Disclaimer: See Chapter 01
Harry Potter and Pure Blooded Truths
Chapter 5
Family Secrets
The Ancestral Hall was the largest chamber located within the east wing, a grand room reserved for formal occasions. A room, that by original design exuded an ambiance of pureblood supremacy. The first time Narcissa had crossed the threshold, she was alone, and her senses immediately reacted, putting her on heightened alert. Having been reared in a very strict traditional pureblood household, Narcissa was attuned to many forms of trappings that would go undetected by most. Cautiously surveying the room and all its artifacts, Narcissa had cast several detection spells yet she never located nor identified any specific charm.
As the days progressed, she found herself gravitating towards the room more and more. She was inwardly convinced that the room had charms discretely placed within its confines as the room had an almost unearthly appeal, subtly playing on her desire to free herself of her self control, to throw caution to the wind and to live for the moment. Whenever she entered the room, she instinctually felt that she was being monitored but could not pinpoint the source.
Over time, Narcissa had concluded that the wards in the room were non-discriminating. Whether it be a party setting or employing a ruse to bring a person in individually, everybody that crossed the threshold was affected. From some of the most guarded individuals to those oblivious to self preservation methods, the same changes could be observed, in varying degrees, if one knew what to look for. Narcissa had also come to realize that the wards specific to the room were not linked to the Malfoy bloodline nor the head of house, as her husband was also unknowingly affected.
A room to avoid least a situation occur when one was not completely in control of their self, was the conclusion Narcissa had come to with regard to the chamber. The woman's diligent caution was not a fear that a boggart would be able to manifest, but still a very real fear Narcissa kept close to her heart, for she always had a tight rein on any untoward emotional leakage. For Narcissa believed that her longevity was attributed to her concealment of certain personal beliefs. It was a necessity to always be in control of herself considering the circles that she often times found herself taking an active role in. The fear of being unmasked was why she had avoided the hall for years.
It was obvious to the woman, the wards were tapping into a person's defenses, making them more vulnerable. And the only reason to make a person vulnerable would be for easier probing. Reaching this conclusion was the easy part, now Narcissa had to try and figure out what controlled the wards and what their purpose was as they were not linked to the Malfoy heir, yet housed in the Malfoy homestead. With so many unknowns, Narcissa went on the defensive and assumed that the wards were not there for friendly reasons.
Avoiding the hall by no means meant that Narcissa lived in denial of it's existence nor remained ignorant of the significant empowerment the wielder could possess. Conferring with the manor's portraits and some thorough research of her own, Narcissa had deduced an ancestor had the charms woven into the foundation of the wing. With her mind defenses at their maximum, she had confronted the portrait, the one that bore the most overbearing of the Malfoy clan, the person whom she believed was responsible for having the charms installed in the manor.
The initial confrontation yielded little. In fact, the woman barely acknowledged Narcissa at all. The woman was a true matriarch, even in portraiture her carriage was regal and demanding of perfection from all who would dare address her. So staunch was her demeanor that only one other ever dared occupy the frame with her, when expressly invited.
It was not unusual for the Malfoy matriarch to demand obedience from the other portrait occupants hanging in the Ancestral Hall, they were not to interfere nor aid the young witch during the time of her assessment. The wards were hers, having only been temporarily relinquished to one other Malfoy heiress. Upon the death of the heiress, the bonds binding the wards to her were dissolved, the wards reverted back to the matriarch's control. Time favored the matriarch, she could wait, watch and access before she came to a decision on the latest Mrs. Malfoy that graced the manor.
With the passage of time, the matriarch had kept a vigil watch over the younger witch; Narcissa's conduct both private and public was closely scrutinized by the matriarch. At times, out of sheer boredom and because it suited her, she would acerbically chastise the younger woman just to have a worthy sparing partner, easing some of the boredom that plagued her. Early on it became abundantly clear that the younger Mrs. Malfoy was not easily intimidated and had proven to be a worthy opponent. Her sharp mind was matched by her equally expansive vocabulary, leaving the elder witch at a loss on more than one occasion. The banter never reached the levels to be considered abusive but it did keep both women ready to tango at any given moment. A game played by masterful masters, a game few could succeed at.
