoned him on the streets. We...fear for the worst, Rita, we doubt that he could have survived more than a week with the suspected wounds."
"No," her whisper was barely audible, and Jonathan thought that she was going to be sick, until she seemed to push all of her compassion aside. "What of the boy's parents? Why was the boy left with such monsters?!" she furiously demanded, and Jonathan could only shake his head.
"Some of the boys found an old letter, from an Albert Dumbledore, enquiring about how the child was doing – it was only four lines at the most. Apparently the boy's parents are alive and well, but left the boy to his aunt and uncle. However, what angers me the most, is that they kept the boy's twin!"
"Twins?" she murmured, and Jonathan could see the wheels turning in her head. "The mother was she called Lily?"
Jonathan nodded slowly at her. "Yes, Lily Evans, do you know her Rita? She seems to have disappeared off the face of the Earth after 1977, and we cannot find anything on the boy's father-"
"James Potter," she quietly whispered to herself, but Jonathan heard her nonetheless. "By Merlin, they've murdered Harry Potter! Our saviour, they've murdered him! Left him to live with disgusting Muggles, and then left him to die! Those bastards!" she fumed, as her face flushed red with anger and sadness.
"Harry Potter? Is that his name, Harry Potter?" Jonathan hurriedly questioned his girlfriend. "Did you know him Rita? Or his parents, did you?"
"Y-yes, I once spoke to Harry's mother at a charity gala, oh Merlin, they've been going around telling everyone that he has been living secretly and tutored privately, and in reality they've been...? I think I'm going to be sick," she stated, before practically flying from the room, desperately attempting to reach the toilet.
"Rita!" Jonathan worriedly questioned, after knocking tentatively on the bathroom door. "Rita love, are you okay?" The only sounds that he could hear were quiet sobs, and occasional 'thump!'. It was only a matter of minutes before Rita exited the bathroom, her eyes were rimmed red, but her face was set in a determined expression. "Rita?" he asked confusedly, as his girlfriend of two years raised a stick to his face.
"I'm sorry darling, but you cannot be allowed to remember this," she whispered hollowly, as she steadied her grip on the wood. "Obliviate!" she cried out, before quickly exiting the room, a determined expression settling across her face; Rita Skeeter was a woman on a mission, and none could bar her path.
Wednesday 25th December 1991
The floo flared to life, and Rodolphus had to fight hard to withhold his grin – Rabastan was coming to stay, and terrible things always had a way of happening when the two brothers were in close proximity. Like the time they vanished the entirety of Bellatrix's battle-dresses in seventh year, or the time they cursed Lucius to stutter for an entire day, or the time they charmed Severus' hair blue when presenting their Lord with his first Potion. 'Oh, the times we had,' the elder brother thought happily, whilst smiling at his wife and son.
Rodolphus knew that he wasn't the most intelligent, nor the most charming, however what he lacked in those departments, he made up for in loyalty. 'By Merlin, I sound like a Hufflepuff,' He was loyal to only a select few, and the most important of those were his family – Rabastan, Bellatrix, and now Samael. Rodolphus Lestrange now viewed Samael as his own son, as if the boy was the tender of his own loins, and most of that recognition stemmed from how the eleven year-old child had changed Bellatrix.
The happy gleam which he hadn't seen in her eyes since their fifth year was present once again, her delighted laughter once more warmed the halls of Lestrange Manor, and her beautiful sadistic smile once again graced her features, and for that, Rodolphus was eternally grateful. Glancing toward his son, Rodolphus saw that Samael's lips were beginning to twitch upwards into a smile as he quietly watched Bellatrix bouncing excitedly on her feet, 'He's changed quite a bit,' the man thought, as he noted how relaxed the boy's stance was, compared to his guarded expressions nary six months prior.
"Rodo!" a familiar baritone voice called, and the Lestrange was tackled to the ground by a pair of strong arms. "It's nearly Yule! I can hardly wait for the celebrations, wait till Bella gets a taste of this new spell I learnt, Merlin, it's be-a-utiful!"
