Chapter Sixteen: Blessed Blood.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
OOOO
Hermione was not naive enough to mistake the Fortress of the Crow for being beautiful. Yes, the castle jutted out over a cliff which overlooked the sea. Though the beautiful sunlight struggled against a clearly deeper nature, it was a lost fight. Scorch marks from what must have been powerful flames stained the chipped, stone walls. Winter winds whistled throughout long neglected openings in the structure. Hermione followed her silent grandmother into her ancestral home, both brown eyes peering dubiously at the massive, doubleset doors which lay on the ground. No mean feat given that these were the sorts of doors which were designed to stand tall against battering rams. "Our many greats grandmother, Cliodna, also known as the Last Druidess," Cordelia explained, "Constructed this fortress. These doors were fortified by her own mighty magic."
The young witch gazed interestedly at what she swore were ancient runes carved into the once mighty, stone surfaces. "For five centuries her children, and their children's children prospered beneath that long-lasting protection. We were the jewels of Irish society. Wealthy, powerful, beautiful, and some of us even gifted with Sight. My cousin, Anne, was the most talented among us. She could See any threat from a mile away, and my own mother often whispered how Anne was the strongest Morrigan since Cliodna." They slipped further into the freezing cold castle. "My mother was a fool to put so much stock in a child. Anne did not see what came for us all…"
They had been stepping along down a cavernous, stone hallway. Only to stop at a spot where the wall was gone and the sea spread out for very many miles below them. "There are many magical places forgotten in these lands. From times when druids and nature still lived in tandem. Things that were sealed off for our own good." Hermione noted how haunted her grandmother's eyes were. "Anne began to dream of a cairn hidden on an island east of Ireland when she was thirteen. Our grandfather, the only other living Seer in the family, forbade her from following these visions. He claimed to sense something dark at the other end of her prescience. Anne herself only ever told me of seeing golden light and promises of a better world."
The woman stopped with that impenetrable face. Hermione took a moment to peer upwards through the hole-ridden, stone ceilings. All the way above, as far as her inquisitive eyes could see was rubble. Whatever had caused such destruction the girl imagined it was directly linked to this cairn Cordelia spoke ominously of. She regretted having let Wonky take her coat earlier as it was dreadfully cold in Ireland. Of course, the already disquieting tale likely played a large part in her discomfort as well.
"Our grandfather died when we were both fifteen. Then Anne turned seventeen, and no one could stop the insipid fool from leaving our home." There was a dark look which crossed Cordelia's face. "What follows I mostly heard in summary from others. Apparently she spent a year hunting the cairn. Discovering it on an island far west of Ireland, hidden behind powerful enchantments. Despite her imbecilic nature Anne was an incredibly talented witch. The stupid girl managed to locate the cairn, tear down the enchantments, and then all of our warnings came true. She began a cult of sorts shortly thereafter. Dazzling several clans into membership by displaying long forgotten, druidic 'wonders.' Word of her abilities spread all across Ireland. In December of 1943 Gellert Grindelwald, who had many supporters here, finally visited with my cousin. They formed a partnership, and with his support Anne managed to overthrow the Irish Ministry with a great collection of followers."
"If it was such a strong movement that they could overthrow the Irish Ministry how did the British Ministry keep it so tightly under wraps?" Hermione interrupted.
"It is a poorly kept secret," Cordelia answered breezily, "Much of the Irish population involved died and the newspapers were forsworn into secrecy. The British Ministry never would have allowed the magical community to know Grindelwald was striking so close to home. Hence, there was a massive obliviating, and the entire Blood Feud is one of the most poorly recorded wars in history." She folded her arms to ward off the chilly air, "Anne's mind was possessed by something wholly sinister in nature. Not quite like herself in many strange ways. She visited us again, preaching that we should return with her to visit this golden place of magic. Leaving in a huff when we all wisely refused. After a year of fighting the British Ministry asked that we assist them by disclosing information. Ranging from Anne's level of education, to her talents, and with a particular emphasis on her weaknesses."
"What about Grindelwald's defeat? Did that help in stopping her?" Hermione recalled how Dumbledore had battled the Swiss Warlock in 1945.
