Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

AN:

I'm so happy that a reviewer has clicked pieces together about the wyvern matter. Cheers for you, 'misc thoughts' *winks* Indeed, Durmstrang's crest has a wyvern on it because Orion's true animagus form is a wyvern, and Mordred saw this in the Scrying Waters in Gaia's Isle of Avalon.

A while back, another reviewer gave info about a Mayan deity. And you'll see that it finally comes into play in this chapter. I hope you find it interesting! I had loads of fun researching into this stuff long ago when planning to write a scene in this chappie. I love to read about myths and such, it's so interesting and imaginative. *grins*

An important point about Draco. As a reviewer pointed out, Draco is lagging behind the other major characters. Lez is now the Rege of a powerful magical vampire Clan, thus he has power, and Arian, Orion and Voldemort are the most powerful wizards in existence. Draco, in comparison lacks much. Utterly true, and on purpose, since I think it's realistic. He had been sheltered all his life, to walk down the path traced for him by Lucius, to simply become a pureblood with political and social connections and status. So while everyone, like Orion, was rising up, Draco was simply in his golden cage, so he lagged behind.

But now, given his new circumstances, he is being forced to rise by his own means, or fall into anonymity if he fails. And what Orion proposed to him hints at what Draco could become: both a Zraven – a vampire mate- and a Malfoy pureblood Lord, using both worlds to attain his ambitions to be someone in the wizarding political sphere. Minister of Magic, diplomat, finance wiz, the VA's right hand, who knows. He has a whole span of wonderful possibilities. The reader has to imagine a successful Draco like that in the future.

To the reviewer with 'misc thoughts' -*grins* following ffnet rules I cannot write a reviewer's nickname in the ANs, so I must find other ways to let reviewers know who I mean! *winks*- Well, I thoroughly enjoyed your very long review, it was so interesting and I was smiling the whole way through! I would so love to reply to so many things, but alas, I can't say much or things to come would be revealed too soon. But I can at least clear up some points:

1. The Illuminati know about the VA, at least those of Arian's faction know, and for them Orion, as the VA-to-be, is the enemy. And it's true that even if they accomplish their Magic for All goal, there's still the problem of Light Source vs. Dark Source – this is something that Orion and Arian have to deal with, and possibly solve. The interesting point, of course, is how. *winks*

2. The Kraljica Mati, since she's a vampire and also the Lady of Lake, cares for both the fate of vampires -and the world of magical creatures- and the fate of dark wizarding kind. That's why she worked on her own to bring about the VA and why she helped bring Lezander and Orion together by convincing the Zraven to send Lez to Durmstrang instead of the typical vampire education at the Citadel, among other things. She doesn't lean more in helping vampires than dark wizarding kind, I would say her efforts are equally balanced.

3. The KM just said she wanted to see Orion's firstborn because she's ancient and doesn't know if she'll be alive by the time Orion has his third child, his son with Lez and thus her descendant. I didn't mean for it to come out ominous. Well, for her it is, because perhaps she won't even be alive to see any of the children born.

4. About the wyvern thing, applause to you again, as mentioned at the beginning of the AN *grins* You're absolutely right, and also about the other abilities that Mordred saw himself having when being Orion. That's why they joined Peverell lines with Black –animagus ability- with Slytherin –parseltongue- and before that, some line to incorporate the Necromantic ability which resulted in Cadmus Peverell being a Necromancer, as the KM explained to Orion.

5. Orion's training covers mainly physical stuff, move quickly, reflexes, wield swords and such. Perhaps it would be showed in the attacks, but I think Orion is the kind of wizard to still rely more on magic than anything else. But he will have some moves *winks*

6. Arian was very fond of Perenelle Flamel, but not necessarily in a romantic way. But there is surely a history behind them.

7. Patricide is definitely a very common theme in Orion's life, in true medieval Kings and Machiavellian eras style. I imagine the dark pureblood world like a mix of both eras, founded on those ancient rules of protocol, morally-lacking principles and devious ways. The rule of the fittest, the most ruthless and the most powerful.

8. Draco only received a vial of Lezander's blood, true, but he was affected so much –acquiring vampiric traits in one go- because he was on the brink of death. Voldemort had truly been about to finish him off, having already tortured Draco for ages, when Orion saved him. On the other hand, Orion was perfectly healthy the two times he took Lezander's blood in the past. So in a way, Draco was closer to being turned than Orion ever was.

9. Oh, Lucius will rant, fume and deviously plot to break Draco and Lez apart if those two get together. But about Draco deciding in the future to not mate with Lez just to please his father, well, Draco is maturing against his will, want it or not, his priorities will change given his new circumstances. He will not remain daddy's boy forever.

I hope I managed to ellucidate some matters!

PICTURES: Loads of pics have been posted on the yahoo group. You'll find the majority in the last 3 pages of the Characters Photo Album. There are pics for Morgana, The Argonaut, Morticia Mortimer, a new one for Patrick Connolly, an amazing new one for Lezander which is just as I pictured him in my mind now that he's the young Rege, and for Tom Riddle –check him out in a towel! *grins*- (courtesy of Aciarium), among many others.

In the Manor & Houses photo album there are two new pics for Sdravkul Castle and town.

I hope you give them a glance.

Read, enjoy and review, please!



Chapter 38

Orion didn't quite know what to make of things as he stared at Morticia Mortimer. Emotions were warring inside him and his mind was still buzzing from the meeting. Not to mention that he felt exhausted after it, since it had lasted over three hours without a break.

Regarding the meeting, he felt thoroughly satisfied with how it had proceeded. They had gone through every single detail, all matters regarding the attacks of August the first had been decided upon, everyone knew what they had to do, and all parties were to further plot their part in the attacks during the following two weeks that led to it.

Alistair Armitage, the English Dark Ally with political connections all over Britain, had done his part. He had planted one of the vanishing cabinets in the Scottish Ministry of Magic, and the other one had been given to Lezander, since it had been agreed that the Zraven force would take charge of taking that Ministry.

Furthermore, the old wizard had delivered, as promised, magical layouts and blueprints of the Irish and Scottish Ministries of Magic, while the Death Eater Augustus Rookwood, a former Unspeakable, had handed out the maps for the English Ministry.

Orion had been very satisfied with the amount of information they held, since the parchments were rather like his own Marauders' Map, with the difference that they did not only contain information regarding the wards around the buildings and in all levels, but also since the magical maps became three-dimensional once unfolded. This property had allowed them to precisely plot the movements of how to successfully take over the Ministries, know which ward-breaking spells had to be used, and thus help them to further coordinate the timings of the attacks.

All leaders had been given copies of such maps. Orion himself now had the maps of all three Ministries in his pocket, whilst the Inner Circle had the one for the English Ministry of Magic, Lezander for the Scottish, and the Alphas of the Irish.

Given that Patrick Connolly thoroughly knew his way around wizarding Dublin, having been from a dark pureblood Irish family before being bitten, it had been decided that the Beta would be of use in helping Remus and all the other Alphas to plot the werewolf attack on the Irish Ministry. Moreover, the Alphas had been given crates containing countless vials of the potion once promised to them by Voldemort.

Snape had been busy brewing such potion, apparently. And as part of Voldemort's Inner Circle, the Potions Master had participated in the meeting. Orion had seen that Snape was back to his usual self, merely succinctly explaining the properties of the potion he had created when ordered to do so by Voldemort. For that, Orion had felt a modicum of relief, but it hadn't allayed his suspicions regarding the spell the Illuminati must have cast on Snape through the issue of Le Monde Magique.

Nevertheless, the Alphas and Orion himself had been pleased that Voldemort had kept his end of the bargain. The potion would allow the packs to change into their werewolf forms during the non-full-moon day, whilst retaining their own human mind. Thus, giving the werewolves a great physical advantage over the wizards they would encounter in the Irish Ministry, also allowing their muggle members to participate in the attack, increasing the number of their force.

Muggle werewolves were a minority in most of the packs, but Amadine and Wulfric, Alphas of packs in France and Russia, respectively, did have quite a number of them in their midst, since the packs in those countries were quite large.

Orion didn't know what muggles bitten and turned into werewolves did if they never crossed paths with a pack. They had it tougher than a wizard in their situation, since they didn't know about the magical world, and thus must have a hard time understanding and coping with what happened to them. But he did know that most of the Alphas were on the lookout to find such muggle werewolves bitten by some rogue or other, to incorporate them to their packs and explain matters, since having muggle werewolves roaming about muggle cities during full moons threatened to disclose their existence to muggles – it represented a serious breach of security.

And he also knew that the Alphas wanted their muggle pack members to feel more integrated and safe, thus the potion would be very helpful in that endeavor, since it would allow them to transform into werewolves painlessly, keeping their minds, and whenever they wanted to do so by imbibing it. It would certainly make them start seeing their werewolf condition not as a curse but as a gift – exactly what the Alphas wanted.

Besides the crates with the potion vials, Snape had given the Alphas a copy of his notes with the brewing instructions, so that the werewolves would be able to produce the potion on their own. And Orion had seen the surprise and pleased satisfaction in the Alphas when the Potions Master had done so. It was clear to him that Snape had been ordered to do so by Voldemort, since Snape wasn't one to freely share the secrets behind his hard work.

Though, Orion knew that it wasn't out of any generosity from Voldemort's part, but a sly move. An evident gesture to ingratiate himself with the Alphas, who wouldn't be supporting the Dark at all if it wasn't for Orion. Yes, Voldemort knew that the Alphas considered only Orion as their Ally, and was now trying to make them see that he wasn't so bad.

Still, Orion didn't fear that the Alphas would shift their direct alliance from him to Voldemort. Voldemort's views about muggles were known, as well as his devious ways. And the werewolves were no idiots, they knew that the Dark Lord only saw them as creatures to be used in the war. He, on the other hand, had spurred Remus into creating Lycaon, funding it, and giving the other Alphas the same amount to do the same in their countries – something Voldemort would have never done, since the wizard couldn't care less about their welfare.

Indeed, it had been the founding of Lycaon, and Orion's backing and part in it, which had made the other Alphas agree to become his allies, since Remus –at Orion's instruction- had long ago contacted them to tell them about his new werewolf community. And the Alphas had visited Lycaon and instantly desired to have the same for their packs.

It was that, and the promise of equal civil rights for their kind and Orion's known positive views about werewolves, which made the Alphas staunchly support him. And he didn't think that any amount of miracle potions provided by Voldemort would sway the Alpha's regard for him. Though he didn't doubt that Voldemort would continue to attempt to steal the werewolves from him – the wizard still held a grudge after losing the Dementors' support, which, granted, had been Orion's fault. Not that he regretted it. He had gained his father back and made Voldemort lose those ghastly creatures. In his opinion, it couldn't have turned out better.

After the talks about the potion, it had been decided that during the next two weeks before the day of the attacks, the werewolves would covertly scout wizarding Dublin. And the vampires were to do the same in wizarding Edinburgh, to learn their way around the cities and monitor from the outside the comings and goings in the respective Ministries, to have first-hand information to avail them in the further plotting of their respective attacks.

During those discussions, Orion had participated much, along with Lezander and Cyprian, and Wulfric, Amadine, Remus and Greyback, as they came to an agreement of what the vampire and werewolf roles in the attacks would be.

Once that aspect had been decided, Voldemort had merely imperiously stated how his Death Eaters would stage the coup in the English Ministry of Magic, quite clearly without welcoming anyone's opinion about the matter.

Then it had been Orion's turn to relate everything he had gleaned from Hermione Granger's mind, particularly about the wards surrounding the Burrow. And with his Elite, they had threshed out the details of their own attack on Bill Weasley's and Fleur Delacour's wedding celebration.

Furthermore, Orion had instructed Remus about what he wanted his father to do during the attack. Remus would be informing Sirius of his part in the affair the next time the wizard popped into Lycaon to visit his friend without it being noticed by the Order.

Nevertheless, Orion had had to yield to Voldemort on one point. He would be in communication with Lezander, Remus and Wulfric during the attacks –as was agreed by them, since he was their ally and overseer- and he would be personally leading his Elite in the attack on the Burrow. But also, after Voldemort's curt and commanding insistence, he would have to take along with him a small group of Death Eaters.

Orion hadn't been pleased when he had been informed that Bellatrix would be leading that group – and the witch hadn't either, clearly preferring to stay by her Lord's side. But Orion had relented in the end, since they would be joining Voldemort and his forces in the English Ministry of Magic once they were done in the Burrow, and they were meant to do it swiftly.

His attack would take place before all others, and much depended on it, since most of the Order members would be in the Burrow and it was his mission to incapacitate them so that they couldn't aid the wizards in the English Ministry of Magic. And it was also clear that it would be the most troublesome and dangerous attack, given that there was no doubt that Arian would be there.

Orion had the certainty that it was due to this that Voldemort had decided to send some of his Death Eaters with him. And he also knew that the Dark Lord would be secretly giving Bellatrix his own instructions about what to do. What he didn't know was what, precisely, those would be, since Voldemort had ignored his hissed demands to be informed about it.

Regardless, what was certain was that it was his mission to deal with Arian and to drag the light wizard to the English Ministry of Magic, where he and Voldemort wanted to trap him. Though, Orion wondered what would indeed happen with Arian.

His idea was to capture the light wizard, since there was much information he wanted to glean from Arian. On the other hand, he was quite sure that Voldemort wanted to kill the wizard, as one killed a bothersome fly regarded to be of no consequence but still annoying. And that was what irked Orion the most, since Voldemort clearly still didn't consider Arian a serious threat and since he didn't want to kill the light wizard – he wasn't prepared for that yet.

Currently, Orion had a hard time in considering Arian his 'nemesis', though he knew he should. But it was difficult, given how Arian had been helping him, in a way, with all the dropped hints which had led him to discover so much.

Nevertheless, even if Orion had to yield on the matter of taking with him Bellatrix and her team, he had persuaded Voldemort to yield on another point. He had finally convinced the Dark Lord to send a small group of his Death Eaters to take over St. Mungo's while the other attacks took place, since it wouldn't be hard to take control of the wizarding hospital and since they would be needing healers for the final battle. Better have all healers in England under their control, than have them helping light wizards when the time came to crush the remaining light forces.

