A.N.: I didn't get a ton of reviews for Part 1, but I did get some, plus an informal review from my brother, so I decided I'd continued. So without further ado, other than the reminder that All's Well that End's Well and a disclaimer, I'll go on to the story.
Disclaimer: What do you think? That I'm J.K. Rowling? Have fun thinking that...and while your at it, wake up and smell the coffee and realize that I'm not!
A newscaster's voice broadcasts over the British Wired Wizarding Network. "Hello, and Jim McNacker here to inform you of a late-breaking piece of news in the recent uprising of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. As many know, France belongs to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named again, as it had when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was also in power about thirteen years ago.
"England, under the supervision of Cornelius Fudge, who recently made the announcement that, in ways beyond his control, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rose again and is in power. He has created more terror-filled events then ever, and therefore the Ministry of Magic as a whole has declared war on France."
It brought to mind one of Parvati's lurking questions, one of these questions which had taken the place of, "What's the truth about Mom," when she'd found out the answer to that one.
"Daddy," she asked her father, "what's with this whole France-Voldemort thing?"
"It's a long, harsh story, my dear," he said. "But it's time you hear it, I suppose. Just remember to keep your ideals and your beliefs in spite of it all."
"I will, Daddy," Parvati promised. "I will." Padma would have sneered if she could have heard that. Keep ideals and beliefs, her foot. Better not to have ideals or sweet beliefs in the first place, but if you did, by all means destroy them as soon as possible. And whatever you do, do not go out of your way to keep them.
"Glad to hear it, sweety," he said. "Anyway, when Voldemort was very young, just out of school and still going by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle, he traveled to France because the ministry in England was after him over a few petty crimes -- nothing like the ones he does today, but he was scared of apprehension at the time. He's lost that a long while back, but that's another story for another day.
"In his travels in France he met the French wizard Pierre DuPoint. Pierre DuPoint was, if you will, a dark-wizard-wannabe, or at least he used to be. However, when he met Voldemort -- or Tom Riddle, as he was then --, his wannabe attitude vanished and he became a loyal follower of Voldemort -- the first Voldemort had ever had.
"And so it was that they decided that Tom Riddle needed a new name. He couldn't just go around being Tom Marvolo Riddle, former Head Boy and the guy that stole a lot of stuff from Knockturn Alley. So Pierre took it upon himself to come up with an appropriate pseudonym for Tom.
Eventually he extracted the letters which formed the word Voldemort from this and, thinking it quite appropriate due to its meaning Flight of Death in his native language, brought it to Tom. Tom was please but noticed that there were a few extra letters and thus formed English words with them, finishing the phrase to be I Am Lord Voldemort.
As I said, Pierre DuPoint wanted power. He was an aspiring Dark Wizard, but upon giving up on this, he became the Minister of Magic and made his hidden goal to use this newfound power to further Voldemort's cause. He propagandized the nation, slowly at first, just like your mother." As Padma opened her mouth, he waved her silent. "They didn't realize what was happening until they were too deep into the very mess which they had gotten themselves into by buying into DuPoint's propaganda.
"And thus when DuPoint stepped down, he gave the power to Voldemort, not even with the traditional rigged election." He finished the speech.
Parvati thought to herself that that was probably the most loquacious and eloquent speech her father had given -- not that that was saying much. "But Daddy," she said, voicing a query that was bothering her, "Then why haven't we found out about this in History of Magic?"
"I wondered about that," answered her father, "And finally found that they do not teach it until sixth year." He scowled. "Something about you being too young. I personally think it's a load of nonsense, but school administration will be school administration, and who am I to protest? When in Rome do as the Romans."
"Whatever you say Daddy," sighed Parvati. Padma, from outside the house, heard it and suppressed a giggle. Stupid little innocent suck-up.
Padma returned home with the Portkey her mother had made sure she'd provided. Padma, personally, didn't see why she couldn't just illegally apparate, but her mother said that, though she had nothing against the illegal part, she wouldn't want her daughter splinching and drawing attention to the two's...illegality.
Padma greeted her mother, "Well, Mother," she began.
"Yes, Padma? Tell me, what did you gather?"
"Not too much; most which I heard was only Father's silly propaganda about how awful the Dark Lord and his possession of France is. But I did catch that Parvati knows about you, Mother," Padma answered dutifully. She, unlike Parvati, didn't answer her mother and be nice just because she was stupid or a suck-up. It was just that she didn't want to defy her duty, especially after consideration of the consequences which would follow if she did.
"He's told her?" Parvati's mother scowled. "Telling her more every day. Should have known that he would do that now that my Master has risen. Stupid man. He should have known that We would find out and the results would be...in a word, unpleasant. But then, he's stupid and idealistic, just like his daughter, no? In spite of all his supposed wisdom, knowledge, he is still so stupid, so innocent."
"Yes, Mother." Always agree with Mother. That was important.
"Yes, we'll see about this. We certainly will."
Cold wind whipped their faces, but it was nothing to the group. Thirty men, one woman, one child, and one master were assembled there, and they had far more on their minds than complaints over the cold wind.