Portraits having no concept of time, the matriarch had paid little heed as to when she had grown to regard the beautiful young witch favorably. Not only had the matriarch grown to respect the younger witch, but the feeling was mutual. Initially a wide berth was given to one another, but eventually both parties gently warmed to one another's sense of self worth and biting humor. A strong sense of self esteem was a quality the elder witch could find no fault with as it was not a quality that was based on greed, as greed is not an ideal, it all too often drove a man to do things he otherwise might not.
The two women shared many personal antidotes and stories about themselves. Both women hailed from affluent backgrounds, yet their family's ideologies differed greatly. Narcissa's family reveled in power and the station in life power afforded; while the elder woman's caregivers stressed the family unit, family bonds were worth preserving and cherishing above tangible goods or public opinion.
On afternoons that Narcissa had no social engagements, she would spend time in the family quarters where a second portrait of the matriarch hung. So important had their afternoon encounters become to the younger woman that she looked forward to their rousing, highly charged discussions that mostly centered around family, history, and politics.
As open and affable as the younger woman thought she had successfully presented herself as, the elder was not fooled, for she saw a deep seated sadness that lingered in the young witch's eyes. As expansive as the ocean, the blue eyes of the beautiful young witch were shadowed by an under current of fear. And like an ocean, the elder woman knew that waters could be calm one moment only to be riled up with the menacing force of a tsunami the next. An inner destructive force that needed to be tampered before the young woman drowned in her own sorrow.
The two women shared many things about themselves with one another. The long dead woman captured in portraiture oils, became more than a crotchety old woman to Narcissa, more than a mere mentor, she had become a true friend. A person who had always been elusive to the younger woman. Somebody worthy of sharing her deepest, darkest secret with, but Narcissa was still afraid, as she had never shared this particular secret with anybody.
Narcissa had been born a natural empath; an ability she had grown up being afraid of and ashamed of. As a young child she had no understanding of her empathic powers or how to control them. She only knew that something was terribly wrong with her and that solitude was a necessity as well as her only comfort.
Being born of the Nobel House of Black, brought prestige as well as hardships. Narcissa was never lacking for material possessions, but her emotional needs went unmet. Empathic children have an absolute need to be surrounded by compassionate people during their developmental years, otherwise, the results are often times life threatening.
Most empathic children lacking a stable support structure feel bombarded, and overwhelmed, eventually losing the ability to distinguish between their emotions and those belonging to others. These individuals often times fall into a pit of despair and rarely resurface, for it takes enormous inner strength to over come their personal demons, their faceless, bodiless tormentors. Those who are unable to claw their way out of the pit, drown themselves in inebriated bliss or end their lives in a desperate attempt to end their living nightmare.
Everybody knew the Black family — Dark Wizards, the lot of them, had been for generations. Respected by the Wizarding community, respected and feared. The many business associates and like minded individuals that frequented the Black family home made the young girl very afraid. It was as if she could feel their auras of malevolence. She could not tangibly see their auras but she could feel the blackness emanating from within their magical cores. She had nightmares of invisible black tendrils snaking out from people she knew, touching and infecting all in their path.
Narcissa was nearly six years old when her parents had bonded a personal elf to her. At the time, it was fashionable but not common for aristocrats to bond elves to their children. Unknown to her parents, it was this bonding, and the resulting friendship that developed that had saved Narcissa from the ensuing insanity that would have eventually consumed her.
The little girl spent many days having little to no interaction with adults, freely electing to spend her time with her bonded elf, Betsy. As a child, Narcissa did not understand that the reason she preferred Betsy's company over that of her peers and siblings was because the creature's emotional thought patterns were not transferable to her, allowing her a time of peace she rarely felt among others.
Betsy brought Narcissa out of her shell, her life of exile in her wardrobe. Betsy became the surrogate mother that the little girl was in desperate need of. The little elf's patience in dealing with the jittery child never faltered nor wavered. And even though they were nearly the same size, Betsy would hug and rock the child when needed, providing soothing words and a calmness that soothed the little girl's frazzled nerves. These small gestures and constant companionship gave Narcissa the emotional stability that she desperately needed to become a survivor and not a statistic.
