Chapter Thirty-One: Mr. Proud-Free.
Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.
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"Mother, why can't you just move in here?" Hugo wondered in a cautious tone. She supposed that was fair. The man had once been a boy, after all, and Cordelia was hardly the sort of woman who gave away information freely. Body tensing imperceptibly, fingers tightening though they likely still appeared perfectly relaxed on the table, the witch stared at him. Handsome as ever with intelligent, kind eyes. The kindness had come from her second husband of course. "You have to Floo or apparate here every time business with the Greengrasses needs seeing to. Why not just… Stay here. Instead of at the Fortress of the Crow?"
She blinked once. "You have grown sentimental. Does that woman know that you would like me to move in?"
"My name is Bryony," Came the harsh correction as her daughter-in-law slipped into the kitchen, "And yes. We discussed it at length. You have become an important part of our family. Whether you would like to acknowledge that fact or not is entirely irrelevant." Sometimes Cordelia wished her son had wedded a dumber, non-Godelot descended muggle. Perhaps Hermione would have been halfway easier to handle. "All of us could see what those Irish magicals thought of us at Hermione's debut. We hardly want you living there alone in such hostile territory."
"Especially not after what allegedly happened. Warfare. Evil demon cairns. Hermione getting bombarded with those awful, horrible visions." Her son piped up now, emboldened as ever by the dreadful woman. "I have a hard time imagining those Irish Aurors would lift a finger to protect you if the good wizards of Ireland decided to attack that rickety old fortress again."
"What would one squib and a muggle be able to do about it?" Cordelia sneered then. "You think it would be any safer if I had to worry about protecting the both of you from harm as well. For I refuse to leave the Fortress of the Crow. My legacy is in Ireland. It always has been." She allowed her former accent to lilt thickly across her voice then. Both of their sets of eyes grew wide with surprise. "We have no choice. I must make this sacrifice, for otherwise Hermione will one day have to do it herself. Do you think I fucking want to curry the favour of the bastards who stole everything from my family. Murdered. Raped even? NO!" She stood to both feet, slapping her hands mightily down onto the table. "That cairn is growing stronger. I can practically taste it on the air, like I could all those years ago. Which means that its old worshippers are sensing it too. I have to help preserve the Irish Ministry. It cannot survive without a Morrigan in their rightful place!"
Bryony had a tight-lipped, angry look about her. Arms crossed tightly. Hugo merely looked sad. "Can you handle the rest of this, Hugo?" She sighed softly then, turning towards him, feeling as the aftereffects of her breakdown still sparked the air. They were both clever, Cordelia knew, clever enough they would eventually discover that the Greengrasses were using them for legitimacy. Her interference in these paperwork-based meetings would soon come to a head when the inevitable passed. Of course, the Greengrasses had been fundamental to surviving the British Ministry. The oncoming wrath of her son and his wench were worth the early sacrifice meant to woo the prominent family.
Straightening, wincing as her back creaked in response, the woman nodded stiffly. Practically fleeing the large dining room. She paused this time, however, to examine for the first time what her granddaughter had been doing in the basements. Rows of cots, desks, artisanal instruments, and dozens of House Elves bustled about. The EAO had come firmly into the headlines following her dance with that Elf Dobby. Witch Weekly breaking the news about the secret society Hermione Granger had formed beneath Britain's nose. Cordelia never would have admitted it to another soul, but she felt pride rush through her veins. None of her ancestors ever could have performed a deed so good, so righteous, or ambitious. "Miss Morrigan." A House Elf appeared beside her from across the room with a surprising pop. She did not jump. Instead the witch scrutinized carefully. He wore a suit and peered into her eyes.
Cordelia was forced to glance away. Remembering her Aunt Glamora, Anne's mother. A horrible woman who had liked to use the family House Elves as footrests. The memory of heels audibly digging into sticky flesh through battered rags was suddenly fresh in her mind. Ancient of course. She wondered then if she might have been such a bitter, monstrous cow as Glamora had Anne not set fire to their entire family tapestry. "Dobble, was it?" Her voice was thick, uncontrollably so, which was all the more remarkable considering she had once been a CWO.
