Chapter 2
A Rude Awakening
Like I had always done for the past three years, I sat at the Ravenclaw table to have my breakfast. Although I faced my share of disdain from the family for being sorted into a house other than Slytherin, it was Sirius who had that horrid, bloodcurdling banshee for a mother. She was quick to blast members off the family tree tapestry for the slightest misdeed, and I knew that the only thing stopping her from disowning my cousin and I were the fact that we were still legally children. Even my cold, condescending father didn't have the gall to tell off such a dreadful creature.
A heated wand tip suddenly dug into my back, causing me to arch up in pain and surprise. I turned around in my seat to catch a glimpse of swishing black robes and hair, and a pair of heavily lidded dark eyes. Her crimson lips curled up in a menacing smile and with another sway of her robes, she continued her route down the path between tables.
Bellatrix was in her last year at Hogwarts, and seemed to be hell bent on making up for the additional three years that she wouldn't be able to torment me for. Not that she was planning to exempt Sirius, of course. I could see her turning towards the Gryffindor table, ready to exchange verbal venom. She would be able to keep her cool in the direct view of teachers, but I didn't know how well my cousin would fare against her sly goading.
I pushed the unpleasant thoughts of my sister out of my head as the owls flew into the Great Hall for their regular delivery, with thicker-than-usual editions of the Daily Prophet gripped in their talons. My copy dropped down next to my bowl of porridge and I snatched it up immediately, barely paying attention to the number of coins I stuffed into the owl's leg pouch. Even the ones that didn't bother to subscribe peered over their neighbour's shoulders, the bulk of the bundle of paper and the large bold lettering on the front page catching their attention.
PUREBLOOD EXTREMISTS SPEAK OUT AT MINORITY CONVENTION – MINISTRY OF MAGIC SHOCKED
20 September – "It is a sad, sad, day for all of those who believe that a wizard's worth is measured by their integrity and expertise, not by the amount of "real" magic lineage in their blood," Millicent Bagnold, Minister for Magic proclaimed after the aftermath of yesterday's shocking turn of events.
The Minority Convention, reserved for qualified non-members of the Ministry that wish to contribute to the welfare of the wizarding community was interrupted by a small group of uninvited wizards somehow breaking the anti-Apparating Charm around the building and storming the stage before a terrified Wendy Pettry. They proceeded to seal off the area from arriving Aurors as the leader of the group cast an Amplifying Charm, and gave this unsettling speech.
"For too long, our venerable traditions have been marred by those disrespectful and foolish enough to breed with Muggles, a race that could never fully grasp the brilliant concept of witchcraft and wizardry. Muggle-born offspring are integrating with those who that have pure wizarding blood running back into the centuries, destroying the barriers that separate our great world and theirs. I ask you, how is this justifiable? Have none of you remembered Potions, one of the finest arts that contribute to the working order of our society? Muggles and genuine wizards are not meant to mix, as would serpent blood and unicorn tears. The results would be disastrous, and it is with great contempt and disgust that I say only the honored Salazar Slytherin was able to understand this.
For those who are not ashamed of pronouncing their devotion for the sacred upholding of the wizarding world, I urge you to step forward and aid in the cause for Pureblood supremacy. It is the only way to preserve our diminishing culture or else, only Muggle-borns with shameful fractions of true magic in their blood will take what was rightfully meant to be ours in the end. Need not worry in the method to contact us. We will find you, the authentic wizards and witches that have ancient honor and worthiness.
I am simply called Voldemort, and it is a name which I will make sure lingers in the minds of the confused and ignorant masses out there. This will not be my first proclamation to you, and nothing will stop my loyal followers or I from carrying out my messages. With that, I take my leave."
Leaving the convention in an upheaval, "Voldemort" and the rest of the group Apparated in an instant. Madam Bagnold called for order after being brought a strong cup of Merkseed tea, and soon dismissed the convention for its participants to recover from the distress. Aurors are asking for assistance on the captures of these radicals, and for the wizarding community to remain calm.
Terence Goodman – The Daily Prophet
PAGE 2 – PICTURES OF THE EXTREMISTS AT THE MOMENT OF ARRIVAL
PAGE 3 – EDNA'S EDITORIALS – WHY IT HAPPENED
PAGE 4-7 – OUTRAGED WITNESSES SPEAK OUT
I stopped reading and turned the page; the sound of crunching paper intensified by hundreds of the documents being handled at the same time. Although some students were stunned into utter silence, others were quick to voice their concerns and disgust to their neighbours. The majority of the Slytherin table however, began to talk amongst themselves in less-than worried tones. Bellatrix for one, now back at her house table did not hide the wicked smile upon her face.