It was not until Narcissa was well into her studies at Hogwarts, that she had learned facts about her empathic abilities and how to better cope with them. It was through her reading that she had learned that there was an organization specific to help individuals like her. The organization, The Society of Empaths was comprised of a group of professionals with similar abilities, set up to help others with the same gift.
The teenager felt awash with relief, a place she could go, later, when she was sure nobody would be able to trace her, if she needed. It seemed that the simple knowledge that there was a place available should she require assistance was enough to satiate the young woman for several years. Information that would prove to be invaluable in years to come.
Uncharacteristic for the young woman, she had been sitting and fidgeting with the pleats in her skirt while she had conversed with the matriarch for the past twenty minutes. Shaping, smoothing, creasing, smoothing over and over her hand rubbed while she gathered her thoughts. The elder woman had noticed the departure from her usual demeanor, and had elected to patiently wait while the younger witch came to terms with what ever was troubling her.
Narcissa felt a complete wreck, not that any casual observer would notice due to the mask of calm she had perfected, the mask that had formed tiny cracks while she had been gathering some fortitude. Narcissa had decided that she would take the plunge and reveal her — handicap to the elder Mrs. Malfoy. So out of character for the younger woman, to want to share something extremely personal about herself. Information that she had kept caged, tucked away and hidden deep within, until now.
The reasons for this compulsion were simple enough, love and respect, but that did not make the task any easier for the younger woman. Even though she had decided to tell this woman about her empathic powers, and knowing that this woman would never betray her, that information did little to comfort her nerves. She was about to completely expose herself for the first time in her life, and she was scared. Being afraid of rejection and being afraid of being viewed as weak had been great motivating factors for her to have kept her powers secret all these years.
When the information finally came to light, the elder woman was not surprised in the least when the younger woman had revealed to her that she was an Empath. In their many antidotal stories, the young woman had displayed an uncanny perception and awareness of others. An awareness that defied wisdom in a woman so young, especially having led such a sheltered life. The revelation that she was an empath explained much about the young woman.
With the truth having finally been revealed, Narcissa felt the burden on her shoulders lessen. She had not been rejected nor criticized, rather the opposite. When the older woman had pointed out to her that while her fears to keep such information secret were real, given her family circumstances, her fears thinking that empathic powers made her emotionally weak were unfounded.
These frank discussions between the two women helped Narcissa begin to heal, to stop the brooding and self hatred she had harbored most of her life. The elder told Narcissa to not fret as not all Empaths were the weepy, mollycoddling, lip quivering sycophants that she had mistakenly thought them to be.
The matron further consoled the younger woman, telling her that her strengths and abilities had molded her into the type of person that succeeded in life, one that accepted challenges and worked them to an advantage. The elder woman told Narcissa that she knew this to be true because the younger woman had already been doing so. That she had been born with an ability that claimed the lives of the weak, and the fact that she was still standing strong was proof that she had great inner strength, a force of fortitude few could claim.
If one were to ask the matron her opinion, she would balk at the cliché muggle phrase, to turn lemons into lemonade, as nothing so common or ordinary would suffice in describing Narcissa's inner strength. Rather a more appropriate expression would be to turn a man into a warrior. Narcissa had used her gift and hardened herself for success with and because of it.
The elder woman had nothing but praise for the troubled young woman. An element of distinction that had rarely been bestowed upon Narcissa growing up. She had graciously accepted the compliments but years passed before she took any of the compliments to heart with conviction.
One afternoon, after the two women, one alive, one not, had had a rousing discussion involving politics as well as personal beliefs, the matriarch had decided it was time to acknowledge the younger witch. Still interested in the room's wards but no longer threatened by them, Narcissa was taken aback by what the Malfoy ancestor had proposed to her at the close of their afternoon tête-à-tête To Narcissa's astonishment and credit she did not gape like a fish out of water when the secrets of the room and all they entailed were revealed to her.
Narcissa had learned that the original purpose of the charms was to determine fealty. Not dissimilar to the present, there was a time when wizards and witches were plagued by the shadow of mistrust. A misspoken word could find oneself at the end of wand point, with death soon following.
