A/N: Thank you for following this story, adding it to your favorites list and dropping a review.
Here we go!
In the far north of England, in a world-renowned park, three hooded individuals disembarked swiftly from their boat and crossed the grassy plain before they began their hike towards the Great Gable. To the muggles, this was the beautifully scenic Wasdale - a part of the Lake District National Park, and where they did their stargazing and admiration for the dark sky – but Wasdale was far more than that.
Amongst the mountains was a secret passageway to enter a magical compound that was owned by one of the longest living magical families in the United Kingdom, the Yaxleys since they were knighted by the Royal Family. It was not a secret to any wizard or witch that upon reaching the peak of Great Gable, behind the great boulder that faced Great End's peak was one of the entrances that led to Yaxley's compound and where ancient riches were promised to the most courageous.
Once upon a time, Yaxleys were aristocrats who were well-known to be a highly conservative and secretive family of misanthropes that kept their bloodline to themselves. They were believed to have allowed cousin-marriage if only to keep their blood pure and undefiled by outside influences. However, the tradition gradually changed when there was a lot less new blood and the family became an aging family and everything changed when Lord Salvador Yaxley was born.
He was, by far, the strangest and most rebellious wizard and took the meaning of heretic to a new level. Yaxley family laws and traditions were abolished when he took the mantle as patriarch from his grandfather. He allowed his older cousin, Madam Lysandra Black (née Yaxley) to marry Arturus Black II and allowed anyone to enter the compound. He opened the gates of the family lands and welcomed everyone to visit him… but leaving the lands alive and unharmed was a tale very few had the fortune of regaling. Even those who came with official visitation notice from the Ministry suffered greatly if they managed to leave. As such, rumours and horror stories about the Yaxleys' compound were made up and exaggerated until it became too difficult to tell the truth from the lies, and it became even more believable when Lord Salvador Yaxley simply nodded and smiled cheerfully and even welcomed them to visit his home.
After the heretic Lord Salvador Yaxley, was the ice princess, Lady Alexandria Yaxley. She was known to be aloof and proud, and her beauty was only to be silently appreciated from afar. When news broke out that the fair-haired maiden, the only heiress of the Yaxley family, had married an unknown wizard from Greece, the shock rocked through society. Everyone wanted to know who or what had dared to brave the protective wrath of Lord Salvador Yaxley and melt the frozen heart of Yaxley's ice princess.
If her marriage had been shocking, her death and the madness of Salvador Yaxley were unprecedented. The Yaxley Heretic had previously killed pure-bloods for simply entering his domain but rumours had it that his daughter's death was his complete undoing. Lord Salvador Yaxley entered a mad bloodlust frenzy and went on a rampage. He killed everyone – family, friend, stranger and enemy – and spared not a single soul. Everything that looked human and moved was shown absolutely no mercy. Morality that used to restrain him no longer applied, as he invaded and blitzed through families without remorse. His rage and madness knew no limit and could not define ethics and integrity as he massacred even his own family, the Yaxleys, and his sister's family.
This was an especially bad time for the wizardry community in England – they had to contend with the frenzied killing machine and the rising of the Dark Lord. It was a matter of choosing between Scylla and Charybdis; and the Ministry had chosen for the people to put an end to the rampaging carnage. There were some people who had their own controversial theories for the Ministry's choice and a popular theory was: the son of Lady Alexandria Yaxley was conveniently missing at that time, which meant that exterminating the Mad Heretic would not spell extinction for one of the ancient families.
It was many years after the dark episode of Salvador Yaxley's madness when the last Yaxley returned home and breathed life into the ancient ground. Corban Yaxley had not changed the laws that his grandfather had placed down, nor had he bothered to change the illusion cast over the ground to hide it from the prying and curious muggle eyes. He had only written a lot of long series of runes on the borders of his compound. Where his grandfather was ruthless to visitors, Corban Yaxley was simply uncaring because he was confident in his abilities. To Corban Yaxley, there was no need for him to raise a finger if intruders could not even see past his phantom labyrinth or overcome his rune work to reach his home. In the off-chance that they managed to, it was because he allowed them to – a fact everyone had come to accept without argument. Sometimes, intruders were a good choice to release pent-up energy; other times, it would be because the weather had turned nasty and so had his mood.
