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THE DREAM WAS AN ODD ONE in that Ivy was very aware that it was a dream. The sky was a brilliant blue, and despite there being a beautiful breeze and a wondrous light that filled the world, the sun was nowhere to be seen. Odder yet, was the rainbow that filled the sky, three in fact. Ivy could have accepted some odd magic for the phenomenon, but she specifically remembered that she had gone to bed for the night, a restless sleep with her head digging into her many pages of writings.
"I heard you enjoyed dream walkers," a voice said from the distance. It didn't come from any particular direction and instead came from all around her. Ivy craned her head, her feet digging into the cool grass and the field of flowers brushing back and forth from the wind.
Despite nature being all around her, the area was pristine, the absence of pollen. Further proof that this was a dream came in the form of the lack of bugs. She decided to answer the man she assumed was 'Horus' although she felt ridiculous to call him that. "You could have responded via letter."
Horus appeared from a cloud of mist, and Ivy noticed that he was not only naked, but stunningly naked. "Hi."
"I've seen too much of you already," she told him, covering her eyes with a single palm. "Bacia said you were a showoff. That's putting it lightly."
"You can't take your clothes to the astral plane," Horus told her with a smug smile, his eyes running up and down. This allowed her the ability to understand that she too was butt arse naked.
She immediately began to cover herself, using her long red hair to cover her breasts. "You lying pervert."
"Not a lie. Don't be shy. Give us a show."
"Forgive me for having a difficult time believing that headmasters would deliver the acceptance of children into their school naked, and for me to just be hearing about it now." Ivy was about to strangle him, but he shrugged.
"Fair enough. Well played," he commented, and she was wearing clothes once more. A lacy dress that left too little room for imagination. It beat being bare, and it was certainly more conservative than half the clothes in her wardrobe. Regardless, she decided to be angry about it later.
"Why not come in person? Or are you really that much of a sod?"
He had a particularly thick Shona accent, which she could attest to perhaps Zimbabwe. She very much doubted it was Arabic. He had some tones of a high-class accent of British, and that told her some of his upbringings. He took a step closer, still quite naked.
"I figured you wanted a demonstration of my abilities."
"Your abilities, yes," Ivy agreed with this. "Your dick, no. Put it away."
"Such a prude," he said, and in moments he was clothed in a hot pink suit with a black shirt underneath. It fit him much better than being naked. On his lapels was a daisy pin.
"I am trying to learn how to dream walk. You can help, yes?" Ivy decided to cut straight to the point, despite her irritation.
"Not much of a teacher." He walked around the field, his hands running through the flowers. The more that Ivy got a look at the place, the more she recognized the area. It had been where she and Lily spent their tenth birthday, laying amongst the sunflowers. Just as the thought ran through her mind, she saw a small Lily run through the field with a laugh. "She's cute. Is it you?"
"No. Make it go away." Ivy ordered. He shrugged, and the image disappeared.
"This place is made from your subconscious. Dreams are mostly in control of the one having them, but a traveler can mold it. The one conscious of the dream has power over it." Horus adjusted his collar.
"So, you can teach me?" Ivy was getting impatient, and his brows furrowed together.
"I never said that. Bacia told me you were hot and had a dream walking fantasy. In for a no strings attached bit of fun." Horus's smile widened. "She was quite right for once."
The information that her friend just pimped her out was not lost on Ivy. It explained why he showed up naked. "She lied."
"Nah. She didn't. You're definitely hot."
He had walked up to her completely now, his fingers gripping onto a strand of her hair and twirling it around his finger. Ivy wanted to bite it off and might have if she wasn't a tad worried he might like that. She was in a rather vulnerable position, with a man alone in a dream where he had power. She had a strong feeling that Bacia wouldn't put her into anything dangerous, but Ivy couldn't help the nervous shiver running down her spine.
"I need help dream walking. Obviously, she lied to both of us on this."
He took an immediate step back, allowing a wave of relief to wash over Ivy like a bucket of cold water. "That's disappointing. I blew off a sure thing for this."