"Ahem!" Bella's came amused interruption, and a pair of frightened hazel eyes to rose from to meet her dangerous orbs. "What spell would this be, Rabastan?" she enquired sweetly, smiling as she heard a small chuckle from her son.
"Bellatrix, my love!" Rabastan loudly declared, whilst hurriedly removing himself from his brother's body. "I must be going blind; for I did not see the most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes upon! However could you forgive me, my dear lady? You must punish me, for I have sinned you most grievously," he implored whilst sweeping into a low bow.
"Cease your simpering this instant," she instructed haughtily, whilst absently raking her fingers through Samael's onyx locks. "You wouldn't be able to charm a flobberworm from Severus' hands, even if you wanted to," her dismissive tone mirrored Samael's snort of derision.
"Oh, you wound me so, you heartless witch!" he bemoaned; clutching his chest tightly, whilst loudly asking the fates 'why are the beautiful ones, the most hurtful?'
'Does he ever change?' Rodolphus thought fondly, watching as his younger brother urged Bellatrix to curtsy like a 'proper woman'. 'One would think, that after the years he's had bedding numerous women that he would settle down by now, but no, he's obsessed with women of all ages and marital statuses.'
"So this is the famous Samael Lestrange then?" Rodolphus heard his brother ask, and he saw that Rabastan was kneeling so that Samael was able to look him in the eyes. "He looks everything like a proper pureblood heir, one would never have guessed his true origins," Rabastan flippantly remarked, and Rodolphus winced at Bella's glare, and then sighed when his brother continued to talk.
"I bet you're fooling everyone at that school aren't you? What with those wide green eyes of yours, angelic face, and expressions as if butter wouldn't melt," Rabastan smirked at the child, before leaning closer. "Tell me, have you pulled any pranks? I've heard that the Weasley twins are mine and Rodo's successors, please tell me that you haven't allowed those blood-traitors to steal the glory of the Snake-House!"
A confused frown marred Samael's so-called 'angelic' face, as he stared confusedly at Rabastan. "I do not know what you could be referring to; as all of the Houses are my friends, I would not ruin our relations by pranking them," Samael answered with an innocent voice.
"Tell me it's not so, Bella! Tell me that he isn't a goody little two shoes! With that attitude the Lestrange name will go to the House-Elves!" 'He didn't just insult Samael in Bellatrix's company did he? Oh, yes he did.'
Bellatrix's wand was thrust under Rabastan's chin faster than he could blink, the whitening of his skin daring him to comment further. "Do not insult my son, Rab, Samael is everything a mother could hope for in a son, and he with him the Lestrange name will reach dizzying heights," she menaced, digging her wand further into his skin with each word.
Rodolphus knew that his wife would continue to threaten his brother, and had it not been for Samael's small hand on Bella's arm, he knew she would never have stopped. "Mother," his darkly amused voice called, "however much I adore your magic, I have no need for a dead body on the floor for that mere insult. After all, you must forgive him as he is not as acquainted with myself as well as you are."
"Exactly what he said!" Rabastan agreed throatily, and Bella withdrew her wand with narrowed eyes. "Tell me," Rabastan commanded, whilst rubbing at his throat. "why is it that you can speak so easily of the dead?"
"Are you aware of my past, Uncle Rabastan?" Samael enquired curiously, and a soft snarl from the man affirmed the question. "Then you know that I am no stranger to pain; if you had lived your first ten years like I had then you would not fear death. I have been on the brink of such excruciating pain, that the welcoming embrace of Death's arms would have merely felt like a wistful dream."
The furious scowl on Bella's face reminded Rodolphus that his wife was still in possession of her wand, and even though he was aware that the Dursleys were no longer alive, he also knew that Bella wouldn't have to think twice before torturing the Muggles' dead bodies post-mortem. Laying a soft grip on her arm, he shook his head at her and she snarled, however that was no surprise, what was a surprise to Rodolphus however, was the scrutinising expression upon his brother's face.
