5. Conversations
Persephone took tiny sip of her tea and observed her companion over the brew. Lady Violetta Stewart stared back at her evenly. In their society, many power games were played in order to tell who held the station above the other. In the social game, Persephone (or Heiress Lestrange as she was referred to) and Lady Stewart had long proved they were on equal ground, but Persephone's family was both older and wealthier, so she deferred to her.
"I heard you achieved master status recently," Violetta commented. Persephone's lips twitched.
"Yes," she said simply, eyes searching the room quickly for a new topic and thanking Morgana as they landed upon the smiling photograph of a young boy. "Your grandson is starting Hogwarts this year?"
"Yes. I worry about the quality of that schools defence professors though, I hear the Madam Umbridge will have the post this year," Violetta grimaced.
"The one whom constantly wears pink? I thought she was a ministry worker, always pining after the minister and such."
Violetta looked amused. "Yes on both accounts, the minister demanded for her to be mad a part of the staff after the fiasco of the Triwizard Tournament last year."
Persephone smirked into her cup. According to her parents, their Lord had wanted to make a potion for a long time but was unable to because he lacked 'the blood of a champion'. The Triwizard tournament had conveniently provided him with it. Her father had shown her a pensieve memory after of the event. Her Lord had been wearing his glamour of a snake-like man that he wore so that he could transverse the public in his natural appearance without anyone recognising him but his inner circle. Persephone had never seen the Dark Lord up close, and never without his glamour.
The memory had shown his complete genius, however. He had made the Triwizard cup a portkey, so the moment a competitor had touched it and had become the champion, they had been in the Dark Lord's grasp.
It had been a handsome teenager, Cedric Diggory as she had found out later, with wavy blonde hair and prominent cheek bones. He had been tied up to a statue of an angel; in the middle of a graveyard, Persephone had noted amusedly; as Pettigrew cut him in order to gain his blood, walking over to the cauldron a few steps away which the Lord had been observing carefully to let it run off the silver ornate knife and into the potion.
"Lend me a hand, Wormtail," the Lord had said in his disguised voice. Pettigrew had grimaced before holding his left hand over the cauldron and with one savage stroke with the enchanted knife, cut it off.
Persephone had giggled. It had been a joke. A cruel joke, mind you, but it was a joke and Persephone always had a dark sense of humour. Some of the deatheaters who were surrounding the scene had laughed as well, albeit uneasily. They would cut off their hand for their Lord as well, but they wouldn't have been happy about it, though none of them felt even a slither of sympathy for Wormtail.
Persephone wasn't sure what, but apparently he had bungled an important assignment that had been dreadfully easy and had been their Lord's personal punching bag ever since. She had asked her father about it once, and his face had darkened immediately.
"Just had to set fire to the Merlin damned room," he had muttered viciously. "They couldn't even find the body." He had refused to say anything else on the matter.
She assumed that the dark had meant to make a statement by murdering some one important on the light side, but without the body it had still given the light hope that they were miraculously alive somewhere and judging by the way their Lord had held a grudge over it for as long as she could remember, it had been a part of a much larger movement that was all part of his master stroke.
At least, that's what she assumed.
Cedric had been killed, he was no longer needed anymore after all, and his body had been sent back to Hogwarts via the portkey. The wizarding world had been in an uproar. The newspapers and ministry had gleefully declared that the Dark Lord was not back and that it had been the work of a random terrorist despite Dumbledore's claims.
The Dark Lord hadn't been seen in fourteen years, after all. The ministry had proclaimed that he had died while he murdered Rose Potter, a mere toddler, regaling her as the girl-who-lived. Neither of their bodies had been found, but the ministry spokesperson had set that Rose's nursery had been set on fire by a huge burst of accidental magic which had blown both her and the Lord's bodies apart and turned them into ash. Wishful thinking and the ministry's ineptness at its finest.
Perhaps Wormtail had been sent to kill Rose Potter, but why would her death be so important to their Lord?
Persephone looked up to meet Lady Stewart's eyes. "The ministry often stay out of the areas they are needed in and stick their noses in the places they aren't."
