CHAPTER TWO: OVERSEER
Much as a herd of púka cluster together for warmth during the winter months, wizards must band together to be strong. Alas, our chain is only as strong as its weakest link. The Dark Lord saw this, and in his infinite wisdom, understood. Like a kindly shepherd, he brought our lost lambs out of their Muggleborn filth into the fold.
- Excerpt from What Our Lord Does for You, a Wizarding Wireless Programme first presented in June 1983
Knockturn Alley, London
20 August 1995
10:30 am
Hermione stared into the mirror and sighed. By some trick of fate - or, more likely, by some manipulation by Severus Snape - she'd been granted the entire month of August off from work and still been allowed free room and board. She'd been studying like mad, as she hadn't officially attended school since she started working at the Olympus Club.
It'd been frighteningly easy to catch up on Defense, Transfiguration, and Charms, and Hermione had seriously questioned the caliber of Britain's education system. Herbology and Potions had been much harder to study since she didn't have access to a greenhouse or a Potions lab, but she'd made do with copious memorization. She was also planning on fireproofing a corner of her room so she could brew several practice potions. Unfortunately, most of the ingredients for useful potions were incredibly expensive, and she would have to settle for brewing things with more academic value than personal value.
Once Hermione was confident she'd mastered the new material, she'd delved into other avenues of study that were key for maintaining her deception: Occlumency, and the Dark Arts. Luckily, basic Occlumentic principles were similar to the process Hermione underwent to control her mind each time she fought, and she'd manage to process farther into the psychic art than she'd initially hoped. The offensive magic portion of the Dark Arts came to Hermione easier than breathing, and a delightful shiver passed through her each time she called upon the insidious magic. She had no qualms about her ability to learn Dark magic, only whether or not she'd learned enough.
Hermione sighed, and returned her attention to her reflection.
She wasn't pretty. She wouldn't pretend otherwise. Her hair was tightly curled, and a deep shade of brown which stood in sharp juxtaposition to her pale complexion. Her eyes were an odd shade of amber, and the entirety of her look could have been salvageable if it weren't for the countless scars that spread across her body and her gaunt build from too many years without proper nutrition. Regretfully, there was nothing she could do about it other than make minor improvements to her hair situation. Hermione dug her left hand deep into the roots of her hair and cast a Hair Growth Charm with her right. Her hair lengthened slowly past her chin, then beyond her shoulders. She stopped the charm, and gave her head a rough shake to get rid of the leftover prickling.
Hair slightly wild, but in place, Hermione set about getting dressed. Over the years, she'd developed a relatively eclectic taste in clothing, partially due to her job at the Olympus Club, and partially due to the large number of scars she needed to conceal. The white high-collared chemisier went on first, its fitted sleeves ending at her wrists. A wand sheath was attached to her right arm, then she donned a pair of narrow navy trousers. A burgundy over robe completed her outfit. The top of the robe was tailored, and fitted much like a frock coat while the bottom of the robe was split in dueling-style along the sides, the open seam running from the top of her hips to just beyond her knees where the robe ended. She slipped her feet into her dragonhide boots that'd been acquired second hand several years back. They'd been an indulgence, an illogical purchase when she'd been younger and more stupid, but now - Hermione studied her complete outfit in the mirror, considering herself for a moment - she could easily pass as a halfblood, maybe even a lower-class pureblood.
It would have to do.
Hermione tucked her small purse into her robes pocket. Her benefactor hadn't been clear on the extent of her generosity, and Hermione had long been conditioned to always be prepared. Hermione took one last look in the mirror, concentrated, then jabbed her wand at her hair. She studied her reflection closely. It wasn't perfect, but once again, it would have to do. Snickering to herself, Hermione made her way out of her room.
If there was an uncanny resemblance between her new hairstyle and the style favored by a young Bellatrix Lestrange, it was more than a mere coincidence. Hermione stalked through the ground floor of the Olympus Club, which was thankfully empty, through Knockturn Alley, and out into Diagon. Shops with brightly colored awnings lined the sides of the Alley, and hawkers shouted their wares as parents chivied along their children, eager to finish up back-to-school shopping. Hermione cut her way easily through the crowd, wending her way through the streets until she arrived in front of Gringotts. Her benefactor had yet to arrive, and Hermione settled herself onto a bench to wait. Fortunately, she didn't have to wait for long. Bellatrix Lestrange, Overseer of London, strode onto the scene with her daughter in tow. Hermione immediately stood.