"You intentionally said it that way didn't you?" Rabastan enquired with suspicion, smirking as Samael only raised an eyebrow at him. "You could have told me that you were not afraid of death, however you talked of your life with those Muggles, which generally only infers one of two things. One, you're attempting to get attention, or two, you wanted to get a rise. And as I doubt you want the former, the latter seems most obvious, therefore I can only presume that you enjoy watching peoples' reactions to shocking situations," the Lestrange concluded shrewdly, frowning as a smile stretched across Samael's face.
"Well, well, well, I must admit that I am surprised. I thought that you were only a prankster, much like Sirius Black, however your deductions amaze me. It is almost a shame that I cannot plan attacks with you, I was hoping that you could be the voice of the lower masses – oh well."
Watching the predatory grin being quickly hidden behind Samael's hand, and Rabastan's worried face, Rodolphus knew that his little brother was about to fall into his son's trap. It truly was a magnificent sight, and one that you wouldn't see another day, so (with a massive grin), Rodolphus took a step back and watched the scene unfold.
"Ah, wait!" Rabastan exclaimed, "I can still help you; like give you advice from the older generation, spells that have gone out of fashion somewhat, to draw less suspicion about yourself." 'Played yourself right into an eleven year-old's hands Rab, admittedly Samael isn't the average eleven year-old, but still...' "I need to be able to perform pranks, nephew! I haven't pulled a good one in such a long time, Bella's tamed Rodo, please!"
"Merlin, I do not think that I could ever deny a man begging so prettily at my feet," Samael's amused voice noted, whilst smiling at his uncle. 'Merlin indeed, you're so much like Bella already.' "So you may help me."
"Oh yeah!" Rabastan leapt to his feet, and began to bob excitedly on his feet. "Did you hear that Rodo? Your son is going to plot with me! Ha! How d'ya like that then? Now that I've got myself a new pranking buddy!"
"Merlin, you're so immature," Bella sneered, whilst her hands reacquainted themselves with Samael's hair.
"You see Rodo! Can you see how mean she is to me! Defend my honour, or I'll tell Mummy!" Rodolphus had to hide his grin at his brother's actions; Rabastan had folded his arms across his chest, and a childish pout graced his face.
"Why is it Rabastan, that after a mere five minutes of conversation, you regress twenty-five years?" Bella sweetly enquired, and Rodolphus rolled his eye at her behaviour. Rabastan always managed to get under Bellatrix's skin, and Bellatrix always managed to transform the youngest Lestrange brother into a toddler having a tantrum, and after twenty-five years together, Rodolphus was accustomed to it.
"Rodo! Defend me! Tell her that I'm not immature, tell her how mature I am. She just doesn't like the fact that Samael decided to plot with me and not her!"
An almost inhuman shriek escaped Bellatrix's lips at this, and her burning eyes of fury turned their glare onto him. 'Merlin, how beautiful she is when she's angry.' "Perhaps my son will tame you Rab."
"Rodo!" Rabastan's vindicated voice exclaimed, "She's turned you into such a sour puss since you met her!"
"Immature."
"You're just jealous because Samael liked me as soon as we met!" Rabastan declared loudly, before striding over towards the boy in question. 'Don't use Samael as a weapon Rabastan, or she'll just-'
"Well Samael's liked me since he was a child!" Bella shouted, whilst landing a punch on Rabastan's arm.
'-maim you.'
"Oh yeah? Prove it!" he prompted, and his grey eyes taunted her into growling at him. "Let us hear Samael tell us exactly who he likes the most-"
"Rabastan; enough!" Rodolphus' firm voice interrupted, and the hard look in his eyes told his brother all he needed to know. Rabastan was as smart as he was childish, and he knew that if he continued with the topic of conversation then Bellatrix would most likely dismember him. So with a quick nod at Rodolphus, Rabastan spoke once more.