By the end of the meeting, everyone seemed to be satisfied with the outcome as well as rather occupied with the further planning each party would need to undertake by their own.

As the assembly had broken into small groups, some of them leaving, others remaining to chat about some matters between themselves, one thing had happened which Orion hadn't expected.

Indeed, during the meeting, he had quite forgotten about Jezabel Zabini's presence.

As usual, at the very beginning, the Seer had taken a seat at one corner, her eyes had glazed over and turned white, and a sheet of magic had immediately seemed to encompass the attendants. No one had taken much notice of it, or of her, since everyone knew by then what her task consisted of, and since she never beeped a word.

It was due to her inconspicuousness, that when the meeting ended and some started to leave the Manor, Orion had been caught by surprise when he had sensed someone's gaze intensely fixed on him. He had been chatting with his Elite and Lezander, but in the next second, after that feeling, he had caught sight of Jezabel Zabini's covert gaze on him. With a subtle, slight duck of her chin, she had let him know she wanted a word with him.

Seeing Voldemort surrounded by his Inner Circle, occupied in giving them some instructions or other, Orion had surreptitiously made his way towards the door, since she was headed in that direction, the witch appearing, by all means, as if she was simply leaving after having done her task.

And as she slowly and calmly passed by him, Jezabel's arm had brushed against his, and Orion had felt fingers climbing under his sleeve, placing something there, as she murmured, "From my son, to Draco."

It had taken Orion a fraction of a second to understand that she had slipped a miniaturized letter under his sleeve, and he had given her a slight nod, not at all surprised that she knew that Draco was with him, given that she was a Seer, after all.

Though, before she took her last step to cross the threshold, she had shot him a covert, yet grim and urgent glance, as she whispered under her breath, "I and others of my kind have Seen many things. Troubling. Come to me when the time comes. You will know when."

And with that, the dark witch had continued on her way and left the room, to promptly disapparate from Malfoy Manor, leaving Orion feeling mystified, befuddled, and then apprehensive. But he had instantly masked it, and returned to his friends, glancing around and detecting that no one, Voldemort included, had noticed his brief interaction with the witch.

He had certainly been glad that her infamous reputation made others simply disregard her as a fortune hunter and little else. Indeed, he had begun thinking that it could be on purpose from her part, since it much availed her to be overlooked, no matter if her Seers powers were known. It surely gave her rein to act behind the scenes without anyone thinking she could be doing something important or threatening to other's plans.

Nevertheless, Orion had no delusions about Jezabel Zabini acting for his benefit. He knew little about her, but enough to know that she was on no one's side but her own. Yet, he could be sure about her regard for Draco, given her son's close friendship with him.

After that incident with Jezabel Zabini, just when everyone remaining started leaving as well, Voldemort had instantly grabbed Orion's arm when he was following Lezander and Calypso out of the room with the rest of the Elite.

Remembering what Voldemort had said to him in their private meeting, Orion shot Lezander an urgent glance, seeing how the vampire was pulling Calypso along with him, certainly without giving her the chance to disapparate away and flee from the 'chat' they were going to have.

Thankfully, the vampire caught sight of his glance, and even if Lezander's lips thinned when seeing that Voldemort was dragging Orion along the hallway, the young Rege nodded at him.

Nonetheless, Orion frowned when he saw Lezander disapparating with Calypso, knowing they would start having 'the conversation' without him. But there was little he could do, so he simply gestured at his Elite, giving them permission to leave Malfoy Manor, and he resignedly followed Voldemort into the parlor he was being led into, displeased that he had to stay behind to see the demonstration with the Mayan Stone instead of leaving right away to be with Lezander and Calypso.

But when Orion entered the parlor, he didn't see the Mayan Stone on a table ready to be used by Voldemort. Instead, he encountered Morticia Mortimer and Narcissa Malfoy, elegantly seated on a couch, not at all looking as if they had become bosom friends during the three hours they had been together. It was clear that the conversation between them had been stilted and scarce, since they promptly turned silent at his and Voldemort's entry.

Furthermore, Narcissa's dislike for the other witch could be noticed in imperceptible things – subtle indicators in her posture which Orion, knowing her well, picked up instantly. It wasn't at all surprising, since Morticia Mortimer was, of all things, smoking.

Orion almost gaped – pureblood witches simply didn't smoke. That was a muggle habit if there ever was a more blatant one, and the witch was indulging in it, in a dark pureblood manor – Malfoy ancestors had to be rolling in the underground pantheon. And there was no doubt that Morticia hadn't asked Narcissa for permission, but rather had done as she pleased with the self-confidence of one who knew well who had the power and most status.

Oh, wizards smoked too, the older ones mainly, but they used pipes and dried herbs. And by the smell and smoke lingering in the room, Morticia Mortimer was smoking chemically processed tobacco – muggle tobacco. Yet, she wasn't smoking a mere cigarette. She had between her fingers a very long, thin, black cigarette-holder, with a small cigarette peeking at its tip, as she elegantly took a slow draw from the tiny flat mouthpiece of the long holder, exactly like he had once seen in the telly, when his Aunt Petunia had been watching enraptured a movie about a the love life woes of a Russian countess or something of the sort.

And all the while, as Morticia placidly took another draw, Narcissa Malfoy had the pinched expression of one being choked by disgusting fumes, and masking her revulsion and contempt with a cold expression on her beautiful face, her nose high in the air, as if attempting to escape the pungent puffs of smoke.

The pureblood witch had certainly looked relieved at their entrance. Though she had merely fluidly stood up, uttered a proper yet stiff farewell to Morticia Mortimer, bowed to Voldemort, and then left the parlor, without a second glance towards Orion. Not that he held it against her, she was playing her part well.

Voldemort didn't seem pleased by Morticia's habit either, since the wizard promptly waved a hand and the air in the room cleared. But Morticia's lips merely tilted upwards, as if amused by the Dark Lord's reaction, and Voldemort merely arched a curt eyebrow at her, as if chiding a misbehaving child.

It elicited a spark of intense jealously in Orion, so sudden and encompassing that he was surprised by it.

He would be blasted into nothingness if he dared smoke in front of Voldemort's nose, or did anything which could be considered so disrespectful. It was evident that Voldemort's and Morticia's interaction was one to be found if not in friends, then in close acquaintances with common interests and who knew each other well. He didn't like it at all.

He might not be Voldemort's spouse anymore, but he still considered the wizard to be his, and he certainly disliked seeing him so chummy with another when Voldemort was such an utter bastard with him, still. He liked it even less when Voldemort gallantly poised an elbow as if offering his arm to her, which Morticia calmly took as she snuffed out her cigarette and stood up.

Now, Orion was presently staring at the mysterious witch, who took the steps to reach him, offering him her hand. And he knew, jealousies aside, that he simply didn't like her. It was a visceral feeling, something crawling in his guts, a mix of odd attraction to something about her surmounted by immense aversion. It was a strange feeling, but his first instincts and perceptions about people were rarely wrong.

"Allow me to introduce you to Lady Mortimer," said Voldemort pleasantly, who stood by their side as if overseeing a delicate first encounter which had to be utterly controlled by him, lest it didn't turn out how he had plotted.

Orion stared at the witch's proffered hand with a slight frown on his face. It was being held for him to take to his lips, as he had seen Voldemort do before, and as was proper and expected of him since she was a pureblooded witch.

He repressed a scathing, snide snort. He was in no mood to play the part of gallant pureblood, no matter if she was the richest woman on the planet. Therefore, he grabbed her hand, turned it, pulled it down and shook it, pasting a wide smile on his face. If his smile was sharp and nasty, he certainly didn't care.

Then, he saw it in her eyes, and he quickly reassessed Viktor's evaluation of her. Morticia was furious by his discourtesy, though the witch masked it well with her cold and impassive expression. But it was in her kohl-lined, black eyes - a certain spark of thunderous emotions. It was fury, sparked by such an inconsequential thing as being given a handshake instead of a kiss on her knuckles.

Yes, Viktor had been partially wrong. She was dangerous, undoubtedly, but not cold, no matter her masks and typical pureblood manners. She was passionate – she couldn't veil it in her eyes.

Not passionate in a romantic sense, by any means, but rather, he thought, darkly passionate as Voldemort could be, when he indulged in his sadistic streak, when he cast crucios and thoroughly relished the screams, when he plunged into Dark Arts ancient tomes or plotted whilst madly and obsessively hungering for more power.

And Orion understood, in that second, that it was precisely that type of dangerous, dark passion which Voldemort and Morticia must have recognized in each other, whenever they had met for the first time. They were alike in that sense, and had surely never encountered others like them in that regard. They must have taken to each other like kindred spirits.

Yet, even if she was like Voldemort in that aspect, and even though she seemed like a wild, dangerous animal who had no scruples in fiercely attacking and destroying anyone if she so desired, he didn't feel wary at all. If he could deal with Voldemort, he could certainly deal with this witch, whatever her business with them was.

Furthermore, he detected no great amount of magical power in her. Without casting a spell, he didn't have the ability to assess the precise intensity of a person's magical core, of course, but he could sense it if it was extraordinary. Magical levels like his, Voldemort's , Arian's and Dumbledore's were easy to detect, and Morticia didn't have it.

Thus, she had to be quite more powerful than average, like Calypso or Draco, but nothing breath-taking. Thus, he quickly concluded that if she had Voldemort's respect, and it wasn't due to any spectacular magical powers of hers, then it had to be due to the only other things Voldemort valued – magical knowledge, brilliancy of mind, and ruthless ambition.

Ambition and brilliancy she must certainly have, given the rumors about her genius in finance and business matters and her success in it. It was the magical knowledge part which puzzled him.

What could she know that could interest Voldemort, or that the wizard hadn't taken the time to study himself during the many decades of his existence? It was clear that Morticia had to be skilled in some area of magic, or very knowledgeable in it, when Voldemort wasn't, or the wizard wouldn't have reason to respect her.

"A pleasure to meet you at last, Lord Black," said Morticia, dropping her hand away from Orion's unceremonious handshake, and her tone was cool and polite, her voice deep, not delicately tilted, her accent heavily American. "I have heard, and read, much about you."

Orion cocked his head to a side, and said loftily, his smile widening, "I have never read about you, but I have certainly heard many rumors regarding you today."

"All of them are true," said Morticia, a sharp smile curving her lips, as her black eyes seemed to pierce into his green ones.

Orion grinned at her, not at all amicably, he couldn't help it. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Voldemort clicked his tongue, and Orion shot him a glance, seeing how the wizard was darkly glaring at him, promising retribution, with a hard expression on his face. Dear Voldie wasn't happy with his behavior towards the witch, was he?

Orion smirked at him, and then nonchalantly plopped on an armchair, comfortably stretching out his legs as he said airily, "Could I be informed what I'm doing here?" He glanced at them, a toothy grin on his lips. "Do sit down. Then, you can tell me."

"You're exactly how the Dark Lord described you to me," said Morticia coolly, flouncing the tail of her long, black gown to a side, as she took a seat across from him. "Despite that I was forewarned, I had expected civil and polite manners from someone who is hailed as 'Lord Black'. Someone who, as newspapers articles frantically speculate, is not only feared to become the next Dark Lord but who is also, indisputably, Gellert Grindelwald's true slayer, and more importantly, grandson."

"You must excuse him, Morticia," interjected Voldemort placidly, as if condescendingly discussing a runt having a temper tantrum, while he relaxedly took a seat by her side. "He is but a child and hasn't had the benefit of a pureblood rearing."

Orion bristled, shot him a dirty look, and spat sneeringly, "A 'child' you don't mind fucking into a wall every time the fancy strikes you."

Abruptly, at the same time that his scar flared in pain due to Voldemort's anger, there was a shocked gasp, and then deep, throaty laughter erupted from Morticia Mortimer's lips, her black eyes glinting with dark amusement and appreciation.

"You've made me change my mind about you, Lord Black." She let out a last chuckle, as she pierced him with shrewd eyes. "You have balls and gumption, which is far more important than manners and being respectful to your elder, in my book." Her expression turned devious and slyly assessing. "Yes, you're proof of it, indeed."

Orion eyed her closely, and if it wasn't for his gut-deep dislike of her, some of it would have diminished at her so unlady-like words, but it didn't, and his eyes narrowed in the next second. "I'm proof of what?"

"We owe Morticia much," said Voldemort sharply, utterly ignoring Orion's question as he skewered him with narrowed, angered crimson eyes. "It was thanks to her influence and connections that Conrad, Sormen and Rook were able to get their hands on the Mayan Stone and the documents related to it from the American Unspeakables. It is due to her that we have that tool in our power."

"We? You mean 'you'," retorted Orion curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze flickered between them, his eyes then narrowing to slits. "So this is about the Mayan Stone, then?"

"Not mainly," said Morticia pleasantly, her kohl-lined eyes glinting darkly. "We'll get to that later. I'm interested in knowing more about you." A corner of her lips curved upwards. "Are you not interested in making a better acquaintance of me, Lord Black?"

"Perhaps if I knew the purpose," said Orion flatly, scrutinizing her.

"A suspicious one, are you?" she said with a sharp, low chuckle. "Good for you, I say, for one should always be on guard." Her half-smile widened, as she fixedly gazed at him. "Ask me a question about myself. Something you're curious about. I'm sure you must have plenty."

"Alright," said Orion coolly, straightening up on his seat, welcoming the chance to discover what knowledge she possessed to make Voldemort respect her, if his hypothesis about it was correct. "I'll play your game. Which wizarding school did you attend?"

"Oh, I'm glad you asked that, Lord Black. You must have a sixth sense," said Morticia, her lips curving into a large, sharp smile, and it looked feral to him. "I attended the Instituto Teotihuacan de Magia de las Americas."

