Just Desserts

The following day Harry visited the Wand Maker of Azkaban again. He had relayed a message via Sable to say that he had completed Harry's order, and Harry was quite eager to see his new wand. Hermione and Sable travelled with him to the little cottage with it's private climate, but neither were expecting the face that answered the door.

"Mary Frankenstein?" Harry guessed.

"Yes, my Lord." she smiled in reply, "Shelly tells me that I have you to thank for directing him to me."

"There's a tale there, I am sure." Harry answered, "May we come in?"

"Of course, my Lord." she stammered, "Please excuse me."

Mary led the trio into the cottage's small sitting room and served them tea, blushing lightly as Shelly bustled into the room with three small boxes. He placed them on the table with great reverence, before bowing and kneeling before his lord.

"All hail my Lord Caer Azkaban! Long may he Rule!"

"Please rise, Wand crafter Almsman," Harry sighed, "I will not demand such reverence from you."

"If it pleases you, my Lord, I owe you far more than I can say." Shelly replied from his position, "I had thought that the years, and cruel fate, had torn my love from me until you restored her. I owe you my happiness and my craft. The skill with which Mary crafts her muffled wands is truly a delight to behold, but that she holds no ill-will against me warms my heart beyond all else."

"I am glad that it worked out well for you," Harry replied, a little uncomfortable, "But that is not why you asked me here?"

"No, My Lord." Shelly affirmed, "I have completed your wands, and those for your assistants. For your main wand, Cedar wood with an Ebony grip and a tail hair from your Lordship's chief Nightmare, tipped with a shard of Chimera scale."

"I take it those are unusual?" Harry asked, hearing Hermione's gasp.

"The wood, not so much." Shelly replied, "The Nightmare is not found outside of Azkaban any more, so the use of their tail hairs in wands is only common here. The interesting aspect is the Chimera scale. They are so rare that accumulating enough to make a full wand core is impossible – they are only ever seen as secondary core elements. Finding someone who can manage a dual-core wand, especially one as volatile as this, is rare indeed. For the hilt, I matched a small black opal, which would accumulate magical energies, further boosting the strength of your spells. The difference may be small – typically seven to thirteen percent – but it is a useful edge for the skilled caster. Many find the extra power difficult to manage at first, but your blood sample chose this combination, so the result must match. This is a fiercely protective wand, difficult to tame yet unflinching in it's loyalty. It is the wand of a leader, and a sleeping giant."

"Sleeping Giant?" Harry asked, "How so?"

"Slow to anger, yet terrible in his wroth." Shelly replied, handing the wand case over and indicating the second wand, "Your muffled wand is composed of seven woods, five cores, and one gem. Oak, holly, cedar, ebony, apple, beech, and fir woods, all spiralled round a core of Kelpie hair, Thestral hair, white river monster spine, black phoenix feather and a basilisk heartstring. The core counter spirals against the wood, and it is all brought together by the gemstone tip. Crystallised blood, my Lord – yours to be precise. It gathers the magic channelled through the woods and cores into a single, coherent pulse. Pulse-casting is an antiquated art, as it introduces a split-second delay as the magical energies accumulate in the crystal lense. However, although the compressed pulse is not technically any more powerful, it is much more able to overcome any interference, whether that be shield charms or magic-dampening auras."

Harry nodded gratefully as he accepted the box, easily identifying the two wands. One possessed striations, seven different colours spiralling up it's length, and ended in dark crimson disk. The other was more elegant, possessing a distinct grip that ended in a shimmering black stone. Levitating the box with his new wand, before switching seamlessly to the muffled wand, Harry nodded to himself, pleased.

"I thank you for your effort, Master Almsman. You have completed my assistant's wands as well?"

"Yes, my Lord. For the muffled wands I used the same pattern as for yours. I know it works, and with the conflict of magical energies the caster's self-control is a far more important asset than precise compatibility. As for the main wands, your assistant has an ebony wand whilst your researcher has cedar, both with jetstone handles and a kelpie hair and pixie dust core. Full brother wands, I might add, which is extremely rare for dual cored wands."

He presented the cases to their new owners, bowing low as they took them. These wands were elegantly crafted, their surfaces covered with delicate carvings that, though barely visible, dappled the wands with subtle shadows. Shelly looked like he was prepared to burst with pride at the work, eager to please to an extent that disturbed Harry, so after a few pleasantries they left to return to the castle.

. . .

"My Lord," Sable informed him as they made their way up to the castle, "There is a representative from the Ministry waiting to meet you."

"Any idea who this representative may be, Sable?"