"So Bella, how d'ya fancy the Cannons chances of winning against the Harpies?" Rabastan enquired, whilst smiling at his sister-in-law.
Scowling at Rabastan, Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "And pray tell Rabastan," the woman's haughty voice began, "why would I know anything about that insipid game?"
Rabastan only smiled his disarming smile at her. "For I was under the impression that you yourself was a harpy my dear, what with that screeching voice and disfigured fac – oh, ow! Save me Rodo!"
Rodolphus tore his eyes away from Bellatrix chasing her wayward brother-in-law, at the sound of Samael's quiet voice. "He amuses me, and I must wonder whether this is how a true uncle behaves." The man didn't answer his son, only smile tightly, and lead him towards the ritual room.
Huddled around the large, ostentatiously-dressed Christmas, the Potter family smiled at their good fortune; they had wealth, family and friends – everything anyone would ever wish for, and yet, something was troubling them and James was easy with voicing his concerns.
"But Lils, why can't he come to Hogwarts for the holidays? Why can Harry not come home for Christmas?" James Potter asked, and the exasperated sigh which escaped Lily's lips told him that she was getting annoyed with his questioning. "I really think that he should be here with us!"
"What like he has the past ten years?" Robert scoffed loudly, whilst sneering at his father.
"Robert!" Lily admonished with a sharp glare.
"What? It's the truth!" the eleven-year old defended, "Harry has never been home for the Christmas holidays, so why would he want to now? Maybe he asked Uncle Albus to lie for him!"
"Robert," James sternly said, and matching hazel eyes locked together, "do not say such mean things to your mother."
"Why? It's what I would do if I hadn't seen you for my whole life! I'd be annoyed at you, so angry that you had forgotten about me!"
"Yes, well unlike you Robert, Harry isn't a bitter, selfish little boy. He understands that sacrifices must be made for the Great Good," was Lily's prim statement, missing the hurt that flashed through her son's eyes. "And your father and I haven't forgotten about Harry, we have sent him a letter every Christmas, and he knows that we love him."
"How? How do you know that Harry understands everything that you've just told me? How does he know that you haven't just abandoned him and moved on with your lives! You've never visited him have you? Never sent him a gift! I bet that you didn't even give him a way to contact you!" seeing his parents' guilty look, Robert sneered in disgust. "Eurgh! I'm off to the common room to see Ron; don't bother me!"
Seeing their eldest son fleeing their chambers, Lily turned wide eyes to her husband. "What if he's right, James? What if Harry doesn't want to speak to us? What if my baby never wants to speak to me ever again. James!"
The man's arms wrapped themselves around his wife's shoulders without a second thought. "I'm sure that it's not true, Lily love. Harry is probably keeping his distance so that he can train harder, so that he's well prepared for when Death Eaters begin to act up again. Our son probably just wants to make sure that he can protect us all; just like me."
Lily sniffled loudly, "You're right James, its just that I miss him so much!"
"I know Lily, I miss him too. He's my little marauder, my little Auror, I can't let my Prongslet stay away from us at Christmas for another year! I know! I'll do the tracking spell!"
Lily sat up suddenly, casting an unsure glance at her husband. "Albus told us not to do that," she murmured, whilst nervously fiddling with a loose string on her jumper. "But, I guess if we get our boy back for a day, then it can't hurt."
"That's it m'girl!" James encouraged, squeezing her shoulders affectionately. "Just let me get my wand, I'll only be a minute!" The red-headed woman said nothing to her husband, only smiled softly at his departing back, and shook her head at his distant words. "Because as a Marauder, you know that I'll never follow the rules Lils, so Albus must know that I would've tried to search for Harry sooner or later."
"I suppose so," she called, "I doubt that I'll ever get you to change your ways; I gave up on that when I married you."
James placed a chaste kiss to her cheek, "That sounds about right Lils, no woman could ever restrain me!" He laughed at her indignant frown. "I'm just joking Lils; now, where was I? Oh yes, locus Harry Potter." Nothing happened. "Hmmm? That's strange, there's no string, locus Harry Potter." Again, nothing happened. James turned his confused eyes upon Lily's wide, frightened ones.
