AN: New update! Enjoy!
Apollimia: Thank you! Hah, yeah, the little snakes are too curious! But, they obviously are curious because it is Lillian. Someone whom they didn't care about before and who is now the top dog in the entire house. :o)
Beyn: Thank you! Oh, poor Sirius, your pain has only just begun! And yeah, Dumbledore...well, he expected a lot, but probably not this much :o) Greetings back from Germany, and you (and everyone else) stay safe and at home! Infection numbers are way on the rise again, in Germany, the record for the highest number of infections in a single day has been broken three days in a row! I can't imagine it's any better elsewhere.
The Dark Lord Voldemort trekked through the wilderness of the North American Atlantic Coast. The cool wind whipped against his face, biting into his skin as he made his way through a dense forest. A deep coating of snow covered the frozen ground as thick, grey clouds covered the blue of the sky.
It was a small reprieve from his planning and plotting in Britain if he was honest with himself. Of course, a Dark Lord was supposed to be busy, was supposed to work tirelessly, but even he needed a break now and then.
Still, his reason for being in the United States certainly was not recreational.
No, he was here to do a small favour for his apprentice, so to speak. Ever since Lillian Potter read about the monsters of Native American legend, those Wendigos, she had been utterly fascinated by them. He was not entirely sure why that was, but he had a feeling that it had a lot to do with death and mayhem. There were only so many ways one could utilize mindless and ever-hungry monstrosities after all.
There also was the fact that his apprentice had a knack for showing an almost maniacally sadistic streak, very much like his ever-loyal right-hand woman, Bellatrix Lestrange. Very unlike her, however, his apprentice was sane, as in actually sane. Whereas Bellatrix needed lucid moments to touch reality through that haze of madness, making her almost seem schizophrenic, Lillian's madness all happened in either a very calculated and calm manner or through a teenage temper tantrum. Whichever it was, his apprentice was always aware. And he was glad she was. He was not sure he could have handled another devotee with such potential wasting away in their madness.
All those things considered, he expected from his apprentice to have been thinking about ways to utilize these Wendigos, otherwise, he would not waste his time travelling overseas trying to find out more about them, especially considering that he didn't even do it for himself; at least not directly.
It was odd to think about doing things that didn't benefit himself immediately or directly, but then, it was also odd to think about the time and dedication he had already invested in grooming the Light's former golden girl into what she would eventually become. Granted, Dumbledore had certainly done a splendid job already, considering the raw diamond Lillian Potter was when he took her for himself on the day of his return.
His former headmaster had done the same mistake with her as he had done with him, all those years in the past. It was baffling as just how infallible Albus Dumbledore saw himself to not recognize the pattern between how he had treated him and Lillian.
The Dark Lord was far from complaining, though. Not only did he get an eager servant out of Dumbledore's second big blunder, no; he got an exceptionally talented witch, he got a witch thirsting for power and willing to delve in the darkest depths of magic to gain said power, but not so much as to challenge him – she was far too loyal to him for that to be a possibility – and he also got a witch who was a descendant of the Slytherin bloodline, willing to be bred by him to bear him an heir, strengthening his legacy and that of their bloodline.
That she did not seem to care much for love was a bonus, a real luxury. Not having to deal with the stupidity love seems to awaken in the general populace was something he certainly was grateful for.
Of course, it wasn't like he had no feelings to spare; he was capable of feeling affection and dismay, he could get bored or excited. He simply could not feel love, as his mother had most likely conceived him while she had drugged his father with a love potion. Riddle probably should feel grateful because that fact did free him from many, many troubles.
But yes, the Dark Lord Voldemort was capable of affection in certain ways. Should he ever lose his loyal Bellatrix he certainly would be angry. Should he ever lose his apprentice, he would be beyond furious. Should he ever witness either of them getting maimed or otherwise gravely injured, the culprit/-s would suffer his wrath…after he would punish his two most devoted for allowing their enemies to injure them.
It should not be said that the Dark Lord did not care for his followers.
As he continued trekking through the forest, his mind wandering, he caught something from the corner of his eye.
A curious hum left the depths of his chest. He made his way to the tree. It was an old tree; tall, strong and thick. In times of muggle industrialization, it was almost a miracle that it was still standing. But then, as his hands ran across its bark, his finger running along the faintest of carvings, he couldn't help but smirk.
"It seems I may finally be closing in on the answers you yearn for, my dearest apprentice," Riddle muttered to himself.
Ancient black magic certainly was a beautiful thing.