"Only that he turned up whilst we were meeting with the wand maker," Sable checked her book, "And demanded to see you."

"Demanded?"

"That is what I have here," Sable indicated her book, "There is nothing else on your schedule this morning, until your ritual meeting with the ravens."

"Then let us see what this representative wants," Harry replied, "Since the ministry has finally noticed that I am here,"

"Your little show outside Gringotts yesterday probably tipped them off," Hermione suggested, "The ministry is not, as a whole, noted for their clear sight."

"Yes, I remember how clearly they recognised the signs of Voldemort's return before we rubbed their noses in it," Harry sighed bitterly, "At least they noted that Azkaban had a Lord before I invaded the ministry building this time."

. . .

As Harry swept into his audience chamber and took his throne, he noted that the ministry's representative appeared to be Lucius Malfoy, who should have been captured as a Death Eater in the aftermath of the Department of Mysteries debacle. That he was here, ostensibly representing the ministry and sneering at everything in sight, spoke volumes for the ministry's competence – or lack thereof.

"Anything to add, Sable?" he silently inquired as she stiffened at the sight before her.

"He was our last steward," Sable replied in kind.

"OK, I think this constitutes a massive blunder on the part of the ministry, but let us hope I am proved wrong."

"How dare you keep me waiting, peasant!" Lucius greeted them, "My time is valuable, and I have better things to be doing than playing your games!"

"So much for that hope," Harry silently thought at his girls, before addressing his guest aloud, "Apparently not, else you would have made an appointment and returned to your 'better things' until we could manage with a minimum of time wasted. My duty as Lord Azkaban keeps me busy, I can not simply drop everything and run because I have an uninvited guest."

"Impudent Boy," Lucius muttered, before drawing himself up and composing his features into a formal mask, "You will return the Dark Lord's Dementor's to him at once. He has promised to spare you and this pathetic rock in exchange for your fealty."

"No,"

"Excuse me?"

"I will offer Voldemort nothing but my enmity. He is a declared enemy of Azkaban and, as such, neither he nor his servants will find succour on her shores." Lucius stared at him, dumbfounded, as Harry turned to address Sable, "Correct me if I am wrong about this, but I was under the impression that I was to be meeting with the ministry's representative?"

"That is correct, my Lord Azkaban."

"Then why do I find Voldemort's pet propagandist? Has the ministry capitulated already?"

"Not to the best of our knowledge, my Lord Azkaban,"

"Must have been a mistake in the paperwork, then," Harry let out a theatrical sigh, "Please see to it, Sable. Since you are here, Lucius, we might as well clear up some lingering matters."

"What could you possibly have to say of concern to me?"

"You are aware that you are considered a fugitive on Azkaban, are you not?" Harry pressed, "Even leaving aside your apparent devotion to her enemies, you have yet to stand trial for your behaviour on the occaision of your last visit."

Lucius spluttered indignantly at the accusation, claiming innocence attempting to hide behind his authority as Steward, but Harry pressed on regardless.

"If you are innocent then you have nothing to fear from an honest trial," Lord Azkaban informed them, "And it would truly help to have this matter resolved for good."

"Very well," Lucius snarled, "Let's get this farce over with!"

"Excellent!" Lord Azkaban smiled to himself, "Bring in the witnesses, and let us hear this case."

. . .

It proved to be an extremely short hearing. Lucius screamed invectives at all concerned, alternately denying all wrongdoing and boasting of his foul deeds. By the time he had finished admitting to everything (including several crimes nobody else had previously noticed), Lord Azkaban was glad to conclude the session.

"Lucius Malfoy," he intoned, "Azkaban finds that you are guilty on all charges, and sentences you to life in the deepest pit our prison can provide."

Silence fell over the chamber as Lucius absorbed that fact. His face grew even paler than usual before turning purple with rage. Just before he burst, however, Lord Azkaban spoke again:

"I am willing, however, to commute your sentence to community service," he gestured for Sable to present the contract they had prepared, "As a bed-slave."

"What?" Lucius seemed to loose composure in the face of the amused snickering that erupted at that comment.

"If you wish to accept my offer, sign the contract," Lord Azkaban replied, his tone bland, "Alternatively, two of my Dementors have arrived to escort you to your cell."

"Stand Down!" Lucius demanded, whirling to face the door, "I am the duly appointed steward of Azkaban, and you are beholden to Me!"

"I shall take that as a no," Lord Azkaban gestured for the Dementors to take the prisoner.

"No, Wait!" Lucius shrank back from the approaching guards, "I'll sign!"