The moving pictures of the Pureblood supporters recaptured my attention on the next page. One image showed Wendy Pettry, a squat, brown-haired witch standing on a stool behind a podium, wildly gesturing with her arms. The next image was of the witch sprawled on her back on the floor, the stool knocked over on its side next to her. Her mouth was frozen in a terrified scream as a tall, stern-faced man now took her place at the podium, dressed in pitch-black robes and sporting smooth, flat hair of the same colour. Seven hooded individuals were spread out across the length of the stage, their fluid wand movements casting spells to seal off Aurors captured perfectly on the enchanted picture. Something about the man was definitely ominous, like a snake readying itself before it struck and devoured its prey. I peered closer, until the paper was rudely snatched out of my hands.
"Hey-" I began to protest, but my words were abruptly cut off short by hundreds of copies of the Daily Prophet shooting up towards the teachers' High Table. Every pair of eyes followed the flying trail of newspapers, some hands still outstretched as if they were still reading.
"Enough of this, all of you! Get to class!" Professor Marks, the Arithmancy teacher shouted; wand held high in the air. She was frighteningly and unusually livid, her face splotched with red and her eyes narrowed down to glistening slits. With one more furious swipe of her wand, the papers zoomed out of the Great Hall like a flock of owls to a destination unknown.
The small throng of teachers at the High Table goggled at her blankly, and we students did the same from down below. A moment of silence passed, before Professor McGonagall was the first to come to her senses and gently lead the poor woman out. That seemed to be the cue for the rest of us to depart and soon, we were heading towards our designated classes amid loud chattering.
"Did you see-"
"Unbelievable-"
"All my years at Hogwarts, I've never seen such-"
"I say he's just another crackpot radical-"
I caught a glance of the seventh-year Slytherins heading towards the stairs, and was immediately infuriated to see some of them having the audacity to laugh and imitate the angry outburst at the High Table. Bellatrix was one of the ones laughing the hardest.
How dare they?
Professor Marks was the only complete Muggle-born teacher in the entire school, yet had been clever enough to teach such a complex subject such as Arithmancy. Normally, I wouldn't have so much as raised an eyebrow at the predictable idiocy of the Slytherins. But after reading about that lunatic Voldemort, the bitter revulsion I had for my sister and her pack of sordid gits just grew to a whole new level. Something about Voldemort and Professor Marks's reaction to his perverse ideals simply twisted up my insides, and that unidentifiable hate seeped towards Bellatrix like oozing poison. I barely felt the nipping chill as I entered the dungeon for Potions.
My anger was still boiling like the Pliability Potion in my cauldron when Professor Frielworth tapped me on the shoulder.
"Be a dear and get me some Drainwood leaves from the greenhouse, will you Miss Black? You're closest to the door, and I simply can't leave a room full of Pliability Potions unattended without the risk of some buffoon turning their limbs into rubber."
I managed a small smile at her biting remark, and clambered up the dungeon steps. I made my way towards the greenhouse to see Professor Sprout teaching a class of Hufflepuffs in my year, and to my distaste, Slytherins as well.
"Now, Pembler Pouchplants have very fragile skin despite their thick surface hair and incredible pressure building inside of them, so use extreme caution when you trim them."
The two classes began carefully trimming the hairs on the round, pinkish bulb plants the twice the size of watermelons, as Sprout checked her office for Frielworth's request. I waited by the working fourth-years.
"Malfoy, keep talking and I'll tear you a new hole to talk out of," a boy snarled quietly from behind me, forebodingly snapping his sharp clippers.
I turned around slowly, taking note of the vicious banter. Ted Tonks and Lucius Malfoy sat side by side, muttering viciously to each other as their eyes never left their Pouchplants. Ted Tonks was a friendly Hufflepuff that I knew from Charms, while I viewed Malfoy as another slimy Pureblood fanatic from Slytherin. His blond hair gave a slick sheen as sunlight came down from the skylight above.
"What's wrong, Tonks? Are you scared by the idea of that Voldemort might actually go through with his plans somehow?" he derided softly, a rhythmic clipping accentuating his words.
"No, I'm just aggravated with the idea that freaks like you are wetting your pants over some crazy git who'll never be tolerated in the wizarding world. God, you're all delusional, so just shut up," Ted retorted, snipping at his Pouchplant in unbridled brutality. I opened my mouth to calm him, but Malfoy quickly interrupted.
"Admit it Tonks, you're just afraid. I just hope that Voldemort fellow actually gets his plan together and get rid of filth like you, like Marks…like the rest of the tarnished little Mudbloods that drag their appalling shit selves through this once honorable school."
The Pouchplant exploded.
The deafening popping noise was nothing compared to the resulting spatter of hard, apple-sized seeds and thick yellow goo bursting everywhere. The sickening stench and texture of the plant sap washed over me like a tidal wave, the giant seeds pelting fiercely against me like rocks. The last thing I remembered was choking and helplessly flailing my arms, and then slamming the back of my head on the floor.
A soft murmur of voices floated around me as the rest of my senses slowly came alive, transporting me back from my brief trip to unconsciousness. Even without opening my eyes, I could tell that I was in the hospital wing judging by the soft linen sheets draped across my gown-adorned body and lining the mattress below me. Despite my warm, comfortable surroundings, the pain in the back of my head instantly throbbed back to life. I stifled a groan, and slowly breathed out.
