CHAPTER 3
03 July 1992 - Lord's Suite, Prince Palace - 7:39AM
Severus quietly admired his form in the gilded floor length mirror, making minor adjustments to his cufflinks and shirt collar. His three-piece slate gray bespoke suit was exquisitely tailored (as always) and he'd make sure to give Gleeves the order to create an additional backup just in case. Custom deep green velvet loafers complimented his attire, bearing very subtle snake motifs on the corresponding tongues and eyelets. His dark layered hair was worn loosely in elegant waves, coupled with a well-groomed goatee. He nodded satisfyingly at his reflection, smirking when the enchanted mirror began lavishly heaping compliments on his 'dashing form'. While not one for overt displays of vanity, he possessed a healthy enough self-esteem to appreciate the image of the confident man before him. Merlin only knew the boy of his youth would have never deemed such a possibility a reality.
Quickly checking his wristwatch, he realized that he'd almost forgotten his gold signet ring. With a nonverbal summon with his wand, the gold ring slowly levitated from its position on his dresser and slid to sit comfortably on his pinky. Bearing the sigil of House Forgill, the ring signified his Muggle status as His Grace, the Duke of Forgill OM, KCVO, CBE, a position typically held by a male descendant of the Woodnutt line. Once stirrings of the Statute of Secrecy had begun in 1685 (before its official implementation in 1692), House Prince went through the necessary steps to ensure their muggle interests would be well protected should the Statute come to pass. With some quick-thinking and clever scheming, the then Lord Darrold Prince worked to ensure that Robert Prince - his third-born squib son - would become a favorite of William III and Mary II's court. Handsome, erudite, and impossibly charming, Robert played his part perfectly, and with the passage of the Statute in 1692, Robert had secured the Forgill dukedom (and Woodnutt earldom), successfully securing House Prince's many stakes in the muggle world. As pragmatic as ever, Darrold had created contingencies in House Prince's charter that would ensure potential inheritance by a Woodnutt should the main Prince line fall to misfortune, ensuring the House's survival in the wizarding world.
At the present time, Severus held the title of Duke of Forgill as the only eligible male adult related to the Woodnutt line. The last-living Woodnutt descendant was Dame Barbara Finch-Fletchley, married to Malcom Finch-Fletchley, OBE. As the Forgill inheritance was patrilineal, Dame Barbara was not able to inherit her father's title and the wealth entailed, thus reverting the Forgill title (coupled with the Woodnutt estate) to Severus. Barbara and Malcom's son Justin was currently enrolled in Hogwarts as a Hufflepuff, and would not be eligible to inherit the dukedom until his twenty-first birthday per the Forgill charter instituted by Robert Prince. Severus had kept discreet watch over Justin and his family when the young wizard had manifested his powers on fourth birthday, only making official contact when Justin had received his Hogwarts letter.
Upon their first official meeting, Severus had diligently explained who he was, their distant relation, and a brief insight into wizarding nobility and its relation to its muggle counterpart. The family had surprisingly taken it all into stride, pleased to have a prestigious connection in the rather alien wizarding world. Severus and Justin had maintained a discreet correspondence with each other upon his Sorting as the former playing quiet mentor to the latter, actively encouraging the young wizard to join Hermione Granger's study group to forge solid connections and strengthen his ties in wizarding society. Severus had also advised the boy to 'play up his muggle naivete', since people were more inclined to be engaging if they believed they were being helpful. He'd also informed Harry prior, to ensure he played his part accordingly. There were plans in place to solidify a Prince wardship with Justin upon his second year, to further protect the boy's interests and provide an extra security blanket from the more bigoted members of society.
"Are you done dear? I don't want to be late!" The sound of his mother's voice interrupted his thoughts as he turned his attention to her, granting her a gentle smile. Since the start of her memory-repair therapy, Eileen Prince was in considerably better shape than she'd been. Her dementia had impacted her memory and mobility tremendously, rendering the poor witch bedridden under care of her personal elf Gallium. Those times reminded Severus of… Back Then… the deeply traumatic formative years of his youth when she'd been married to the wretchedly odious Tobias Snape. Eileen had been less than a shell of herself; abused, helpless, and so completely hopeless that young Severus had feared she'd simply expire before Tobias' violence would end her (and him).