"We assemble here tonight to develop an important plan...nay, not just important, a necessary, a vital part of our master plan.
"A man in this very nation, England, which we assemble in, is a danger to us. A man living so close, in this very village by which we assemble. He is telling too much. Luckily, we have apprehended this early, thanks to a special member of our assembly today."
The Death Eaters all looked at Parvati, some saying congratulatory phrases, others just staring at her, apparently in thought. "Ah yes, we all congratulate, yet what if I were to tell you that one of you was the responsible for the betrayal? That one of our number was defying the Master Plan, and was the one who had to be dealt with? What then?"
All thirty-two -- the thirty men, the two others -- looked around at one another suspiciously, wands drawn, wondering if it could be their neighbor. Could it be the very comrade who they had been drinking with in the nearby pub just a few minutes ago? The friend whom they had owled just an hour ago? Could they be the friend of the traitor and thus be accused of "consorting with the enemy."
Finally a voice spoke up. It was Wormtail's. "Who then is the traitor, Master?"
"Shut your mouth, Wormtail!" Voldemort shouted, turning around, expression still set in the angry, hateful expression he always wore. "None. None are the traitor."
"Then why...why did you say that, Master," asked Wormtail, muscles in his cheek twitching.
"Just for amusement," Voldemort said cruelly. "Seeds of suspicion grow to be fruits of hatred -- and fruits of hatred is what we must live off of as death eaters. Never forget this."
Half the Death-Eaters didn't appear to quite grasp what Voldemort meant, but they nodded anyway. Always agree with Master. That was important.
"Nay, but he is still a danger to you! You mustn't forget that. And we must deal with him. That is the special duty I am giving to Nott and Avery -- and to Melinda Patil to help out with."
Melinda seemed -- and was -- glad. She, as a woman, didn't generally get a lot of assignments, but when she did she thrived on them. Hating people and cruelty were her specialties. "What is my job, Master? Anything to serve you."
"Good. I am glad for your obedience. Your job is this: the traitor is your husband. And you, with whatever tools you have, must find him."
Thoughts raced through her head. Padma. That was what she would use. Padma would do. She could get to the house -- she'd done it before -- through a simple charm that allowed twins to find one another. It was ancient magic, supposedly. That would do. Then she could tell her what the location was.
"I will, Master," she said. "I will be sure to do my best."
"Do your best?" Voldemort sneered. "How...touching. I do love to see my Death Eaters trying their best. Unfortunately, in this situation, trying your best is NOT ENOUGH! You must do it, not try to! And perhaps a little...punishment will show you that. Crucio!"
Melinda writhed in pain as the curse hit her. These were the moments when she hated her master with all her blood, with all her heart, with every bit of flesh and bone she possessed. She normally had no problem with him -- especially his ideals, which she fully believed -- but even she broke down a little when she was being tortured.
Padma looked at her mother in astonishment. THIS was what happened at the meetings? Cruciatus curse? She'd thought that Voldemort was only cruel to evil people like her mudblood father and her stupid sister and the other people her deserved it. Yet here it was happening to a good person, someone she didn't think was bad -- her MOTHER!
She'd have to talk about this with Mother later. Surely Mother would have a good explanation. And even if the explanation wasn't good, she would believe it, because you always believe what Mother says. Still, a nagging doubt gnawed away in a forgotten and forsaken corner of Padma's mind.
Padma thanked the Lord when the curse was over. She hated seeing Mother suffer, even if Mother wasn't her favorite person in the world. Voldemort resumed speaking. "I trust that now you will do your duty, and not merely TRY to, right Melinda?"
"Right," said Melinda, carefully not letting her voice be any weaker than it had before the curse, even though it was hard. Don't let Voldemort show that he's gotten to you, even though he already knows. That was something you learned almost immediately when you became a Death Eater.
"Good," Voldemort said. "Then we can proceed. Nott and Avery will go to the location which Patil will, of course, have found. Nott will assure that all is safe and that it will work out. Then Avery, because of his extensive use and his great...expertise when it comes to the Unforgivables, will say the curse: a simple Avada Kedavra."
"We will do this, my Lord," said Nott and Avery in unison.
"Good," said Voldemort. "Do this -- or else you know what the consequences will be. And I don't expect you'd enjoy them, would you."
The meeting was dismissed, but the Death Eaters remained a bit longer as they prepared to Disapparate. It gave Padma some time to think. The Master was supposed to be perfect and wonderful. So why did he just practically torture her mother to death? And why did everyone act like it was just an every-day occurence for someone to get tortured half-to-death? Surely it wasn't...was it?
Not realizing that these were ideals that she was holding, the very things she so utterly despised, Padma made sure to keep them in mind...not to ask her mother, for you never ask unsolicited questions to Mother, but to think about another time.
And as they returned home, so did a solitary figure on a nearby hill.
A.N.2.: In case you couldn't tell, the dude on the hill was Parvati and Padma's father. He saw everything that happened. If you want more (and even if you don't), please