Potsie bounced on her feet absently as she stared worryingly at the dark sky. The clouds had begun swirling fiercely since a quarter of an hour ago, as blinding flashes of lightning tore the night asunder. The thunder roared every now and then, as the wind howled ferociously as they whipped around her. She chewed on her lips while her webbed fingers played with the hem of her apron as she continued to shift her attention like a pendulum from the vicious weather to the dark forest beyond the field. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that her master – if he should return – would be in a very terribly foul mood, and she could only hope his guests would postpone their visit if they truly needed to visit. This was a very, very terrible night to visit the Hall and; if she were honest, she truly feared for anyone who would be foolish enough to test her master's patience on nights like these. These were the nights when he was at his least forgiving.
"Potsie, who allowed you to stand outside?"
Potsie jolted and then, her body immediately stiffened. She knew the cold whisper and she dared not breathe. Very slowly, she turned around to peer up at the towering man. A breathless gasp past her lips as a pair of murderous eyes glared at her with undisguised hostility. His sclerae had turned reddened terribly, and Potsie stole a quick glance at his black fingernails. They had grown a little too long, and his fingers until his knuckles were turning black with contrasting red lines. She was right. Her master was riding the vicious currents of his fury.
"Po-Potsie...," she stuttered in short breaths as she trembled and tried to stop herself from running into the house. Her eyes watered as she dared not to blink in case it angered him even more. "Potsie…" she whimpered as she tried again to answer him.
"Get inside and wait for your punishment," he ordered coldly.
"Master…" Potsie protested weakly, "Potsie…be-"
Immediately, she felt a very firm – and almost too painful- grip on her nape and she was easily hauled off the ground until she was at eye-level with her master. If his eyes had looked scary just moments ago, they looked absolutely terrifying now. Fury was written all over his face, especially in his eyes, as he glowered at her. "Let this be the last time I repeat myself," he warned softly and breathed each word agonizingly slow, "get inside and wait for me to pun-"
"Is there a need to take out your anger on her?"
Potsie slackened her mouth just a little before she clamped it shut without even a peep. Her large eyes widened as she stared in shock at the black-haired, and fair-skinned wizard who stood just a little behind her master. His entire posture looked too calmed, but one needed to only feel the tension in the air to know he was dangerous and deadly serious. After all, this wizard was another one of the Dark Lord's most trusted and devout followers.
Potsie shifted her eyes just barely to turn her attention from the black-haired wizard to her master, and almost immediately, she regretted her choice. She knew the look on his face and her insides quaked with fear. If she could stop her blood from moving, she would. She was truly overwhelmed by her master that she was deathly terrified of making any movement – whether necessary or otherwise, large or miniscule. She truly felt as if she was the prey at the absolute mercy of the predator.
"How is any of this your concern?" her master asked silkily as he barely turned his head away from her just enough to look at the wizard from the corner of his eye, "Have I missed the memo that you are her white knight?"
"Me? Savior of elves?" the guest echoed incredulously as he shook his head at the ridiculous notion. He moved a little closer, leaned forward and tilted his head a little. "Is there any benefit to being her knight? She is beneath my rank and bir-"
"Do not test my bottom line tonight," her master spoke softly but Potsie was not oblivious to the growing danger and thickening tension in the air. It was truly difficult to breathe and the hairs on her body were standing on ends. "She is the staff of the House of Yaxley, and on the lands of Yaxleys, her rank is second only to mine. Know your place, Igor Karkaroff."
"Indeed, on these vast lands, my rank and birth do not matter...just as they matter little to nothing in a duel," Karkaroff's dry lips stretched and curled into a cruel sneer. His blue eyes gleamed with malice as he glared fiercely into frosty violet eyes.
Her master glanced at the wizard lazily. "Is that a challenge?" her master asked gently as he subtly loosened his hold on her nape and shifted his hand onto the scruff of her dress.