"Madam Lestrange."
The woman gave her a once-over. "Miss Dagworth-Granger, I presume."
Hermione nodded. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Indeed." Bellatrix stared at her, eyes hard. "I suppose Snape informed you on what will occur today?"
"I was told you would ensure I was 'suitably attired and in possession of the necessary materials'."
"Precisely." Bellatrix was looking at her strangely again, and Hermione couldn't quite puzzle out her expression. "I was given very specific instructions regarding you."
Hermione arranged her features into a look of slight surprise.
"Why might that be?"
"I don't know."
Bellatrix clearly didn't believe her in the slightest, but let the matter drop. "I assume you will need the full Hogwarts kit?"
"Yes, Madam Lestrange."
Bellatrix gave her a sharp nod. "My daughter, Isla, will be starting this year. You will require many of the same materials."
Hermione blinked at the non-sequitur. "Of course. Pleasure to meet you, Miss Lestrange."
The girl looked at her haughtily. Isla had the same wild curls as her mother, although hers were light brown while Bellatrix's hair was black. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Dagworth-Granger," Isla said primly.
"Our first stop will be Madam Malkin's," Bellatrix said. "I already withdrew your allowance from the Hogwarts Scholarship Fund - you will be allotted three uniforms."
Hermione nodded in acknowledgement, brain whirling at how completely and utterly strange it was for the head of the London district to be speaking to her about uniforms. Thoroughly preoccupied by the surrealness of the moment, Hermione followed the Lestranges through Diagon Alley to Madam Malkin's. The bell tinkled as they walked in, and Hermione pulled herself out of her thoughts as the plump proprietor bustled over.
"Madam Lestrange! It's a pleasure to see you in my shop!"
Bellatrix inclined her head in greeting.
Madam Malkin smiled at Isla. "This must be your daughter, she looks exactly like you. Are you starting Hogwarts this year, dear?"
"Yes, ma'am," Isla said politely.
Madam Malkin turned to face Hermione. "And this must be...your niece?"
An expression flitted across Bellatrix's face, but it was gone before Hermione had time to decipher it. "Miss Dagworth-Granger is no relation of mine," Bellatrix said coolly.
"Oh...I beg your pardon," Madam Malkin said, words tumbling out of her mouth. "Well, head to the back and Suzette and Lucy will take your measurements."
The woman bustled away, and Bellatrix's lip curled. Hermione arranged her features into a look of contrite apology, then followed Madam Malkin into the back of the shop. The robe fitting passed quickly enough, and Bellatrix commissioned several other robes for Hermione in addition to the necessary uniforms. After all, Hermione was a reflection of the London district, and if she wasn't properly outfitted, it would reflect poorly on Bellatrix and her husband.
The following stops to Flourish and Blotts, and Ollivander's were unnecessary for Hermione, as she required no textbooks and already owned a wand. Bellatrix made noises about sending Hermione etiquette books so she wouldn't be a complete and utter embarrassment to the London district.
Bellatrix sniffed haughtily. "You will quickly find out, Miss Dagworth-Granger, that some Requiem candidates are simply better than others. Those from Upper Flagley, Holyhead, and Caerphilly tend to be particularly uncouth. You, of course, will have perfect behaviour. You will be seen at the social portion of Requiem with my son, and I will not have you humiliate my family or the London district in public."
"Yes, Madam Lestrange."
Bellatrix's lip curled. "Excellent. London, after all, only provides the most polished candidates for Our Lord."
"Of course, Madam Lestrange."
Bellatrix gave her another strange look, and changed the subject. "I trust you are well-educated?"
"I attended the Gaunt Institute for Magical Learning."
"Your records indicate otherwise."
"Pardon?"
"You only attended the Gaunt Institute for a year and a term."
"There were...special circumstances."
"Really."
"I could discuss them, but not in public."
