Chapter 11:
The ride in the carriage back to the Phantomhive Manor was tense. Everyone was worried about their missing friends or children. Owen asked questions about the disappearance which everyone answered to the best of their ability.
It had all happened so fast.
The only one that could give a full account was Sebastian. Undertaker would have been able to, but because of him manning the camera, the flash had hindered his ability to see.
Even with the full account, there wasn't much to say. One moment the children had been there, the next a circle had appeared under them and the ground had swallowed them up. At least, that was what it had looked like.
The circle was also something that Sebastian didn't recognize. It was similar to a demon-summoning circle, but there were differences as the pentagram was not inside it and a demon had obviously not been summoned.
Another problem was figuring out if the captors were aiming to take a specific person or if he wanted those specific four. There was much to be taken into consideration and little to go on.
At least finding Owen had been a quick and easy task.
They reached the manor and everyone trooped into the main entertainment room where this had happened.
Owen walked around, surveying the room. He stood in the middle of where the circle had been, closing his eyes. "Yes, this is definitely magic. The magic isn't malicious. The purpose of this ritual was to transport one person to any other place... Another time."
Undertaker's eyes cleared at that. "No! It can't be!"
He paced around the room, muttering to himself and yanking at his hair.
"Mr. Undertaker," Sebastian grabbed the taller man's shoulders, jerking them once firmly. "What does this have to do with time?"
He shook him again when it seemed that the man was still not focusing on him. "What do you know?"
The lime green eyes cleared once again as they looked into the maroon eyes taking a more red tint. "H... Harry was born in another time... His magic was so strong, he somehow transported himself here."
Sebastian let go of him, turning to the Magic User. "Is it safe to assume then that the target was Hadrian and that my master and the others were just brought along because of Hadrian holding onto them?"
Owen thought for a moment, closing his eyes as he felt the magic in the air. "Yes... The circle was made so that anything touching the target would be transported with them... Excluding the floor and air of course. I guess they didn't want the target to be transported naked."
The room was silent for awhile.
"Well, even though the others were taken," Mey-Rin spoke. "That just means that now Harry has support and protection that he would not have had if he was alone."
Sebastian cocked his head to the side in thought. That was certainly true, though he had seen and sensed Hadrian's magic. He could probably handle himself on his own.
"And, actually, I know that the target was Hadrian. They locked on to his magic signature and used the blood of a relative to call him forth. The time part of the ritual was only sewn into the ritual as a precaution. The did not know where he was. That is why they had to call him forth this way," Owen said.
Undertaker growled under his breath at the mention of using blood from a relative. From what his little boy had told him of his "relatives" (he used that term loosely. He was Harry's relative, not them), well, let's just say that Undertaker wouldn't mind having them taste his scythe.
Oh, those wizards would pay if they put his baby back in that house. Pay.
"You can send us to where Harry is, right?" Bard said a bit rudely.
He was a bit impatient. His friends had been taken, in fact transported to another time! He just wanted to get there already and make sure his friends were alright. They could be anywhere and anything could happen to them.
Owen thought some more, feeling the magic. "Yes, I should be able to replicate the ritual as the magic is clearly present," he opened his eyes. "Though I need your help."
The Malfoy family were eating breakfast together.
The House elves had laid out the usual spread, toast with the different array of jams according to who like what, scrambled and over easy eggs, omelets, crisp bacon, sliced ham, fried steak, sausage, and an array of drinks.
Draco sat to the right of his father, rubbing eyes as he tried to wake enough to eat. He wasn't much of a morning person, he had just woken up (his bed head proved that).
Lucius sat at the head of the table. This one was smaller than the one in the main dining room. It was for family meals as sitting at the large banquet table was lonely. His long hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. He had once not been a morning person either but years of practice and the discovery of coffee had helped him a great deal.
Narcissa was her usual cheery self in the morning, humming as she poured some orange juice into her cup.
Lucius unfolded the newspaper that lay near his plate. It wasn't The Daily Prophet (anyone who had the slightest bit of intelligence knew that The Daily Prophet was nothing but gossip), but The Quibbler.
Though the Lovegood family did sometimes come off as a bit strange, they were respected for their courage, intelligence, and achievements. Also, their family had been known to birth seers. They were not a Pureblood family, but they were treated with the same level of respect. After all, they had earned it.
Nothing important had happened in the last few days, Lucius noted as he skimmed through the pages. Front page news was about the next Wizengamot meeting and how some members were planning on proposing a new curriculum for Hogwarts.