"Dobby Proud-Free," He responded, perfectly sophisticated in his delivery, "You may call me Mr. Proud-Free."
"Did my granddaughter help you decide on that name, Mr. Proud-Free?" She asked in as cool a tone as ever.
"No. I decided on it myself. Miss Hermione told me about the importance of documentation and identities. Any Elf that is associated with the EAO is provided with an identity card that bears a name of their choosing." He turned to glance out at the many, bustling little bodies. "My former owners only named me Dobby after I had turned sixteen. For the sound young Draco Malfoy made when he slammed my fingers in door frames. Many House Elves do not keep such names, yet I always will. I shall never forget what the Malfoys did to me. To my parents."
They stood in silence for a long while. So long that it sat thick on her chest. Made her heart begin to pump violently to the point of popping. "You should compile stories like that one." She had said this in a rush before her mind could catch up. Still, it felt good to do something right for once, so Cordelia continued. "Make pamphlets with those stories. Pass them out in public places. Send them to me and I will use my connections at the newspapers to publish them."
He blinked surprisedly, the Proud-Elf persona finally melting away. "You are a good witch, Miss Morrigan. Just like Miss Hermione."
"No," The response was garbled, "I am most certainly not." With that she spun away from the delightful scene. The hope. The glory and loveliness her granddaughter had managed to craft. She had to. Otherwise the goodness of it all would distract her from the hard things that needed to be done.
Jaw tightening, Cordelia Morrigan finally slipped out onto the sidewalk. About to apparate for the gloominess which awaited in Ireland. Only, she never did. A flash of gold erupted before the blinded witch was tugged violently into a world of fire.
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"It is amazing," Daphne breathed out in an awed tone, Astoria beside her looking equally amazed. "Grandfather always lamented about these holidays not being celebrated anymore. For all the wrong reasons, of course, but maybe he did have the slightest of points…" Spread out before them was the empty Great Hall. After the Duelling Club had ended the Professors, Hogwarts House Elves, and Dumbledore took the space over. Horns of plenty were stocked high all across the four tables. Bread, fruit, nuts, vegetables, and hard cheeses spilling from the baskets. The bewitched ceiling had been positioned in such a way that night and day seemed equal, coexistent. Candles waited to be lit in preparation for mass rituals. She tugged her long cloak cloak closer as students started trickling down the corridors, hiding the orange gown beneath.
"We should go," Astoria agreed, picking up on her sister's antsiness. "It is a shame we have to miss this."
"Dumbledore will do it again," The older Greengrass sister sighed, "The response from the Daily Prophet was too good for him not to. At the Wizengamot meeting two days ago all of those old harpies, even the Purists, were going on about how wrong they had been. That he was restoring our 'glorious culture.' Even if that is not the reason I doubt he will just stop observance of Mabon after such praise." They scurried down into the dungeons. Astoria grew quickly discomforted by the chill, though Daphne embraced it. This was her home, after all, even if all of the other occupants called her a mud wallower. Deeper and deeper the two went until they finally arrived at Professor Snape's personal chambers. Sucking in a deep breath, Daphne knocked confidently on the door.
"Enter at your own risk," Came the snarling baritone of the Hogwarts Potions' Master. They slipped into the large space together. The space had been altered from how it usually looked during Daphne's visits to the man's office hours. Apart from a fountain of sorts in the center of the room which held luminous, golden water, the chamber of circularly winding stone was entirely devoid of light. Tables to the sides stood stacked with many tools and instruments. This would be nothing like a relaxed Mabon back at home, she easily deduced. They were about to embark on ritualistic magic not practiced openly, or more like legally, since the Eighteenth Century at most. Scattered about the room she recognized Luna, Hermione, Harry, and Cedric already standing at the ready. At the head of the gathering was Snape.