Bellatrix arched a manicured eyebrow, but didn't respond.
"It was a family matter," Hermione said delicately.
Bellatrix's lip curled minutely. "Chesney Dagworth-Granger is your father."
"Yes."
"I see. How thoroughly have you been briefed on Requiem?"
"I have a solid understanding of it. Master Snape was quite clear."
"Humor me."
"Requiem officially begins on 31st October," Hermione began rotely, "the observation period begins on 1st September at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The train to Hogwarts leaves on 31st August from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, which is accessible by Floo or via King's Cross Station if one wishes to slum with muggles. At Hogwarts, housing will be provided to all candidates in a separate wing from the students. Candidates will have two months to improve their magical knowledge prior to taking part in Requiem."
"And did Snape inform you precisely what Requiem entails?"
"A combination of dueling, political maneuvering, and other necessary challenges. I'm quite familiar with the format; it's broadcast to the entire nation each year, after all."
Bellatrix glared at her, and Hermione regretted the cheek. Luckily, Isla chose that moment to butt into the conversation.
"Mother, you promised I could get an owl."
Bellatrix smiled indulgently at her daughter. "Of course. Allow me a moment to conclude matters with Miss Dagworth-Granger." Bellatrix turned to Hermione. "I trust you will be able to navigate to Platform Nine and Three Quarters without assistance?"
"Yes, Madam."
"The last carriage on the Hogwarts Express is reserved for Requiem candidates," Bellatrix said as she withdrew a small leather pouch from her robes pocket. "This is the remainder of your allowance. Use it wisely. I will owl etiquette books to you. If you embarrass London, you will not live to regret it." With that, Bellatrix swept off with her daughter in tow, leaving Hermione in the middle of the alley with a handful of bags, and a significant number of Galleons.
A genuine smile made its way across her face, the first one since she'd met Severus Snape. It was time to have fun.
Hogsmeade, Scotland
20 August 1995
7:50 pm
"Read, Da."
Severus eyed his small son speculatively from his vantage point on the couch. He was rather comfortable, and disinclined to move.
Magnus jabbed him with the book, brown eyes staring imploringly. "Read, Da! Please!"
Severus drew a long suffering sigh, and lifted the boy so he was perched on Severus' stomach. Magnus bounced several times in delight before once again shoving the book in Severus' face. "Time to read!"
"What will it be this time?"
"Babbity Rabbity and the Cackling Stump!"
"Again?"
"Yes! It's my favorite!"
Severus gave his son a look, which only served to send him into a fit of giggles, before thumbing through The Tales of Beedle the Bard.
"A long time ago," Severus began, "in a land far, far away, a King decided to keep all the magic in the world for himself…" Severus sent on to recount the story of the foolish Muggle king who wanted to steal magic, and the clever witch who convinced him otherwise. Magnus listened avidly the entire time, eyes wide as if this was the first time Severus had read the story, not the three hundred and thirty-first.
It was odd, having children. Severus had been a father for eleven years now; his oldest, Sebastian, was set to attend Hogwarts in September. Severus had never planned on getting married, let alone having children. When the Dark Lord named him Overseer of Hogsmeade in 1982, Severus had been surprised, but quickly fulfilled the role. At the suggestion of Lucius Malfoy and the Dark Lord himself, Severus married Aurora Sinistra, a Slytherin three years younger than him, in 1983. Severus had assumed he would need to produce the requisite one child, but no sooner had they conceived Sebastian than the Dark Lord passed the Family Decree.
Due to declining birth rates, the Dark Lord rolled out a litany of incentives to promote larger families, chief among them tax breaks and entries in the Hogwarts lottery for families with four or more magical children. Severus' children, of course, were guaranteed enrollment in Hogwarts due to his status as Overseer, but most halfblood children had to attend substandard secondary schools. The tax breaks weren't incentives for Severus either as he had plenty of money, but the desire to maintain his lofty reputation won out. In addition to Sebastian, he had two daughters: Celeste, age nine, and Phoebe, age seven. His youngest son, Magnus, was four.