Lucius scowled at the paper.
The proposal would fall through just like all the other ones had. Dumbledore was currently sitting on 4 seats, the Potter, Black, Longbottom, and Dumbledore seats. That means he already had four votes to use. Then, as the Light Lord (though not many people would call him that), he had a lot of support from other members.
He was seen as the leader of the good part of the (British) Wizarding World.
The problem with this was, the children at Hogwarts were not being taught very well. Wizarding Britain's intelligence was at an all time low- the lowest in the world! Even America had a better curriculum than them (which was surprising and not at all true in the muggle world).
The children at Hogwarts needed to learn more than the Goblin Wars, how to create a low level shield, and how to levitate an object.
He knew that the students that were intelligent only got their smarts through natural ability, self-study, and/or (depending on their heritage) home-schooling. It was a shame.
These were the things that his lord was fighting for (that and to embrace the darker sides of magic) before he met his untimely demise.
Now the children were doomed to a life of close-mindedness and ignorance. There was no one that could truly oppose Dumbledore any longer.
Lucius tried not to think that way very often. It was a depressing thing to focus on. He looked on the bright side (as muggles would say) and saw that his son was one of those intelligent people. He would create his own business that would be very successful and take over the family affairs and would have children that he would pass down his knowledge to. At the very least, the Malfoy line would live on.
He reached forward to grab a piece of toast. It was no longer time to dwell on such things.
Narcissa was just finishing off her own toast, which had strawberry jam on it, when an owl flew through the open window (left open in case of an incoming mail) and perched itself in front of her plate. She took the letter from the owl and gave the owl a piece of bacon. The owls sure did love their bacon.
The letter was addressed to her and was from...
"Oh! Lucius, Alex sent me a letter! It's been so long since I've talked to him!"
Lucius racked his brain, trying to recall who Alex was. "Ah, I remember! Wasn't that your cousin? I don't believe I met him."
Narcissa nodded as she opened the letter. "Yes, I usually only get letters from him for my birthday or Christmas. I wonder why he's owling me now. It's nowhere near the holidays!"
Lucius pondered this. He remembered vaguely seeing the letters from one "Alex Black", but it was true that those letters were usually received near the holidays. He agreed with his wife.
Why would he be owling them now?
Dear Cissa,
How are you? I know this is a bit different than my usual holiday hello and birthday wishes. I apologize.
But I really need your help.
I need to tell you the full story. I am the reincarnated form of a man called The Undertaker. He lived a long time ago. When he died, he was granted the ability to become a "reaper". These beings are the things of fairy tales. The Grim Reaper was likely based off of the Reapers.
Reapers go to a human's sight of death and review their Cinematic Record (memories). They determine whether the person is allowed to live or will have to die. They also collect a person's soul. Reapers usually cannot die. They may only die at the hands of another Reaper, Death, and angel, or a demon.
The Undertaker, driven into the hole of depression by the disappearance of his son, killed himself. Another Reaper must have reviewed his record and deemed him worthy of living, but differently this time. I am the reincarnated Undertaker.
His son was not his by blood originally. He was from a whole different time altogether. Our time. That child is called Hadrian Undertaker. His former name was Harry James Potter.
As you can see this boy is very important in Britain's Wizarding world. Certain people decided that the boy could not be missing. These people snatched Hadrian from the past. However, they didn't account for the fact that Hadrian might bring others with him. He brought three of his friends from that time with him who are not happy that they were pulled. each of them is dangerous in their own right though they do not have have any magic.
I had no recollection of my past life as it was sealed when I was a small child. My grandparents believed that I had the right to a life without pain and that my memories would only hinder that. I have only recently remembered. My son called out to me. I could not ignore him.
These people are seeking to make my child a pawn. As I have no way to send my son and his friends to the past, I have decided to loosely play by the rules until The Undertaker comes to reclaim his child. He is as much Hadrian's father as I am. Our blood runs through his veins. That also means that Hadrian is your cousin. I know how you feel about family.
I'm hoping you can help us out. The people that want my son want us to have a "host family" as foreign families having their children attend Hogwarts have to do by (very old and virtually unpracticed) law.
These people want our "host family" to be the they have already put a"good word in" for us. Which means advised them to watch us closely and report our activities regularly. I refuse to have this happen. I have written a letter to you (as one of my closest cousins) and Sirius (as the head of the Black family). I am hoping that the Black family can be my "host family".
