Once again, I do not own Harry Potter.
Chapter Thirty Six
Black Rose House, situated just outside of Upper Flagley and surrounded by the rolling green landscape of the Yorkshire dales, had been empty since the death of its last inhabitant, Alphard Black. However, as it had been preserved by magic, Trixie had not had too much work to do to get it ready for its new owners. In fact, her load had been made even lighter as Aunt Cassiopeia's personal house elf, Tinky, would be joining them in their new home.
Black Rose House was a large, country house, built with bright red bricks. It was very long, with gleaming white washed window frames and black roses that had been trained to grow up over the door. The grounds were not as large as those Maia had grown up with, but still included a lake with a boathouse and an orchard. A perfectly kept green lawn lay out in front of the house, with a wide, cobbled pathway leading up to the front door. Behind the house was a walled rose garden, from which the house took its name. The roses were charmed to bloom all year round. Although the rare black roses were the most numerous in number, roses of all varieties bloomed in the garden, and were picked daily and littered every room of the house in brightly coloured vases.
The decor channelled a very rustic spirit, but the layout was still grand. The armchairs were holstered simply, but were nevertheless as comfortable as any others in the Black family. The floors were wooden, but were covered with many rugs. Copper pans gleamed in the kitchen and every room in the house smelled of flowers. All in all, the house gave of an air of country-living and luxury combined.
Three rooms had been set aside to serve the ladies as their en suite bedrooms, whilst a further room and been set aside upstairs as a second, quieter drawing room. Most of the rest of the upstairs and been turned into one room and served as a library, although a number of guest rooms were maintained as well. Cassiopeia had overseen the transportation of the books, and the most useful and important items of their collection were there for ease of access. The downstairs drawing room also contained a pianoforte bought over from Godric's Hollow, as both Cassiopeia and Caroline only possessed grand pianos, which were too large for their new home. Much of the furniture had been there before their arrival, but they had all bought their favourite pieces.
A precious family portrait, made just before Maia left for Hogwarts, showed Marius, Caroline and Maia all together and hung in the main hallway which led into the house.
Now that they had all arrived, and taken the tea Tinky and Trixie had laid out in the dining room for them, Maia excused herself to find her own room. She walked through the house and came to her room. It was decorated in a mixture of cream and ivory colours. Family pictures were dotted around in delicate silver frames and a vase of the palest pink roses sat in the window, in a matching vase. A small Slytherin banner hung on one of the walls. The room was very mature and grown-up. It was sophisticated and she quickly decided that she liked this. Her old bedroom had been very childish and she'd covered it with Slytherin scarves and banners. She didn't want to be childish at all any more, such exuberance would require too much effort in her current frame of mind. She sat down in her rocking chair and looked back at the open door. It was very odd to think that her father would never walk into the room, would never pose for another picture with her, would never praise her for her grades.
She was very tired and weary all of a sudden.
...
The days went by slowly, although Cassiopeia was a driving force of energy. She spent much of time directing Trixie and Tinky as they re-arranged and re-arranged the furniture. Cassiopeia would not allow anyone to say their standards had dropped. The house might be smaller, but it was no less elegant than anywhere else she had ever lived.
Maia looked out of her window, shuffling her Tarot cards. She spent many hours doing this, until Cassiopeia found her and sent her out to paint, or draw, or tend to the roses, or her herbology patch, or set her a new spell to master. She sighed, running her fingers along the edges of the card. She had spent all year predicting death and destruction. Had she Seen the evil lurking in Hogwarts then, under the turban of Professor Quirrell? Or had she Seen her own impending loss?
And would she ever really know?
...
Caroline was in her room as well, although she was gradually spending less and less time there. She spent most of her days helping to organise the house, or visiting Narcissa. The two women went shopping to Diagon Alley a number of times, and Maia had plenty of dresses to see her through the mourning period. At this moment, she was looking through a series of old photographs, which she had neatly arranged into albums throughout her marriage.
There was an old, fading black and white photo of her, Marius and their university friends running across the Cambridge lawns for a dare whilst they were undergraduates.
There was another picture of them both celebrating after their finals.
They stood side by side after their wedding.
Then pictures of them as they lived in America, whilst exotic holidays abroad also featured heavily.
Then there was one of her favourite photos, take just a few months after Maia landed on their doorstep. Her hair was bright blue, Maia was grinning in her arms, Marius had his arm around her, and Trixie was a small blur in the corner of the picture where she had run to join them after setting the timer on the camera, but her small legs hadn't carried her fast enough to join them all in time. They'd used a muggle camera, and the image, the joy and the happiness – were frozen in that moment forever. She wished she could have that moment back.
Then there was a change, as the pictures began to move.
Maia flew (rather slowly) around the garden on her old Shooting Star as Trixie looked on. Marius must have taken the picture because she was fairly certain she had been hiding in her room at the time, too scared to watch.