Karkaroff glared at her master a little longer before his eyes glanced down and then back at her master's seemingly relaxed face. "Aye, I cannot hope to win against the Jester in a fair duel, especially not when he is riding out his madness," Karkaroff released a long sigh as he slunk back to widen the distance between the dark wizards and raised his arms in surrender. "Although…" Karkaroff continued slyly and his eyes narrowed cruelly, "things would be very different in an ambush, no?"
Potsie saw the muscle in her master's jaw twitch before he slowly lowered her to the ground. Crouching down, he pushed her head towards him as he whispered, "Get inside now, Potsie. Retire for the night." Potsie nodded and quickly scampered past the ancient doors and disappeared into the Hall's welcoming darkness.
"How nice of you to allow your slave some rest," Karkaroff snorted as he stroked his goatee thoughtfully as he watched Yaxley's elf scrambling away. "You're as gentle as a woman."
If Yaxley heard Karkaroff, he made no indication. Instead, Yaxley slowly rose to his full height and tilted his head to stare icily at the storm clouds. When the rain droplets began pelting his face, Yaxley rubbed his face and tucked his head to his chest. For almost a minute, the two dark wizards stood silently in the rain before Yaxley shook his head and breezed past Karkaroff. "My doors are open if you wish for shelter from the weather," he invited nonchalantly and ignored the scowl from his colleague. "It will be a torrent soon."
Karkaroff allowed his blue eyes to watch the unpredictable, and terribly temperamental wizard move. It was a good six feet between them before Karkaroff slowly followed his colleague into the dark hall. Yaxley's Hall was one of the few places where it was unwise to enter without practising caution, even when invited. There was something untoward about the Hall and the Lord of the Hall was even more troublesome. Despite these dangers, it had never stopped foolishly brave thieves from trying to steal a token or souvenir, or the young and ignorant wizards and witches to trespass the unholy grounds to prove their might.
There was truly nothing good about Yaxley's lands. The Hall was strange, the land itself was lifeless and devastated, the cemetary was uncared for and scattered… and the weather was unforgiving. On Yaxley's grounds, when it rains, it literally pours. There was hardly ever a light drizzle; and Karkaroff had long suspected that the master of the Hall had something to do with it. Corban Yaxley was as terribly tricky as the rumors claimed.
"Have a seat, Karkaroff. There is no need to stand on ceremony for me."
Karkaroff jolted at the sound of the light, Scottish-accented drawl. He clicked his tongue as he stared warily at the back of the blond-haired man. He had barely reached the threshold of the drawing room when he had been invited to a seat. Very cautiously, he made his way into the lit room. His steps light and careful, and his eyes darted everywhere as he moved. With the temperamental viper, he had no doubt that every inch of the hall was laced with traps just waiting to spring. After all, this was the home of one of the trickiest wizards. When he finally made it to stand at a respectable distance from the seated wizard, he allowed his eyes a final sweep of the room.
"There is no need to behave like a wet rat, Karkaroff," Yaxley's bored voice floated lightly and amusedly, and Karkaroff scowled at the seemingly good-mood wizard. "If I wanted you to behave like a cowardly prey, believe me, you would know."
Karkaroff stared at the seemingly emotionless face and slowly sunk into a seat. Yaxley was right. Without the Dark Lord present; nay, even with the Dark Lord around, Karkaroff believed that Yaxley possessed the mystic eyes of Clairvoyance. The Jester could prance and dance, and pretend to recite prophecies that he claimed to have overheard but Karkaroff was certain that The Fool was far smarter, far more cunning and sly than people gave him credit. After all, for a man whose weakness was well-known and whose love story was well-recorded to be a mockery of the highest quality, the wrench was still by all accounts untouchable. She came with an invisible warning tag that many had unfortunately learnt with fatally dire consequences. She was not to be touched and threatened, lest one became another Connor Avery.
Connor Avery and his younger brother had very foolishly done what living wizards dared not to do. Not only had they touched the Untouchable witch, they had also stolen her away in broad daylight, tortured her at the South Coast and had the silliest idea to barter her for mercy from the madman. Needless to say, Connor Avery was made into an example and burnt in the lighthouse for a week before he was shown mercy and allowed to become ash. After him, as if the lighthouse was an unforgivable accomplice, it was burnt to complete ruination, and even its last bricks were perished from existence.