Please, I am in need of help and support. I am not sure how long it will take for these people to tire of my resistance and take my precious son by force. Please help me prevent this.
Yours,
Alexandre Lynx Noir
Narcissa finished reading the letter out loud.
Usually something like this would be hard to believe, but she did live in the Wizarding World and her cousin was very dear to her. He was not one to lie especially over something so serious.
He had come to her asking help. He was going to receive it.
Her husband obviously recognized the glint in her eyes.
He snapped his fingers, their house of Milly appeared.
"Yes, Master Lucius?"
"Please prepare... How many people did he say were brought with them, Cissa?"
She skimmed through the letter, quickly finding the part of the letter where Alex had written the number. "Three."
"Please prepare five rooms, Milly. We are going to be having some long term guests over."
The house elf squealed in excitement. "Yes, masters and mistress! Oh!" She wrung the bottom of her spot less pillow case in her hands.
"Guests! Malfoys be having guests! How wonderful! I's be readying the spare rooms! Oh, what shoulds we cooks for dinner? It wills be good!" She popped away.
Narcissa shook her head fondly as she penned a response. "It has been too long since we've had proper guests."
"Yes," Lucius said, feeling a bit happy himself. It wasn't often that family came to visit and to both the Malfoys and the Blacks, family was everything.
Dear Alex,
It is always nice to hear from you, don't apologize!
At first I had a hard time believing this, but then I realized that this is how a Muggleborn's parents must feel when they are told that their child is Magical. If they can believe and accept the truth, then I must as well.
I am sorry that you have been put through such an ordeal. You are my precious cousin. You are the closest thing to a brother other than Sirius and Regulus that I had.
I would be more than happy to house you and your family! My son and my husband feel the same. There is no way that your son is going to be taken from you. Not while the black and Malfoy families still have a say.
Floo over to Malfoy Manor. We'll leave the wards down so that you are allowed to enter. After that, we will key you all into the wards so that you may come and go as you please.
Also, sending a letter to Sirius is impossible. It will be sent and then likely burned. Sirius was sentenced to life in Azkaban for killing a fellow wizard and twelve muggles. I don't believe that he would do anything like that, but the Malfoy family was facing legal issues at the time as well and we could not intervene. He was sentenced without a trial. I suppose now is as good a time as any to try and prove his innocence. It will be good of you to help as you are from the French division. The Weasleys, though not in any way our friends, may vouch for him as ell since it is no secret that Sirius was a supporter of the Light. He has been locked up for twelve years, Twelve years too long.
I look forward to seeing you and your son, I bet he's adorable. See you soon.
Yours,
Narcissa Malfoy nee Black.
While waiting on the letters from Narcissa and Sirius to return, Alex and the others continued to look for rituals that may either send them back or transport other people from the past.
There was nothing so far.
There was, however, a spell that allowed people to converse with others from the past. It was simple enough and only required their full name and blood from a relative/descendant.
Harry decided that he would do the spell. His father was probably out of his mind with worry and it would calm him down the most if he was the one to appear and not someone else.
They had already set up the spell circle. He could not step out of it or he would disappear and he could not touch another person from the past as the same would happen. He could only speak, and even then, he could only speak for five minutes.
He hoped that was enough time to calm his father.
Determined, Harry cut his palm with the silver dagger provided and chanted the words. "Liceat mihi loqui appellatur Vespillo. Permitte mihi loqui ad patrem meum."
They had all of the materials.
They had set up everything the way Owen had said.
Why was it not working?
Undertaker was beginning to despair. He would never see his precious child again. He would never see that smile or hear that laugh or ruffle the boy's messy hair. If he couldn't see his son any longer- what was the point of living?
He drew his death scythe from where it was usually hidden in the fabric of the universe.
What was the point of living any longer if he couldn't live with Harry?
He swung his death scythe, determined to end his life as there was no point to it.
There was no point.
And just as the tip of the blade was about to bury itself in his neck, he heard-
"Daddy!"
Alright, the end of this chapter. I'm already working on the next one, so hopefully the wait isn't long. Also, this one is longer than the last so hopefully it satiates your hunger, my dear readers.
"Liceat mihi loqui appellatur Vespillo. Permitte mihi loqui ad patrem meum."- Allow me to talk to the one called Undertaker. Allow me to talk to my father. (In Latin, of course.)
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