Her Potions' Master wore nothing more than a pair of tight, dark pants. His shockingly impressive, lean musculature bare for any present eyes to see. Hair no longer greasy and hanging gently to his milky white shoulders. The scars were what left Daphne feeling most uncomfortable. So many scars, and each one that passed within her notice brought to mind the old whispers that he had been one of Voldemort's most talented followers. "Hurry, Astor," She whipped her cloak off and tossed it to the side whilst kicking off her shoes. Astoria followed suit until they both stood in the circle, her Gryffindor sister shivering, clad only in identical, blood-red gowns of gossamer silk.
"Did you all bathe as instructed by the House Elves? In the milk whilst repeating the words from memory?" They all nodded morosely. "Are you sure you burnt the parchments those words were written on directly beforehand, Potter?" Pure hatred dripped from Snape's tone as he glared venomously at a very shirtless Harry Potter. To his credit, the Boy-Who-Lived did not give a snappy response as he usually did in the classroom. Instead he nodded obediently in answer. That simply could have been due to little more than nerve-induced nausea. "Good." The snarl had eased, replaced by a sinister smile. "I will not suffer any foolishness. The consequences of incomplete rituals can be more severe than the cost of anticipated invocation itself. You will follow my lead with absolutely no deviation. None. Understood, Granger?"
"Crystal clear, Professor," The girl spoke up. Her face was determined. Carefully focused on the calm water.
"Naturally," His voice dripped with sarcasm, "Why Dumbledore would want me to perform such a ritual for your sake is beyond my pay grade." There was a pause. "Hmm. What was it you called me? A 'unicornfucker?' Though that should be forgotten now that you need my expert assistance."
"You are a powerful wizard, Severus Snape." Luna sucked the air from the room at that moment as usual. This time was different. Everyone stepped back surprisedly. The golden water quivering as the ethereal Second Year glowed a pearly white. "Your mother worshipped the Goddess of Magic, Hecate. Her glorious majesty, the Lady of Sorcery whispers to me when you are around. About your wasted potential. So much talent, so little graciousness." That voice was thicker than Luna's natural one. Older. Wiser than it had any right to be. Daphne placed a calming hand on the back of her little sister's head. They had reviewed the stes the entire night before. Rituals were often more complex for those who were leading them. Snape had the more complex share of responsibility. Astoria merely needed to follow along as was expected of her with only a headache after as the most severe repercussion for non-compliance. That was the only reason that her little sister had been allowed to participate.
Any response Snape might have been able to formulate was cut off as the glowing child raised both arms in a v-shape overhead. Wand in one hand, what looked like an apple in the other. "Twilight is upon us. Commence." No one was willing to be the last to obey the strange child. All of them slipped into place.
Hermione stood next to Daphne this time. "Here," She breathed out quickly, gown of orange writhing with each movement, "An amethyst. I had them send it from my vaults at Gringotts. Give that to Astoria. You will get the bundle." A bouquet of dried yarrow, chamomile, and marigolds was pressed into her left hand. As Snape slipped around them, warding a protective circle from lesser energies, she withdrew two medallions from her neck. "Put these on. All of the wearers must carry these medallions at all times after completion to keep the summoned protection intact. The price we must pay." Her last words were whispered, emphasized.
"We will do this for you, Hermione. You are my friend." Daphne clasped Hermione's hand firmly in her own. Their eyes connected deeply. "It is a price we will pay."
"I am forever in your debt, Daphne Greengrass." She nodded stiffly. Turning back around to exchange a last minute snog with Cedric, much to everyone, but Snape's, amusement. There was silence for a long moment as they stood around the fountain.
Then from across the chamber an item on Snape's workbench flashed a blinding yellow colour. "Dumbledore has held his end, we must begin while the rest of the school engages in the prayer."
Hermione gasped suddenly at that. She would have fallen to her knees had Cedric not steadied her at his side. "Sorry," Came the soft response, "It is getting angrier the closer we come to blocking it out."
"Cern-?" Daphne began to ask only for Snape to silence her magically and nonverbally.