During this time, Karkaroff had spent his time in pubs and had actively listened to the strangest theories. Some had theorized that Connor Avery burnt in the flames summoned by a restless and vengeful infernal which only received its rest after it got its revenge. Of course, this was made highly believable when Aurors, who stormed the Averys' stronghold witnessed the demise and death of the fire-mastery wizard, had been interviewed and had quite confidently claimed that the Dark Lord's Mad Clown was dead. Karkaroff remembered that he had snorted when he came across the news and he wasted no time to trespass Yaxley's unholy grounds to find him feeding his vultures the remains of his intruders.
It had been three years since the collapse of Averys' stronghold, when Yaxley announced his existence by applying for a position within the Ministry's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Karkaroff had heard that the Head of the Department, Tissier Vonholt, had immediately rejected his application citing Yaxley's close friendship with Antonin Dolohov and his association with the Dark Lord as adequate reasons to reject him. Vonholt had gone as far as to accuse Yaxley of insidious intentions to bring harm and wreak havoc to the ecosystem. Of course, Yaxley had not taken that lightly, and had it not been for Dumbledore's interference, Vonholt would have learnt the pain Connor Avery suffered.
Needless to say, this episode was brought to attention of the Wizengamot and almost immediately, the members of the Wizengamot had unanimously supported Tissier Vonholt's decision. To pile further grief on Yaxley, Minister Bagnold had even suggested reopening his trial. Her decision was met with roaring approval from the members of the Wizengamot who felt Yaxley escaped Azkaban a little too conveniently.
Later that same day, Karkaroff learnt from Yaxley, himself, that he owed Dumbledore a favour. "Against the court, against all manner of rationale, he chose to guarantee my behavior and sanity instead of condemning me to Azkaban… For that, the Jester owes him a debt that will be paid in full."
"If he asks you to kill Dolohov, would you?"
"If he demands it as payment for the debt, then the Jester will deliver his promise," Yaxley answered calmly with a faint smile.
At that time, Karkaroff remembered how he had shuddered involuntarily at the sight of that ghostly smile. It was one thing to deal with an insane man, it was another thing to deal with a man who pretended to be insane. To be honest, Karkaroff never believed for a moment that Yaxley was insane. How could someone who was agile in mind, so crafty and sly, and whose every actions looked too deliberate and accidental be insane? Yaxley seemed to always be at the right place at the right time. He was too opportunistic, and almost all the scenarios he found himself in was favourable to him. Karkaroff had no doubt that Yaxley was actually a very meticulous man. He just pretended to be silly and lackadaisical; and was that not a terrifying thought? Imagine if Yaxley chose to be serious and disciplined…
"You're doing a lot of thinking over there, Karkaroff. I can almost hear your thoughts."
Karkaroff shuddered at the gentle voice. He blinked as he slowly raised his head to look at the seemingly serene face. He opened his mouth and slowly closed it again. Yaxley looking at him like that was too terrifying. A relaxed and bored Yaxley was like a predator just lazing by. Anything could happen in a blink of an eye if his mood changed even a little.
"I was just wondering what I should tell you," Karkaroff lied carefully to keep his voice steady and neutral. It would not do to give Yaxley more ammunition by hearing his fear dripping in his voice. The last thing he wanted was to be the center of Yaxley's attention.
The way the man thought, the way he predicted his opponents, it was as if he was playing a huge chess board against whoever he perceived as his enemy. He pulled strings, he made moves in ways to coax his enemies into moving in the direction he desired. He made everyone think they had a fighting chance against him, but no. Not at all. Everyone moved in the way he wanted. He was far more vicious than all of them; even, Bellatrix Lestrange's cruelty did not hold a candle to his. He orchestrated and danced around his enemies, he made fools of them. There was no way anyone could trap him without his permission. There was no one who could make him do anything without his consent. Karkaroff wondered if even the Imperius Curse would be sufficient to command him but he highly doubted it.
"Tell me everything then," Yaxley drawled as he rested his head on one hand and closed his eyes.