It had been a week since she found out about the Weasley brat knowing of her deepest humiliation. It still made her angry. It still made her want to go out on a rampage, but, alas, she could not allow herself to.
Besides, the answer she received from her master when seeking out his guidance after Weasley's revelation was clear as a summer's day.
"Do not fret. Own it. Utilize it. Make it your weapon. Turn what was once your weakness into strength. You are better than this, apprentice."
She was. She was Lillian Potter and she was not weak. She was Lillian Potter and she had beaten her mind when it was crippling her with the deeds her late, poor, dear uncle had wrought upon her.
That someday, in the foreseeable future, the magical populace of the British Isles – and probably also the magical populace of the European continent and probably beyond – would find out about what she had to suffer through her entire childhood irked her more than thoughts could express, but her Dark Lord was right, of course. He always was.
She would not let them put her down. She would not let them portray her as a broken girl. They would not see what they would expect to see, no. The people would see their heroine as just that – a heroine. A tragic heroine, yes, but still. They would see that she had suffered and that she had been broken, but that she had soldiered through and that she had put herself back together time and time again.
They would also see that those supposed to protect her, their leader of the light and his little cult, had failed to do so. Her personal favourite thing, however, would be when she ripped off the protective veil Dumbledore had cast on the muggles and revealed them as what they truly were: filthy, vile animals waiting to be put down.
Oh, she couldn't wait for the uproar her past would cause. The magical society was on the brink of a major shake-up.
However, this was not all her master had to say in his letter and she actually was feeling a little excited over what he told her to do and the free reign he gave her to make those decisions. Lillian was aware, though, that any bad decision was hers to own, which was why she had thought long and hard before coming to her decision.
So, at evening time, when most students were gathered in their respective common rooms, Lillian approached Draco's group, her eyes fixating on the Greengrass heiress.
"Daphne, accompany me to our dormitory. We have to have a private talk." Giving a pointed look to the rest of her year-mates, Lillian headed upstairs, fully expecting Daphne to not question her and follow her without a word.
Once they were both inside, Lillian immediately closed and locked the door before casting a privacy charm on it.
"Wha-"
"Sit," Lillian ordered Daphne. She sat down at the edge of her own bed, waiting for the young heiress to follow suit. Once Daphne nervously did as told, Lillian began talking. "Out of everyone from your…group, I see the most potential in you, Daphne."
"I…thank you?"
"Before I begin with why I demanded to speak with you, I will ask you some questions. Just a few questions for which I expect honest answers. If I ever find out you lied to me, I will kill you. Slowly. Understood?"
Daphne's pale features paled even further at that promise while she nodded. "Yes."
"What exactly is your family's motivation in this war?"
"What do you mean?"
Lillian got up from her bed, slowly pacing in the middle of the room. "No one of your family that I know of is part of our Lord's inner circle, or even just a simple Death Eater grunt, despite the Greengrass's influence in pureblood social circles. During my stays at the Malfoy Manor, I have researched the Sacred twenty-eight and read about the Parkinsons, Notts, Selwyns, Carrows, Yaxleys…they all are obvious in their alignments. I also read about the Greengrass family, but you are just so obscure. Obviously, the Greengrass' are pure-blooded, which is a commendable trait and something I greatly envy." Lillian wasn't lying either. Every time she thought about her relation to the Dursleys she felt physically ill and not just because she hated them in particular. Good riddance and she wished she could kill them over and over again. "But," she continued, "your family was not involved in the past war, to my knowledge at least, and even now your family's involvement only consists of you being tutored by the Dark Lord's apprentice." Stopping her pacing, Lillian turned to face the Greengrass princess, her back straight, hands clasped behind her back and legs slightly apart, feet firmly on the ground as she gazed down at Daphne, her very posture oozing confidence and demanding obedience.
"O-of course," Daphne nodded, and Lillian could see her swallow thickly. "My family is more, uh, opportunistic than anything else. W-we believe in blood purity and are more dark than neutral, traditionalistic and everything, b-but avoid being in the centre of things. That's w-why you wouldn't find many records of the Greengrass name in lots of history books that don't explicitly deal with family histories."
Letting out a non-committal hum, Lillian didn't say anything for a few moments, her face not betraying any thoughts. "I see. So, what use is your family to our cause? What does your family do?"
"Black market trading. W-we provide the Dark Lord with dark artefacts he asks for."
"Has Dumbledore ever shown any interest in you?"