"That's pathetic really," Ivy replied.
"Well, if you're not looking for fun, I'm gonna go see if my," he paused with a smile, "friend is sleeping."
"Did you master in astral projection for sex?" Ivy couldn't help but ask, and he paused again. His smile turned coy.
"I seek great pleasures and knowledge."
"Gross."
"What else would I use it for?" Horus rolled his eyes. "Magic is for making things easier and more fun. I'm a bloke. We use it for sex things. If another bloke tells you differently, he's a liar."
"We're getting off the topic. I need your help. I can pay you."
That caused him to hesitate once more. The world around them shone, and Ivy made a point not to look at it. She didn't want to see the sunflowers or the beautiful, familiar English sky. She didn't want to see the odd shining moon, up in the sky and somehow just as visible as the sun. If she looked, she'd lose focus in the wonderment of it all, and joy wasn't something she had time for. "Have you been tested if you even can astral project?"
"No. I went to Hogwarts. We learn how to open locked doors. Nothing useful."
"You Englishmen always say your school is the best," he said with an amused grin.
"I'm Scottish," she replied. "And I have no school pride."
"Refreshing," he said in a deadpan. "How much can you pay? I live a very luxurious lifestyle."
"I should think a man named after a sky god would."
"I thought it made me sound dashing," Horus retorted.
"It makes you sound pretentious," Ivy disagreed.
"It works on the ladies and lads."
"Your mum and dad don't count."
"My mum would beat me with a belt if I so much as tried to introduce myself as anything but the name she chose for me."
"See, now that's something I'd love to see," she said, and the moment she thought it, a small little boy that had to be Horus began to run through the field. This field slowly turned into a comely little house, and the boy wasn't laughing. The fear in his eyes was quite real, of the sort only a child could show so openly. Horus waved his hand, and the image disappeared. An expression danced over his face, but Ivy didn't care enough to read what that was. She had a goal in mind, and she was unyielding. "We're getting off-topic."
"You're the one who changed topics, love."
Ivy really was going to strangle him. "So can you do it."
Horus tilted his head to the side in thought. "We'll discuss payment in person. Tell Bacia to go fuck herself."
"Don't worry," Ivy agreed with a slight smile. "I will."
οΈ
Sirius Black was dreaming again. Dreaming of her.
The sky was dark, but the cobblestones had been lit aflame by small street lights, lining the grounds up and down. He felt her small, dainty hand in his, the lights catching the glare of her watch that almost reached curfew. Midnight was approaching, but he pulled her towards him, laughing at something he couldn't remember.
"I have go, Sirius," Marlene told him, but he couldn't stop smiling.
"You look beautiful," he said, still smiling as she looked up at him. Her eyes were a brilliant brown, and he was drawn in the way she moved. He still remembered her cream coat, her loose dress with white polka dots down the middle, and her heels that she never complained about despite how much they killed her. He offered to carry them earlier that night, offered to carry even her, loving the feeling of her body on hers. She had rejected both offers, content with his hand in his, her body walking in tandem with his, occasionally brushing shoulders and laughing at jokes he couldn't remember.
She raised both brows, her hands braced against his shoulders. "Well, I'm not covered in blood or mud, so it's a welcome change, do you not think?"
"I'd ask you to dance even if you were drenched," he said, his grin dancing along his face. He watched her own face light up as if he said something incredibly romantic.
"Really? Even if it might ruin your one good tie?" Marlene asked, now running her fingers along the silk tie with a wry grin.
"Dance with me?" Sirius asked, and she bit her bottom lip in amusement.
"There's no music," she reminded him, glancing around the empty street, just outside of the opera house that she had been so excited to go to. She even got Sirius to dress appropriately for the event. Mind you, he had thought a Beatles shirt appropriate at first. She had informed him that she would give back the ring if he showed up at her flat without a suit and tie. If he showed in the Beatles shirt, she'd throw it at his head.