Utterly surprised, Orion's eyebrows shot upwards as he muttered, "Teotihuacan, 'The City of the Gods'... yes. I've read that there's a wizarding school in Mexico City named after the archeological site." He quizzically gazed at her, his interest highly piqued. "It is said that the school specializes in the ancient magic of the pre-Colombian era. Aztec, Mayan, Toltec and Olmec magic, to name some from Mexico. And also Incan magic from Peru, with the addition of Shaman magic from the Native American Indian tribes. A very thorough education in that type of ancient magic."

"You're well informed, or I should say, well-read," said Morticia placidly, satisfaction glinting in her cat-shaped, black eyes. "I'm told that you're rather bookish, perhaps on the way of wanting to become an erudite?"

She chuckled low in her breath, and Orion couldn't quite tell if he was being mocked or not. When it came to deviousness and viciousness, Voldemort and she could be siblings, from what he could detect so far. Though, she wasn't openly nasty and cruel like Voldemort could be, at least not yet.

"I've also heard that you're a Necromancer-"

"I'm not full-fledged," interjected Orion curtly, coming out of his musings about her. "I simply learned at Durmstrang-"

"But you do have the ability," interrupted Morticia sharply, all traces of apparent amusement leaving her face, as she intensely pinned him with her gaze. "It was with it that you resurrected your father, after he had been Kissed by a Dementor, was it not? A fine accomplishment. Very laudable and impressive, since it has never been done before. Did you know that Shamanism is similar to Necromancy?"

Orion was momentarily startled by the abrupt question, having been uttered with a demanding and expectant tone of voice. He kept silence, gauging her closely, and then glanced at Voldemort, trying to discern what was up and what they truly wanted with him. In the end, he simply decided to answer and wait for them to disclose the true purpose of their little meeting.

"Similar in that Shamans are believed to be intermediaries between the natural world and the spirit world?" he said coolly, waving a hand dismissively. "That they can mend souls and are able to enter supernatural realms to obtain answers to the problems of their community?" He let out a scoff, and rolled his eyes. "None of it is fully accurate. My Necromancy teacher once covered it in a lesson. There's a vast difference between Shamans and Necromancers."

"Which is?" prompted Morticia, fixedly gazing at him.

Orion shot her a frown. There was no doubt that she knew already, given that she had attended Teotihuacan. He was quite certain, by now, that it had to be precisely her knowledge about such ancient magic which interested Voldemort and had gained his respect.

He knew that Voldemort had travelled extensively, when he had been Tom Riddle between the time he left his job in Borgin and Burkes and then many years later returned to England to launch his so-called First Rise. But as far as he knew, the wizard had never delved deeply into the indigenous magic of the Americas. Voldemort had focused his journeys on Europe and the Middle East, and Asia in a lesser extent.

The wizard's travels in search of magical knowledge had always been something he envied. And now, knowing that Morticia was priced by Voldemort due to her knowledge of a type of ancient magic, he felt it more acutely – what he lacked when compared to Voldemort and the witch.

Sure, he knew other stuff they didn't, and he was only still sixteen and had his whole life ahead of him, but what he wouldn't give to have the luxury to leave it all behind, postpone wars, and simply trot around the world to his heart's and curiosity's content. Visiting countries which held the traces of the most magically powerful ancient civilizations: India, China, Japan, Egypt, Mexico, Greece, Syria, Iraq, Iran... What wonders and secreted magical knowledge he could learn during such travels.

And it depressed him a little, realizing that maybe he would never have the time for it, given that he was going to become the VA and was surely going to be very busy with everything it entailed.

Regardless, it was clear that her question, or his answer, had something to do with the real purpose behind her presence there. And it puzzled him exceedingly.

"Shamans can only communicate with the spirits of their ancestors and can only summon what they call 'guardian spirits'," Orion said at last, reciting from lessons learned, "which are simply animal or magical creature spirits they can force to posses them and thus use some of their physical traits, like vision, speed, strength and such. And truly powerful Shamans can adopt a guardian spirit's physical shape temporarily."

He paused, pondering how much to disclose about Necromancy, and then added dismissively, "Necromancers have no interest in the spirits of animals, only in the souls of humans and magical beings. And as you surely know, Shamanism is an ability carried in light blood, while Necromancy is a trait only found in dark lines." He shot her a calculating glance, scrutinizing her. "Is that what you learned to do in Teotihuacan, become a Shaman?"

"Oh, no. I'm a pureblooded dark witch through and through, not a drop of light blood in me," replied Morticia conversationally, "thus I didn't have the slightest chance to posses the ability, much to my disappointment." She sharply chuckled. "When I was younger I was certain that everything could be accomplished with dark magic."

Abruptly, her chuckles died off, and she speared him with an intense gaze, leaning forward on her seat, something glinting in her eyes, as she whispered in a low tone of voice, "But there are close substitutes, and there's always the other side of the galleon, isn't there? Shamanism and Necromancy are a fine example. A pity I don't posses the Necromantic ability either, although I'm very interested in having it in my line. And I believe you can help me with that, Lord Black."

Orion blinked at her, before his eyes suspiciously narrowed. "How so?"

A large smile curved Morticia's lips, as she stated coolly, "I want to marry your father."

Orion choked on his own tongue, utterly taken aback, feeling as if a Quidditch bludger had slammed against the side of his head out of the blue, leaving him dumb, dizzy and incoherent. When he finally stared at her as if she had grown a second head, he spluttered, "I beg your pardon?"

"I am going to marry Sirius Black," said Morticia matter-of-factly, her eyes glinting darkly, her tone as if informing him about the realities of life. "I'm not getting any younger, I have the duty to continue the Mortimer line, and I want my offspring to be more powerful than I am, and with advantageous magical abilities which my line lacks, at present."

At Orion's still shocked silence, she speared him with her gaze, and added curtly, her tone business-like and imperious, "I am a few years younger than your father, I have read about him in English newspapers, he is a dark pureblood, and I have chosen him to become my husband." She briskly gestured at Orion and his dark aura. "Given your obvious magical power and your Necromantic ability, it is evident your father is of good stock. And I want my children to inherit from their father the same as you have. Is it clear to you now?"

"Are you mad, witch?!" spat Orion, finally coming out from his flabbergasted state. "What on earth are you babbling about regarding my father? What was your hope in seeing me, to convince me to help you in getting your clutches on my dad-"

"I am deeply insulted," interrupted Morticia, her eyes narrowing to slits in anger, a hard and thunderous expression sweeping across her darkly beautiful face. "I assure you, Lord Black, that I need no assistance to conquer any man's heart."

Orion stared at her incredulously for one second, not sure if his leg was being pulled. When he saw that she was being quite serious about the matter, he loudly snorted, and said sneeringly, "Go ahead and try it. He would never pick someone like you in a million years-"

"Because I'm not someone like your deceased mother?" interjected Morticia, her tone sharp, condescending and scathing. "Because I'm not like Lily Potter? A hailed heroine and-"

"You got that right, witch!" spat Orion, bristling with fury, shooting a glare at Voldemort, who remained impassive and silent, but who was surely on the same boat as the witch. "I have heard the rumors about you, and you're the last person I would recommend to my dad as a prospective wife-"

"Because I'm a 'heartless man-eater'?" she prompted with a brief bout of sharp laughter, the sound wasn't pleasant. "Yes, I am. And your father has a reputation for being a womanizer. None of it matters in the production of heirs for my line. He is healthy, in an age considered as the beginning of a wizard's prime, and you're the proof that he can father powerful children-"

Orion wildly shook his head, and bit out with exasperation and boiling anger, "This is not a bloody business deal! And I don't see why you're bringing this up to me. My father chooses his own witches. I am his son, not his-"

"Exactly, you are his son," retorted Morticia with sharp impatience, her expression stern, "and the Lord of Black House, if my information is correct. As such, you can decide and enforce who your family members marry, including your father, since he passed the title and rights to you."

"Enforce?!" spat out Orion, seeing red at the mere idea of her scheme. "I'm not going to force my dad into marrying anyone. I don't know how stuff was done in your line, but I'm not that type of Lord in mine. These are not medieval times, witch. He will marry who he pleases, if he decides to marry at all. And if he does, be sure that it will be out of love, and not thinking about the magical power of his future children."

"He is penniless, is he not?" interjected Morticia sharply, arching a thin, black eyebrow at him. "You hold control over the Black fortune, not him. If you agree with what I want, I'm offering to share my own fortune with him, and you will no longer require to spend anything for his maintenance-"

"Bloody hell, as if I care about that!" snapped Orion crisply, doing his best to gain back his composure and calm down, still feeling as if he had dropped in a crazy alternate dimension. "My father is free to use as much money from the Black vaults as he likes. He isn't 'penniless' and doesn't need a wife to provide him with anything. He has me."

"Very well," said the witch curtly, her jaw clenching tightly. "Then I'm prepared to transfer to you a fraction of my fortune in exchange, which to you will be a considerable amount."

Orion gaped at her disbelievingly, before he bit out impatiently, "I'm not selling my father! Can't you get that through your head? I'm not interested in money, and he isn't either. By Merlin, your business affairs have gone up to your head. You can't buy a husband, at least not when it's my dad." He shook his head, and added caustically, "I repeat, he will marry whom he chooses, and I have nothing to do with it. Go see him and give it a shot if you like, but I'm telling you right now that you're not his type. He would never fall for someone like you-"

"Oh, leave that to me," said Morticia, with a dismissive wave of her hand, her black eyes glinting with satisfaction, as if she had won part of the argument, and with a spark of plotting, feral deviousness which made a shudder crawl down Orion's spine.

Orion held up a hand, gritting his teeth. "I don't want to hear anything more about this matter. Find someone else to marry and have babies with."

"You're being very foolish," interjected Voldemort abruptly, his tone sharp and stern, a glint of anger in his eyes. "Lady Mortimer's proposition is an advantageous one for Black House-"

Orion rounded on him before the wizard could say another word, his eyes narrowing to slits, as he hissed accusingly, "This was your idea, wasn't it? You've convinced her to do this out of some devious reason of your own."

Voldemort arched an eyebrow at him, and hissed impassively, "Indeed not. Morticia has already explained her reasons to you. She wants an heir possessing the Necromantic ability and powerful in magic, and she's certain that your father can provide it, since he sired you." His lips curled, as he added in a scathing hiss, "She has seen pictures of your father in the Daily Prophet, and his looks apparently appeal to her as well." He shot him a vicious smirk. "She's quite set on having him, and you should consider it an honor to join the Black name to the Mortimer one."

"What's in it for you?" hissed Orion sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. "And don't say 'nothing' because I won't believe it. Try honesty for once, and maybe you'll give me a reason to take this seriously."

Voldemort gauged him closely, piercing him with his crimson gaze, and finally hissed curtly, "We need her on our side, happy and content, and your father is the ticket. She has expressed a willingness to provide us with funds for the war campaigns in continental Europe. She can afford to supply us with all required funds, the expense would hardly make a dent in her fortune-"

"So you basically want me to pimp out my father for it?!" hissed Orion disbelievingly, his jaw clenching as fury swept over him. "You have the fortunes of your Death Eaters! You used them like that during your First Rise – you certainly leeched everything from the Rosier fortune, leaving it dry 'cause Evan Rosier gave you a free hand with it. Do it again with some of your minions."

"It is not enough," hissed Voldemort sternly, his eyes narrowing. "Waging wars is not cheap, boy. And I'm not about to indebt myself with the Goblins or Conrad and his sidekicks." His lips curled upwards. "You, on the other hand, could chip in your fortune if you value your father's freedom from marital shackles more than the Black galleons."

"I'm already 'chipping in'," hissed Orion crisply, leaning back on his seat as he calmed down, trying to reason with the wizard. "I'm financing Lycaon and the construction of the other werewolf communities that Wulfric and the continental Alphas have begun building. And that's the extent of my 'investment' in war causes, for the time being. You're not getting a single knut from me. What about Lucius…" He trailed off, understanding dawning on him, and he eyed him mockingly. "Ah, I see, Lucius won't hand over his fortune to you, will he? Bet you threatened to kill him and he refused anyway. Knowing him, he rather die than see the Malfoy fortune disappear in the bat of an eyelash. Well, tough luck. Think of something else."

"I have," hissed Voldemort shortly. "Morticia is the means-"

"Absolutely not," snapped Orion heatedly, glancing at the witch, who was gazing at them fixedly, obviously without understanding a word, but still looking fascinated by their hissing, as she observed them with a glint in her kohl-lined, black eyes.

Orion's eyes narrowed to slits as he glanced back at Voldemort. "You haven't told her that my parseltongue ability comes from the Black line, have you?"

At the wizard's devious curl of the lips, Orion knew that the man had indeed fed her that lie, and he repressed the impulse to throttle the smug bastard.

He finally speared Voldemort with a hard a gaze, and hissed crisply, "Make the Dark Allies cover the expenses. The Americans are going to fatten their pockets with the banking rights of the Reconstruction, so it's only fair they provide the funds we'll need for the next wars. If they refuse, threaten to give the rights to the Goblins, and period."

"We still need Morticia on our side," hissed Voldemort with angered impatience. "The Mayan Stone-"

"I don't give a fuck about the bloody Stone," hissed Orion acidly, without caring to hear any more of the wizard's twisted reasons, whichever they were, turning to Morticia the next second. "There's no deal. Find yourself another husband."

A thunderous expression swept across her features, before a cold mask was pulled over her face, as she placidly leaned back on her seat, her gaze swiveling to Voldemort, as she said pleasantly, "Your father is a marked Death Eater, is he not?"

A chill ran down Orion's spine, and his gaze instantly zeroed in on Voldemort. "Don't you dare coerce my father into marrying this one under the threat of torturing him through the mark. Or of doing something to me, or any other thing your fucked up, warped mind has come up with. You touch my father and I'll kill you."

Voldemort eyed him condescendingly, sneering tartly, "I have no need to do anything to your father. Not that you could prevent it, if I wanted to. Mind who you're speaking to, boy."