"Oh James!" she wailed, gripping the sides of her face with her shaking palms. "He's dead; the spell doesn't work if the person's dead!"
"Don't be silly, Lily," James chided gently, "Albus wouldn't endanger Harry that badly, I'm sure that it's just because of the protections he's under. Don't worry your little head about it. Harry's the Boy-Who-Lived; he's bound to be under loads of wards which prevent detection spells."
Lily smiled a watery smile at her husband. "Of course," she breathed relievedly, "of course, what on Earth was I talking about? Of course it was just the wards; I just worry so much without him near me. You must think me so silly," she muttered depreciatingly, and turned away from her smiling husband.
"It's to be expected Lils – you've always been a worrier. Now, how about we go join Albus in his office for a spot of mulled wine?" James suggested, already pulling away from his wife to move towards the door.
"That sounds like a great plan."
Small orbs of dazzling blue light lit the gardens of Lestrange Manor. The beautifully manicured gardens – lined with magnificent topiary – glowed unnaturally under the iridescent watch of the orbs, and the figures of Lady and Lord Lestrange cast looming shadows as they slowly made their way towards the party of six who were already situated inside of a small rune circle.
Lord and Lady Malfoy stood at the East and West of the circle, whilst Draco, Samael, Andras and Rabastan were the intermediate points. The harsh wind of Winter was unnaturally quiet, as only a soft breeze was blowing, which gently ruffled the groups hair as they stood perfectly still. With every step taken towards the circle, Bellatrix and Rodolphus' words became clearer, and with every word incanted the wind intensified until the howling gales were threatening to shove the group away from one another.
"-you for your gift of magic, as we become one with nature once more," Bellatrix's voice called loudly over the din of the wind.
"Thank you for your gift of magic, as we return your gift back to the Earth," her husband replied, and The couple entered the circle, and they immediately joined hands with the others.
"From the points of the Earth," Bellatrix spoke once more, and with a sharp nod to the rest of the party, they spoke too.
Their loud voices producing an echoing cacophony of sound, and with every word spoken, a rumbling shook the ground "the points of no return, we thank you. Together – in unity – we present you with an offering of our gratitude for another year of survival – another year with magic. Sacrificalis magicae, per gratiam magicae." The final word bellowed from their throats as, thin slivers of light exploded around them, producing an awe-inspiring display.
Narcissa smiled gently at the child next to her, as he gasped and raised a shaking finger to the nearest thread – a dancing cyan scratch in the elemental darkness of the sky. "She has gifted us once more," she murmured to him; Andras cocked his head to the sky once more.
"I want to paint this, Aunt Narcii! When I see father tomorrow, I'll paint this, and give it to you!" he exuberantly declared, before bouncing off towards the house.
"He seems happy enough," a silky voice commented, and Narcissa turned to her husband with a smile. "It's a shame that Severus and Remus couldn't come this year, especially since it was Andras' first Yule."
"Yes, Remus did want to see Andy's first celebration display, however not much can be done when one's contracted the pox," she softly said, before casting her gaze across the gardens, and her eyes lit with amusement when she saw what she was seeking. "It's Draco's second celebration tonight, Lucius, can you see how he's trying to impress Samael with his knowledge?"
Following his wife's gaze, Lucius did indeed see how his son was wildly gesticulating with his arms, whilst smiling intently at the youngest Lestrange. Lucius also saw the amused expression upon Samael's face as he nodded at something Draco said, and led them towards an abandoned bench.
"By Merlin, I can hear the Wedding bells already," Narcissa sighed happily. That caught Lucius' attention.
"Narcissa Malfoy! You cannot seriously be planning our son's marriage to Samael!" he exclaimed, because Malfoy Rule #19 stated that Malfoy's do not splutter, which was what the blonde man truly wanted to do.