This coincided when the wizarding community began its withdrawal from mixed society, isolating themselves from muggles. During this episode in history, many family lines ceased to exist, family members slain in the name of greed. Those with an unquenchable thirst for power eliminated the perceived competition to better secure their position in society.
Listening to the accounts the elder Mrs. Malfoy had lived through, Narcissa was not surprised that she had devised a means to protect her family. Hearing the countless stories of loss, all too often the underlying message being the same, the enemy from within was often times the most devastating, in both emotional toil as well as personal loss. Brother against brother brought about a terror within the very heart of the community, a wound that took decades to scab.
The charms offered a means for the woman to protect herself and her family from those with malicious intent, in a seemingly harmless setting and in an innocuous manner. She was determined that family or social gatherings at her home would not be the undoing of the Malfoy clan. Due to deep seated mistrust, the knowledge of and the information the wards provided were even kept from her husband. A man whom she adored but feared, feared his ambitious nature.
After lengthy discussions regarding the value of being privy to the information the charms could yield, Narcissa was more than interested. Knowing with certainty who to and who not to trust, would be most beneficial; especially now, with the rise of a Dark Lord. The information provided could save the lives of her loved ones, as it had for her mentor.
Before Narcissa would consider taking proprietorship over the charms, she would need to better hone her skills as an empath. She needed to employ a method to either shield her natural empathic powers or to selectively dampen those of the room, otherwise it was highly probable that she would be overwhelmed, and end up a permanent ward in the Magical Maladies wing of St. Mungos. She took her studies and training to heart as such an outcome was not permissible.
During this time of self imposed study, the main driving force, the Dark Lord, had fallen. The wizard had fallen in body; yet some of his followers believed that he would resurrect himself, like some god. The blind worshiping of this individual by many of her social peers disgusted Narcissa. The thought of prostrating oneself to any man was foreign to her way of thinking. Just the thought made Narcissa's lip curl up in an undignified manner.
Whether the Dark Lord would return or not was immaterial to Narcissa; she would not take chances with the safety of her family, especially now, with a young son to protect. The Dark Lord's followers were the type of wizards she had heard countless stories about from her mentor. The greedy and power hungry individuals who would kill their friends, neighbors, even family members on a whim to please their master.
As distasteful as the notion was to Narcissa, she had to admit that she needed help, if she was to become stronger. Allowing her pride to take a backseat was however not synonymous with suddenly being struck down stupid. There were precautions that needed to be taken and it would not do if haste made her sloppy, plans needed to be formulated and implemented before she made a move.
With the aid of many liberally applied glamours and a mismatched off-the-rack outfit, the young witch left the manor feeling secure that her identity had been properly disguised. Apparating, to a run down section of town, commonly referred to as The Olde Market Square, Narcissa sought out an organization that she had been aware of since her days as a student at Hogwarts, The Society of Empaths.
Narcissa made her way down the street that was fronted by one shabby building after another, until she found the one dilapidated building that she had been looking for. There displayed on the front of number twenty-three East Market Point was the plaque she had hoped to find. It simply read, The Society of Empaths, Founded 1346.
Within suite four-seventeen, Narcissa met with the program coordinator. After introductions had been properly dispensed with, Narcissa booked no hesitation, stating the reason for her appearance. In what could only be viewed as a rehearsed speech, the young woman had explained that she was an untrained empath and that she sought to change that deficiency in her education.
The man had listened to the most concise and precise explanation he had ever heard. In stark contrast to what the man usually experienced during these initial consultations, this woman did not drone on about her troubles, she had no need for consoling or hand holding, she came prepared and ready to take action. Clarion knew then, that he would admit the woman into the program. For someone to have sought the organization out and present themselves so rigidly, indicated to him that the woman was afraid of something.
With practiced poise, Narcissa thought she had successfully skirted any and all personal issues regarding her desire to learn how to better utilize her empathic powers. This would have been true, had it not been that Clarion too was an empath and had been assessing the woman's credibility during her interview. By the time the young woman left his office, Clarion was thoroughly impressed with her. He was left with the impression that while she was truthful in her desire to learn the craft, however she was less than forthright in her reasons to learn at such an accelerated pace. The woman was a mystery and she was well practiced in preserving her secrets.
