The night the Hufflepuffs celebrated- there was a clear sky-How could they know they soon were to die?

Evil and Good

Are small matters dictated by perspective

All one needs is to take the directive

To declare what is good

And what, then, is bad

To weed out the weeds

And keep the world going mad

Chapter Four-The Murder

There is neither Good, nor Bad-but thinking makes it so

-William Shakespeare

The small kingdom of Snowdonia was, perhaps, the most beautiful place in all the realm. Its vast mountain ranges, deep river valleys, and moderate southern temperature made the land rich in precious metals and fertile planting ground. The people there were well fed and happy, magicians were a celebrated and respected people, and there was an overall feeling of deep seated contentment amongst the masses.

And that was why the Hufflepuff family had to die.

Atheos Lancaster observed the tiny valley kingdom from atop his mount, wind cold mountain wind whipping back his hair. His icy stare held nothing but contempt as he studied the muggle farmers and merchant wizards alike moving about their day. Their proximity was disgraceful. He employed muggle servants out of necessity-his holdings were far too vast for magic to care for alone. Even the blissfully idiot he bowed to in mock subjection was a pawn in his ever expanding game of chess. But his checkmate depended on the king's continued good favor.

Egbert could not be controlled by spells or potions. That bothersome Slytherin (who was, unfortunately, both clever and talented) made sure that the king was protected from that. Instead, the good king had to be manipulated and controlled by cunning alone. Luckily for Atheos', he had a lot of cunning on his side.

"The time is right." The clocked figure beside him murmured, "We must act tonight, before they become cognoscente of our presence."

"What could they possibly do against us?" Atheos jeered, "We have power behind us that even the devil has only dreamed of."

"The Weasley man might prove to be a difficult opponent yet."

"Nonsense." Atheos scoffed, waving his hand in dismissal, "You overestimate that family my dear friend. That boy is of no more consequence then a single blade of grass."

"Nevertheless, I suggest we make our move quickly. The stars are always changing."

The figure looked upward towards the starless morning sky. Atheos rolled his eyes. As useful as his companion had been, his patience was wearing thin. It seemed as though his mysterious alley was oftentimes purposefully vague and unhelpful. But no matter. The time would soon come when this stranger would out run his usefulness as well. Until that time, Atheos would just have to humor him.

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Far down in the little valley Goodwin Weasley was just beginning his day, completely unaware that his circumstances in life were shortly about to drastically change. He was a young man, perhaps twenty or so, perhaps a few years older. It was rather hard to tell given his boyish looks and shock of red hair. But he was married, so he couldn't have been too young. Most in the town couldn't remember how old he was, or where exactly he had come from. He had just showed up years ago (some say fifteen summers ago, some say it couldn't have been more then nine) and, (given his obvious magical ability) been taken in by the kindly Lord Hufflepuff and made his page and, eventually, his personal scribe.

Goodwin's parents may have been magical themselves, but then, they may not have been. People had heard it both ways. And, anyways, it didn't matter a great deal. Besides his rather mysterious background and outrageous hair, Goodwin was a model of citizenship, kindly, generous with his time and talents, and quite gentle with both human and animal. Though the Weasleys were by no means a wealthy couple, they lived comfortably off the salary Lord Hufflepuff afforded them.

This morning was, like all mornings in the valley, a beautiful one, (though perhaps a bit too sunny, if you know what I mean). Rose was in the kitchen already her stomach (though heavy with child) had not broken her habit of early rising.

"After all dear, I am a Bones." She would say, as if that answered for all of her character traits, which, when he thought about it, he supposed it did. The Bones family was one of the most industrious wizarding families in town. He was lucky, not only to have married his perfect woman, but to have gained the perfect family, something he had been lacking since the age of nine. Goodwin was well and truly blessed.

He had to remember that when he saw the Hufflepuff's out with their child. He had to remember that when he felt the pang of disappointment when his wife turned around when he called her. He had to remember that when he kissed her and felt Rose's lips kissing him back.

"Good morning dear." Goodwin called as he entered the kitchen, kissing his young bride on the cheek and patting her tummy affectionately.

"Good morning." She smiled, "there's breakfast on the table. I want you to eat before you run off this morning."

"You are aware I'm sure that I do 'run off' to my job every morning?" Goodwin said as he sat down and bit into a biscuit.

"Yes, I'm aware." She said a bit testily, patting her belly, "I just hope that Lord Hufflepuff will be more lenient with you, once the baby comes. I want you to be here, with us."

"Oh, I'm sure he will." Goodwin said absentmindedly, leaning back in his chair so he could see the front of the Hufflepuff manor, "My God, there's a line already!"

'Did you expect anything different?"

"Yes! It's the morn of his granddaughter's birth! The crier announced it at a little past one this morning! Surely others heard it?"

"Those people need his help, Win." Rose said quietly, "And Lord Hufflepuff is certainly the most generous with his talents." She didn't mention that she was sure her husband cared not for the distress of his lord so much as the child that the child had actually arrived.

"Yes, I know." Win conceded, shaking his head, "But I must go and assist him."