"They do have a habit of doing that, don't they?" Violetta smiled. "I believe she is more a spy than a professor."
"Or perhaps they wish for her to overthrow the beloved headmaster," she replied quietly.
"Not so beloved at the moment," Violetta replied. "The Daily Prophet dislikes him at the moment and the public always takes the Daily Prophet at its' word." It went unsaid that the Daily Prophet was in the ministry's pocket.
"Morgana," said Persephone wonderingly. "They are really cursing themselves in the foot, are they not?"
"Indeed," Lady Stewart returned. "As long as their Lord's and Lady's say that they do not believe that the Dark Lord has returned, the ministry is determined to show that they agree with them."
The ministry was basically ruled by the Houses, who held the political votes, prestige and the money. Shame that the majority of them supported the Dark Lord, for the ministry anyway.
Persephone took another sip of tea and continued the conversation.
Lord Voldemort tapped the dark oak surface of the table in front of him. Seated around it was Greyback, the Lestrange's, Mulciber, Dolohov and Malfoy; his treasured inner circle.
"Rudolphus, it would be easier if you move your family to the manor for the school year," he said, contemplating. "This will be a constant mission, after all, until it reaches its completion." He had another motive for having the family there, too. There was no need to mention that now, however.
"You are all going to have to keep up the act carefully. Dumbledore may not be easily fooled, but he is no Slytherin he didn't grow up with politics like we did." Many of his inner-circle nodded their heads, agreeing, going over their roles in their minds.
"How is Cornelius, Lucius?" he asked.
"Answers to my beck and call, my Lord," replied Lucius. "The ministry will not know about your 'return from the dead' until we wish them too."
"Good," Voldemort replied. "How about the unspeakable's, Antonin?"
"All set up, my Lord. The Order is only receiving the information we want them to have. I will 'attempt to steal the prophecy' about halfway through the year."
Voldemort nodded and glanced out the window.
"It's getting dark, Fenrir. You better go to where ever you wish to wreak havoc this full moon, and I have paper work to do." Everyone took this as the dismissal it was and filed out, Rudolphus promising to be in touch for the details of his move.
She would be within his reach soon.
She was in a loose white dress, walking through a forest. It was dark and damp. Mist hung in the air, and leaves littered the ground. There was a shallow lake, if it could be called that as it would only reach up to her knees. The water trickled down a small waterfall that came from a high cliff face which, she realised upon studying behind the thick foliage, surrounded the entire forest which had a diameter of perhaps fifty meters.
A hiss stopped her from contemplating her surroundings anymore. Her head jerked up to see a snake draped around the branch of a tree next to her. It was black, easily three meters long with a silver diamond pattern that ran down its back. It was the eyes that made her freeze for a second: they were red.
Its head leaned towards her, its red eyes gazing into her hazel ones, delivering her a clear message.
You are being hunted.
Persephone woke up panting, sweat glistening like small crystals on her skin in the moonlight that poured through her window. Her dream was hazy in her memory, but two things pierced through.
The feeling of being hunted, and the colour red that was as bright as spilled blood.
Somewhere, far away, a wolf howled.
Hi all!
Once again thanks for reviewing/favouriting/following reading in general.
Persephone and Tom meet again in the next chapter!
I didn't update yesterday, but I did post two chapters the day before that, so…
The snake is obviously the representation of Tom in Persephone's sub conscious.
As for the date, year five is just about to start. I don't want to give exact dates except for September 1st in the story.
If you recall, in the fourth book Voldemort did ask Wormtail to 'lend a hand' in the resurrection scene which I realised when I read the book the second time and have found amusing since then.
Antonin Dolohov is the unspeakable who was found insane in the DoM babbling about prophecies. Later he regains his sanity and it is revealed that he is a deatheater.
My "inner circle" may not be the real inner circle (though some names have remained the same), but the people I have used will have the resources that are useful do the deatheaters. Also realise that there are seven people in the inner circle, we all know Tom is obsessed with the number.
xxx – Electra2Pandora