In an effort to propel her studies along at an accelerated pace, Narcissa had agreed to meet at the office thrice weekly. Her time was evenly split between theory and practical lessons. The theoretical lessons were influenced by psychological as well as sociological studies of the human psyche. While the practicals emphasized training and analyzing information she gleaned from a controlled or monitored environment.
Narcissa had initially balked at the required time spent on the softer aspects of her art, yet came to appreciate the unwavering approach her tutors had insisted upon that she learn the psychology of the human mind. In addition to understanding personality types and possible triggers, Narcissa had gained an understanding of herself; a penetrating look into her own soul. Admittedly she did not like everything she saw but was unwilling to alter anything at the present. She would have to content herself with the hope that time would eventually present options that were not currently available.
After a year of training, providing her with heightened control of her empathic powers, Narcissa felt that she was ready to bind herself to the manor. The binding allowed her to take proprietorship over the charms anchored to the Ancestral Hall, which would dissolve, and revert back to the manor upon her death. This failsafe insured that the wards would always be available to a deserving Malfoy, and not lost upon a wielder's unexpected death. While this feature might have alarmed another, it served to cement Narcissa's deepest respect for the ward's creator; for her ever vigil protection of the Malfoy clan, for her son and his children to be.
No longer intimidated by the East Wing, Narcissa had redecorated with a flourish that few possessed, sparring no expense as she had a goal in mind, one that melded with that of her mentor. The transition was exquisite, no detail overlooked. Narcissa had been quite pleased with the outcome. A perfect balance had been achieved, the room radiated an ambience of power and wealth without intimidation.
Narcissa, in all her splendor hosted an abundance of parties at the estate, with all galas of any importance hosted in the Ancestral Hall. The room became a favorite place to entertain, not only for the Malfoy's but for those in power or those climbing the ladder of success. To be acknowledged by the Malfoy couple by a party thrown in their honor, was a seal of approval that brought about instant recognition, followed by financial backers.
As Narcissa and Lucius matured as a couple, their power of influence peaked, each bringing forth a strength to the union that was unrivaled and admired by wizarding socialites. And in order to maintain this position in society, Narcissa had entertained. She played the perfect hostess as a means to support her husband, furthering his tendrils of manipulation within the political arena as well as satiating her thirst to monitor and assess individuals that surrounded them.
Leeches, she placed little importance on, yet never wavered in her continued assessments of their emotional stability. Individuals that made her more wary were those who showed a thirst for power, by way of their own ambition or their complicity to follow others who wielded power and influence. Either trait could be lethal to her family.
To be presented and honored in the Malfoy Ancestral Hall was an event few wanted to miss, as they were usually the social event of the season. The room exuded the embodiment of power, and those foolish enough to think that it transcended to them were all too willing to stand in line and fawn. The cost to host these affairs bore no hardship to the Malfoy's. While Lucius basked in his continued admiration by society, it was Narcissa who benefited the most. She took careful note of all nuances the room provided her in conjunction with her Empathic abilities.
After several gatherings with promising and a few — surprising insights, Narcissa was quite pleased with the information the wards had yielded. She owed her mentor more than she thought she could ever repay. But how does one go about repaying a life debt to one who's already dead? Narcissa had spent many nights pondering this very question and had finally found a satisfactory solution. Something that would show her everlasting gratitude.
After studying many Grimoires housed in the manor's library, tomes having been acquired through the rites of marriage, Narcissa had found the perfect way to express her gratitude. And as a bonus, it was one that was steeped rich in tradition, something she was sure the matron would appreciate in both the gesture and in the action. The ritual had fallen out of favor eons ago, as it was a pledge of fealty to their war lord in the event the town was under siege. A pledge that transcended even death.
When she had first come across the description of the ritual, she had wondered what type of person would go to such lengths, other than some crazed warrior, but then, upon further reflection she had realized that she was such a person. She was not crazed nor was she a warrior, however, her thoughts and desires were not dissimilar to that of a lioness protecting her pride.
The mere idea that she had thought of herself as having qualities befitting that of a Gryffindor was not wholly abhorrent to the woman, however it was a thought that she would never voice. Never one to be mistaken as a foolish Gryffindor, she would better be described as being a forged soul of the two houses. A combination that yielded the most ferocious of both traits, a lioness with venomous fangs.