"If I sing to you, will you dance with me right now?" Sirius asked, the childlike innocence in voice, despite how hard the war has been. Sirius remembered how many times she said that she loved that about him. How she loved his jokes and his quips. His immature behavior of his childhood having grown into something more 'Sirius'.
She laughed, and he swayed her so she could lean against his shoulder. "Oh please. I'll dance, just don't sing. It's hate crime if you do."
He looked down at her, his amusement back in his face. "I'll have you know, I'm starting a band with James soon."
Marlene laughed again as if that were the funniest thing he had ever said to her. "Oh, lord, please let me see you on stage. I'll record it and look back on it afterward whenever I'm sad."
"You don't need a recording for when you're sad," he said into her ear, running his hands along her back as they swayed in the breeze. "I'll make you happy for the rest of my life."
"Do you have a list of things to say to make me swoon?" Marlene asked, grinning as he pulled her into a hug.
"When you're as handsome as me, all I have to do is smile," he reminded her, and she laughed, but that laugh cut off abruptly as he held her close to him, digging his face into her hair. "Marlene?" She didn't answer. The air around them had grown cold, and as he pulled away, in his arms wasn't his smiling fiance.
It was a corpse.
"Marlene," he whispered, the sight too familiar. Around them wasn't the cobblestones and brick buildings of old London. Instead, it was the ruins of the Mckinnon house, and the shredded remains of her parents, ripped apart by some foul beast. Marlene didn't have her light, didn't have her dazzling smile.
He would have loved for her to say she was joking, to laugh with him, to even yell at him. Anything but the silence, errie and ghostly and dead.
"Marlene," he whispered, trying to shake her awake, but she was covered in blood, oozing from her stomach. From her throat. From the claw marks on her arms. It had been the blood that made her nearly unrecognizable the night he found them. He had heard the order let the information, their safehouse, leak. He had been there within minutes, begging whatever guardians, whatever gods, to protect them.
He had been too late. The people he loved, the family he worked so hard to get to like him, to accept him, to love him, were gone.
The memory was what woke him from the nightmare, and he was aloneβno he was never alone. The dark, damp cell, dripped from all around him. He was covered in grime and sweat and dirt, and he felt drained as if everything that was happy, everything good inside him was being stripped away. He felt his life was meaningless, his body weak, and his grief overpowering him. As he stared, fear drenching him, at the dementors sucking the life from him, he couldn't remember the smell of her hair, the shine of her smile, he couldn't remember anything but her lifeless body.
He did what he had done since being accused, he laid his head into his knees and he sobbed, he shook, and he allowed those dementors to take the memory, to make the memory hazy and dark. All that was left was the dead and dying. He amongst the ruins.
οΈ
Ivy Evans remembered the boat, the black lake, the wonder of Hogwarts, the beautiful dark sky. It made up for the entirely terrible train ride sitting next to Lily Evans and her dickhead friend Severus Snape. The boy obviously had a huge fucking stick up his arse, since everytime Lily and Ivy were near one another, he would act as if Ivy had an infectious disease. "Couldn't you two get along for an hour?" Lily had begged, watching her not so similar twin just get done telling Severus that if the boy scowled at her one more time, that she would literally shove him out the window of the moving train.
Severus looked embarrassed by Lily's snap, but Ivy only stood up. "Then I'll leave before I kill your boyfriend."
That was the last time Ivy had spoken to Lily on the train, not making due on the statement and leaving the compartment. By then, most other compartments would be full, and Ivy walked by each one, glancing through the windows at kids her age already making friends. This was never something Ivy had been good at, so she kept walking, watching each compartment as if she were looking through a movie screen in the passing. One was opened, the sliding door fully exposed, the loud laughter echoing down the halls and just as Ivy went to pass it, a firework nearly hit her in the head. She raised her hands above her face, trying to shield the one good thing about her, but the heat never came. Instead, as if she had unleashed some hidden ability, the fire was smacked away, running down the hall and dispelling.
"Shit," said a boy with messy hair, but he wasn't the one holding the wand. Instead, it was held by a now no longer smiling kid with dark hair. In contrast to the messy haired boy with thick glasses, this boy was leaner, his robes clumsily done. They were both cute-ish, or would have been if Ivy didn't already dislike them.