"We will not say that name here. These are weak barriers, very weak compared to that entity," The Professor hissed, "Do not invite it in or we are doomed before starting. Keep your Occlumency barriers strong throughout, Granger. I have confidence in you." The muggleborn nodded resolutely, standing back up straight and cracking her neck. He moved his wand tip to his lips. "This circle is power all around. Between the worlds I stand. With power and protection at hand. I call upon the Bacchus on this Mabon night. To celebrate all ways my life has gone right! I call upon Persephone and evoke her power of duality. I call upon Hades with all my might. To remember that with darkness comes light." Dark smoke escaped from his mouth, the rest of them following suit with their own wands.
The world descended into an explosion of light as they began. Each of them repeating the words in turn only for their auras to flare to life at the end. Harry blossomed a deep red shockingly thick. Cedric was a bright, mighty yellow, though the strength was no surprise. Luna was lost behind a wall of white. Astoria gleamed an innocent, wispy blue. Daphne lost herself in an entrancing haze of emerald green. Hermione went last, completely engulfed by a shining curtain of blackspot-inducing sliver. So powerful and untempered that the chamber began to shake. There was the magical core that had shattered every window in Hogwarts. For once Daphne did not feel so pathetic squaring off against an old, Celtic God. High above came an ocean of magical energy as everyone in the Great Hall, with varying degrees of enthusiasm, partook in the Mabon festivities. Unknowingly fuelling the power of their ritual.
What followed was an out-of-body delight.
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Tracey Davis shivered in the cold of the Forbidden Forest. "You are absolutely certain that Dumbledore will not grow suspicious of our absence?" She hissed again at Blaise Zabini.
"Careful you half-blooded bitch," He snapped back angrily, dark skin glinting under the moonlight. "I will not be questioned by you. Even if you are my only ally in this disastrous exploration of the depths of hubris." There was a thoughtful pause, "Our letter had enough signatures to more than account for at least half of the Slytherin table from any festivities. A quarter, most of the older students and lesser families were not informed. I sent another quarter of our weakest...Knights to remain in the dormitories to cover for the last half."
"Cassius Warrington, Adrian Pucey, Gemma Farley, and Lucian Bole showed me their results from all of their combined work this summer. Malfoy hired a Master Arithmancer to quadruple check the work," Tracey stared at the glittering pond before them. The Black Lake was too open and visible. Susceptible to interference, unacceptable during the performing of rituals. They had settled for the river which cut through the north-eastern section of the Forbidden Forest instead. "Parkinson said that Montague and Waxley Confunded Filch and Norris for when we needed to sneak back in later. The other Third Years say that the wards they learned over the summer have been erected. Nothing should come up on us without warning."
Her fingers tingling at the coming challenge, she shook again under the chill. Tracey was keenly aware of the erosion of her control over the other Slytherins. Especially with the introduction of the older Knights. This was her best chance though. To hoodwink the best Slytherin house had to offer with a half-baked plan and some shoddy, self-taught Ancient Runes. Making sure to stand in her pre-determined spot the half-blood forced herself to remain confident in the face of what was about to happen. Ambition was her sword while cunning served as the shield. What they all were about to attempt had been entirely her idea. A half-formed idea gleaned from some books in the Restricted Section the prior year.
She forced herself to focus on how easy it had been to dupe the self-proclaimed Gilderoy Lockhart. Perhaps Lord Voldemort would prove to be full of just as much hot air. If he was actually still alive. "Disrobe," Cassius Warrington commanded. Of course they had not been willing to let a half-blood take charge. Even though they all stood nude none of the boys made any remarks. Probably due to the fact that they were so nervous about the coming events. "Form the circle!" Gemma Fawley and Lucian Bole worked together to draw the circle around them all.
Soon enough the Binding had been accomplished. Tracey was able to fight the hallucinogenic effects long enough to bask in pride. Her filthy, half-blooded aura was just as radiant as the most powerful of the Knights. A brilliant purple that easily outshone that of the other Third Years. Except for Malfoy, to his credit. The sullen Pureblood glared at her still, even in the throes of their ritual from amidst a halo of grey. "The sacrifices!" Warrington's magically enhanced voice seemed to be composed of one-thousand whispers as he continued to order them about. Crabbe and Goyle made themselves useful. Auras like weak mud clinging to their ugly forms as they heaved the tank of blood to the pond. Tipping it over inside.