Karkaroff narrowed his eyes and gauged the light rise and fall of Yaxley's chest. No, the mad man was still awake. Relaxed but very aware. It was not time yet to do anything stupid like fleeing the Hall. Silently, he fished out a file from his satchel and opened it. "Dolohov was spotted in Davenport," Karkaroff started as calmly as he could, choosing to focus on his file instead of the sudden shadow casted on his papers or the tingling feeling on his arms. There was no doubt Yaxley's phantoms or ghosts were lingering around him if the featherlight caresses on his skin were any indication. This was definitely Yaxley's way of intimidating people. He was truly too gentle to be as brash and brutal as their colleagues.
"To… To meet his bitch," Karkaroff stuttered as his hairs stood on ends when a pair of lips brushed against the shell of his ear. "She seems to be investigating a pair of fledgling aurors: Peter Williamson and Garry Collymore, and some weird cases. I don't know about her interest in them or if Dolohov has ordered her to stalk them.
"In any case, I followed her trail and uncovered surprising links between the young Aurors and the odd, cold cases centered around young witches who either became mute or committed suicide. Amongst them are the mysterious cases of Astoria Hargeaves who became mute and isolated herself until she died, the Scottish sisters: Pauline and Chelsea Matthias who hung themselves-"
Yaxley's eyes flew open and Karkaroff held his breath. There was cold rage swirling in the violet orbs. "It's not coincidental."
Karkaroff flinched. There was no accusation in that soft voice but it was malicious and deadly. Those few words were delivered as matter-of-factly and Karkaroff, if he was not a wizard, would have felt some pity for the young Aurors. It was an extremely idiotic move to attract the Jester's attention. Sooner, rather than later, the mad clown would catch the Aurors and Merlin, would they understand why the Jester was one of the most feared and dreaded enemies to have. Even to his own allies, the Jester was not to be trifled with. It was best not to overly ridicule him lest he tipped over and unleashed his wrath. Of course, Karkaroff had seen first-hand what had happened when their allies jeered about the dirty woman and the psycho clown snapped. The Dark Lord was displeased, of course, but he was equally pleased at the ruthless savagery that was usually unseen from the clown.
"What else, Karkaroff?"
"We found out that Aurors Williamson and Collymore were the junior Aurors involved in the case of ten-years-old Emilia Bartz."
"She was the little brunette girl who committed suicide on the day they hung her rapist."
Karkaroff stared at the man who had risen to his feet and walked closer to the fireplace. He knew Yaxley had been following Bartz's case with an almost dogged obsession ever since he first heard it. It was almost as if Yaxley had known the girl personally with the way he pushed impatiently for information.
"Yes, the same one," Karkaroff answered carefully. "Her mother reported her missing on June 15, 1983. Two weeks later, her body was found bruised and naked by the River Thames. Five days later, they caught the suspect and hung him."
"Was it…," Yaxley mused aloud as he tried to recall the name, "Harvey...-something?"
"Harvey McKenzie," Karkaroff corrected him easily. "McKenzie confessed to being the rapist."
"You don't believe it and neither did Bartz," Yaxley nodded as he picked up an unburnt coal. "How was McKenzie related to the junior Aurors?"
"They were studying in Hogwarts together," Karkaroff answered lamely as he flipped the file close.
"Leave the file with me," Yaxley spoke softly as the coal in his hand glowed brightly. "What about the other matter?"
"Not yet," Karkaroff shrugged his shoulders, "whoever was involved, they cleaned up too nicely...or they know we are digging around."
"I see," Yaxley hummed as he tossed the burning coal into the fireplace and walked lazily to the window. He stared at the drops on the window indifferently. "I suggest you leave now."
Karkaroff stared at his host and then picked himself up. He needed no extra warning and no extra invitation. He fled the Hall like a bat out of Hell. There was no doubt he was not the only visitor to Yaxley's Hall but perhaps, he was the only one expected if the too smooth timbre in Yaxley's voice was any indication. Merlin, he hoped he fled before Yaxley unleashed his clearly-bottled-up rage. Karkaroff swore he could feel the wrath bleeding out of the Scot.