Narcissa simply stared innocently at her husband. "Surely you see the way that Draco acts around him, Lucius? It's going to lead to marriage, I can assure you; Bellatrix and Rodolphus will not mind."
"An arranged marriage, Narcissa? You cannot do this to our child!" he thundered; stomping his cane for emphasis. "Samael and Draco are children; their interactions mean nothing in accordance to any type of romantic relations! I cannot believe that you would do something so horrendous to him!"
The woman's eyes seemed to turn to ice, as she glared at her husband. "Do not insult my treatment of our son Lucius! I love Draco with all my being, and I wouldn't dream of putting Draco in any type of pain. I have Draco's best wishes at heart, I was simply saying that those two will most likely enter a romantic relationship when they're older. I was predicting, not planning," she explained pointedly, and Lucius refused to contradict her.
"If you're sure Narcii, if you're sure."
The woman sniffed haughtily, "Of course I am sure Lucius, I usually am correct, after all." Lucius thought it wise to refrain from commenting.
"-sacrificed our magic, that's what those colours were – our magic," Draco explained excitedly, waving his hand in the air to point out a stray amber thread of light. Samael smiled softly at Draco's excitement, it wasn't often that he saw his friend like this. At school, he maintained a mask, which was only disrupted by the Malfoy's pouting or insecurities, so Samael could honestly say that he had never seen Draco so happy. 'Well actually, there was that time at Madam Malkins, with the fabric.'
"What colour is your magic then?" Samael heard himself ask, and his smile grew as an embarrassed flush took over Draco's face.
"I am unsure actually," the blonde murmured quietly, before smiling suddenly. "I know what colour Mother's is though, it's cyan and Father's is grey."
'Merlin, he seems to be extremely happy about telling me this, it is as though Andras and himself have switched places. I would suggest Magical Influence, however none of the others seem to be as affected as Draco is...Perhaps, this is a field of study he is genuinely interested in,' Samael mused , watching with fascination as a blush spread across Draco's face again.
"I also know what colour your magic is," the blonde whispered, but Samael heard him nonetheless. "It's this magnificent shade of emerald, it's hauntingly beautiful, like your eyes, it really is quite-" the Malfoy suddenly stopped with wide frightened eyes.
'Oh, I do adore it when he believes that he has embarrassed himself beyond repair. He truly is melodramatic, however I cannot let him wallow in his self-despair for long.' "Is that so Dragon? It seems as though the colour of magic relates to eye-colour; so in accordance to this theory, your magic must be a sparkling silver," Samael suggested softly, before his lips turned upwards into what could only be described as a wick grin. "I am sure that your magic is also very beautiful."
"Be quiet, you – you, git!" Draco burst out with a flaming face, and a chuckle escaped Samael's lips.
"My my, Draco, you must have been spending too much time around Zabini to have gained such a filthy mouth," the blonde didn't answer his friend, only scowl a ferocious scowl, which slowly merged into a pout at Samael's continued chuckles.
"You're so mean to me!" the blond child declared, however there was no real heat to his words.
Emerald eyes bore into their silver counterparts. "Nonsense Draco, I would never insult my only friend," Samael simply stated, and the assuredness of his voice seemed to calm the Malfoy, as the child hesitantly bumped shoulders with his dark-haired companion.
'Strange...his uncertainty does not irritate me, instead it is...endearing,' Samael thought to himself, as he nudged the blonde's shoulders in return, and even though Samael would not admit it, the blinding smile sent his way made him want to wrap his arms around the blonde. 'Oh Merlin, hugging? I want to hug Draco? What is he doing to me?'
A loud screeching from above, saved Samael from answering his own internal question, as a large tawny owl easily passed through the wards protecting those in the gardens. Daintily, the avian perched itself upon Samael's outstretched arm, and the boy quickly detached the parchment from the owl. The seal upon the parchment was easily recognised, as that of the third-year Warrington. 'He is staying at Hogwarts if I remember correctly; I seriously doubt he would write for anything other than an exchange.'