"Uh," the boy, still holding his wand, stammered out. "Sorry. I guess."
"Was that wandless magic?" Asked the glasses boy. Ivy didn't care about the question. She'd had many wandless magic encounters in her childhood, but usually they came out in more insidious ways. Where Lily made things sing, Ivy had made a boy on her street, an annoying pet of a kid, ride his bike into a car.
"Do either of you know how to dispel a fire?" Ivy asked. She certainly had an idea. She had done nothing but study over the summer, rereading the textbooks her parents had bought, over and over until she could rehearse the words.
"Um, no-" The arsemonger with his wand still out began to make an excuse, but Ivy raised up her palm.
"So you thought it was a good idea to use fire on a moving train?" Ivy leaned on one hip, one brow raising to meet the wispy bangs cupping her face. Her eyes went from one boy to the other, before she realized that there was another in the compartment. A quiet little boy, more on the heavy side, looking as if he wanted to disappear. She wished all of them would.
"Aw, are you worried about us getting hurt?" The boy finally put away his wand, his tone turning more smug.
"I think I'll just tell a professor. It'd be nice to witness an expulsion. Weed out the pillocks as I look for a bathroom." She pointed to both of them with her pointer and middle finger raised. "Two birds." She pointed to herself with just a pointer finger. "One stone."
"Wait, I think we just got off on the wrong foot," said the boy with the glasses, a tinge of worry in his gaze. "I'm James Potter. That's Sirius Black." Then he glanced towards the heavier one, as if he were an afterthought. "And that's Peter...uh."
The boy looked up, now completely red in the face. "Pettigrew."
"Thank you for the introductions. Truly, I appreciate it." She shook her head, that sly expression back on her face. "It will be so much easier to talk about this with a professor now that I have a face and a name to go along with the story. No point introducing myself to ex-students," she said with a tiny smile fighting to escape. She wasn't actually about to find a professor as it sounded like more work than anyone was worth, but she rather liked seeing the familiar worry in someone else's eyes. Also, they could have burned her face.
"It didn't even hit you," said the perpetrator, Sirius Black, with an eye roll and a scoff.
"So? I can cry on command and I don't like you." Ivy sneered, but James had already tightened his grip on her wrist just a tad, enough for her to remember he was there.
"Come on, that's not a way to make friends," he told her.
"No, but it is a way to clear up a compartment so I can rest my feet on an empty seat." She sneered again, but this time Sirius grabbed her wrist before she could go.
"You're pretty snide. You're not gonna go blabbing to a professor. What you're gonna do is introduce yourself, sit down next to us for the remainer of the train ride, exchange pleasantries, and develop a crush on me since I am that handsome," Sirius announced, and finally a smile escaped her control as she glanced in between the three boy.
"Sirius, mate, you're gonna get us expelled," James said, but Sirius's eye contact didn't break.
"Ivy Evans." She walked past him, sitting down across from the heavy set boy, Peter, who had yet to say much of anything. "So, what spell was that?" She raised her feet on the seat, leaning her back against the window seal. James, stunned that Sirius's speech actually worked, sat next to her feet while Sirius sat next to Peter.
"A party trick used to piss off my mum," Sirius admitted, glancing from Ivy to James.
"Neat." She turned her gaze to Peter. "You've yet to say much. You shy or am I just that pretty?"
Peter let out a string of stutters, much to the three eleven year old's amusement. "I'm just nervous," Peter said, in between his stuttering. Ivy glanced towards James and Sirius, the latter of who appeared confident enough for a small crush to easily develop should she allow it.
"What house you hoping to get, Evans?" James asked, and she vaguely remember the houses explained in Hogwarts: A History. She didn't particularly care about either one, as she just wanted to end up in a different house than Lily. The last thing she wanted was to be placed in yet another situation where they got compared. She heard enough throughout her life that Lily was the nicer twin, the prettier twin, and, according to Severus fucking Snape, the smarter twin. Just because Ivy had a hard time focusing on shit, that did not mean she was stupid.