"It's no use my Lord," said Morticia with a displeased tone of voice. "It's evident Lord Black will not see reason." Her black eyes zeroed in on Orion again, turning hard, as her tone became sharp and incisive, "I wanted to do this the nice way, but you leave me no alternative."

Orion frowned as she plucked out something from an undetectable pocket at one side of her gown, and in the next second she was tapping her wand at it, enlarging it until it was evident that she was holding a scroll in her hands.

With a snap of her wrist, the scroll unrolled, and Morticia presented him with the parchment, her lips curving upwards and with a victorious and nasty glint in her eyes, as she said pleasantly, "This gives me the indisputable right to marry your father, Lord Black."

With a feeling of impending doom, Orion clutched the parchment, and his stomach sickly churned as his gaze scanned the contents, the information reverberating in his mind: a marital magical contract… dated on 1943… unfulfilled… with no expiration date, deadline, or period of time… to be fulfilled by any member of the Mortimer line with a member of Black House… and at the end, two signatures – one of Mauricius Mortimer, the other of Walburga Black.

"I don't believe it," said Orion weakly, feeling ill, before his fingers tightened around the parchment and he pierced Voldemort with his eyes, his voice rising as he hissed, seething, "You could have forged this. You're able to break magical contracts, so you could be able to create fake ones-"

"Check it yourself," hissed Voldermort sharply, dark annoyance sweeping across his face.

And Orion surely did, casting every spell he knew and could think of. But it was no use, all gave the same results. The contract was valid, authentic, and the magical signatures were real.

"No," he croaked out at last, jerkily releasing the parchment, which floated down to his lap, as his gaze flickered from the self-satisfied Morticia to Voldemort, who merely looked impassive if not impatient with the proceedings. "My grandmother signed this? Before she had even graduated from Hogwarts, before being married and having children? What on earth possessed her?!"

"Walburga wanted an alliance between the Black line and the Mortimer one," hissed Voldemort placidly, his lips curling upwards, eyeing Orion with a viciously amused glint in his eyes, clearly savoring Orion's despair. "Your grandmother was very ambitious and ruthless, surely you knew that. She couldn't marry Mauricius since she was already betrothed to her Black cousin, but she could still gain the Mortimer fortune for Black House if one of her children married a Mortimer." He mockingly clicked his tongue. "Indeed, I think that when your father ran away and after your uncle was… ah, killed, what pained her the most was that she didn't have any of her boys left to fulfill the contract."

Orion bristled at the mention of Regulus being 'killed' and the mode in which it was said, as if Voldemort had had nothing to do with it. But he promptly swallowed his fury, and gestured at the parchment on his lap, not wanting to touch it, bizarrely feeling as if he would be tainted if he did, and he hissed sharply, "Destroy it. You know how. Do it."

A loud bout of laughter sprung from Voldemort's throat, nasty and vicious - and really, Orion knew he shouldn't have expected anything else. "Why would I do that, my little serpent? It serves my purposes to have your father bounded by that contract, now that Morticia has claimed who she wants to fulfill it with. As Goblins say, the gold will flow."

"I'm going to check this, you know?" bit out Orion angrily, briskly carding his fingers through his hair. "I'll talk with Walburga's portrait-"

"By all means, do so," hissed Voldemort dismissively. "She'll tell you the same as I have." His lips curled upwards, his crimson eyes glinting. "And perhaps she'll try to convince you to marry Morticia yourself, so that 'Lord Black' can get his claws into the Mortimer fortune, instead of being gained by your father, her undeserving son whom she loathes so deeply. But she likes you, doesn't she? Yes, she will tell you to use the contract yourself." He tilted his head to a side, eyeing him mockingly. "Would you, Orion? Would you leave that filthy halfbreed of yours and become Morticia's husband, to save your father from such fate?"

Orion heatedly glowered at him, but didn't say a word. They both knew the answer. Even if he wasn't bonded with Lezander, even if he loved no one at all, he didn't think he could stomach marrying a witch like Morticia had proven to be.

He eyed her with contempt and deep-rooted aversion. She was beautiful, no doubt, but she was old for him, being in her late thirties, and looked it – not like Voldemort who looked in his prime. But he could overlook her age, even her gender. What he couldn't, was her personality. She was a forked-tongue snake, in the Gryffindor worst sense of the word; a manipulative, devious bitch with no scruples. A kind of female Voldemort without the wizard's amounts of power, wit, or magical prowess and brilliancy to remotely entice him, no matter is she was a finance wiz and brilliant in that regard.

Nevertheless, he wondered for a moment why Morticia hadn't demanded to have him for a husband. He was the extraordinarily powerful one with Necromantic abilities, not his father, even though she was right in expecting Sirius to pass on some of those traits to any other children he could have. But Orion could quickly guess that Voldemort hadn't given her that option and that she had to feel more attraction towards Sirius, a man a bit older than her, than towards him, just about to turn seventeen. She didn't look the type to like wizards much younger than her, and she probably considered him a mere adolescent.

"You wouldn't sacrifice yourself for your father, my little serpent?" hissed Voldemort silkily, gazing at him tauntingly, the nasty viciousness in his crimson eyes still present. "Why, such a role model son as yourself. I'm astounded. You resurrected him, saved his soul from eventual obliteration and eternal non-existence, but you wouldn't take his place in a marriage that will break him? And be certain that it will." His lips curled upwards with relish. "Morticia will wrap him around her little finger to use him to beget the heir she wants, then she will make him miserable and psychologically torture him and toss him aside, and he will despair until the end of his days, most surely still pinning after her."

Orion gritted his teeth and stared at him hatefully. The wizard had done nothing but cruelly mock and taunt him whenever he found the chance. Oh, he knew why – it was just the beginning of his punishment for having completed the bond with Lezander. And it would go on, particularly in bed. The wizard would brutally use him, without caring about his pain or pleasure, Merlin knew for how long.

He inwardly scoffed. As if he cared. He was quite used to dealing with Voldemort in the sack when the wizard was in one of his sadistic and cruel moods. He would give as much as he took, that was certain. Though Merlin knew why thinking about it thrilled him. Why, despite what he had initiated with Lezander and Draco, which made him feel so wonderful, wanted and loved, he still felt such a fiery and intense attraction towards Voldemort and still wanted the bastard so much it hurt.

He was a masochist and a sucker for impossibly tough challenges and love-hate thrills, no doubt about it. He had known that about himself for a very long while – it had been Gellert who had pointed it out to him, crookedly smirking and with dark amusement glinting in his hawk-like, hazel eyes. He still remembered the wizard's advice accompanied by his crowing laughter, it had been simple – enjoy your 'twistedness'.

Circe, he missed the man so much.

"You think it will be my father's downfall," Orion hissed coolly, pulling out of reminiscences, as he gazed at Voldemort scornfully, "and you cannot wait for it to happen, to see it pain me. Well, you have another thing coming. And even if I find no way out for him, you underestimate him if you think this bitch-" he shot Morticia a venomous glance "- can make him 'despair'. He's made of much sterner stuff than that. He's survived much worser things, and bounced back on his feet. And he's quite capable of charming and making any witch he wants to fall in love with him. He'll be warned about Morticia, and just wait and see which of them will wrap the other around their little finger." He nastily smirked at him. "And I will persuade him to crush her the moment he does." He tilted his head to a side, his smirk widening tauntingly. "Of course, I'll tell him to wait until the time she has given us the galleons to fund the wars."

"I will enjoy hearing from Morticia about what, unequivocally, will be your father's pathetic attempts to control her," hissed Voldemort placidly, vicious relish glinting in his crimson eyes.

"We are in agreement?" said Morticia, more a statement than a question, her black eyes swiveling from Orion to Voldemort and back, satisfaction clearly written on her features.

Orion shot her a poisonous glare, wishing he could wring her neck. Then, his eyes narrowed musingly as he stared at her. Why not? He could indeed kill her. Not at present, not with Voldemort there. But he could find out where she lived, pay her a visit and off her. Or perhaps wait until she married his father and kill her then. A wide smirk spread on his face. Then, Sirius would get the Mortimer fortune and Voldemort wouldn't see a knut of it – it would serve the wizard right. An apt retribution.

"Do not even consider the possibility, Orion," hissed Voldemort sharply, his crimson eyes narrowing to slits. "If you attempt to kill her or dispose of her in any other way, I will kill your father."

Orion cocked an eyebrow, utterly unruffled, and shot him a nasty grin. "You know me well. Fear not, the bitch is safe from me - for now."

He swiftly rolled the contract and tossed it at Morticia, as he added coolly, "I'll tell my father about this and you should go to Grimmauld Place to meet him some day soon. Have Narcissa Malfoy take you there, she knows where it is." He narrowed his eyes at her, and warned threateningly, "Be aware that if you go ahead with your plan, I'll be checking my father for love spells, potions and such. And if I see you that you tried to mess up with him, I'll make you rue the day you were born, witch. There will be no foul play in this, if he decides to have you."

A sharp, wide smile stretched on Morticia's lips. "I require the aid of no spells or potions to make a man mine, Lord Black. I'll let the insult pass, since I'm glad you have come to your senses."

Orion's jaw clenched. Circe, he would have never thought he could hate someone so quickly. But his father could handle a witch like her if worse came to worst, couldn't he? He had faith in Sirius, and he dearly hoped so.

The contract was iron-clad and indestructible, as all magical contracts between purebloods were - they made sure of it. And not for the first time, he wished he knew how Voldemort could break and destroy contracts. He had looked into it once, but he had found no spells for it in books, and when he had asked around –to Calypso, her father, the Elite, Snape, Grindelwald, and even Roman Komorov himself, who had been a famed Curse Breaker- none had known. It was considered impossible.

Merlin knew in which country and from whom Voldemort had picked it up. And it was even more probable that Voldemort had created the spell for it on his own – which made it impossible for him to discover, unless he took months to solely work on researching and testing to create one himself. Even then, he didn't know if he would succeed. Voldemort knew much more than him, in that regard, as in many others.

And the moment a Mortimer –Morticia– wrote down the name of the chosen Black in the blank spot for it in the contract, Sirius would be bounded to marry her, or else die by his own magic. The contract was the sort which could be likened to an Unbreakable Vow, and he had discerned no loopholes in it, and he had indeed looked for them in the contractual terms while testing the document.

Regardless, Morticia hadn't written any name yet, except her own. At least that indicated that she wanted to meet Sirius in person, before sealing the matter. Nonetheless, he didn't think Morticia would be deterred even if he warned Sirius and told his father to act like a total loser, loony or anything else imaginable. Morticia wanted a powerful heir from her husband, and clearly wouldn't care about her future husband's character, only about the magical traits and abilities he could pass on.

Well, he would discuss the matter with Sirius, they would come up with some options and plan for it. He could still kill her at some point without Voldemort knowing he had been behind it. He could use the same trick he had employed with Grindelwald at Nurmengard - create a replica of her body with the Necromantic spell, and then make it look as if she had died in an accident. He could push the replica down some stairs, while he killed the real witch and disposed of her body. Or something of the sort. And even if Voldemort already knew about the Necromantic spell he had used at Nurmengard on Gellert, the wizard wouldn't be able to find any proof of it if he employed that trick again.

Yes, there were many ways. Orion started to cheer up, the horizon of possibilities not looking so grim anymore but quite bright.

He glanced at them, and swiftly rose to his feet as he said nonchalantly, "Well, I can't say it has been a pleasure but at least our present business together is over." He shot Morticia a sharp grin, tilting his head to a side. "Perhaps I won't mind calling you 'mum' in the future, after all."

The witch suspiciously narrowed her black eyes at him, clearly not liking his current unflappable, calm attitude. In the next second, a half-smile stretched on her lips as she said coolly, "It would be an honor if you regarded me as your own mother once I'm joined with your father." Her smile widened as her eyes gleamed darkly. "Indeed, I will provide you with a sibling in a year or two. I'm sure you'll make an excellent older brother."

A muscle in Orion's jaw twitched, but he didn't beep a word, he merely turned around and headed for the door.

"Where do you think you're going? I haven't given you permission to leave, my little serpent. There's the demonstration-"

"Ah, yes," said Orion as he swirled around to face Voldemort, frowning. "Well, I have to see to some business elsewhere right now. So that will have to wait." He waved a hand dismissively. "Give me thirty minutes or so. I'm sure you can use the time to prepare stuff or whatever."

He was out of the room before he gave the wizard a chance to stop him, pausing for a moment at the hall, as he closed his eyes and concentrated, dissapparating in the next second.


"What on earth…" muttered Orion with alarm the moment he landed in his bedroom in Zraven Citadel, seeing all his things upturned as if a pack of crazed leprechauns had raided his room in search of a golden galleon.

His books, which he kept neatly stacked on the desk, were all over the place, littering the bed, some having been dropped to the floor, as if discarded as uninteresting. His trunk, which he didn't keep warded in the Citadel, was open, with the Invisibility Cloak dangling from one edge, clearly having been pawed all over. Countless parchments, his perfect notes for his PRIMEs, along with quills, robes and several of his other possessions, were all scattered about. Even his wardrobe, closet and dresser looked as if they had withstood a rabid assault.

And there, amidst the mess, was Draco, comfortably seated on an armchair, placidly reading, with his nose stuck in a Dark Arts tome – one of Orion's books, at that.

"Oi, Malfoy! What's the meaning of this?" snapped Orion with annoyance, glowering at the young wizard.

"Oh, it's you," drawled Draco, looking up from the book and snapping it shut the next second. He calmly stood up, and then shot Orion a scowl. "I was bloody bored, Potter. You've been gone for ages and I have none of my stuff here. What was I supposed to do in this darned place? Watch the thestrals pasture? Commune with the outdoor nature?"

"So you decided to ransack my bedroom?" said Orion disbelievingly, eyeing his room appalled, with horror at the sheer mess. "You went through my things? Bloody hell, Draco, there's a huge library in the Citadel. You could have entertained yourself there."