Quickly opening the parchment, Samael scanned the contents and frowned. "What is it?" Draco questioned, and Samael regarded him slowly.
"Tell me Dragon, do you know anything about a mirror that is enchanted to show one what they want most in the world?" the blonde replied the negative. "No? Very well, do you know anything about Nicholas Flamel? For the life of me, I cannot remember who he is." A perplexed look crossed the Lestrange's face, and concentration painted Draco's.
"Nicholas Flamel? Dumbledore and he worked closely whilst finding uses for Dragon's blood, and I believe that he created the Philosopher's Stone," the blonde answered, curiously watching Samael's face go through various phases of thought and understanding.
'Philosopher's Stone? I know that it can create gold, and I dare say that Potter and Weasel would love to get their filthy paws on it – Weasel especially. The stone can also make someone immortal,' Samael mused, before something clicked in his head. 'That Cerberus on the third-floor, it cannot solely be there from lack of proper housing, and Dumbledore's warning to stay away from the third-floor can not only be due to the Cerberus. Surely Flamel and he must be close? What if Dumbledore is protecting the stone?' Samael wondered, eyes burning wild with their intensity.
'Also, Quirrel's odd nature, seemingly a bumbling man, but has sharp eyes and is renowned for his spell-work and handling Trolls. What if the Troll in the dungeon was a distraction to gain access to the third-floor and steal the stone? What if Quirrel wishes to become immortal?'
Slowly, a lazy grin spread across Samael's features, as an outrageous thought hurtled into Samael's head. "Old boy! I do believe that we have a plan!" he announced, whilst urging the blonde into Manor, oblivious to the fact that his hand was firmly linked with Draco's.
Wednesday 1st January 1992
Hard blue eyes bore into hers, instantly chastising the woman. "No Rita, I cannot publish this! Do you know what backlash we would get!" he demanded, and his eyes narrowed when he saw she was about to defend herself. "You can print as many theories about them when it comes to their love-life and other such insipid scandals, but I cannot allow you to publish this!"
"But sir! I have sources! They can prove it!" she declared, desperation evident in her voice.
"Has it been approved by the Ministry? Have you gone to the Auror office with the proof? Or how about the Child Services? You haven't have you?" the man questioned the fuming woman.
"But sir, my evidence!" she shouted.
"From a Muggle Rita! I cannot publish this, the public won't like it!" he bellowed, before frowning at her. "Rita, if this is true, then I would love to publish it – take those bastards down a peg or two, but I cannot without third-party backing. The Potters have a large reputation, and if we accuse them of child abuse, well," the man tapered off quietly, before placing a hand on her shoulder.
"The only thing you can do is go to the Ministry. I know Potter is in the Aurors, but Shacklebolt is open-minded and not too close to him, so you may be able to present your case. Or you can go to the Child Care Services and give them your evidence, I know that Perce Brockling retired a couple of months back, said something about a terrible case of abuse, but he's your best bet for information."
The blonde woman's shoulders sagged in defeat, "So I cannot publish the story?" she asked none-too-hopefully, and the man only shook his head.
"You get me more evidence, or a Ministry official's backing then I can get you your slot. Even if it's just suspicion from an Auror, it will cause some ripples in the water, but until then I can't do anything," he informed her quietly.
"I understand sir," Rita murmured, but her eyes were defiant. "But I will get this story published, even if it takes months – years even! I will ensure that the public know of how sick those bastards are!"
"I don't doubt it Rita, but until then, just continue with your writings, eh? People love to gossip, and even if I cannot approve of a child abuse allegation, that doesn't stop you from writing vicious scandals does it?" He enquired, and the evil glint in her eyes told him all he needed to know.
A/N: I'm so sorry for the long wait, but I'm updating chapter 15 very quickly!
Oh, and green-jelly-me has coined the phrase 'Dramael' to describe our favourite boys. :)
A massive thanks to ZoeyRowan for betaing! :3