Her initial reaction in reading the ritual had been one of abhorrence but, if the spell could be modified, she could see herself casting it with little reservation. She was not the type of person who would willingly consign her individual choices to another, which is what the ritual required. She would never consider enslaving herself for another to wield. There would be only one person allowed to control her destiny, and not even death would change that.
She would not be bound like those weak individuals that took the Dark Mark. Narcissa was not interested in binding herself to a person and their cause, but she would consider doing something similar to that of her mentor. To help, to protect and to pass on knowledge. With some modifications to the ritual, she could consider binding herself to the manor rather than a living being.
If possible, she wanted to compliment the efforts that her mentor had accomplished and not duplicate them. This is why Narcissa wanted to do more than leave her essence in a painting that could be ignored by her descendants. If she needed to work behind the scenes, oblivious to her descendants, then that is what she would do. She had no need for grandstanding, the knowledge that she would be protecting those that mattered to her was all the reward she needed.
Reading the ritual had awakened something in Narcissa that had otherwise been dormant. What had begun as a search to express her gratitude to her mentor, had blossomed into something on a much grander scale. A door to her inner self had been cracked. A door that creaked open wider little by little as she continued on the path of personal enrichment, loving and embracing herself. And now, the door had been blown off it's hinges, never to be bolted shut again.
Narcissa's childhood had taught the young woman to be self reliant and to not wear her heart on her sleeve like an emotional Hufflepuff. But since having interacted with the elder Mrs. Malfoy, her perceptions had been changing. And growing in leaps and bounds were her maternal instincts and all that those encompassed. Perhaps she was a Hufflepuff after all, as this awakening within her was something that she did not want to close off, but she would reign in any rash outbursts and be the Slytherin that she was and carefully dole out what others saw in her actions.
She needed to find out if there was a way to modify the ritual, yielding her desired results. There could be no chances taken as there was no 'do over', as these types of spells could not be undone once cast. She would not allow any mistakes to be made, forcing her to become a haunting of the estate. Being able to do for others did not translate into Narcissa becoming a martyr. She wanted to permeate the manor with her essence, adding strength to the wards, stability to the structure and peace to it's occupants, qualities of life she had been denied as a child.
She was not about to cast her life out like a handful of die at the craps table. She needed some assurances that she was not condemning her soul to the fiery pits of hell. Narcissa knew of only one type of person that had the skills and knowledge to help her rewrite the ritual to her needs and be able to transcend the spirit realm.
The more popular stories that had circulated about Necromancers had them parading amongst inferi and raising the dead for nefarious reasons were entertaining, but were in reality as far from the truth as Snape's head of hair was from a bar of soap. Narcissa knew these stories to be fabrications and it was only through her frank discussions with her mentor that she had learned the truth about Necromancers.
A necromancer true to their craft helps aid the dead along their chosen path. While one might ask the dead for some assistance in an occasional task of theirs, but know that they never make demands of the dead, iswhat the elder woman had said She had further informed her that Necromancers cherished the dead as the dead provided insight and information that the living rarely could. When Narcissa had then thought about how helpful her discussions were with an animated portrait charmed to contain memories of the deceased woman, the realization of a person having access to spiritual powers was beyond her comprehension.
Unknown to the general populous, Necromancers were men and women held accountable to the highest of moral standards. The oaths binding Necromancers were considered unbreechable. To ignore or go against their sworn oath, using the dead to harm the living brought about their own destruction, so, few Necromancers wandered down this path, or lived to regret their betrayal.
Even though Necromancers were extremely honorable individuals, held to standards few could meet, they were still widely feared by the community. This fear had in part been fostered by their guild through the ages, to keep their members few in number. Control needed to be maintained as the temptations were great. To wield the powers of dead spirits successfully, a practitioner required not only great skill but a personal inner strength as well, to not be seduced by the power rarely seen by the living.
Their skills had never been what would have been considered fashionable, but since the rise and fall of Grindewald, followed closely by Lord Voldemort, the populous had grown more distrustful of Necromancers. The fear that one of these gifted individuals might join forces with an evil dark lord drove the governing body to pass laws, putting restrictions on the actions of all Necromancers. The laws were so strict and encompassing that to practice the craft of necromancy resulted in a life term at Azkaban.