He started waving his wand, making things fly back into their proper place, as he shot the boy a glare, snapping crisply, "Or you could have gone to the barracks to get to know the Zraven fighters, or to the courtyard to make some friends, or you could have sought out Mireilla so that she could introduce you around, or you could have just simply taken a stroll around the bloody Citadel and interact with the people here!"

Draco shrugged his shoulders unrepentantly, as he drawled coolly, "Going through your stuff sounded more interesting to me." He shot him a smirk and took two steps to grab the Invisibility Cloak, eyeing it closely, clicking his tongue with dissatisfaction. "It doesn't look like much. Quite disappointing."

"Give me that," snapped Orion, swiftly yanking it away from Draco's clutches to then fold it and place it back into his trunk, with much tenderness and care. "You've already seen it before. It's nothing new to you."

Draco scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, but I didn't know then that it was a Hallow, did I?" He shot the Cloak a miffed glare, as if it had mortally insulted him in some way. "I tried to make it do something, and it just laid there, as any other ordinary invisibility cloak."

Orion snorted, rolling his eyes. "What did you expected it to do? Throw you a party and sing you a sonnet?"

"How are you supposed to join it with the other Hallows, then, if it does nothing, eh?" bit out Draco bristling, glowering at him. "I was trying to figure that out, Potter."

"Well, I appreciate the effort, but keep your paws away from my stuff, next time," grumbled Orion, continuing to arrange his possessions with flicks of his wand.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, little kitten," drawled Draco, shooting him a wide, taunting smirk.

"Don't call me that," snapped Orion shortly, throwing him a glower over his shoulder.

"The vampire does," said Draco impassively, his smirk widening as his silvery eyes gleamed. "With your pointy little fangs and all, you do look like a cute little kitten, like Zraven says."

Orion turned pink to the tips of his ears. "Shut up. It's different when Lez calls me that." He shot him a dark glare. "You can stick to 'Potter', Malfoy."

Draco sniggered loudly and Orion shot him a baleful glower, but he paused in mid flick of his wand when he caught sight of Phineas Nigellus Black's portrait out of its usual place inside his trunk, unshrunk and tottering against a corner of a window.

He made his way towards it, shooting Draco a quizzical glance over his shoulder. "You spoke to Phineas?"

"Our ancestor wasn't very pleased with me," said Draco dourly, darkly scowling. He sniffed disdainfully. "Don't know why I bothered. He asked me where I was and he started shouting at me the next second, about a Malfoy and a Black cavorting with halfbreeds. Turned up his nose at me, he did, the pompous git, and then just vanished into the frame and never came back." He kicked the foot of the bed with a crossed expression on his face, then adding with a caustic sneer, "Only spoke to him because I was bored, you know. Didn't entertain me much in the end."

Orion chuckled under his breath, imagining the conversation between the two purebloods. Poor Draco, he did pity him for having been subjected to one of Phineas' righteous rants about what Blacks were and weren't allowed to do and proper pureblood behavior and lifestyle choices.

When he had gotten hold of the portrait, he sat down on the bed and swiftly tapped the frame with his wand, as he called out loudly, "Phineas, come out – I have something to ask you!"

In the next moment, the old wizard appeared in the portrait, sourly glaring at him as he took a seat in the room illustrated at his back. "You have finally decided to face me, have you, boy? Now I understand why you haven't spoken to me for so long. No wonder, the shame you have brought to Black House by your actions alone…" He trailed off, glancing at Orion's surroundings, his lips twisting and contorting. "Residing and mingling with halfbreeds-"

"Zip it and mind your own business," snapped Orion crisply, then rolling his eyes. "I need you to visit Walburga's portrait in Grimmauld Place." He pierced the old wizard in the portrait with a stern gaze. "Ask her if she ever signed a marital contract in behalf of Black line with Mauricius Mortimer. The wizard's grandniece now has one and wants to use it to marry my father."

Phineas' eyebrows climbed upwards, and before the man could beep another word, Orion pressed on curtly, "Just go, and come back with her answer as quickly as possible. If it's true, then she can tell you about it."

"Very well," said the portrait gruffly, shooting him a reprehensive glower before he disappeared into the frame.

Draco immediately sat by Orion's side on the bed, staring at him fixedly. "A marriage contract with a Mortimer? What's this about?"

Orion quickly related to him what had happened during the meeting with Morticia Mortimer and Draco's eyebrows shot upwards. "I heard a lot about her from my father in the past. And she wants to marry your dad?"

"Apparently," groused out Orion shortly.

Draco musingly stared at him, a calculating sparkle in his silvery eyes. "A union between Mortimer and Black House is very advantageous, Potter-"

"Don't want to hear it," snapped Orion gruffly.

"It's true," abruptly proclaimed Phineas, practically chirping as he suddenly popped into his portrait. He shot Orion a wide, content smirk. "Well, Walburga has surpassed herself this time. Never breathed a word to anybody about it, the sly witch." He closely peered at Orion and whispered conspiratorially, "No matter what she says, I think she never thought the contract would come up after Regulus died and your father ran away and was later imprisoned. She's gloating now, quite satisfied with herself that a Mortimer has appeared wanting to fulfill the contract. But she thinks it's best if you were the one instead of you father, boy." He pensively stared at Orion, a musingly devious expression on his face. "And I think she's right. That father of yours is no proper Black-"

"Don't care about your opinions," interrupted Orion tartly, quite angered and annoyed by the whole thing as he glared at Phineas. "And Walburga will be hearing me some day, next time I pop into Grimmauld Place. She should have never have signed anything. She's caused quite a mess." He gritted his teeth, and added shortly, "Tell her to inform my dad about it and to tell him that I want to see him in Potter Manor tomorrow morning, to discuss it."

Phineas harrumphed and made a move to disappear into the frame, shooting Orion one last censuring and displeased glower.

"Oi, wait!" said Orion quickly. "Before you leave, what news is there from the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts?"

"Headmistress' office now, boy," said Phineas coolly, turning back to gaze at him. "The Board of Governors have chosen Minerva McGoganall to stand as the interim Headmistress." He brushed nonexistent lint from his robes, and drawled disinterestedly, "Hogwarts is to reopen for the next school year after the summer holidays. They have decided it's for the best. Seems that Minister Scrimgeour wants to allay worries about how their side is faring in the war by keeping business as usual. Light wizards would pitch a fit and would be very concerned if Hogwarts didn't operate." He paused, and then closely gazed at Orion. "Many strange and foreign wizards have been coming and going to the office, discussing many things."

Orion shot him a frown. "With McGonagall – about what?"

"You, mainly. A Grindelwald, eh?" murmured Phineas, leaning forward, his face occupying the whole expanse of the portrait as he intensely peered at Orion, a large smirk curving his thin lips. "I knew you couldn't be a halfblood, boy. I knew you couldn't be so powerful without a sensible explanation behind it. No Lord of Black House could possibly be a halfblood." A dark scowl abruptly crossed his features, and he grumbled, "I wonder if Arcturus' portrait had an inkling. Crafty old buzzard, could have told me. He has some explaining to do, he has."

And with that, Phineas disappeared from his portrait without so much as a by your leave, obviously on his way to pester the stern, curt and solemnly tight-lipped Arcturus.

"He didn't shout at you," complained Draco sourly, crossing his arms over his chest as he darkly glared at the empty portrait in Orion's hands. "He screamed at me for being in a vampire citadel, and he didn't even raise his voice at you. And he knows that you're Zraven's lifemate, to boot."

Orion shot him a smirk as he stood up, flicking his wand to shrink the portrait and place it inside his trunk. "I'm the Lord of Black House, of course he didn't dare shout at me. Phineas knows better than to do that."

Draco shot him an irked scowl and Orion merely grinned at him, as he waved his wand and finished arranging his room. It was done in a mere few seconds, while he shot Draco a stern glance clearly conveying he didn't want to discuss the marital contract matter when the young wizard attempted to do so.

With a last flick of his wand finally settling everything in the room, Orion sighed, carded his fingers through his hair and glanced up at the young wizard. "Have you seen Lezander? I'm looking for him-"

"He's in his room," scoffed Draco, looking highly miffed. "He's locked himself up with Calypso there. Kicked me out, they did. Apparently they had some things to discuss and my presence wasn't welcomed. They've been there, arguing and bickering, for ages. Hell if I know what's going on, not that I care-"

"I told them to wait for me," groused out Orion crossly. "I knew they wouldn't. I took too long with that damned witch…"

He was about to turn around and head for Lezander's room, when he remembered something.

"Oh, this is for you," he said, as he plucked out the tiny letter from under his sleeve, giving it a tap with his wand and handing it over when it was back to its normal size. "It's from Blaise. His mum gave it to me to pass it along."

"From Blaise?" said Draco joyously, his face brightening as he eagerly tore up the envelope, then swiftly unfolding the parchment.

His silvery gaze quickly roved over the contents, so many different expressions crossing his features that Orion's interest was highly piqued.

Orion peered at him, and asked with deep curiosity, "What does it say?"

Draco's fingers clenched around the letter. He looked up at Orion, his face an emotionless mask, as he drawled coolly, "It's true about Hogwarts. Blaise received a letter from McGonagall, informing him about the books and stuff he'll need for his seventh year. And he…" His jaw clenched, and then he bore his piercing eyes into Orion's. "He warns me about those who have taken the Dark mark. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Theodore Nott… many older Slytherins too, that have already graduated, Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint… He reckons that if they see me, they'll take me to Voldemort." He glanced away from Orion and shrugged with seeming indifference. "I wouldn't expect anything else. For them it's either take me to Voldemort or be killed in punishment." His expression hardened, and he added irked, "The Greengrass sisters apparently want nothing to do with me either."

Orion tilted his head to a side, regarding him closely. "It was to be expected after what's happened. Surely you're not lamenting that the Greengrass family has broken the negotiations with your mother. I never thought you had any real interest in Astoria Greengrass."

"She would have made a proper wife, a proper Lady Malfoy," said Draco curtly. He shook his head, his grim expression vanishing, and shot him a smirk. "Better than Pansy would have, anyway. Thankfully that marriage contract was never signed when we were younger."

Orion chuckled under his breath, remembering the pandemonium Draco had caused when finally firmly informing his parents that he would rather break his wand and flee to the muggle world than take Pansy for a wife. The Malfoys had quickly relinquished the idea of that union, though the girl certainly never had.

Up until a month ago, Pansy was still acting around Hogwarts as if she had every claim to Draco, poisonously glaring at little Astoria Greengrass in her fourth year in Ravenclaw House, and wrapping herself around Draco every chance she found. And given her infatuation, clearly besotted and in love with Draco since they were ten years old, he wondered if Pansy would really take Draco to Voldemort if she had the chance. Even if she was marked, Orion had the suspicion that she wouldn't have it in her to do so. Pansy was a shallow, conceited nuisance, they had always disliked each other, but he had to concede that she had always been good to Draco, in her proprietary and pampering way.

"You made sure of that," quipped Orion amusedly, pulling out of his musings, "by throwing so many temper tantrums that your parents had to yield and look for someone else."

Draco intensely pierced him with his silvery eyes. "Yes, and my father then made the contract for our union, signing in your behalf as your guardian. And I signed it too." His lips twisted into a grimace. "We all know how that turned out." A disgusted expression swept over his face, as he briskly gestured at the room. "And now, here I am, amidst halfbreeds."

"Now, here we are, amidst vampires," said Orion calmly, then shooting him a rakish grin. "And I certainly didn't hear you complain about it last night, Drakey, if your loud throaty moans were anything to go by."

"Stuff it, Potter," bit out Draco, darkly glowering at him. "If I did make some small sounds it certainly wasn't due to your incompetence and fumbling attempts in the sack." He lifted his chin up, and said stiffly, "It was your bloody dark magic swirling all around-"

"Please," snorted Orion, eyeing him with amusement, "I'm freaking fantastic in bed and you know it. I vastly proved it last night."

Draco disdainfully scoffed but didn't say anything, and in the next second, he shot him a smug smirk, dangling the letter in front of Orion's nose. "But I might not be stuck here, after all. Blaise tells me that I can stay in his villa, if I want."

"You can't," interjected Orion instantly, his voice curt and firm. "This is the safest place for you. And the Zabini Villa in Italy is the first place that Death Eaters must be monitoring, looking for you."

"It's heavily warded," snapped Draco vehemently, scowling at him. "And if Blaise says it's safe, then I believe it. He would never betray me. He's neutral in the war-"

"But not his mum," interrupted Orion sternly, pinning him with his green gaze. "I told you what she's doing for us, because Voldemort threatened to mark Blaise if she didn't comply. Sure, she gave me the letter for you, but it doesn't mean she's prepared to risk her life and her son's just to hide you in her home."

The moment the young wizard opened his mouth again, Orion held up a hand, and said sharply, "You know you can't go, Draco, so there's no point in discussing it further. Just keep in contact with him through letters."

"Fine," groused out Draco, with a moody expression on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest. He shot him a dirty look, and sneered caustically, "How do I that, Potter? I haven't seen an owlerly-"

"Ravens," interjected Orion calmly. "They use ravens here. You can find them at the bird house by the courtyard." He gestured at his desk. "I'll let you get on with it. You can use my parchments and quills. And do try not to make a mess of things again."

He gave Draco one last stern glance and then quickly headed for the door.

"Are you coming back tonight?"

Orion halted mid step at the threshold, and shot him a glance over his shoulder. "Probably not."

He saw Draco's lips thinning, an angered, grim and dissatisfied expression on his handsome patrician features, but he simply ignored it. He had told him that he would still be with Voldemort, and the young pureblood would just have to come to terms with it.

In a flash, Orion was across the hallway, in front of Lezander's room and about to slam the door open. But with a hand on doorknob, he stilled when he heard the arguing, fired voices coming from within and his ears perked up.

"… you must tell him, Scaly! I don't want to keep this from him. He has a right to know, it affects him too-"

"No, it doesn't. It's solely my business, Lez-"

"It's not! How many times must we go through this? You're the closest one to him and it can be used against him because he would do anything for you and everyone knows it. Just think what would happen if some of his enemies… Merlin, even Voldemort himself – think what would happen then, if they used it to force him into something, if they threatened to-"

"I can deal with anything that happens. And are you trying to imply that I'm betraying Orion? That I'm a traitor because I don't want to tell him?"