"I- what?" Daphne asked, apparently confused at the sudden and seemingly random change of topics.
"Answer the question."
"No. No, he hasn't ever spoken to me at all."
"Good. The Dark Lord recently tasked me with something for which he allowed me free reign. He tasked me with building my own inner circle of trusted individuals out of those I tutor," Lillian began, once more pacing. "To trust is something I do not do easily. In fact, there is only one person I trust implicitly and that is, quite obviously, the Dark Lord himself. However," Lillian turned to face Daphne fully, "there are some among your group from whom I expect to be of great use in our future war and our magical empire, once the war over. You are one of those individuals, Daphne. Your family is smart. They act in the shadows and are always out of sight. They are cunning and driven. True Slytherins, indeed. More so than the Malfoys."
"Thank you…?"
Lillian smirked at Daphne's uncertainty and she couldn't blame her. "Have I told you about my Slytherin heritage?"
Daphne's eyes widened comically. "Are you serious?"
"Indeed I am. Granted, it is very diluted, but I am a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. However, the Dark Lord is a direct descendant and has more claim to the name than I do. It doesn't matter, though. He offered me to become his Lady."
After that reveal, Lillian had to stop herself from laughing out loud at Daphne's expression. Completely undignified, the Greengrass princess looked both shocked and unbelieving at the same time.
"To be fair, it is no big secret, although the big announcement and actual bonding is supposed to happen this coming summer. But I figured you ought to know that I am not just a powerful year-mate of yours who lets the Dark Lord's attention get to her head. I am his apprentice. I am bearing his mark. I am to become the Dark Lord's bride. I am a descendant of Slytherin's. I am a parselmouth." Lillian smirked ferally at Daphne. "In just a short few months I will officially become His Dark Lady."
"I…see."
"'I see…'?"
"I see…my Lady."
Lillian couldn't help the giddiness she felt when Daphne addressed her with her proper title. Sure, there were still a few months to go until it would actually, really be official, but training her group of followers early was surely nothing reprehensible. "Good. Now, what do you say to my offer, Daphne? And, just so you know, Draco is already partially in my inner circle. He surely is a boy with potential, but he has yet to touch said potential. Curse his father for spoiling him rotten, which he literally did."
Daphne still seemed to struggle to cope with addressing her, a teenage girl, a girl the same age as her, in such a way, but Lillian knew that Daphne knew that there was nothing she could do about it.
Finally, Daphne was apparently coming to terms with the situation. "I…would be honoured. My Lady."
"As you should," Lillian said, subconsciously emulating her master. Sitting back down on the bed, Lillian stared straight at Daphne, who was sitting on the bed next to hers, locking eyes with the blonde. "I cannot stress enough that you will only address me as your Lady when in private. Not to hide it from the rest of your group, I do not care about them, but fr-"
But from Dumbledore and the rest of the school and staff."
"Do not interrupt me."
"I apologize, my Lady."
"You are correct, though. They cannot know unless the Dark Lord besieges and takes over Hogwarts or decides it unnecessary for me to continue my schooling here." She doubted it would ever be the latter, but secretly hoped so. The Dark Lord could just take over the rest of her education, but he likely would not have the time. "I expect great things from you, Daphne. Hopefully, you will be as useful an asset as I expect you to be."
"T-thank you, my Lady."
"That would be all. You can go join back with your friends. Keep up your studies. If I need something specific from you I will let you know. For now, just do what Draco does: keep your eyes and ears open for anything that could be useful to our Lord, to me or our cause in general."
"Yes, my Lady."
With a wave of her wand, Lillian dispelled the privacy charm and unlocked the door, silently dismissing the Greengrass heiress who all but ran out of the room. Getting up from the bed, the young apprentice slowly closed the door, leaning against it with her back as her hand discreetly crept under her school uniform's skirt, pressing against her sex over her wet knickers.
Never would she have guessed just how arousing it could be to assert one's dominance over another person. What she really did was to emulate her master's behaviour when he was talking to his followers; his body language, speaking pattern, the tone of his voice and his careful wording.
She wasn't sure just how successful she really was compared to someone like her master, but it was enough to force the Greengrass princess into a submissive position during the entirety of their talk. She was meek, she was scared, she was in awe.
Forcing such reactions out of another person was intoxicating to Lillian. And arousing. She was debating with herself if she should do something about it, a quick relief certainly didn't sound half bad just about now, but she decided against it. It just wouldn't be the same to climax if it wasn't her master causing it. She wished she was with him so he could assert his dominance over her.