"What house do you three want?" Ivy asked instead, and for once Peter spoke up.
"Slytherin is the house of my mum," Peter said, but almost immediately Sirius's nose scrunched up.
"I think I'd kill myself if I got into Slytherin," Sirius commented, and James snorted.
"Gryfindor is the best house," James agreed, and Ivy watched Peter nod his head, his previous comment forgotten.
"Yeah, Gryfindor is the best," Peter said.
"I'd like whatever house won't accept you two," Ivy said with a smile. "At least then I'd know it had good taste."
Sirius grinned. "You'd miss us, I think."
She made a humming sound, her amusement still visible on her face when she spoke again. "Now, unless you want me to find a professor, cry on command, and get you two expelled, I suggest you find a different compartment."
"Excuse me," James said, eyes narrowed at how easily he had been lulled into a sense of safety, only to be brought back to worry.
"You wouldn't," Sirius retorted, but Ivy's smile disappeared, her face going red as tears began to slip from her eyes. Both boy's back away, surprised at the abrupt change in dimeanear. Peter looked as if he wanted to sink into himself and disappear.
Ivy began to sob, looking truly upset. "I was so scared, and I got burned by their spell."
"You're not even hurt!" Sirius complained.
Ivy produced her wand, waving it with a small silent spell she had read in the advanced text book her mum had bought. A small little fire, small as a the flare on a lighter, hovered in the air. She made a motion as if to burn herself with it.
"We'll just say your lying," James said with a shrug.
"Spell history is a thing on wands. You'd know that if you read," Ivy said, her expression breaking from the crying as if she could just turn it off with a button. "Now, get out, find a new compartment, and continue with your pranks in peace."
She made a shewing motion with her hand, dispelling the fire.
"This isn't over, minger," Sirius commented, and her eyes narrowed.
"Buh-bye," she said with a smile, not minding the insult.
Throughout the years she'd know them, she was always aware of Peter's tendency to lose his opinions in front of his friends. A quiet boy, people would say. Ivy had always found Peter more enjoyable, although enjoyable might be too strong of a word, away from the powerful friends he situated himself next to. The little she knew of him, a cowering boy too afraid to have an opinion on something as inconsequential as a Hogwarts house, didn't seem like the sort of person who would do anything confrontational.
Yet, even if Ivy extended her area of belief that he challenged Sirius Black in the middle of the street to a duel. The kid wasn't good at charms or defense against the dark arts, always ranking at the bottom of the class whereas Sirius was always near the top. He always hid behind people more powerful than he was, gravitating to the loudest and most obnoxious group of friends in Hogwarts.
Ivy laid in bed, thinking over the information she had. She knew now that 'Horus' effectively ruined her sleep. She glanced towards her nightstand, looking at her sister's wand. A pang drummed in her chest, as if she had just been hit. The small image of Lily, running through the field, echoed in her memory. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the noise in her heart. She opened her eyes again, feeling effectively numb. Slowly, she sat up, grabbing the wand and feeling the weight of it in her hand. She could use it, as any witch could, but a wand that doesn't choose the witch as a temperamental thing and unreliable. It was also all that was left of Lily.
But that's not true either, Ivy thought with a bitter frown, deciding it wasn't the time to be wondering about her sister's son. Dumbledore had to be insane to offer her a child. The only class she ever failed at was care of magical creatures due to the irresponsibility to give them the basic necessities. She was one of the only students to have killed the Doxys she was charged with raising by her inability to raise something that could literally take care of itself. The professor had been devastated.
She stood up from the bed, her black sweats and backless top doing nothing to block out the cold London chill that swept the muggle house in a not so cozy draft. She wrapped a knitted blanket around her, her lips pressed tightly together as she walked downstairs. Her wards littered the walls in ancient runes, a subject she had been particularly good out at. She traced them with her fingers as she walked down the steps, and, despite the many runes, there was still a small creature at the base of her stairs. She made a mental note to add house elf research to her extensive list of things to do as she didn't actually know how to stop an elf from teleporting their short, scraggly selves into her space.