Aurora was pushing for a fifth child, but Severus wasn't sure he could handle another toddler in the house. Besides, he had more children than Lucius. In his heart, he knew that wasn't a real achievement, especially because it was more due to Narcissa's health than anything on Lucius' end, but it was one of the few things Severus could lord over the blond wizard. It was a false sense of superiority, and Severus relished it all the same.
Magnus bounced again, pulling Severus out of his thoughts. "Another story!"
Severus checked his pocket watch. "It's nearly your bedtime."
"Please?"
"I suppose we have time for one more story. Which would you like?"
"Hmm...Tale of the Three Brothers!"
Severus flipped through the pages. "Once upon a time, there were three brothers traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. Eventually, the brothers came to a deep, treacherous river that would drown anyone who tried to swim or wade across it. But, these brothers were no ordinary men. They were wizards, and with their gift of magic they conjured a bridge. The brothers began to cross the bridge, but were stopped in the middle by a hooded figure."
"By Death!" Magnus chimed in.
"Yes, by Death himself. Death pretended to congratulate the brothers on their cunning, and offered them gifts. The eldest brother was a fighter, and asked for the most powerful wand in the world. Death fashioned a wand from a nearby elder tree and gave it to him. The second brother was arrogant and wished to humiliate Death. He asked for the power to call beings back from behind the Veil. Death plucked a rock from the riverbank and crafted the Resurrection Stone. The youngest brother was wise, and did not trust Death. He asked for a way to go forth and remain hidden from Death's everwatchful eye. Unable to go back on his promise, Death handed over his own Invisibility Cloak."
"How did they know that Death is a boy?" Magnus wanted to know.
"No one knows for certain," Severus admitted before continuing the story. "Each of the three brothers continued to the other side of the river with their gifts in hand. The eldest brother journeyed onward to the village. He sought out a wizard with whom he had a grudge, and challenged him to a duel. The eldest brother quickly won, killing the other wizard in a heartbeat. Drunk on his victory, the eldest brother continued to the inn where he bragged of his prowess and invincibility. When he went to sleep that night, another wizard snuck into his room, slit his throat, and stole his wand. As such, Death took the first brother as his own."
Magnus frowned. "What does 'prowess' mean?"
"Skill. Now, the second brother continued along to his home where he lived alone. He twisted the Resurrection Stone thrice in his hand and called forth his dead financée. Much to his delight, she appeared, but she was sad and cold and still separated from him by the Veil. The second brother was driven mad by longing and hung himself. As such, Death took the second brother as his own.
"Death looked for the youngest brother for many years, but he never found him. At last, when the youngest brother reached a ripe old age, he took off the Invisibility Cloak and handed it to his son. He greeted Death as a friend, and they departed beyond the Veil as equals."
Magnus was silent for a moment. "Another story!"
"No, it's time for bed, come along now." Severus scooped up his son and climbed the stairs, mind elsewhere.
Severus knew all too well the truth behind the Tale of the Three Brothers. Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus Peverell had once wandered the earth, and had possessed powerful magical artifacts. Whether the artifacts were crafted by Death himself was unknown, and privately Severus doubted it.
The Dark Lord, on the other hand, was fanatic in his pursuit of the so-called Deathly Hallows, or really anything that would grant him immortality. Severus had brewed countless potions over the years, unspeakable brews that lacked names even in the foulest of books. The Dark Lord was nearly seventy years old, but scarcely looked a day over twenty-five. It was a profoundly disturbing fact, and one Severus chose not to dwell on.
Severus descended the stairs, making his way to his library, and then into his heavily warded study. He sat at his desk, withdrawing a small square of parchment from a secret compartment hidden in a secret drawer. Severus cupped the parchment in his hands for a heartbeat, then blew on it softly.
Unseen by anyone, an outline of a phoenix flashed gold as the parchment burst into flame.
A/N: A couple points of clarification on this AU:
Lord Voldemort killed the entire Potter family in 1981 (James, Lily, and baby Harry). He subsequently overthrew the Ministry of Magic and instated his own regime.
Most of the Order of the Phoenix is dead, or in hiding. A rare few live in Voldemort's Britain and still serve the Order.
More will be revealed as the story progresses. This is the most AU fic I've attempted, and there's a lot of underlying reasons for character development that will become clear as things unfold.