Their reprieve from the degenerate madman had finally come by Tom's intervention in the summer before his Third Year, when Severus - in the pique of an unprecedented panic attack - had confessed his home situation to Tom during the Reunion Seminar. To the young wizard's shock, Lord Gaunt had gently told him he was quite aware of the situation, and was working to ensure that he and his mother would be free from Tobias. Salvation came at the start of Third Year; not only were Eileen and Severus finally rid of the violent drunk, Severus had somehow become Heir Apparent and able to bring in Eileen as temporary ward per the more obscure stipulations of the House Charter. At that point Severus had discovered the real reason why: Eileen's brother Edward had outright cheated Eileen out of her Prince heirship by dosing her and Tobias Snape (a random muggle man he'd Confounded in the streets!) with Amortentia, then tricking her into swearing an Unbreakable Vow to give up the heirship, marry Tobias (without any hope of divorce even in his death), surrender her status as a witch, and leave the wizarding world, breaking her wand to cement the ill-gotten promise.
Unfortunately for the little traitor, his actions violated an oft overlooked subclause of House Prince's charter; the sitting Lord could in no way actively harm any member of the House, as doing so would be a direct violation of the lordship requirements. No sooner had the Vow taken effect did Edward find his magic stripped and dead nearly a week later. Even worse for the short-lived Lord Prince, his eagerness to make the Vow had left one particular loophole he hadn't foreseen. Particularly, in making Eileen swear (addled by Amortentia) that 'neither she nor an heir born like her' would ever take on the Prince Mantle. Curiously, the magic of the Vow had interpreted that clause as Eileen's female heirs never being eligible for the Prince Seat. Naturally, that did not apply to her son, who was able to claim the heirship and reinstate his mother as a ward under his care. Severus still chuckled at the outstanding irony of it all.
"Yes, I am finished. We wouldn't want to be late for the match now would we?" Today was the semi-final men's singles match for tennis, taking place at the muggle Wimbledon tennis courts. One of Eileen's favorite pastimes, Severus had agreed to escort and spectate with her, comfortably ensconced in their seats in the Royal Box. Since the recovery of her memories and mobility, Eileen had slowly began immersing herself in her favorite activities, and reconnecting with some of her older muggleborn friends she'd made during her Hogwarts years. They had a 'very small pub crawl' planned for later in the day, and Severus requested Gallium keep a careful (and hidden) eye on them just in case.
"No we would not," she replied, lightly dusting unseen specks of dust off her designer linen suit. "Do you have any plans for after the match?" she asked, lips quirked in a cheeky little smile.
"As a matter of fact, I do. A nice little dinner afterwards too."
"Oh? With a lovely lady I know off?" She looked at him eagerly, dark brown eyes twinkling teasingly.
"Not like that mother, goodness!" Severus rolled his eyes whilst Eileen cackled, looping her arms through his as they exited his suite and made their way downstairs. "After the match I am having a quick repast with the Finch-Fletcheys in Diagon Alley, we have a bit of Gringotts business to handle." Tom had insisted on Justin getting an ancestry test by the goblins, suggesting that he was a descendant of another highly influential bloodline. "After that, I have some last minute business to handle at the Prince Institute, then onward to La Gavroche for a lovely French dinner. Alone." He gave her a playful glare at her very loud sigh and childish pout.
"Whatever you say darling," Eileen said, suddenly pausing. "It's just… I… I know I'm not the best example for healthy romantic relat-"
"Mother…" she held a hand up.
"No darling, it's true. I just… I just don't want you to miss out on a true chance at love because of my own tragic past." She cast despondent eyes downward as they reached the final step, careful not to make eye contact. Eileen still carried an insurmountable amount of guilt for her only son having to suffer an abusive father, and in spite of her son's constant reassurances that she was not at fault, her guilt still lingered. Sighing, Severus enveloped his arms around her stiff shoulders, tenderly rubbing her back until he felt her relax.
"I know mum, I know. And as I always tell you, it's not your fault. It was never your fault. And it will never be your fault." Severus' voice was unyieldingly firm, causing Eileen to slowly nod in acceptance, relaxing in his embrace.
"Thank you darling." She squeezed him tightly before releasing her embrace, smiling up at him. Suddenly, her expression turned cheeky and Severus braced himself for impact. "You knoooow… now that Lily is single-"
"EW! Mum, that's so… gross!" His expression twisted in genuine disgust as Eileen started snickering. "I've told you a thousand times, Lily is practically my sister. That would be incest and wrong." He shuddered as Eileen started giggling in earnest.