Then there was a family photo at a Quidditch match. She had to admit that she looked fairly green in that one. Maia and Marius were waving their omnioculars enthusiastically at the camera.
Then there was Christmas from this year. Maia and Draco were playing snap together as she, Narcissa, Marius and Lucius looked on.
Caroline sighed again and lifted her hand to brush the tears from her eyes, only to find that they were dry and that she had a small smile on her face instead. She was by no means happy, and she still felt as though a large part of her world had be torn away from her, but Cassiopeia was right, she had to keep going for Maia's sake, if not her own.
...
Lucius Malfoy left Borgin and Burkes quickly, his feet and his cane rapping on the cobbled pavements, as he dragged his protesting son by the scruff of his neck.
The selling-off of their Darker objects, as his wife had requested, had led to an increase in the number of Dark items being available on the black market. Interfering fools like the blood traitor Arthur Weasley were using this as an excuse to carry out raids against those with 'dubious' records, such as himself. Of course, they had not found anything. Firstly, because he had already sold off (for a very tidy sum) many of their most questionable possessions, and secondly, because men whose blundering incompetence rivalled that of their own Minister for Magic would never be able to find all the secret rooms and hidden passageways in Malfoy Manor.
Nevertheless, the prospect on an intrusion into his home made him uneasy and he was eager to have all his business completed.
And a son who would poke and prod anything within his reach, and get himself killed in the process, was too much for his already strained nerves.
That, and the dark blue diary felt like a led weight in his inner pocket.
Dare he defy his master?
Dare he give away his master's possessions? His master's secrets?
Dare he unleash an unknown, yet powerful and magical, entity upon the unsuspecting wizarding world? He had no idea what this diary was, or what it did. He had taken it from his master, hidden it, and never taken it up again until his wife had asked him to purge their home.
Did he dare?
...
A few hours later, the same man left Flourish and Blotts, smoothed down his robes, and tried to settle the sickening nerves in his stomach.
He was not usually so... discomposed.
Yet Arthur Weasley was a stupid little man who had been provoking him since he was a first year, and the red-head was a vindictive, jumped-up prefect with delusions of power.
His little brat would no doubt hand the diary over to her father sooner or later, and Weasley would have to deal with the embarrassment of explaining he had picked up a Dark object in a second hand bookshop, and had then given it to a small child, without once realising what the object in question was. It could not be traced back to him now, and he would finally have some sort of revenge against that foul, horrid little man.
Yet he still felt somewhat nervous.
Draco distracted him, wanting to be taken to the Quidditch store. Of course, he was refused. When his son protested, he cuffed him roundly with his cane. The boy had to learn. And he had already given him – and the rest of the Slytherin team – Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.
No, they were going home and they were going home right away.
...
Cassiopeia paced her room restlessly. It was early in the morning, though she felt hot and sticky as the cool morning breeze drifted through her open window. The gentle sunlight was as infuriating as the moonlight and starlight had been. Her eyes were slightly red and bloodshot, and her eyelids hung heavily and listlessly. She shook herself, walked over to her dresser, and poured herself a teaspoon of pepper-up-potion. She shook herself again and looked at her reflection in the mirror. There was definitely and improvement.
...
To any observer who did not know the private grief and anguish of the three inhabitants of Black Rose House, it would have appeared that they all passed an idyllic summer.
In fact, they did a rather good job of convincing each other that they were coping rather well. Although Maia was more public in her sorrow – not that she spent days crying or sulking, but that she was much quieter generally, and showed no interest in flying or mischief making, and preferred to quietly tend the roses in their garden, or go for long walks – it could probably be argued that she was, in fact, coping the best.
Caroline was truly struggling, but although many seemed to doubt her strength, she was a woman of great fortitude. She was not happy, but that did not mean that she was about to roll over and let life win. She rolled up her sleeves (metaphorically, of course) and threw herself into her new, local branch of the Women's Institute.
Cassiopeia was all drive and energy. She carried on her days with an unrelenting and unceasing alacrity.
She taught Maia a number of the simpler Black curses, as she had promised.
She wrote a number of articles for well-respected magical journals.
She re-organised the family finances and investments with Anrek.
She made sure that Marius's death was kept as quiet as possible in the magical world, so that no undesirable werewolf tried to pay them a visit.
She was a very busy woman.
Although the pace of life in the elegant house was generally rather quiet, they were regularly called upon by the closes relatives, the Malfoys. They were also visited by the Macmillans, the Greengrass', the Goyles and the Crabbes. Maia was also pleased to find out that their nearest neighbours were the Davis family, and she and Tracey spent more time together over the summer, along with Daphne who was a regular visitor to the Davis family as she and Tracey were clearly best friends.
On the whole, they made it through the summer holidays, but it was clear that all of their lives had changed irrevocably.
...
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Next chapter – Second Year! (and one year closer to Sirius' return!).