As a result of all the restrictive obstacles, Narcissa had some difficulty tracking down a Master Necromancer. Being the resourceful witch that she was, she had not only located a Master Necromancer, but had secured his services. After thoroughly explaining her need of his services, he had elected to help her, barring all conditions other than his conferring with the guild for guidance and permission.
The challenge she had presented him, both academic and practical was not one he wanted to miss out on. The theoretical options were both mind numbing and exhilarating. He looked forward to working with the young woman, he could not think of any examples of a ritual fixing the spiritual essence of a person while said person was still alive, to be invoked upon their death.
Because of the use of blood and the binding of a soul the ritual would have been classified as Dark Magic, however, the purpose was anything but. The man, only known to Narcissa as Blade had tirelessly worked with her for months before he was satisfied that the new spell and ritual would produce the desired results. The difficulty in perfecting the ritual had been in configuring the arithmagic equations in addition to the precise placement of the runes.
Necromancers did not think in simplified concepts easily classified as black and white, life versus death. True, they dealt with the dead and death itself, and because of this, they had far greater respect and knowledge that the world was actually hues of grays and rarely separated into distinctive blocks of black and white. So, when Blade had finally configured a ritual for the young witch, combining both a blood as well as a soul sacrifice, the council did not reject it on the principle that it would be classified as Dark Magic, according to the Wizarding population, but rather on the grounds that one not of their teachings would be in the fold of such a ceremony.
The elders had given Blade permission to continue his academic pursuits with the young woman assuming that she, like most mortals would grow impatient from the arduous amount of time and research that was required to reconstruct the ritual for her needs. However, this decision came back to bite them, and bite them hard enough to draw the proverbial blood. The woman was steadfast in her conviction to see this project to completion; not unlike the jaws of a pit bull, she had locked on her target and was not about to release her hold.
For the results that that the young woman sought, additional branches of the arts that complimented necromancy were needed to properly balance the outcome. For this, Divination, Arithmancy, Astrology, and Runes were also consulted and their information utilized. The conclusions dictated that for the best results, the ceremony needed to be performed on the seventh anniversary of the Dark Lord's disappearance. Ironically, it was also the celebratory night of Walpurgis, when dark spirits were at their peak. A night Necromancers held in high regard.
So, seven years after the fateful night that Harry Potter was thrust into the history books, on the night of a full moon, Narcissa, with the aid of Blade and three council members gathered to perform the ritual, binding her soul for an eternal purpose. The ritual had been fully researched, the runes double and triple checked, verified by numerous masters, so why had it failed?
A second attempt was not tried as the Necromancers were certain that the results would not change. Their calculations were correct, of this they were sure, however, the young woman's soul would not bind itself. The only explanation given to the witch was that her soul had already been claimed.
Peering into the hall, Camilla silently gasped when she saw how Narcissa had transformed the room for Draco's inheritance soiree. She couldn't remember the room looking more stunning and that was saying a lot as Narcissa had hosted many functions in the room over the years. The room had always radiated power and wealth, but today, Camilla felt that the room also radiated warmth, love and pride. Camilla had often times felt the room had a life's essence about it, enhancing subtle nuances, shifting with the ebb and flow of the party. And if her impressions were anything to gage the evening by, tonight's affair would be remembered for a long time.
The western wall boasted windows that spanned from the floor to the ceiling, offering an unimpeded view of Naracissa's prize winning rose garden. The window panes had been charmed to filter the light cast from the setting sun to enhance the room's decor, bathing the room in soft golden tones. Narcissa had worked tirelessly perfecting the specific tint she wanted to filter throughout the room. Narcissa had to be specific about the exact shade as Draco had inherited her skin tone. If the lighting was too brassy, their coloring took on an unhealthy, sickly color and Narcissa would not have people questioning her son's inheritance party mired with dire thoughts behind its timing. This night was to honor and celebrate Draco's legal inheritance. Narcissa wanted socialites to know that she and her husband felt honored to have sired Draco and this emotion would be presented in every nuance.