"I know my darling, just teasing you is all." She looped her arms through Severus' once more as they made their way to the living room Floo. "Just let me know when you find the one, alright?" She looked at him imploringly, expression brightening when he nodded with a smile. Internally, Severus didn't truly believe he would ever find love, at all. The last girl he'd fallen in love with had only ever seen him as a friend even as Severus had admired her from afar (and the few lucky moments when he'd been paired with her in Potions and Herbology). Her kindness, her vivacity, the protectiveness for her friends, and the persistence to always do what was right for anyone, even if it wasn't easy.
'As Gryffindor as ever,' thought Severus forlornly. But now, Alice Longbottom (née Blishwick) was currently infirmed in the Janus Thickey ward for Cruciatus overexposure and other unspeakable acts of torture, and she would never be anything to anyone ever again.
Malfoy Manor, The Lord's Study - 1:09 PM
A decadent sigh was all that could be heard as Lucius slowly reclined in his chair, savoring the delightful effervescence of the 1820 Juglar Cuvee champagne he'd had Garcon chill and uncork specifically for this occasion. Narcissa was finally out of the house and would be for the remainder of the summer. She was currently at the Malfoy holiday villa in Chinon, far away from the Manor and more importantly, far away from Draco. She'd been more obnoxiously recalcitrant than usual, attempting to monopolize his heir's time and purposefully intruding in his space, all in a calculated attempt to smother him. And, of course, further exert her 'obedience influence' over him with her ill-gotten allure. Lucius' teeth clenched in quiet rage at the sheer audacity of her poisoning his only son's mind to suit her dangerous whims.
Thankfully, Severus had informed him that Draco was making considerable strides in his Occlumency training, expected to become a Level One by the end of summer and making strides to be a Level Two by the summer before his Third Year. The obedience influence was slowly but surely being uprooted from his mind, courtesy of the Occlumency training provided by Messrs X and Y, Ministry-licensed Mind Arts professionals utilized by many purebloods to provide training for their children. Curiously, there was a lesser known Mr. Z, another Ministry-licensed Mind Arts professional who would perform an even more obscure 'psychic surgery'. This would essentially uproot the shrinking obedience influence, much like a muggle surgeon would carefully extract a tumor. A dubious Lucius had been assured would not cause irreparable damage, brain or otherwise. Naturally, Lord Malfoy had dropped enough subtle hints to threaten all their lives should his son's life be in any sort of jeopardy.
Taking another sip of his champagne, Lucius fondly thought of the delightful argument he'd picked with Narcissa earlier in the morning before her departure. In lieu of his typical stoicism, Lucius had been pettily instigating and rising to her barbs, rendering her flat-footed and quite flustered. Quietly seething Lucius she could deal with. Stone-faced non-reactive Lucius she could deal with. Genteel and condescending Lucius (his seeming default) she could deal with. Even fake cheery Lucius she could deal with. But a snide, petty, bratty Lucius Malfoy Narcissa couldn't stand. That he was behaving exactly like her was a fact completely lost on the narcissistic woman. He'd instigated an unprecedented eight arguments with her, all of them resulting in the loathsome woman throwing a frustrated temper tantrum and destroying even more of his priceless china. Lord Malfoy snickered viciously.
Setting his drink aside, Lucius activated the security measures in his study before summoning Dobby.
"Yes Master?"
"Status updates, please Dobby."
"Certainly Master. Young master's suite has been secured and I have layered additional protective wards of my own, specifically to keep out Mistress and… her personal elf." Dobby smirked rather wickedly, massive chartreuse eyes glinting like sea glass in the low light of the room. "No one bar you and… well me, can cross the threshold, much less interfere with the young master or any of his belongings." He took a brief pause while Lucius nodded appreciatively. "All of his belongings have been personally cleansed by me, and subsequently enchanted to prevent any kind of manipulation, wizard or otherwise." Lucius nodded appreciatively once more, impressed with the elf's stealth. "I have done the same with the property at Chinon, all rooms including the Mistress's own private suite." Lucius' left brow quirked. "Nothing too obvious, just a minor undetectable surveillance charm to track her relative movements, to make sure she stays… put." Lucius smirked appreciatively, raising a glass to Dobby's cleverness.
"Well done Dobby, very well done. Your abilities, as always, precede you."
"You are too kind master," said Dobby, lightly bowing his head. He suddenly looked a touch conflicted.
"Is something else the matter?" Dobby's expression grew more conflicted before he responded.