"If you put it that way, then yes, Scaly. What do you want me to say? You're keeping something from him that affects him greatly, whether you like to admit it or not-"

"I am no traitor! I would never do anything to truly betray him in any way-"

"You are right now by not telling him, Scaly! I don't understand it. Why haven't you told him? It's not something you can 'fix', you must see that. And you clearly cannot manage on your own. I think you need help and protection, and Orion would give it to you. I would too-"

"I don't need anyone's help! I repeat for the umpteenth time that I can indeed manage on my own perfectly well-"

"What do you fear, Calypso? Do you think he will hold it against you? He won't, once you explain what happened and what you did-"

"I'm not telling, and that's it. And you better keep your mouth shut, Lez."

"I don't have a choice now, do I?"

Their voices died off, leaving fuming silence behind, and Orion decided it was time to get his answers, since what he had overheard had certainly not elucidated matters to him. On the contrary, he was even more puzzled and befuddled than before.

He calmly turned the knob, parted the door wide open, and strolled into the room, instantly zeroing in his gaze on them. Lezander looked exasperated and angered, with arms crossed over his chest, while Calypso had a mutinous and stubborn expression on her face.

They both looked up at him, and while Lezander barely changed his expression, not looking at all surprised by his entry, Calypso, on the other hand, looked worried about the possibility of him having heard them.

"So…" said Orion slowly, his gaze flickering from one to the other. "What's up? Are you going to finally tell me, Scaly?"

Calypso's lips thinned and she crossed her arms, turning her head to a side, without looking at him. Well, tempers were still riding high, it seemed. He could even feel the tension in the air.

Orion arched an eyebrow and then shot Lezander a glance, but the vampire didn't look at him either, the pale blue eyes were fixed on Calypso.

He cleared his throat, and said pointedly, "If you won't, Lez will. So it's preferable if you just come out with it."

"See if he dares," bit out Calypso, snapping her head around to glower at Lezander.

Orion frowned, but before he could get in another word, the vampire rounded on her.

"You know what, Calypso," said Lezander sharply with a hard expression on his face, "I may not be able to tell Orion anything but I sure as hell can do something about it." In the next second, he turned his head to a side and hollered, "Cyprian!"

Orion nearly jumped out of his skin at the abrupt shout. And while he still didn't understand what was going on, he saw that Calypso was looking confused as well, now.

In the next bat of the eyelash, the Zraven Commander seemed to come out from the shadows at one corner of the room, and the vampire was by Lezander's side in a flash, clearly expectantly awaiting for some order or other.

"Take her to a guest quarter," said Lezander curtly, jutting his chin in Calypso's direction. "She is not to leave the Citadel."

With a nod, Cyprian was instantly standing behind Calypso, swiftly plucking out her wand from her robes' pocket whilst firmly taking a hold of her shoulders, and he started to frogmarch her forward, headed for the corner.

"What?!" said Calypso in a disbelieving and stunned high-pitch, roaring with anger in the next second, struggling against the hold on her. "You cannot do this, Lez! You have no right-"

"You're going to stay here," snapped Lezander briskly, "and you'll take the time to think matters over. Time spent in solitude and isolation will certainly help in that. It will do you some good. And you are not going to participate in the attacks of August the first. That's final."

"Orion!" said Calypso loudly, her voice beseeching, her expression pleading, as Cyprian kept dragging her and she uselessly struggled against him. "Orion, you cannot let him do this, imprison me here – do something – stop it!"

Orion anxiously glanced at her, Lezander, and back, biting his lower lip. He didn't know what to do. He didn't like seeing her like that, so frantic, with teary eyes, being dragged against her will, and much less forced into staying in a room, as some sort of prisoner. But when he glanced at Lezander, he saw firm conviction there and he couldn't believe that the vampire would do anything this drastic if it wasn't required. Lezander knew Calypso's secret, so he must be acting for her sake.

But it tore him nonetheless, when Cyprian finally pulled her into the corner, kicking and screaming, because he saw the hurt expression on her face as she gazed at him, before they both disappeared as if swallowed by the shadows.

The moment they were gone, silence reigned in the room, and Orion warily glanced at Lezander, feeling apprehensive and also guilty because in a way he had betrayed her by not helping her – he had seen she thought that, in her eyes.

"What on earth is going on, Lez?" he asked quietly, fixedly staring at the vampire.

"You overheard what we were saying," said Lezander with a weary sigh, distractedly rubbing his cheek, "I felt you were there, standing behind the door. For that I'm glad, since I cannot tell you about Calypso." He shot Orion a grimace. "She made me take an Oath."

"What?" said Orion gaping at him, momentarily struck dumb. Then he understood his words and saw red, shouting with fury, "Merlin's great balls of fire, how could you have been so stupid?! You let her trick you into giving a Wizard's Oath about not telling her secret? Why the hell did you-"

"You would have given her the Oath too," snapped Lezander angrily, "if she had started sobbing on your shoulder, Orion!"

"I wouldn't have been as soft-hearted as you evidently were!" spat Orion seething, gritting his teeth and balling his hands.

"No, you would have been worse," bit out Lezander crisply. "You've always been much softer and gentle to her than I ever was."

Orion clenched his jaw, knowing he was right, but that didn't make it any better and he started pacing the room angrily. "So you cannot tell me anything, not even a hint, or you'll lose your magic. So what I am supposed to do now to find out? I was counting on you! She won't tell me, that's evident."

He darkly glared at the vampire over his shoulder, without pausing his strides around the room. "Then what? Must I rip her clothes off her, to check every inch of her body for brands, to see if she has joined some group? What, the Aux, the Death Eaters, the Order, Arian?! To help me on her own behind the scenes? And now she's in trouble with them? But marks can be glamoured and even I couldn't cancel such spell if it was a blood-glamour. Or a mark can be invisible to those without one, I know that well, like the Aux's VA mark and my very own Black mark which she created... So did you see a mark on her through a blood-glamour, with that vampire vision of yours, and I which can't?"

He shot Lezander a glance, but the vampire remained silent with a grim expression on his face, and Orion clenched his jaw and then muttered with a frown, "It could be, because she doesn't want me to mark her with my own brand. And she doesn't allow anyone to touch her or be physically close to her, so maybe she's hiding a mark with magic and doesn't allow anyone to sense it by keeping herself apart. Or did you detect something else? Is she doing something for Morgana? Are the Spirits behind it? It could be, because she started acting strangely at the beginning of the year at Durmstrang."

He finally shook his head, throwing up a hand with angered exasperation, and snapped caustically, "I don't have the foggiest idea about what it could be, Lez. Maybe it has nothing to do with joining anybody. So should I legilimize her forcibly-"

"No," interrupted Lezander firmly, shaking his head. "Don't do that. She would never forgive you."

The young vampire Rege deeply sighed and then reached Orion, placing his hands on Orion's shoulders, stilling him from his brisk pacing. "Don't do anything. She will tell you, in time. She simply needs some time to think and some time to herself. She's overtaxed." He pointedly pierced him with his eyes. "And you weren't helping in that regard either. You've given her too much to do. You depend on her too much. You need to start delegating tasks to the other members of the Elite instead of always counting on Calypso."

Orion wearily rubbed his forehead, his shoulders slumping as he muttered quietly, "I see your point, but I wasn't doing it on purpose. Titania has been working with her. And it's simply that Calypso is the one I trust the most and she's brilliant. She knows everything and she's always been there for me, through thick and thin."

He shook his head, and then looked up at the vampire with a frown on his face. "That's why you want her to stay here? So that she's not stressed about the war – to pull her away from all that or to protect her from someone she's gotten in trouble with?"

"I want her to be isolated for a while. It's for the best, trust me," said Lezander calmly, skirting around the subject. "But she should still be involved with what's happening, though not directly." He smiled gently. "She would go mad without anything to do and she would be furious if she was left out. So let her continue with the research she was working on, and discuss the war plans with her and ask for her advice and opinion, as always. Just don't let her participate in the attacks." He pinned him with an intense gaze. "Believe me, you don't want her there."

"Fine," mumbled Orion, slowly carding his fingers through his hair. "I trust that you know what's best for her." He anxiously gazed up at him. "I have to know - is she in danger, in some kind of deep trouble?"

Lezander remained silent with a pinched expression on his face, and Orion sighed out, "You can't tell me – not even that. Then I'll assume she is." He frowned pensively, and added, "Well, if she's staying here from now on, she'll need her things. Draco has to go to Potter Manor to have his lesson with Romulus, tell him to bring back everything in Calypso's rooms and to inform her father where she is."

Lezander nodded, then eyed him quizzically. "You're leaving? To see the Elite again-"

"No," said Orion succinctly. "Voldemort."

"Ah."

Orion shot him a glance. "I'll see you and Draco tomorrow. I'll be in time for my training, don't worry."

"That's not what I worry about, dragostea mea," said Lezander quietly.

Orion grimaced, before he grinned nonchalantly and said loftily, "You shouldn't be worrying about anything at all, or I'll start thinking that your father is right in thinking that I bring nothing but trouble to you."

He shot him a wink, and with that, he swiftly closed his eyes and apparated away.


Orion had a bad feeling about it - that he wouldn't like what was going to happen.

Well, it was evident he wouldn't, since there he was in the depths of Malfoy Manor's dungeons, in a vast, dingy, and humid chamber with moss on its stone walls and hardly any light, only that coming from torches. He was amidst the Death Eaters of the Inner Circle, all jittery with anticipation except Lucius and Severus, who had cold, impassive expressions on their faces, as usual in those types of situations.

And many feet before them, having been rounded up against a wall, were people standing in a line. People who Bellatrix had but mere minutes ago brought from the numerous cells in the dungeon. People who, apparently, had been captured during some Death Eater raid and were now going to be used as guinea pigs. They had blindfolds on their eyes, gags on their mouths, and shackles on wrists and ankles, and by the looks of their worn and disheveled clothes, they had to be muggles.

Orion's stomach gave a sickly churn. He wasn't going to like this at all.

To make it worse, as he had made his way through the dungeons along with the Death Eaters, he had caught sight of Ollivander, looking disheveled and a bit malnourished, dozing tiredly in a cramped cot inside a cell.

He had known that Voldemort had ordered his Death Eaters to capture the wandmaker a while back, and he had seen the man's empty and ominously ransacked store in Diagon Alley. He also knew that Voldemort had interrogated Ollivander about the Elder Wand. It was what had pointed Voldemort in Gregorovitch's direction, and then ended in that wandmaker's death and in Voldemort going to Nurmengard to see Grindelwald just moments after he and his Elite escaped from the prison with the wizard.

Having seen Ollivander, and in such a state - clearly still kept for the time when Voldemort would get his hands on the Elder Wand, as the wizard undoubtedly planned to do - made Orion vouch that he would rescue the wandmaker if he got the chance.

He wasn't worried about Ollivander saying anything about the Wand to Voldemort, since it was clear that the wandmaker didn't know much about it. But he certainly thought that Ollivander would be killed the instant Voldemort obtained the Wand and realized Ollivander was of no use, and it would be a waste.

It would be much better if he managed to send Ollivander to Lycaon, to make wands for the werewolves. They would certainly need more of them and it would be easier for them to have them for free instead of keep going into wizarding communities and buying ones of lesser quality in the black market, and cheated at it since the current laws around Europe didn't allow werewolves to have wands.

And to make matters even worse, Morticia Mortimer was also present and the witch had had the gall to take a place right beside him, with a sharp half-smile curving her lips when she had glanced at him. At least he had the Lestrange brothers on his other side – he had always liked them, and he particularly got along very well with Rodolphus.

After all, following Voldemort's orders the wizard had been his Dark Arts tutor, years ago, during a summer holiday, and he had seen the wizard frequently during the year, when the man had been polyjuiced as Slughorn. Not to mention that he had shagged the younger Lestrange once, not that it had changed things in the way they interacted since Rabastan had never breathed a word about what had happened, surely because he had seen Orion crucioing Voldemort and had wisely decided to keep his mouth shut, even if now the man addressed him as 'Lord Black' with a conspiratorial smirk on his face and a gleam of respect in his eyes.

Orion finally peeled his gaze away from the prisoners and shot a glance at Voldemort. The wizard was in front of them with his back to the muggles, holding the Mayan Stone with one hand under it and the other spread over its large, strange gem.

The man had given a little speech, the usual drivel to his Death Eaters, and was now apparently prepared to show them something which would amaze and astound, and which would undoubtedly make his minions worship the ground he walked on even more. It was to be, in Voldemort's words, a demonstration of his power and how it would be used to subjugate light wizards and mudbloods, and which would show how muggles could be easily disposed of.

"Bella," said Voldemort commandingly. "Proceed."

"Yes, My Lord," gushed Bellatrix sycophantically, quickly stepping forward from the throng of Death Eaters, approaching the muggles.

She raised her wand and swiftly drew a pattern in the air, beams of light instantly shooting out to strike the prisoners' chest. Orion saw large, bright red letters starting to appear on their clothed torsos.

"F for 'filthy muggle', V for 'vile mudblood'," said Bellatrix in a singsong, cackling loudly, "and D for 'disgusting halfblood'."

Orion's face lost all its color, utterly paling. Mudbloods? … Halfbloods?! He glanced at those marked with the D. They were wearing muggles clothes, he hadn't been mistaken in that assessment. Then they must have been living in the muggle town that the Death Eaters raided to capture test subjects. Muggleborns, he should have realized they were going to be taken for this, but he hadn't expected for there to be any halfbloods.

He was alarmed by it, and then he bristled since not so long ago, as far as Bellatrix had known, he had been considered to be a halfblood. Oh, and someday he would truly relish when the Death Eaters found out that their hailed Dark Lord was a halfblood himself. How he would enjoy Bellatrix's expression and reaction then.