"To an extent. She lost half of her forces to battle and many others became demoralized after Grindelwald was beaten. My older brother had once been closest with Anne. So the Ministry convinced him to visit the cairn's island and assassinate her. Anne discovered my brother's treachery then slit his throat atop the cairn. The sacrifice of his Morrigan blood apparently produced a large magical outburst in which several hundred muggles and countless Hit Wizards were immediately killed." The muggleborn finally noted how her grandmother's face flinched every time she mentioned her brother's name. Betraying that this tale was, at least in one way, difficult for the woman to recount. "My cousin wasted no time launching an attack on Crow's Fortress after murdering my brother. She used her intimate knowledge of the wards placed here by Cliodna and centuries of Morrigans to strike."
"They killed the adults, captured the children, and stole all of our ancestral possessions. My mother sacrificed herself so that my father could apparate me to safety. All of it was horrible, but I shall never forget Anne. How her hair was whiter than ash. Eyes that once looked like yours or mine instead a deep, inky-black with the whites replaced by blazing red. The worst was all of the bones…." Cordelia never finished that repugnant description. She breathed deeply and opened her eyes again to stare fixedly at her granddaughter. "A new regiment of Hit Wizards quickly attacked the island so none of the other Morrigan children could be sacrificed. Murdering them preemptively. Anne's army was sent scattering before she herself met a grisly end atop her precious cairn. I imagine that the British Ministry hid the blasted thing beneath powerful wards once more."
A hand reached out to cup Hermione's chin in an almost loving sort of way. "Now here we stand together. The last two Morrigans. In lands that might very well never be safe for our bloodline again. Filled with whatever remains of Anne's cult. Still lurking in the shadows."
"What was the cult called?" Hermione asked promptly.
A wry look twisted over Cordelia's features. "The Order of the Blessed Blood. Initially dedicated to bringing the cairn all which it summoned. Even when it began demanding blood of the Crow Goddess be spilled atop its surface."
Wind whistled as the silence developed between them.
OOOO
"Welcome, Mister and Misses," A House Elf welcomed the Grangers as they stood before the fireplace of Cornelius Fudge's mansion. Christmas had passed quite quickly for the suddenly busy family. Her parents overseeing not only their dental practice but an increasing number of, not that they knew it, drug fronts in muggle Britain. Cordelia was often away to fulfill her Wizengamot duties, various plots, and working with Dumbledore to craft what Hermione secretly called the 'Great Reform of Hogwarts' Shit-Shoot Education Program.' The muggleborn herself was incredibly preoccupied with balancing many modelling obligations and corresponding with her friends regarding their research project.
Now they found themselves at a hoity-toity, New Year's Eve extravaganza at the Fudge household. Apparently Ministers for Magic customarily invited the most powerful people in magical Britain to mingle. Cordelia's position on the Wizengamot, Hogwarts Board of Governors, and Hermione's general status, meant that they were invited. Defiantly the thirteen-year-old witch had written back a cooly polite letter in response requesting that her parents be invited as well. She was, understandably, growing incredibly tired of keeping her Wizarding life separate of the muggle one.
Hermione's mother wore an incredibly flattering pair of blue-and-white robes while her father had firmly insisted on donning a traditional tuxedo. Then there was Cordelia who wore a lacy, grey cocktail dress which fell to her knees. Shockingly voluptuous as ever. Hermione herself was wearing the garb of a Baroque debutante. A silk gown of the finest, purest white material. Shoulderless excepting for elaborately stitched sleeves which covered her upper arms. Lacy gloves and a white fan completed the look. Cordelia had insisted that the muggleborn wear all white to show off her complexion, though Hermione suspected that powerful Pureblood families looking for Godelot witches simply liked to see them in virginal colours. Struggling to breathe in the tightly laced bodice she swept after the House Elf through the gorgeous mansion.
Finally they were let into a bustling ballroom. Half of the room staged for fine dining while the other half was dedicated to dancing. "I told you you would stand out like a sore thumb dressed as a muggle, Hugo," Cordelia remarked stringently. Somehow the woman already had a dry martini in her hand.
"I think he looks dapper," Hermione snapped back, "At least he wasn't forced to dress up like a Victorian virgin on her wedding night!"
"You are the one who pushed Victorian fashion back into style," Cordelia sniffed. "I hardly could have let you attend a function such as this dressed in what you wanted to wear." The girl originally intended to wear a dark pink, turn-of-the-century dress after her success at Ser Nick's Deathday Party. "Now mingle. I will not have us standing here in a gaggle." With that the woman strode off to make the rounds.