"I think he's brilliant," a brash female voice called out from what seemed to be a few feet away; each of her words haughtily enunciated.
I squeezed my eyes shut even harder. Oh God, what on earth was Bellatrix doing here?
"Just because this is the first Pureblood movement in a few decades doesn't mean it'll be successful," a second, softer voice added.
Narcissa. As if being rendered immobile by a giant exploding plant wasn't insulting enough.
"My dear sister, you worry too much. I have faith in this man to bring order among the wizards…there's something about him that sets him apart from the revolutionaries of the past."
At least Bellatrix and I agreed on something. Well, the second part of her sentence anyway. Order wasn't exactly a word I'd use to describe mixed-blood and Muggle-born eradication.
"And you forget, Narcissa…it was a Mudblood that inflicted such a severe injury on our dear Andromeda," my sister murmured quietly, but I could hear the sarcastic and patronizing undertones as she pronounced my name. My fist tightened under the covers as her footsteps made their way over to my bedside.
"She's always been a frail little creature…both physically and mentally," she scoffed, softly grasping a lock of my wavy brown hair.
I froze instantly. I never liked her touching me, for I knew her well enough to know that nothing she did was ever out of genuine affection. There was nothing I wanted more at the moment than to slap her hand away, but my supposed comatose state was proving to be advantageous. She was letting on more than she would ever tell me personally.
"Pathetic thing. She and that despicable Sirius may be the only Purebloods in our noble family to incur Voldemort's wrath. Naïve and stupid as she may be, I can see it in her pretty brown eyes that she has no qualms with the Mudbloods and supporting her beloved Ravenclaws. Of course, there's still some sense left in her to not go around broadcasting it like Sirius. Explains her quietness around us, doesn't it?"
Her continued rubbing of my thin wisp of hair began to send prickles of chills into my skin. There was something sinister about her seemingly gentle touch.
"Nonetheless, Andromeda is weak. A very drastic change of heart will be required of her if she wishes for her name to remain intact on the family tapestry."
"What do you think Voldemort will do to get rid of those with Muggle lineage?" Narcissa inquired, her voice flowing softly like wisps of smoke.
"Forced isolation, maybe? I'll be happy with whatever he does to keep those nauseating mixed-blood rubbish away from the real wizards and witches."
The door crashed open, followed by an angry but familiar deep voice. "What's going on here?"
A dead silence washed over the room and I could feel the intensity of Sirius's gaze upon its occupants.
"Let go of her. Now," he demanded suddenly, as if his words were actually going to make an impact on my obstinate sister.
"Sirius, I'm insulted!" Bellatrix gasped in mock surprise, now twirling my hair around her finger. "How could you possibly think that I would inflict harm on my own sister?"
"Since when was I foolish enough to trust you? Andromeda didn't exactly have a normal childhood with you trying to curse her into oblivion for whatever trivial things she did you found fault in." He paused to give a bitter laugh. "Then again, since when did any of us have a normal childhood growing up with deranged Pureblood fanatics? Speaking of which, how is your mother?"
Bellatrix released my lock of hair, of which I was thankful for. I was worried that she would've ripped it out of my scalp in rage.
"You have insulted our family for the last time!" she screamed piercingly, and I was sure she had whipped out her wand.
The door slammed open again, followed by Madam Pomfrey's equally shrill voice.
"This is a hospital wing! Now, out! The nerve of you children, disrupting my patients-"
"Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey," Bellatrix interrupted in a sickeningly syrupy voice, heavily contrasting with the ominous tone she had just used on Sirius. "I believe Narcissa and I have a right to be here, seeing how we are Andromeda's direct relatives."
"Sirius, however," she continued in a sterner tone, "is a mere cousin of ours and I believe does not count as a family visitor-"
"I'll be more of a family to her than you two ever will be!" Sirius snapped, innate resentment ringing through his voice.
To say the least, I was touched. Madam Pomfrey, however, was far from it.
"I don't give a troll's behind whether you're family or not! Get out, and I mean all of you! Out!"
I could hear my sisters and cousin leaving reluctantly while Madam Pomfrey looked me over and fussed to herself about impertinent students. Soon, she left my bedside and I was left to wonder about today's events.
What exactly was it that made Voldemort seem so threatening? What was it that seemed to draw the Purebloods toward him in praise and confidence of his future plans? Seeing Bellatrix this happy over something made my insides twist in apprehension, as if her self-assured attitude towards this man could actually turn the tables in the Purebloods' favour. Would he seize the wizarding world in fear and paranoia again, as the infamous Grindelwald did in 1945? Dumbledore had disposed of him with relative ease where mere Aurors could not. Could the Headmaster of Hogwarts do the same again?
Exactly who was this Voldemort?
Author's note: I'm sorry for chapter 1 being so short, and I hope this one makes up for it. Thank you, valis2 and theQuibbleringQuibblerer for reviewing. For the rest of you out there, please read and review!