The Dementors drifted back to the door as Lucius scribbled his name on the bottom of the contract. Turning to glare at the young Lord on the shadowed throne, He drew himself up and sneered imperiously.

"I suppose you'll be taking me to your bed now, little child."

"Oh, you mistake me," there was a warm amusement in that voice, though line with chill, that disturbed even the fallen Malfoy, "I never said that I would claim you as my slave."

An emaciated figure drifted into the room, shrouded in a pale white cloak. Soft silver hair flowed from her scalp in a beautiful wave, and her face, though marred with distress, had relaxed into a smile of utmost peace. She approached the throne a knelt before her Lord, her voice echoing clearly in the chamber.

"All hail the Lord Caer Azkaban! Long may he rule!"

"Rise, Morrigan," Harry commanded with a smile, "How are you fairing of late?"

"Well, my Lord." she replied, "There have been no complications from the ritual. I feel that I have been reborn anew, though the sensations are confusing at times."

"I am sure you will grow accustomed." Harry reassured her, handing over the contract, "But I felt that your new status deserved a gift of sorts. Lucius, meet her Royal Highness Morrigan, Queen of my Dementors. Your new Master."

"Lucius Malfoy?" Morrigan hissed as she turned to face the man who was shrieking denials at them all, "The treacherous Steward who persuaded so many of my subjects to ally themselves with our enemies?"

"The very same," the Lord of Azkaban nodded invisibly, "So it seems fitting that I place his fate in your lovely new hands. Make sure to treat him… properly."

"It will be my pleasure, my Lord Caer Azkaban." Morrigan bowed deeply to her Lord before dragging the protesting Lucius out of the room.

"Harry," Hermione whispered in the back of his mind, "How long have you been thinking of that?"

"Just today, actually." Harry replied, "I've been considering options since I first heard of the matter, but it all just fell into place at the right time."

"My Lord," Sable spoke aloud in the silent room, "What should we tell the Ministry?"

"Has there been any contact with the Ministry other than Malfoy's arrival?"

"No my Lord," Sable checked her book to confirm, "As you said, had the Ministry notified us in advance we could have been properly prepared to receive him."

"Then tell them nothing," Harry decided, "As far as we are concerned, this was Voldemort's envoy attempting to contact us under false pretences. Please do inform his widow that he will not be returning, however."

"As you wish, my Lord."

. . .

The rest of the day passed in relative peace. Harry made it on time to his meeting with the Unkindness of Azkaban, played desperate catch up in his afternoon lessons, and did not get a chance to relax until dinner. By this time both Sable and Hermione had grown accustomed to the fact that he expected them to share his meals, so took their seats without complaints. Sable reported on the preliminary results of the Goblin's audit – they had confirmed that there were some wrongdoings associated with his account, but suggested that their depth exceeded any they were accustomed to. The Goblin's King had also passed on his personal apology that the mess would take far longer to sort out, and a promise to consult with him on any actions taken.

"I wonder if we can get an Azkaban branch, or create our own?" Harry mused, "I suppose we should look into that later."

"As you wish, My Lord." Sable delicately replied as Kreacher popped in beside the table.

"What is the matter, Kreacher?" Harry inquired, "Has there been trouble at the house?"

"No trouble, Good Young Master, Kreacher brings letter to the Lord Black." He placed it on the table, "No curses or poisons get past me, Good Young Master, it is safe to open."

Nodding his assent, Harry did so and quickly scanned the contents.

"Trouble, Master?"

"Perhaps," Harry nodded at his slave, "Narcissa wishes to be freed of the Malfoy name and come under the protection of Lord Black. We can not bring her here, though..."

"What about Grimmaud Place, Master?" Hermione inquired, "It would be familiar to her, as a Black family seat."

"Kreacher would be happy to look after mistress Black again," Kreacher confirmed.

"Alright, but I still do not entirely trust her." Harry Sighed, "Kreacher, you are not to share any of my secrets with her, and that includes the Black Family Secrets. Furthermore, before I provide you with an invitation to take to Narcissa, you will remove any Black Family artefacts from the house. Store them in the Gringott's Vault."

"Of course, Good Wise Master, Kreacher will do so at once." So saying, he popped out.

"So now you offer to shelter your enemies, My Lord?"

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." Harry quietly quoted to himself before addressing Sable's concern, "I am not altogether sure that she is an enemy, not yet. This way I can deny her to my actual enemies and monitor her behaviour. She will be in a controlled environment, safe from our mutual enemies but unable to act against me. If she tries anything, we will know and judge her accordingly."

"You are certainly proving to be a good Lord Azkaban, Harry." Sable nodded in approval.

. . .