"Hurry back." Rose called as he kissed her swiftly and hurried out the door.

"I will!" he cried, turning and lifting his hand in farewell. He got one last glimpse of her standing in the doorway of their cottage, he blonde curls falling to her waist, one hand cradling her stomach, the other mirroring his before he was swallowed by the morning crowds.

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At that very moment, on the other side of the valley, Jacob Malloy was beginning what was promising to be a very bad day.

"Get up you cowering sack of stool." This crude call was followed by an unexpected meeting with the hardened soil of his family's hut and a swift kick to the rump. Jacob yelped and tried to scramble away but what pulled up by his hair.

"I said get up!" a shower of spittle and the overpowering stench of body odor and alcohol assaulted Jacob' nostrils. His father hurled him to the floor once more and stumbled over to the fire, muttering what sounded like 'useless' under his breath. Jacob angrily swiped his arm across his face before getting to his feet; he didn't want his father to think that he was crying.

He grabbed his threadbare coat and rushed out the door before his father could turn round again. He headed towards the hills that encompassed the valley. He had left the sheep in pasture yesterday. Hopefully they had managed the night.

It was drizzling slightly, and he pulled his coat around his ears to block them from the morning chill. As he tramped through the mud and muck that covered the path before him, he tried in vain to unclench his fists. Honestly, he should be used to such treatment by now. His mother could no longer protect him, weak as she was, and his father was becoming steadily more violent as Jacob grew. Many days he feared that his father would kill him and, honestly, Jacob probably wouldn't blame him. It was his fault that his mother was so ill.

Brun and Celsa Malloy had lived in relative peace at the edge of Snowdownia for years as shepherds, poor but happy. They had had a daughter, Miriam, who both of them had adored. But when she was a mere seven summers, the fever took her away. And so Celsa had pleaded with her husband for another child and Brun, still heartsick from the loss of his daughter, but wanting desperately to comfort his wife, agreed.

And so Jacob had been born. He was the replacement child, a fact which Jacob had been made very much aware of his entire life. He had no doubt that his mother loved him, but her body had been broken by his birth, and she had never had the strength to care for him. His father hated Jacob. Brun may have been able to love him, had his son's birth not been so disastrous for his wife and had the boy not been so…strange. But Jacob was strange. Brun was not an educated man. He lived in the same hut that his father had lived in before him, and his father's father had lived in before that. He knew only sheep and open air, and his son's oddness reached far outside his level of comfort.

But Jacob could not help himself. Though he tried to restrain it, his strangeness would burst out of him and he didn't understand how he did it. How could he help that he could mend dishes with a glance? How could he help that sometimes candles would flicker to life with no fire, or that his mother's garden bloomed when he was happy even if it was the dead of winter? Jacob had learned to live with his mysterious aura. His father had not.

Just as he made it over the crest of the hill, the wind and rain picked up speed. Not wanting to catch a chill, Jacob ran to towards the cover of the forest, shielding his head with his hands. He was crouched under a thick willow tree, trying to catch his breath, when he became aware of voices.

"And where, exactly, is he supposed to be?" The voice was thick, rich and undoubtedly masculine.

"He's here." This person's voice was quiet, almost undetectable over the rain, and made the hair on the back of Jacob's neck stand up.

"Is he close?" the first man asked. Jacob tensed, leaning closer in order to hear. Surely they were not talking about…?

"Very close. In fact, he's listening in as we speak." The second voice chuckled. Jacob only had moments to be alarmed before the willow branches were pulled back, exposing him to the storm and the sight of the two figures standing before him, one with a severe face and elegant clothes, the other draped in a black cloak, face obscured by shadows.

"Hello Jacob Malloy." The cloaked figure murmured, extending a white hand towards Jacob, "we have a proposition for you."

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Hector Hufflepuff was a man of large proportions. He had been a giant in his day, six foot seven, a master on the muggle battlefield. Now, in his advanced age he was of a more…rotund build. But the largest thing about Hector Hufflepuff was undoubtedly his heart. There was not a man, woman, or child in Snowdonia that had not, at one time or another, benefitted from his generosity with his family's wealth and magic. The Hufflepuffs were not the most talented of the wizarding families, but they were the most loyal to both their king and their people.

And this was a time for celebration for the entire valley. His only child, Edmund, and his wife, Delilah, had given him a grandchild. Helga. He smiled to himself, what a wonderful name for such a happy little girl. He knew that the people were already outside the gate waiting for his assistance and advice. Though he was tired from staying up half the night, he simply didn't have the heart to turn those poor unfortunates away.

"Good morning my Lord."

"Ah! Weasley!" Hector turned to embrace his young scribe, "I'm glad you are here early, it seems that we have a long day ahead of ourselves."

"Congratulations my Lord." Weasley said as they began their decent to the gates, "I'm sure your granddaughter is lovely."

"She is." Hector smiled, "Really I've never seen a more beautiful child. Did I mention she looks an awful lot like me?"

Both men roared with laughter as they descended the steps to the waiting, cheering crowds before them.