Yaxley glanced at the file and then at the storm raging outside his home. "Emilia Bartz, I will find him," he whispered as he retreated from the window to snatch his coat and walked outside, "but first, I need to deal with the imbeciles."
When the hooded people finally entered Yaxley's compound, they trudged carefully through the forest and then the unnamed cemetery before they paused at the wide dead field between them and the infamous Hall. Their smiles widened into greedy grins when they noticed the Hall was barely lit which meant the owner was absent… as usual. This was it. This was their golden chance to steal some valuable ancient magical items.
Gleefully, they quickly scrambled forward until countless rakes flew towards them and landed precisely a foot away from the most advanced member, in a horizontal line as if to mark out a limit. Immediately, they stopped their march and squinted in the rain to make out the shape of a singular person standing near the entrance of the Hall.
"That is as far as I will allow."
The hooded thieves looked at each in alarm. This was not what they were told. High Lord of Durness, Yaxley the Death Eater, Yaxley the Eccentric, Yaxley the Mad Clown should not be home. Should they heed his warning and retreat or pursue their mission? After all, it had not been an easy journey to arrive to this point. What would they tell their boss if they failed to even take a treasure from Yaxley's Hall? No, they had to continue and call on Yaxley's bluff. Merlin, they hoped they made the right gamble.
As the most advanced member of the group, the leader dug in his coat pocket to withdraw a scroll which he unfurled. Reading it aloud, he shouted as bravely as he could and as loudly as he could against the loud roaring of the storm, "Corban Yaxley, we have come with permission from the Ministry to conduct a search on your property for the escaped convict: Antonin Dolohov. We have acquired the search warrant on the basis that you are his best friend and would be the most likely suspect in assisting his breakout."
"Leave. I'm in a very foul mood now."
The words were simple. The voice was soft. However, it was more malicious and dangerous than the tyrannical storm raging above them. Uncertainty and wariness clouded their eyes as the looked nervously at each other. This was as the rumors said. Lord Yaxley was polite regardless of the situation; he would never raise his voice. It was this reason that many people thought him to be a vicious unpredictable viper - one would never know when he was teasing or serious, never mind when he would strike. It was exhausting to constantly be guarded against such a fearsome foe.
"Get lost, trash."
Spurred by the cold provocation, the leader of the trio glared at the lonely figure. "Corban Yaxley!" the leader shouted as he rolled the parchment and pointed his wand threateningly at Yaxley, "Under the Ministry's laws, you are under arrest for aggression against members of the Ministry and non-compliance to cooperate! Arrest him!"
As soon as he ordered his team of three to charge forward, they noticed with shock that Lord Yaxley was rushing towards them at an alarming speed. When the slowest hooded person had completely passed the line drawn by the rakes, red gas immediately burst between the cracks in the grounds. Red wisps formed shackles that curled around the ankles of the trespassers as the red mist became heavy enough to hide them from curious eyes. Echoes of cruel laughters and jeers reverberated through the haze as phantoms began forming and moving almost aimlessly within the haze.
Alarmed and sensing something was terribly amiss, the trespassers fired spells against the phantoms to no avail. They had only succeeded in tiring themselves while the phantoms circled them. Panicked and trapped, they pressed their backs against each other as they stared terrified at the ghastly beings. "Don't… don't come closer!" one of them warned as he tried to point his wand threateningly even though his wand-hand was shaking terribly.
"I hate it when children waddle into the adult's world as if it is their sovereign right," Yaxley's voice floated and echoed in the mist.
"We are no child! We fought in the Great War!" their leader lied through his teeth as his eyes darted everywhere. He flinched when a phantom got a little too close for comfort.
"Then, show me…" Yaxley challenged softly as his silhouette appeared amongst the phantoms. "Show me how powerful you are." As he moved through the phantoms, he made a show of tossing his wand away. "I am wandless so show me your strength. Dance with the Jester!"
Guest: Yes, Nymphadora is Tonks' daughter..
Is Yaxley as sly as Karkaroff thinks he is, or is Karkaroff simply too cautious and over-thinking?
Let me know what you think in your review! :)