"I overheard the Mistress discussing the… issue of young Harry Potter with her elf. It seems that she is concocting a plan - or rather, a series of plans - to and I quote: 'deal with the filthy Halfblood once and for all' end-quote. Per her previous correspondence with young master at the beginning of this year, I am of the belief that she would cause grievous if not outright lethal harm to the young Potter." Dobby crossed his hands behind his back, gleaming eyes unblinking on his master.
For his part, Lord Malfoy took a hearty sip of his champagne as he ruminated on the latest development. His demented wife was concocting some harebrained scheme to put a child's life in mortal peril, all as some 'revenge scheme' to secure Draco's position in Slytherin and curry added favor with her own son. Lucius had noticed the difference in Draco's countenance; he was significantly more subdued and less inclined to his more boorishly unrefined whining. He hadn't a clue exactly what had occurred between his heir and his would-be nemesis, but the young Potter had somehow succeeded in culling the more Narcissa-aligned aspects of his son's behavior. Lucius imagined said son's murder attempt against Hermione Granger and failed blackmail of Theo Nott had something to do with it.
"Do you have any… suggestions in handling this latest development?" Lucius asked. His dutiful elf gave a poignantly unaffected little smile.
"I would defer to any of your ideas master, naturally." Lord Malfoy smirked and took another sip of his champagne, mentally cataloging his options. One of the more brazen ideas would be to drop an anonymous tip with Lily Evans and have the fearsome witch kill his psychotic wife for him. The muggleborn Slytherin had proven to be exceptionally powerful (she'd dueled Miss Demeanor to a stalemate), cunning, highly clever, and absolutely ruthless in crushing her enemy. Smiling deviously, Lucius recalled his Seventh Year, when Lily Evans had been a mere Third Year. Then Fifth Year Datura Travers - only daughter of Lord Uriah Travers - had recklessly taunted Lily in the Slytherin Common Room, hatefully calling her a 'filthy mudblood' to her face, among a slew of other crass slurs. The young witch hadn't responded, merely stared blankly at Datura before calmly walking away to her rooms.
A week later Datura had been hospitalized at the Hogwarts Infirmary, before ultimately being transferred to the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's. It seemed she'd suffered a freak accident in Herbology cutting herself on a spike of Venomous Tentacula, spilling mud-colored blood. Datura had grown hysterical while her shocked pureblood peers had leveled accusations of her being a fake, a dirty-blooded usurper. Madam Pomfrey had been able to stop the bleeding and whatever spell had been used to alter her blood had worn off, but Datura (screamingly) insisted that she was still bleeding muddy blood, swearing that she could feel the mud in her veins and pouring out of cuts in her body. She'd taken to clawing at her face and arms to 'get rid of the filth', convinced of the delusion that her blood was dirty. She'd been infirmed at Janus Thickey ever since. Even if he'd been so inclined, Lord Travers hadn't pursued the matter, too busy fending off whispered insults about him or his deceased wife potentially being a mudblood who'd somehow duped and sullied the pureblooded Selwyn family. As it stood, Uriah was an aimless and heirless drunk, drowning in alcohol and the relentless waves of his sins and failures.
Lucius knew it was Lily's doing; granted there was no evidence and there were a few who'd whispered about her potential involvement, but there was no proof and the rumors eventually died down. The Hydra had been very impressed, especially Nidhogg, Mara, and Ka, all of whom had already taken great interest in Lily Evans since the start of her second year. Lucius hadn't been certain if she'd received a questing letter or not (the Throne never divulged to a Sitting Prince), but he was somewhat intrigued by the possibility of her claiming the Throne, already well aware of her Wilkes ancestry via the Slytherin Tapestry in the Lair. Prince Lily Evans did have a rather nice ring to it, as did all the implications of her possessing such a title.
"For now, simply observe and report, and keep an extra eye on whatever Mistress and her elf have concocted for Mr. Potter." Lucius paused for a few seconds before adding: "Keep a discreet eye on Mr. Potter as well. Observe and report only, and let me know if Mistress or her vile little elf have any contact with the boy." Dobby nodded once.
"It will be done Master."
AN 1: The mud blood scene is directly pulled from "New Blood" by artemisgirl, featuring a delightfully vindictive Slytherin Hermione Granger.
AN 2: Datura is a plant of the nightshade family Solanaceae, as is Petunia ;)
AN 3: Hope you all liked by iteration of the whole Woodnutt/Duke of Forgill story line. Justin's other familial bloodline (through the Finch-Fletcheys) will be revealed at end of Book 2/start of Book 3
Next Up: Cissy's plan of attack, update with Jim (and James)