He flared with anger when he saw that Voldemort was smiling at Bellatrix, as one indulging an endearing little girl. The nerve of the man, standing there about to do something to his own kind…

Orion's mind paused in mid thought and he shifted uneasily on his feet, frowning worriedly. Voldemort was a halfblood, and Severus as well. Wouldn't they be affected too? Perhaps he was thinking the worse, perhaps he was wrong in his suspicious about how the Mayan Stone was going to be used or how Voldemort could make it work.

"Should I mark my little, bitty, baby nephew with a D as well, My Lord?" said Bellatrix with a high-pitched chuckle, shooting Orion a nasty glance, a sneering smirk on her face. Her gaze then flickered to someone else, turning snide and hateful. "And Snape should have one too, My Lord-"

"Now, now, Bella, behave," said Voldemort, his tone pleasantly chiding. "Leave poor Severus alone. And as you know by now, Orion is not a halfblood."

"I still don't believe it!" spat Bellatrix seething, her breathing becoming heavy as she venomously glared at Orion. "His mother was a filthy mudblood, nothing else. He is no grandson of Grindelwald. He lies! The Daily Prophet lies, false speculations nothing more-"

"We will see today if it's true or not, won't we?" piped in Amycus Carrow, letting out a nasty, wheezing chuckle.

Some sniggered, particularly the wizard's twin sister, Alecto, while others just kept gazing at Voldemort and the prisoners with fervent, giddy anticipation. It was palpable in the air, the Death Eaters' mounting hunger to sadistically enjoy seeing the 'lesser, filthy beings' writhe and scream.

Orion's throat dried and his hands fisted as he gazed at the prisoners marked with the V or D, the muggleborns and halfbloods. Should he stop it before it began? He shot a glance at Voldemort who had his eyes narrowed in concentration, the man's lips murmuring something, chanting, as a glow of light started to emanate from the wizard's hand spread on the Mayan Stone's gem.

No, he couldn't do anything. If he interfered, Voldemort would just continue and make it worse in retribution. And a part of him wanted to see, wanted to know, what the wizard had come up with, what he could do with the Mayan Stone.

The air seemed to thicken and become eerily dense, some of the Death Eaters shifted nervously on their feet, and then the Stone's gem was glowing with a blinding white light, looking as if it was bursting with the magic Voldemort had poured into it.

In the next bat of the eyelash, as Voldemort muttered something under his breath, huge hand-like shapes spilled out from the Stone's gem, with numerous fingers hovering for one second above their heads. Then the tentacle-like foggy grey things shot into everyone present. Many Death Eaters jumped in startlement or let out a faint high-pitch, while one of the large 'fingers' of magic plunged into Orion's chest, as happened to everyone else, Death Eaters and prisoners alike.

Orion clenched his jaw but remained still, feeling as if a large yet thin needle was piercing him. The sensation wasn't painful, per se, but it was very awkward and uncomfortable, it made goosebumps creep on his skin and an eerie shudder crawl down his spine. And he frowned as the finger in his chest plunged deeper into him, still connected to the gem of the Mayan Stone, like all other tentacles. He felt as if the finger was moving inside him, swirling in his veins and tickling in his magical core, as if it was being explored by alien magic.

Abruptly, the finger shot out from him, and he saw that the tentacle-like things were now only spearing the chests of the prisoners marked with the D –the halfbloods- and to his dismay and concern, Severus was also connected to the Stone's gem with one of the fingers still plunged into him.

Orion's eyes widened, and he took a step forward, a cry of alarm on his lips.

"Don't interfere," whispered Rodolphus sharply by his side, clutching Orion's forearm in a vise-like grip and swiftly pulling him back in line with the rest of the Death Eaters. "You cannot help him and he can withstand whatever happens. He always does."

Orion's throat dried, knowing the wizard was right. Yet he still apprehensively glanced at Severus, doing his best to mask his worry. The wizard wasn't looking at anyone at all, he was gazing straight ahead, with an impassive expression on his face, but he could see the man's jaw slightly clenching.

"Crucio," said Voldemort softly, caressingly, with a gleam in his crimson eyes, and immediately, the red beam of light of the curse glowed from the wizard's spread hand hovering on top of the Mayan Stone and sunk into the gem.

Magic seemed to instantly multiply and expand inside the gem, and a second later, bright, red beams shot out and travelled through the fingers of magic connected to Severus and the halfblood prisoners.

The pain caused had to be more agonizing than normal for the curse, since Severus, who was used to such spell and had acquired a certain degree of tolerance to it, was screaming his lungs out on the floor, wildly convulsing, his black eyes rolling up into his head, his limbs cracking against the stone floor, and his mouth frothing. The gagged and shackled halfbloods prisoners were faring even worse, their cries muffled but still echoing loudly in the dungeon vast chamber, the iron cuffs tearing into the skin of their ankles and wrists, breaking bones, as they violently writhed on the floor.

And when he saw that, of course, Voldemort didn't have a finger plunged into him and thus wasn't being affected by the curse, he just knew that the wizard had intentionally done nothing to prevent Snape from being a target. Just for sports and the entertainment of his Death Eaters, since some were sniggering and maliciously gazing at the tortured Potions Master, ridiculing him. Many others were jeering and clapping, their gazes fixed on the halfblood prisoners.

Orion felt utterly disgusted and tainted by the whole scene. Thankfully, it was over in the next second. Voldemort muttered something and the now red fingers vanished into thin air.

But he shouldn't have counted on his luck so soon.

With a wave of his hand, the Dark Lord vanished the gags, shackles and blindfolds on the prisoners marked with a V, and he chanted under his breath again.

The foggy grey, phantom-like huge hands shot from the gem once more, their tentacles now spearing the prisoners the wizard had released from their bounds, the muggleborns.

They only had a second to glance at their surroundings wildly, screaming with terror whilst flailing hands at the fingers of magic piercing their chest, while some of them attempted to make a run for it.

But none succeed in anything, since in the next instant, Voldemort said pleasantly, "Imperio."

Again, the wizard's magic for the curse passed through the gem before it multiplied and shot out through the fingers, injecting the curse into the muggleborns. It soon became clear what Voldemort had thought when wandlessly casting the Imperius Curse into the gem, since all the muggleborns, even those who had frantically ran towards the door of the chamber, now turned against each other.

With eyes glazed over and unfocused, the muggleborns attacked each other like rabid dogs, throwing punches, kicking, biting and tearing flesh. It was a mad display of utter primal, animalistic, and mindless violence, of utter gore, since eyes were gouged out, throats were tore apart, necks were snapped, jaws were cracked wide open and slammed into skull, and limbs were crushed, as they assailed each other wildly and insanely.

The Death Eaters were cheering loudly now, utterly fascinated and thrilled with the spectacle, enjoying every splash of blood and ripping of flesh.

Orion couldn't take it anymore. He could withstand much, but not this – it was just plain sadistic cruelty. Voldemort had already made his point.

"STOP IT, Tom!" he yelled in a hiss, without moving from his place or whipping out his wand, since he didn't want to give the wizard reason to make it worse, but his hands still clenched into fists, shaking in fury.

Voldemort snapped his gaze away from the 'show', his crimson eyes narrowing at Orion. "You still care about mudbloods? Your mother was not a mudblood, by your own account. What ties and loyalties do you still have to them? None."

Orion gritted his teeth, fixedly staring at the man, not wanting to see anymore what the muggleborns were doing to each other, ignoring their animalistic grunts and cries of pain. "It's not about that. You've proved what you can do already. Just stop it. There's no need for-"

"There is much need, this is a demonstration," hissed Voldemort sharply, his eyes narrowing to slits. Suddenly, his eyes gleamed darkly and his lips deviously curved upwards. "I will kill the muggles after I play with them. And I was planning on killing the halfbloods and mudbloods as well. But I'll give you a choice. Choose whom to spare - mudbloods or halfbloods."

Orion stiffened, glancing at the imperioed muggleborns still ravaging each other, some already dead, others so mangled that they could barely stand, just cower on the floor from the brutal kicks and assaults from others, with bodies torn and limbs dangling limply. Then he saw the halfbloods, alive but laying unconscious on the floor, still twitching from the aftermath of the Cruciatus Curse. Snape was slowly standing on shaking legs, trembling with the after effects, his lips a contorted rictus of intense pain.

He knew Voldemort wouldn't include the wizard in the killing of halfbloods, since the man still needed his Potion Masters. And even more importantly, the wizard wouldn't kill Snape until he obtained the Elder Wald, since he thought that either Snape or Draco had become the Wand's master after the happenings at Hogwarts' Astronomy Tower.

"Cancel the imperio first," hissed Orion curtly, his jaw clenching, "and I'll give you my choice."

Voldemort's lips stretched into a smirk, his eyes glinting with vicious relish, apparently enjoying the despair he would cause by making Orion make a decision which would tear him with anguish. With a flick of his wrist, the finger-like tentacles glowing with the tint of the Imperius Curse, that were still sunk into the muggleborns' chests, disappeared into thin air. And the remaining muggleborns dropped to the floor, like puppets whose strings had been abruptly snapped.

Orion felt ill, and he glowered at Voldemort. But the wizard was mistaken if he thought he was going to feel guilty about his choice. The decision was an easy one to make, given the state of the prisoners. His choice was a practical one, to help those less injured, those who would survive after being dropped back into the wizarding world.

"Spare the halfbloods." Orion shot him a poisonous, seething glare. "Your own kind, Tom, you sick fuck."

Fury flashed in Voldemort's crimson eyes, a thunderous expression briefly crossing his darkly handsome features, but in the next second the wizard just shot him sneer, and returned his focus back on the Mayan Stone he held.

The Death Eaters looked disappointed that the show had suddenly ended, and some shot Orion scathing glares, conjecturing that it was his fault, but none said a word to him. Orion thought it had to be due to the expression on his face, one that indicated he would blast into nothingness anyone who dared beep a sound to him.

Before anyone could hitch another breath, the enormous gray hands flowed once more out of the Mayan Stone's gem, as Voldemort muttered again under his breath, and Orion resignedly prepared himself for the next, and hopefully last, stage in the demonstration. The finger-like tendrils of the hands instantly plunged into the remaining prisoners left standing, gagged, shackled and blindfolded – those marked with the F, the muggles.

Orion didn't know which curse Voldemort then funneled into the gem. From what his keen hearing picked up when the wizard murmured it, he had never heard it before. But he soon witnessed what the curse did when violet magic flashed through the phantasmagorical fingers sprouting from the gem and into the muggles.

It was the most gruesome, grotesque, spine-chilling and gut-coiling thing he had ever seen. His stomach churned and plummeted, vile rose to his throat, and Orion had to make an excruciating effort to remain stiffly in place and with an impassive mask on his face, for he knew that if he interfered once more, Voldemort would surely go back on his deal about sparing the halfbloods.

If what had happened to the muggleborns had been a sadistic spectacle of gore, what happened to the muggles was even more and worse. The gags on the muggles' mouths couldn't muffle their endless screams, their shackles couldn't restrain the way they contorted in pure agony, as flesh and bones morphed. For that was exactly what was happening, spines crawled out from bodies, bones crept from arms and legs, and ribs from torsos, spiking out and fusing with those of the next muggle by their side. Flesh rippled, tore and ripped apart, merging with other's, guts spilled, organs twisted, rolled and fused, until the muggles were nothing but an amorphus enormous mass of twisting bones, glistening fat, pulsing flesh and bits of clothes, covering the whole expanse of the stone wall they had once stood against, a large pool of blood and other clumps of matter on the floor.

And the Death Eaters watched, with wide eyes, fascinated, fervently breathless. And Voldemort smirked, a dark feverish gleam in his crimson eyes, the wizard's hand spread on the gem twitching and still glowing with the magic pouring into it. And the Mayan Stone seemed to thrum and vibrate with contained, dark power, infusing the room with eerie, swirling, heavy magic, with an ominous feeling to it – vengeful, threatening, primeval, wild, it seemed to Orion, and it made him blanch and it made a chill run down his spine.

Orion looked away, feeling ill, revolted, disgusted, horrified, his stomach churning, something heavy on his chest, and he felt Rodolphus gripping his shoulder. He shot the wizard a glance, and saw that the man was looking straight ahead at the scene, impassively and calmly, just a smirk on his lips.

With a jerk of his head, Orion shrugged off the wizard's hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to be cautioned, restrained or in any way soothed by a gesture.

Finally, Voldemort said the two words Orion held his breath for. "Avada Kedavra."

The tentacles piercing the mass of blobs flashed green, and the thing splat on the floor with a squelching sound. In the next bat of the eyelash, the wizard said the words again when the fingers had sunk into the few muggleborns who had survived the brutal fight amongst themselves.

The next thing he saw, after a placid order given by Voldemort, was Bellatrix going around the only prisoners left alive, kicking the unconscious halfbloods as she casted obliviating spells at them, while Alecto Carrow vanished dismissively the enormous mass which had once been muggles. The rest of the Death Eaters broke into loud applause as they eagerly talked to each other, discussing the 'wonders' of what they had seen, giddily, fascinated and with a sense of victory - for what couldn't they do with such a weapon?

"You ain't a halfblood after all, eh?" said Amycus Carrow, out of the blue by Orion's side, grinning as he patted Orion on the shoulder. "Good to know." The short, plump wizard with a barrel for a stomach, peered at him intensely, his forehead scrunching. "So you are Grindelwald's grandson." He twistedly smiled at him, showing yellow, rotten teeth, sign of his long years in Azkaban. "Then I've decided to address you as 'Lord Black', like the others do. You merit it, now."

Orion shot him a disdainful, dismissive glance, and jerked away from the wizard's pats, moving towards Voldemort.

His mind was spinning, his breath was stuck in his dried and lumpy throat. But he focused on what was important, pushing to the deepest recesses of his mind all the gore he had witnessed, wishing he would simply just forget. And he deeply mused about the spell he had seen, raking his brain, thinking hard and fast, to understand all the implications.