"And you are?" She asked, as if she were talking about tea. She leaned on one hip as the elf in nothing but a dirty sheet with poor stitching and holes cut in uneven circles for his arms.
"Happy, ma'am," the house-elf greeted.
Ivy hummed, walking past him. "And are you?"
"Ma'am?"
"Happy?
It seemed like the little elf didn't understand the question, so Ivy walked straight past him with nonchalance in her step. "So whose orders brought you here?"
"The noble house Illyinishna." The house-elf held out his hand, gesturing for her to take it. "She seeks an audience."
"Of course she does." Ivy scowled. "Can I at least have my tea first?"
The little elf looked put out, as if genuinely afraid to keep Lidia waiting. Judging by the notorious treatment of elves, Ivy didn't doubt that truth. She decided to open up a small well of sympathy, holding out her hand towards the elf with an expression that clearly stated it was an inconvenience.
"At least make me tea when we get there."
"Of course, Ivy Evans," he said quickly, and they teleported a moment later. The house blended into bold reds and greens, high tapestries of old men, and two staircases that led up to a winding balcony. Lidia surely had a good sense of style at least.
"I will fetch the master," the small house-elf looked terrified, practically shivering. It wasn't a surprise, as most noble and rich pureblood houses didn't treat their servants well. Ivy had thought Lidia's house above that. It seemed, judging by Happy's not-so-happy expression, she was very wrong.
Happy teleported, and Ivy wandered over a particularly nice portrait of a man with high cheekbones and a sculpted, chiseled chin. He was a handsome sort, and as Ivy looked down at the name engraving, she was surprised to see it say Salazar Slytherin. She had seen hundreds of portraits of the man, but only when he was old and bald. This must have been a rare sort.
Lidia had always seemed the stereotypical dark witch, with the right family, the right name, and the right sinister mind to be a dark lord supporter. "He is handsome, isn't he? My family are said to be descended of Slytherin."
"Is that true?" Ivy asked, looking over to Lidia, standing next to her with all her splendor. For once, she didn't appear in her usual Polyjuice appearance. Instead, a short girl, with hair cut to her shoulder, a sharp jawline, and looking more Japanese than Russian. She stood next to her in a low-cut, V-line dress that nearly lowered to her navel. She was absolutely stunning, but Ivy had a weakness for promiscuous women. Especially, promiscuous women with such wealth, confidence, and darkness.
Lida scoffed, "Hardly. My great-great-great-grandmother used the name to marry into a good family. Into money. We've been rich ever since."
"I like a self-starter," Ivy said, glancing away from the uncomfortably attractive painting of a Hogwarts founder. "Why summon me? And dropping appearances is rare for you."
"It can be hard as both a woman and a foreigner on a council of old men," she said with a thin smile. "Changing appearances to blend in is a better option for going anonymous for all but my own house." She held out a glass of champagne, her long nails resting against the glass. Slowly, Ivy took it, taking a hesitant sip only when Lidia drank hers as well.
"Did you change your mind about helping me?" Ivy asked, and Lidia lowered the glass from her lips, a smidge of red leaving a print behind on the glass.
"Oh no. I've just heard some odd rumors I thought might interest you." Lidia ran her fingers down her black gown, her eyes narrow and amused. "They are friends of yours after all."
"And what is that?" Ivy hated how it took Lidia too long to get to the point.
"Work on your manners and patience, love." Lidia took another amused sip of her champagne, her lips curled as she did. "It's about the McKinnon family, thought you might be interested."
"You found the killers?" Ivy hated the emotion that entered into her voice. Marlene had been butchered like animal, so Ivy was convinced that wolves were behind it. Some sort of magical creature, but of the like Ivy did not know. She had meant to investigate that next, had meant to do anything as a distraction.