"Daphne!" Hermione crowed suddenly, prompting several snooty Pureblood women to turn their heads disapprovingly. Nonetheless, her friend approached in a much more palatable forest-green dress. The handsome politician at Daphne's side was one Hermione recognized immediately. He happened to be the same blue-eyed man who had bidden her to take the name Pyrites at her Wizengamot hearing. Momentarily she was shocked that the dark-haired man was Daphne's father, though quickly recovered. The two friends hugged prior to separating. "Lord Greengrass," She curtseyed as Byron had taught her to, "These are my parents. Doctors Hugo and Bryony Granger."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance," He nodded to both of the Grangers. Shaking their hands he continued, "Daphne here has told me much about your daughter's academic brilliance. You must be very proud."
"We are indeed," Hugo answered, "Even though we have little understanding of Potions or Transfiguration."
"I believe we have met your wife. Lady Valentina is often around Pyrites' Townhouse for teatime. She and Cordelia have been doing much business together," Bryony articulated naively. Hermione had wondered quite frequently how her parents would react if they knew the full extent of the Greengrass business.
"I would not know much about that," Lord Greengrass passed politely, "My father and wife manage all business. Wizengamot matters have always been much more suited to my tastes…"
It was at this point that Daphne dragged Hermione away by the elbow from the ballroom. "Daphne! I need to make the rounds or Cordelia will kill me!" The muggleborn protested. "Besides. My parents are muggles. Its not as though I can just leave the-."
"Father will take care of them," Daphne tossed her golden mane back over one shoulder. Blue eyes winking in a jibing manner, "Promise." Finally they came to a stop at an ancient end table. Moving the vase to the floor Hermione's blonde friend withdrew a folder from her designer, albeit large, purse. "You will never believe this, but I made a breakthrough on our research. My whole family went to Spain for Christmas, as you know…" The girl nodded her sleekened head of hair in answer. "Anyways," Daphne huffed, getting back to the point at hand, "My Auntie Matilda, notorious for having affairs whenever she travels without Uncle Blishwick, got tangled up in a romance with a Mediterranean Diving Wizard!"
The Greengrass girl flipped open her neat folder which rested on the end table. "He taught us a spell called the Bubble-Head Charm. It makes a bubble around half of the caster's head that provides a fresh supply of breathable air. Mostly it is used for underwater exploration, though there tends to be an issue in very deep bodies of water where the spell will simply pop. I started thinking that this could be a solution to our problem! Why can't the Bubble-Head Charm be modified to contain the caster of our Pressure Manipulation Charm?"
Hermione stared at the shockingly detailed descriptions Daphne had drawn. Measurements, accurate diagrams, and even a syllabic breakdown of the incantation. Flipping through the folder on her own the girl discovered an essay on the spell's historicity as well as something truly shocking. "What is this?"
"I got a bit overly excited and practically swarmed Cedric as soon as I got back. He is actually really good at Arithmancy by the way," Daphne grinned. Hermione doubted she had ever seen her friend this manic and uncontained before. "Apparently Cedric knew enough that he was able to not only write out an entire analytic expression for the Bubble-Head Charm, but he was able to modify it as well. We call it the Bubble-Body Charm and the plan is to test it in the Black Lake as soon as we all get back to Hogwarts!"
"The Greengrass girl might be more useful than I ever anticipated," The Silky Voice whispered in a greedy tone Hermione did not like at all.
"Daphne…" Hermione spoke slowly, peering at the long mathematical manipulations she only understood a quarter of. "You just solved one of our biggest challenges. If our proposed Pressure Manipulation Charm can actually be derived from the Pressing Curse, as well as applied to this Bubble-Body Charm, then wizards may travel to space shortly after we get published! Merlin! I suspect we could even send witches and wizards into the Mariana Trench!" The last bits were whispered. All in their group had agreed that it would not do for someone to catch wind and steal all of their work. Apparently such horrible acts of theft often occurred in the sphere of magical research. Both girls whispered eagerly with one another until it was well past time to return to the party.
Even the experience of meeting Cornelius Fudge, a timid little man, and his decidedly domineering wife paled in comparison to Hermione's uncontrollable elation.