When he reached Voldemort, he saw that Morticia Mortimer was with him, both gazing at the Mayan Stone in Voldemort's hands, murmuring among themselves.

Orion's jaw clenched, and then he loudly cleared his throat. They both shot him a glance, and Voldemort waved a hand in the next instant, suspending the Mayan Stone in mid air, encased in a bubble of shimmering magic. Being now so close to it, Orion felt it – something pulling him towards it, a rushing in his ears, a soft murmur which enticed with promised power and greatness, and he shivered as his gaze was inexorably fixedly drawn to it.

"Compelling, is it not?" whispered Morticia in a low, deep voice, knowingly gazing at him. "It has been the downfall of civilizations before – wiping them out. And it can mean the rising of a new world order, if it's mastered."

Orion peeled his gaze away from the Stone, and his eyes flickered from her to Voldemort and back, as he said stiffly, "Is that what you have been doing? Giving information to the Dark Lord about how it can be mastered? Information the American Unspeakables didn't have and which you learned at Teotihuacan?" He scrutinized her closely, and added in a mutter, "The ancient city of Teotihuacan, the name sake of your alma mater, was the center of the Mayan civilization and it was even later used by the Aztecs. You did learn about the Stone there, didn't you?"

Morticia's lips curved into a sharp half-smile, tilting down her head in a brief, subtle nod. Suddenly, she grabbed his forearm, pulling him closer to the Stone and she released him before he could brusquely yank away from her clutch.

She shot him a glance and sunk her hands through the veil of magic surrounding the Mayan Stone, trailing long fingernails across the carved figures and symbols at its base of white stone, as she murmured low in her breath with a feral, hungry glint in her kohl-lined eyes, "It contains the power of Them in its very core. Historians think they were just mythical Mayan Gods, imaginary, but they were not. They were magical beings, captured by the Mayan priests with great effort, costing many lives, and they were sacrificed to imbue the gem with their power. They were all ancient, unimaginably powerful magical creatures, the likes of which have not existed since time immemorial."

Morticia caressingly trailed a fingertip over one of the figures carved on the base of the Stone. "Chac, the 'God of Fertility, Rain and Lightning', he could control weather and nature, his appearance was reptile-like and he was the only one left of his species. Kinich-Ahau, the 'Sun God', he was an elemental creature, he could create and manipulate light and fire. It is believed that it was he who created the first Phoenix, for a companion and pet. Ixchel, the 'Moon Goddess', she was Kinich-Ahua's mate, an elemental magical being like him, yet her powers resided in the manipulation of water, controlling all its forms and thus the tides, like the moon itself. And while her mate had a Phoenix, she had a snake for a familiar." She gestured at a figure on the Stone. "This is why she is depicted as having serpents for hair."

The witch shot Orion an intense glance, as she pointed at another figure. "And finally, Ah-Puch, the 'God of Death', the 'Ruler of the Ninth Level of the Underworld'. The most extraordinary of them all. He was the most powerful of his kind, a kind that was also in the ways of extinction since they didn't have enough females. It was this magical creature who decided to mate with a female human, Lord Black. She was a Mayan girl, a 'dark witch' since all Mayas had dark magic, though they didn't use those terms back then."

Morticia paused and fixedly stared at him, as she murmured in a low, deep voice, "It is due to Ah-Puch that Necromancers exist, Lord Black. He passed on his magical traits to the child the Mayan girl bore – a boy half-human, half-creature, who the priests made reproduce with more girls to not lose Ah-Puch's powers after they killed the creature to imbue the Mayan Stone with his magic. That's how the Necromantic trait was injected in dark magical lines. And how, ages before the European conquerors 'discovered' the Americas, it also surfaced in European dark wizarding lines, because Ah-Puch's son escaped his controlled life and gilded cage."

Her eyes sparkled with fervor, as she added passionately, "What a fascinating halfbreed he must have been, Lord Black! He had wings, like his father, and he flew until he reached the first land across the Great Ocean." She sharply smiled at him. "Can you guess where Ah-Puch's son found his haven, away from the clutches of the Mayan priests? It was Britain, Lord Black, back then an island without a name, with some tribes scattered here and there, some muggle, some magical – who would much later be called 'Druids'. And Ah-Puch's son settled with them, Lord Black. He was welcomed, he found freedom and he found love with a witch, and thus Ah-Puch's great magical trait was spread over continents. And Necromancers were born."

She heavily paused, and speared him with her gaze as she said vehemently, "I want Ah-Puch's power in my heir. I've always had, since I was an eleven-year-old girl and I was first told the stories by my school teachers. Do you understand now, why it's so important to me? Why I must marry your father, since he sired you, the only Necromancer who has ever defeated Death. The only one who has proved that Necromancy is not diluted and weak in him." She briskly waved a hand. "The others are nothing compared to you! I know about the Guild – only unemotional, stagnated beings who have lost their humanity, who could have never rescued a person from a Necromancer's Gate or rescued a Kissed soul from the entrails of a Dementor, as you did both. Do you understand why the contract must be fulfilled, why I won't rest until it is?"

"Yes, I understand," muttered Orion, his mind spinning with everything he had learned, feeling almost breathless, his heart loudly pumping fast, as he eyed the witch under a whole new set of lenses. He sighed, and then squared his shoulder as he said quietly, "But it changes little. I know my father would not find happiness with you and that is all I care about." He shot her a stern glance. "But I'm willing to yield to some degree. If you want him, then make him want you back and give him what he needs to be happy." His lips twisted into a grimace. "I'm sure a witch like you can manage that, if you so desire."

Morticia widely smiled at him, and for the first time, it was true and honest. "I believe we understand each other now, Lord Black, at last. I think you know what it is to want and do anything for it and to have it." She solemnly nodded at him. "I agree to your terms and I vouch to do everything in my power to keep my end of the bargain."

Orion mutely nodded at her, still apprehensive, still worried, but he would simply wait and see. His plans concerning what to do with her hadn't changed if worse came to worst.

Morticia pierced Orion with her cat-shaped, kohl-lined black eyes, as she gestured at the Mayan Stone. "These beings lived, they were real not myths, as many other legendary creatures who once upon a time roamed this earth. And their power is in this Stone, awaiting to be unleashed once more. But so is their ire, for as I told you, they were captured and killed in sacrifice by the Mayan priests. It was this ire which caused the destruction of the Mayan civilization when the High Priest, in his arrogance and greed for power, used the Stone for the first time. That is the danger of the Mayan Stone."

The witch paused to sharply smile at him. "And it is why it has to be mastered, to overrule the ire and use the power within, for the benefit of our kind, Lord Black. This is what the Dark Lord has showed us today, in a small measure. And it is what he is prepared to do." She tilted her head to a side, staring fixedly at him. "Are you?"

Orion stared back at her, and he thickly swallowed, not really knowing what to reply. The Illuminati and their mad schemes were at the forefront of his mind. But was he willing to use such a dangerous tool? Something that could so easily fire back at them?

She had said it herself, it had wiped out a civilization before – the Mayas, the very creators of the artifact, even if their priests had apparently deserved what happened. But still, the so-called 'ire' infused in the power of the Mayan Stone had killed everyone, priests and non-priests alike. Who was to say that it wouldn't happen again? Who was to say that Voldemort could control such thing?

Though, when it came to dark emotions like ire, the wizard was certainly someone who would relate and understand. Could that kind of empathy be used to control the artifact? Because he knew that it had to be controlled, because now he knew that what Voldemort had demonstrated was only just a fraction of what could be done with the Mayan Stone.

Orion eyed the artifact warily, and then his gaze met the wizard's in question himself.

Voldemort slowly caressed the large, strange, hexagonal gem of the Mayan Stone, as he bore his crimson eyes into Orion's emerald ones, his lips tilting upwards. "There is nothing to fear. I do control it. And I wish you would learn to do so as well. It is magnificent, Orion. The power, the feeling… Do you remember, my little serpent? What it felt like when we used it jointly, that first time?"

Orion shot him a baleful glower, but it lacked the necessary ill-will to make it meaningful. He remembered indeed. It had been after their marital bonding ceremony. Voldemort had apparated them to the Lestrange's winter castle in the Swiss Alps and all he could say was that it had felt like eternal hours spent in pure bliss and consuming passion.

Orion felt his face getting hot at Voldemort's knowing smirk and at the intense, heated gleam in his crimson eyes. The manipulating little bastard.

"I cannot fiddle but I can make a great state from a little city," hissed Voldemort, his smirk widening.

Orion flushed beet red. He had said that to Voldemort, quoting Themistocles, the ancient Athenian politician and general who had been a wizard unbeknownst to muggles. They had been indolently and placidly swinging on the hammock, bodies entangled, by the large pond under a dome of glass panels, with snow all around yet shielded from the cold winter by the warming charms in the place. Their one-day honeymoon, or just 'respite' since Voldemort never admitted that he had partaken in something so muggle, maudlin and sentimental as a 'honeymoon', had been utterly perfect in every sense of the word.

They had made love, and they had shagged, and they had made love again, and then Voldemort had made him use the Mayan Stone and then the two of them had shagged again with refueled fervor, need and devouring passion and hunger for each other, affected so wonderfully by the power trip caused by the Stone.

With burning cheeks, Orion glanced away from the wizard, clearing his throat and shifting awkwardly on his feet. In the next second, he forced his reluctant and devilishly rebellious mind out of naughty thoughts and plunged it back on track to the matter-at-hand.

"So you want me to learn how to use and control it, because if used jointly by both of us, it would be much more powerful?" hissed Orion, his voice a bit hoarse and husky, and he scowled at himself.

"Precisely," hissed Voldemort silkily, his eyes gleaming darkly. "We would be unstoppable."

Orion frowned deeply. He didn't think he wanted to learn how to use the bloody thing. It was calling to him, still, the pull strong, his own dark magical core reacting to it, animatedly, hungrily, coveting it. And that was something he simply didn't like. It would be addictive to the point of mad obsession. He had had a taste of that, the first and only time he had used it with Voldemort.

A wizard should know his limits, and he knew his. It was not the first time he encountered something with emotions imbued in its magic. He still remembered how greatly Cadmus Peverell's journal had affected him, how he had been sucked into it, feeling everything the Necromancer had when writing it. Feeling the pain, the hunger, the wanting, the crazed obsession. He was susceptible to those kinds of things. As Grindelwald had once said, he was too empathetic.

So what would happen if he got sucked into the Mayan Stone and the ire contained there tied to its magic? If the artifact got a hold on him, and controlled him instead of him controlling it, then he paled imagining what would happen. Someone as powerful as Voldemort falling into the artifact's control was terrible, but someone as powerful as him was catastrophic. It could be Armageddon.

No, he certainly didn't need temptations and more troubles.

Orion shook his head and opted to skirt around the subject and get some of his initial questions answered. He glanced up at Voldemort, and hissed curiously, "What's the radius of its power? How far can a spell reach through it?"

"An entire city, if I want," hissed Voldemort, smirking at him to then pointedly pierce him with his crimson eyes. "An entire large country, if you use the Mayan Stone with me, jointly, together."

Orion nodded with a wary frown, and then gazed up, scrutinizing him. "The fingers thing spell, it can differentiate between types of wizards, between types of magic and degrees of blood purity, can it?"

"Yes," hissed Voldemort placidly, looking very pleased with himself.

Orion grimaced before he eyed him closely. "It overlooked you when looking for halfbloods, why?"

"I can exclude anyone I want from being noticed by the spell."

"With a thought?" hissed Orion breathlessly, his mind spinning as he stared at him with wide eyes.

"Precisely," hissed Voldemort, his crimson eyes gleaming while a self-satisfied smirk curled his lips.

Orion gawked at him with fascination and sheer admiration. Voldemort had reason to be smug, indeed. It must have been an impossibly complex spell to create. Spells controlled by the caster's mind were no easy matter, they were the hardest to create. And this one went beyond that, since it clearly assessed blood and magical core. It was mindboggling that the wizard had managed to create such spell in such a short period of time, even if he had always known that Voldemort was astoundingly brilliant and a genius when it came to the manipulation of magic.

By Merlin, Voldemort was not a wizard he could lose, not to another or death. Such mind was priceless, unique, not ever would there be one like it or as bright. If the wizard would just simply apply it to worthier endeavors…

"The Mayan Stone is the tool we were looking for, my little serpent," hissed Voldemort in a silky, caressing tone, intensely gazing into Orion's eyes, his lips curving upwards. "It is a tool to counter the muggles' most lethal ones. And to kill them easily, in one swipe, before they can kill us-"

"Yes, it's a tool," interrupted Orion curtly. "I'm not stupid, I can see the advantages of having it in our power. But it's not to be used against light wizards, halfbloods or muggleborns." He pinned the wizard with a firm, stern gaze. "We won't use it to do anything to wizarding kind. And it's to be used against muggles if we see that a war with them is eminent at some point in the future. If we see that the Illuminati are about to disclose our world to them. Those are my terms to accept the Stone as a tool to be used. To accept learning how to control it when, and if, the time comes to defend wizarding kind. If you want me to use it with you in that eventuality, then you must decide now if you accept my conditions. Take it or leave it."

Voldemort pierced him with narrowed crimson eyes, remaining silent. The silence seemed to spread and stretch indefinitely, when finally the wizard hissed coolly, "Very well. I accept." His lips curved into a smirk, his eyes darkly gleaming. "It will be wizarding kind's Weapon."

Orion shot a glance at the Mayan Stone and gazed back at the wizard, nodding solemnly. "It will."

Voldemort's smirk widened triumphantly, and Orion's eyes widened and he felt his body responding and growing hot when he saw the glint in the wizard's crimson eyes - sudden hunger, desire and sheer want in them, meshed with a feverish gleam which Orion recognized as a sign that the wizard was still in a power trip from having used the Mayan Stone. Oh, he knew what was coming and he couldn't lie to himself and say that he didn't want it just as much as the wizard did.

And before he could blink, arms tightly wrapped around him and he was plunged into an apparition, Morticia Mortimer left behind without a second thought.