"We found Heath Travers," Lidia said, and the name did strike some familiarity in Ivy's memories. She certainly remembered one specific Travers, who she would stab in the gut with her bare hands if she ever saw him. "A year below yours. A Death Eater like his brother. We caught him trying to flee London. In exchange for a lesser sentence at Azkaban, we got him to spill the names of all involved with various butchery and such."
"So? Who did it?" Ivy kept emotion out of her voice, her jaw clenched as her fingers trightened on the glass. The liquid sloshed around as Lidia spoke again.
"Various ones. Rodrick Travers and Fenrir Greyback were responsible for the attack on the Mckinnon family. Bellatrix Lestrange, Rosolphus Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange, and Barty Crouch Jr were responsible for the torture and consequence insanity of Frank and Alice Longbottom."
"Those are the stupidest names I have ever heard in a single sentence," Ivy said slowly, glancing away. "How do these parents choose these pretentious names? No wonder they grow up to hate everybody." Ivy rubbed her templed. "Crouch though? Really?"
"We were surprised too," Lidia said with a single brow raised. "Imagine that trial."
"Why are you telling me?" Ivy asked, glancing over to Lidia who continued drinking.
"Because Bellatrix, Greyback, and Travers are all still missing. More than that," Lidia continued with a wry smile. "They don't much care for the family relatives of the woman and her baby who got their dark lord killed. We believe little Bella might be planning another last-ditch effort for her lord. Or at the very least, revenge."
"Is Petunia safe?" Ivy couldn't believe she was even asking that, but Lida shrugged.
"She's an unknown muggle. Very few even know where little Potter went or that Lily had a muggle sister. Most are assuming you have him."
"Why would they assume that?" Ivy asked with a frown.
"Why do you think?" Lidia laughed, grabbing her wand to use a silent spell to refill each of their glasses. "While all the Death Eaters target the last Evans relative, the last known witch related by blood to the little menace Potter, we can capture them and keep the real location of Harry Potter safe. Until he is eleven, of course."
Ivy felt her blood boil as a sense of realization filled her. She took a chug of the champagne until she hit the dregs. "Of course."
"Dumbledore is a smart man. I wish I would have thought about it. He was probably counting on you not taking the child."
"He's an arse."
"Smart men usually are," Lidia agreed, holding out her cup to clink it against Ivy's.
"You are a pureblood fanatic. Why not support Voldemort?" Ivy asked after a moment of silence. It was obvious with all the Slytherin portraits, the way she valued blood purity and money, the way she treated what she believed beneath her, like her house elf.
Lidia snorted. "His ideals were shortsighted. He was bested by a todder. I'd say I made the right decision." She sighed, lowering the glass and swirling it. "Just because I was raised to believe I had more right to magic than others, doesn't mean I hate your kind or think all are beneath me. I don't want genocide. I realize the value of muggles and muggle-born kind. What is there to gain from someone like Voldemort in charge? The system is hardly perfect, but at least there is order. I just want to be left alone with all my money." Lidia shrugged with an amused smile. "Is that so wrong?"
Ivy clung glasses with her. "I think we are quite similar."
Lidia snorted, her dark lips curling into a menacing smile that fit the sharp cut of her jaw. "So, what will you do about the target on your back? Take it up with Dumbledore?"
"Hardly," Ivy said, glancing down at the alcohol swirling in her glass. "I never learn my lesson. I am not even surprised that he uses me to do work on the greater good."
"Greater good?" Lidia asked, raising one brow as she took another sip of her drink.
"Mm, his grand plan. He can make you feel like the most important person in the world," Ivy explained, swirling her drink some more. "And the moment your use is up, he turns it around and makes you feel like you're nothing." Ivy took a big gulp of her champagne, feeling the slight tingling sensation running up her nose.
"Sounds like you two have history," Lidia said with a gossiping smile.
Ivy scoffed, draining the glass. "I don't mind that he does it. I just thought I was done with him using me, is all."
Lidia shook her head, refilling Ivy's glass with a wave of her wand, raising her own. "To being pawns."
Ivy rolled her eyes, but clanged her glass against the other nonetheless. "One day, I'd like to be queen."