Pure blood. Collected over the summer. The chanting commenced as the pond began to boil in response. "Let our sacrifice nurture you. Protect you. Burn with love for you." The Slytherins all called out together. Some were enthusiastic with their devotion. Pansy Parkinson surrounded by a deep blue prostrating herself on all fours in the mud. Crying in pleasure beneath the sheer magnitude of magic surrounding them. The Great Hall celebrations must have commenced, for the atmosphere suddenly grew even thicker than before. Even Tracey, the least passionate among them felt herself falling to both knees. Sensing the metal-carved runes hidden in the dirt below began to activate.
Again Crabbe and Goyle tipped another tankard of blood. This one contained her's. The other Slytherins had refused to accept her blood defiling the prior bin. Even though it had all been her own plan to begin with. While the various pranks and acts of vandalism perpetrated by the Knights so far had drawn in large crowds, muggleborns and blood traitors had been spirited away. One at a time. Drained of their blood, tidied up, and then expertly Obliviated. After a bit of taunting by Pancy and Millicent she had added her own blood to the vat. The pond now sizzled so hot that splatters burnt at her cheek like oil in a frying pan full of sausage. All around the air sizzled violently as the water below churned. "Nourish yourself in the blood of our enemies. Make them shiver and scream. Grind them to dust."
This whole ritual was about tipping the balance from light to dark. Perverting the original intention of Mabon with cruel intentions. They had to have guidance to find success. Samhain would be the big tipping point, but this was simply a stepping stone. "Select from our ranks a worthy servant." They spoke as one, "Take them as your pupil, lieutenant, and vessel. Guide them to our shared glory. Use them as your mouthpiece. We bend to your will."
There was an eruption of energy as the bloody pond water burst to life with hungry flames of many different colours. 'My children…' Many gasps abounded as the Dark Lord whispered in their minds, very much alive. Pansy wailed in ecstasy, hurling her naked body at the pond only to be thrown back by an invisible barrier. 'Your loyalty inspires my hungry mind. Your faith lends vitality to my cold bones. Your love stokes my very magical core back to life.' There was a pause. 'I shall summon the one of you who is most worthy.' A presence swept through the circle. Her fingers tightened on her wand as she watched her Pureblood classmates writhe upwards only to be tossed aside like useless potato sacks. This was it. This was her moment to shine.
'You. Clever.' He was in her brain, arcing along her spine. 'Did you think of entrapping me? The Dark Lord?' The earth above her leading to the pond wrenched upwards as her string of recently-buried, interconnected metal-forged runes were tugged into the light. Her rope glowed a burning crimson. She screamed when the collection of burning metal wrapped about her leg. 'A half-blood who thinks herself a prophet. The very notion is idiotic. Absurd. Yet so, so very promising. Stand, half-blood. Redeem yourself. Purify your body.' Like that the magic in the air, which had been loaned to his temporary control turned against her. Tugged her to her feet as the other Slytherins looked on disbelievingly. She continued to scream in agony the whole way to the burning pond. With each step another few inches of the burning rope twisted into her body. Binding her more deeply to the Dark Lord.
Then, finally, Tracey Davis stood at the edge. Toes licked by flames. 'You desire my protection? Earn it, half-blood. Jump for your master!"
She jumped. Into the burning lake of multicoloured fire. Right into the depths of hell without the rope even having to pull her along.
'Tracey Davis. You belong to me now.' Echoed in her mind as she screamed from within the heart of the pond.
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"Medallions in the fountain. Now!" Snape shouted, all of the students, despite being so deeply trapped in the haze of power, did as bidden. Wrenching the silver medallions from their necks. Setting them gently into the golden, bubbling fountain. They had made their offerings. Lost themselves in the epicenter of magic that had become Hogwarts. Everyone began to rise upwards, into the air. The golden water bubbled upwards. Pouring out onto the floor and striking the barrier that surrounded them all. Steam hissed violently while the fountain crumbled downwards into nothingness.