As if in a show of approval, the heirloom tapestries hanging on the northern wall wiggled in pleasure from the radiated warmth and color the lighting played on their woolen weavings. Between two of the largest tapestries hung portraits that many Malfoy ancestors gathered in as a showing of solidarity for their heir. Below the family portraits was a fireplace flanked by a cozy sitting area made inviting by the rich colors in the Persian rug.
Opposite this wall, was a long table bearing delectable treats for guests to nibble on. Floating trays would deliver beverages of choice to guests during the evening, eliminating the distraction for people to gather around a refreshment bar. Narcissa had a golden rule she never wavered from when entertaining, which was not allowing escape routes for people to gather around a watering trough like a herd of cattle in place of mingling and forging contacts. Barn animals were not on her invitation list, hence guests were expected to not act like one.
Looking around the room with a critical eye assessing even the minute details that would most likely go unnoticed by the guests, Narcissa was finally satisfied. The final touches had been the lighting that doubled as a mood enhancer.
Needing no formal acknowledgement from the mistress of the manor, Camilla boldly entered the room with a large approving smile radiating from her face. Having heard the clicking of a woman's heels on the flooring behind her, Narcissa turned to greet her guest. Upon seeing her long time friend, she smiled warmly in her direction, finished giving instructions to the house elves, and dismissed them before walking over to properly greet Camilla.
Narcissa had a soft spot for her friend, Camilla. They had been friends before their children, Draco and Pansy, were born. It was through a connection Lucius had had with Camilla's late husband, Sinclair, that Narcissa had become acquainted with and protective of the younger woman.
"Narcissa, you have absolutely outdone yourself," began the beaming compliment from her long time friend. "I don't know how you manage it but somehow you outshine yourself at each function, and this one appears to be no exception." As the last of the words were flowing out of the woman's mouth, she gracefully walked up to her friend and gave her a heartfelt hug in greeting.
Upon being released, Narcissa was feeling quite pleased and perhaps a bit smug with her friend's praise. The only tell tale sign that the words had affected the woman at all was the small smile that fleetingly flitted across her face. She had taken great care in the preparations for this affair and was pleased that her efforts had not gone unnoticed.
Hooking her hand under Narcissa's elbow, Camilla gently prodded the perfectionist over to the settee, and called a house elf to bring them each a glass of wine. Camilla knew that her friend's nerves were ready to snap, wound tight as a rubber band. Camilla understood her friend as well as anyone did, and knew that Narcissa needed a distraction.
And so began the chatter, incidental items the topic of choice.
The two women were facing the wall of windows, sipping from their now half emptied goblets, looking out into the garden when Camilla broke the momentary silence, "I've always been envious of your garden, but tonight, there's something even more alluring about it. Tell me, what have you done?"
Thus began the carefully orchestrated conversation, the distraction that Narcissa was in need of to unwind before the gala. Camilla did not feel the least bit sheepish for her manipulation, as she did this to comfort her long time friend. Ordering refills, Camilla sat with a smile on her face while she listened to Narcissa expound on her garden and its most recent enhancements.
AN - these last two chapters were very difficult for me to write. I am striving to present a reason for readers to like dark pureblood families, or at the very least understand that they are not 'evil', rather have differing opinions and why. Our 'knowledge' of dark pureblooded families wholly comes from the lips of children who oppose their teachings without providing any real insight, therefore we have been tainted by prejuidices against them. And while you might think you understand the pureblooded stance, you don't really as character development of these individuals was ignored in the original series.
To put a stop to such ignorance, I worked hard to create a reasonable Narcissa persona, and I am quite happy with my end results. I did not want to present her as a victim of circumstance, rather a person who bided her time with a fierce determination of a 'loving' mother and wife. I put the word loving in quotes as I want the reader to realize that there are many methods that a mother can show her love, not all women are sappy fools lacking control of their emotions; which for Narcissa, could have gotten her family killed many times over.
Next chapter will deal with Lucius, and some insights as to what drives him forward. So, please don't give up on me, Harry's coming back the chapter afterwards. I'm just trying to set up plausable scenarios for the story as I hate reading fanfics where characters are so out of sync with their established persona's that I scratch my head and wonder why they bastardized a person so thoroughly.