OOOO
The return to Hogwarts had been incredibly nerve-wracking. There was, of course, still a psychotic Heir of Slytherin still on the loose. Not to mention that Hermione was again pushing herself further down the road of academic self-destruction. Sometimes it seemed that Snape's New Year's resolution had been to push her off the edge. He assigned her even more extra-curricular work than before which in turn pushed the girl's bedtime to far later than it should have been. As January came to a close Hermione found herself practically living in the library. Her second year classes were laughably easy, her club attendance perfect, and all of the research progress they had made indicated good things to come.
Though Potions and Transfiguration combined with the stress of waiting for another attack by Slytherin's Heir left her overwhelmed. McGonagall, unhelpfully, kept reminding the girl that OWL Examinations were next year, and she would be sitting the ones for both of her advanced classes. She studied so much that Cedric refused to let her see any of his Arithmantic breakthroughs. Though Luna was sympathetic enough to let Hermione in on major developments. The two girls often worked together late into weekend evenings on performing actual research. Many of the materials left behind by Luna's mother had proven incredibly helpful for writing up professional standard experimental reports. Backgrounds, tediously detailed research methodology, copying of Cedric's Arithmantic derivations, and this information all needed to be neatly fit onto parchment using medieval writing materials. Eventually Hermione grew so infuriated with uncontrolled ink blots that she asked her parents to send pens.
Leaving the library later than usual one evening Hermione marched along the busier corridors towards Gryffindor Tower. Hair frizzed wildly about both shoulders she tiredly hungered for a cozy night in bed reviewing Luna's detailed procedures for their upcoming testing of the Bubble-Body Charm. That same day the muggleborn had been sneezed on by a Mummy brought in for a Ghoul Studies demonstration, so showering was not out of the question either. Grumbling tiredly the witch paused suddenly in her tracks, withdrawing her wand. The Beginner's Guide to Battle Magic emphasized instincts heavily.
Something was simply not right.
Before Hermione could even react the stone wall behind her creaked before slamming wide open with a decided thunk. A disguised, terrifyingly garbled voice hissed, "Incarcerous," Before a thick rope wrapped around Hermione's throat. In seconds she was dragged out of the corridor and into a dank, secret passageway. "Where is it," That terrifying voice snarled in her ear, "Where is the Villis Malificus?" The muggleborn struggled against the rope's tight pull, unable to breathe let alone answer such a shocking demand.
'Silly girl, I told you to watch out for any trouble,' The Silky Voice snapped, 'Now we both are going to die!'
No. Hermione Granger decided in that moment that she would not die. Over the winter break her father had caught her practicing duelling stances in the garden behind Pyrites' Townhouse. With a snide chuckle he had declared that if his daughter insisted on exercising so frequently she would do it right. By that he meant the muggle way. So the man took her running, toning, and duelling fitness regimen to another level. Pushing her nearly as hard as he himself had been pushed in the military. They even began working on hand-to-hand combat techniques, which had admittedly always been somewhat of a hobby for Hugo Granger.
Reaching back with her left leg Hermione hooked it around her assailant's knee. A cry of surprise broke into the air as the muggleborn slammed an elbow mightily into their stomach. "DIFFINDO," She roared now that her bruised vocal chords had been allowed to inhale oxygen again. The rope was cut cleanly in half. Spinning back around Hermione tried to face her foe with an outstretched wand only to find that they were swallowed by the shadows. Purple light suddenly burst towards her face prompting the thirteen-year-old to dive sideways. Near-mindlessly she fired back with a curse from the Villis Malificus that allegedly caused blood to pour from the target's every orifice. The spell must have struck home solidly, for no more attacks came out of the darkness.
"Lumos," As light allowed her eyes to peer further into the darkness Hermione breathed a short sigh of relief at being alone. Spinning dizzily to both feet she pushed against the stone wall only to realize that it would not open. Even a spell provided by the Silky Voice did not prompt the mechanism to unlock.
'You will need to travel the way that they fled,' The Silky Voice urged.