Moments slipped by in this manner until there was a loud pop and all of them crashed to the ground. Daphne wondered foggily if the others were quite as blind as she was. Spinning on the floor before her was her medal. Not needing any instruction she looped it about her neck quickly. Listening as everyone else did the same exact thing.
She could not help but lose herself in the blackness of the newly darkened chamber. "Up," Snape rasped out suddenly, wrenching her from oblivion. "Get up now!" Suddenly there was bright light pooling out from the end of his wand. The man slipped to his feet as they all clumsily followed suit. Daphne noted that the medallions dangled from everyone's necks. Each one having reformed into a different rune. "The headmaster has given me permission to apparate on the grounds for the evening. Each of you must be placed in various positions around the school wards. To share your protection with the rest of the student body. Do not move. Do not think of leaving until I recollect you." With that he had grabbed Cedric by the arm, and disappeared with a splitting crack.
Only to reappear under the guise of a gentle popping noise. "Next?"
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Ginny Weasley felt her fingers tighten around her wand as she observed Tracy Davis screaming in the middle of the burning pond. All of the Slytherins writhed with each burst of magic. Either against the ground, or against one another. They had melted her brother's statue only days earlier. She longed for nothing more than to send one of the curses Riddle had taught her into their midst. Still, the protective barrier around them had already made her earlier attempts moot. A Blasting Curse had rebounded right back in her direction.
The Second Year slipped about under the cover of the trees. Searching, still, for some sort of weakness. Some way to hurt the bastards who had been so happy to tarnish her brother's memory. She almost sneered at how easy it had been to discover the plans. To spy on them when they thought their little, pathetic, 'Knightly' meetings were unknown to the castle's other occupants. Shivering again in discomfort, the witch felt as the energies at Hogwarts stirred tempestuously, again. Something was happening in there, just like it was out here. While the Slytherins seemed happy to lose themselves in it, Ginny was frightened by all of the energy.
She was, quite plainly, an intruder. One who had had absolutely no success in attempting to harm her prey. Very much alone in the face of so many enemies. The smart thing would have been to leave, but she desperately wanted to inflict some painful retribution. To make them feel at least a fraction of the hurt she had experienced after seeing Ron's melted statue. Immature, Ginny knew, and reckless. Two of the things that Aunt Muriel had spent the summer beating out of her. Still, misery loves company.
'I can help you, Ginevra Weasley,' Came the voice at her lowest, most desperate moment. 'Would you like my help?' There was a pause. 'You must decide quickly. Before I am shut away by our enemies. By Hermione Granger.' She started at that. If the Slytherins were on her list of itches to scratch, Hermione Granger was definitely right alongside them. Her memories were foggy, but Ginny knew that there was something wrong with what happened in the Chamber of Secrets. The immense distrust she felt whenever the muggleborn was near could not be coincidental. 'Yes. Your memory was altered. I can fix that, child. Together we will bring these Knights to their knees. We will put Hermione Granger where she belongs. For dear Ronald. Who deserved so much better.'
"Yes," The grief left her brain whirling, the desire for vengeance made her tongue moisten at the prospect. "I want to turn them all to ash."
'So we shall, sweet Ginevra. Kneel here, now. Devote yourself to me. You will remain connected to me, even when Hermione Granger seals me out. Together we shall be able to give her what she plainly deserves.' Ginny was on her knees in an instant. Making a pledge of devotion to the voice, even though she was still two years away from her societal debut. Vowing to honor her new ally with all of her might. 'Say the name. Say it girl!'
"CERNUNNOS!" She cried out, "I pledge myself to you, Cernunnos."
The black sky above lit suddenly into a rainbow of colours. A barrier of wards knitting themselves afresh with new magic. For a long moment there was silence. Then Ginny Weasley stood to both feet. Her mind awash with memories long erased. Fog blown away. 'It is done. Our work begins, young one.' She lifted her wand, no, it was lifting her wand for her. Lightning was wrenched outwards, and the Slytherin's circle ripped violently forth.
Screams filled the air.
OOOO