Breathing nervously Hermione squared both shoulders, pausing to pick up her dusty satchel. Then the muggleborn stepped along tepidly. "Lacarnum Inflamarae," She called out the incantation to her favorite spell many times. Prompting Blue Bell Flames to race along the bits of wall she had already passed. Reassured by the newly abundant source of light the girl marched up many winding halls, stairwells, and archways prior to arriving at the end of the tunnel. Using a nifty spell recommended by the Silky Voice she managed to find a handle for the secret door. Falling out on her knees in the Fifth Floor Corridor Hermione stumbled upwards whilst gasping at a truly horrible sight.
Kevin Entwhistle, a muggleborn Hufflepuff from her year had been Petrified. Though the brutality did not end there. In a vicious display he had been stripped naked as well as covered from head to toe in mud. 'The Heir was behind this. They likely planned to attack you in addition to this boy,' Her perpetual companion mumbled. Already emotionally battered from her schoolwork Hermione nearly cried. Despair roiled her thoughts as she realized that Purebloods likely would never fully accept muggleborns. Then the glittering, ruby-red words on the wall caught her notice.
'If your blood is as thick and foul as mud,
Your heart black as those of muggle scum,
Remember that even the brightest among you,
Could not withstand the Heir of Slytherin.'
Anger suddenly boiled through Hermione's bones like a nuclear bomb. Sparks pouring out of the tip of her wand. Hot ink coating the back of her tongue. The Heir of Slytherin had planned to steal the Villis Malificus from her satchel. Then Petrify her, or likely worse. To make matters worse she would have to flee momentarily all because the idiotic Professors of Hogwarts would blame her for this grisly hate crime. 'You should do it,' The Silky Voice whispered hypnotically, 'Any spells you need I can give you.' He had preyed on her deepest, secret desire, and Hermione finally gave in to his darker temptations.
She decided it was finally time to fight back.
With a wave of her wand and a choice incantation Hermione Granger managed to remove the sickening message from the wall. As the enchantment snapped away all of the blood fell to the floor in a noxious puddle. The Silky Voice stood firmly behind her, and she knew it was a sign that he grew stronger as she gave into her impulses. Though Hermione felt little desire to care about how concerning it was that her Possessor was managing to push her ever further towards Damnation. Nor did she consider that he knew how to erase the hateful message scrawled by the Heir when none of the Professors had been able to manage such a feat.
Instead she placed herself under his magical tutelage. Inscribing burning, silver letters of her own into the wall. Pausing to clean Kevin Entwhistle of any mud along with conjuring a cloak to cover his nudity. Striding away soon after back up towards Gryffindor Tower before any could see what she had done.
OOOO
The next morning all were practically unsurprised that another attack had occurred. Luna stood with her friends as they all peered through the throngs of onlookers. Kevin Entwhistle no longer lay on the floor though the message that had been seared into the wall above his head still shined brightly in a bold silver.
'Here lies a fallen comrade. Do not weep, pray, or fear for him. FIGHT FOR HIM. Where the Heir of Slytherin is always lurking in shadows and darkness, the Mudblood Apostle stands with dignity. Nos Movebo Inferos.'
While the other students whispered in hopeful, inspired voices, the muggleborns in particular, Luna observed her friends surreptitiously. Cedric had crossed both arms in an impressed manner. Daphne peered discreetly at the unfolding events with an intrigued curiosity, hidden artfully behind her general shielding of disinterested mannerisms. Hermione, however, seemed just the slightest bit proud.
If Luna Lovegood were a betting woman she might have said her friend was this new Mudblood Apostle. Of course, any Lovegood worth their salts would merely pin such suspicious behavior down to a parasitic infection of Virgilian Hellworms. Which is exactly the answer the young Ravenclaw decided to stick with. Resigned to her own observations the girl tried to instead decide if she had ever seen something quite so beautifully silver in her life. Mayhaps it was even luminescent enough to repel Minister Fudge's Heliopath soldiers.
OOOO
I have planned Cordelia's background from the start, and it ties closely in with her secretive background plot. It makes little sense to me that there could only ever have been Voldemort, or Grindelwald, and not other semi-successful dark wizards like Anne Morrigan. We will learn more about the demons left behind in Ireland by Cordelia, but bear in mind that even her knowledge of what really happened with the Cairn is limited by British Ministry interference.
As always, I get nervous about chapters that really reveal a lot of the plot. After all, if anyone dislikes it then there is no simple correction. However, I do kind of write fanfic for my own enjoyment, so whatevs.
Next Chapter: Valentines and Experimental Designs.