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High above in one of the manor's lavish rooms, Delilah and Edmund Hufflepuff cooed over their newborn daughter.

"She's so beautiful Edmund." Delilah sighed, leaning down to place a kiss on her daughter's tiny, milk white forehead.

"Yes, just like her mother." Edmund murmured, running his fingers through his wife's golden locks. She was a marvel, his wife, he mused as he took in the picturesque scene before him. Never in his life had he imagined that he would feel so happy, be so blessed. She had saved him, Delilah had, helped him reconcile with his father (who she adored) and taught him magic that he had never believed possible.

Delilah Grey was, beyond a doubt, one of the most formidable magicians in the entire island. Her aunt, Arlene Grey was a power like no other known. The Grey family had delved into magic older then time itself and yet remained, as always, dutiful to their people. Helga had that legacy behind her and as Edmund stared at his gurgling, happy daughter he was sure, (thought he knew not how) that his daughter would change history.

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It goes without saying that Jacob Malloy had never killed a man before. How could he, when he was just a shepherd who could sometimes make the impossible happen? He was nothing, a nobody, born to live and die in the shadow of anonymity. Recently however, this perspective had been called into question.

You see, Jacob had just been informed that he was a wizard by the magnanimous Lord Lancaster and his mysterious hooded friend. And if that revelation wasn't enough to lift Jacob's self worth, they had told him that he was an essential part of their mission to save all of wizard kind.

"You see son," Lord Lancaster had said, pulling him in close, "There are certain wizards who believe that men like your father are just as great and noble as we are."

Jacob frowned.

"But my father-he's not a wizard…is he?"
"No Jacob." Lord Lancaster chuckled, "You alone are magical in your family. You alone have the power to manipulate the world around you. You, my dear boy, are simply one of a kind."

"So…if we are more powerful then they are. If we're better then them…" Jacob said slowly, "then how can they be our equals?"

At that moment Lord Lancaster's kindly expression took on a intense glow and he leaned in close, "That's just the thing, Jacob. They're not."

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Lord Lancaster was decent and just man, Jacob thought to himself as he gorged his empty stomach on roasted lamb and exotic fruit, if he believes that this Hector Hufflepuff was an evil man, than he must be.

Jacob looked around his lavish tent. Lord Lancaster had told him to wait here to 'think over our proposition'. Meanwhile Jacob had been treated to a plethora of morsels he had not even dreamed existed before his strange encounter in the forest. Now, even with his stomach bloated and his every desire satisfied, Jacob still felt a hunger, a desire to please.

You must not be indebted to anyone Jacob. His mother's words floated back to him through the chasms of time. He was indebted to Lord Lancaster, he realized, for being so kind to him. The least he, Jacob, could do was kill this inferior lord.

They had explained it all to him. He was the only one, they said, that could end Lord Hufflpuff once and for all. Hufflepuff was a bad man, they whispered, and must be stopped. If he succeeded, they said, he would be rewarded beyond his dreams.

"You will have a new life." The cloaked man told him, "Where no strings from your former life can follow you."

A new life with no strings from his pervious pitiful existence. How could he not jump at this chance? So what if he didn't completely believe them, if his gut twisted every time he saw the hooded man. He could have his second chance at life. A chance to be wealthy, well known, powerful and, above all, respected.

Wasn't it everything he had ever wanted?

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Goodwin stiffened a yawn. It had been a long day. The entire village it seemed (Magical and Muggle alike) had turned up to congratulate Lord Hufflepuff on the birth of his grandchild. It was amazing watching him. Hector was able to remember even the most inconsequential villager by name and recall details of their lives.

It was incredible to see him move amongst the people, they respected him so. Goodwin smiled and yawned before heading up towards the library, it had been a wonderful day indeed.

"Oh! Goodwin." He turned only to come face to face with Delilah Grey (Hufflpuff! He kicked himself). She was effervescent in the moonlight, he thought, the beams gave her blonde hair an otherworldly look, as though she was floating. She had always been lovely but tonight she was breathtaking.

"My Lady." He inclined his head.

She laughed and it sounded like tinkling bells- the sound made his heart beat as if he was running, flying, soaring. And this fantastic beating hurt him as much as it enthralled him; his guilt pulsed though his body with every one of his hearts traitorous beats.

Delilah was still smiling at him, blissfully unaware of his inner torment. Goodwin swallowed thickly and plastered on his best smile on his face.

"Goodwin, how are you? And please, call me Delilah. You've become so formal since you began working for Lord Hufflepuff."

"I've always worked for Lord Hufflepuff." Goodwin smiled. In a sense this was true. He had been Lord Hufflepuff's apprentice ever since he had set foot in Snowdonia.

She huffed in mock irritation, "You know what I mean."

"Tis my job, my Lady," Goodwin smiled and half-bowed once more, "Would you have me not perform my job? And, forgive me, but are you not supposed to be in bed?"

Delilah sighed and leaned against the stone wall, "Yes I'm supposed to be, but there's only so much time one can be cooped up in one room Win! I've been there for weeks, and I fancied a nighttime stroll." She giggled and held out her arm, "Would you care to accompany me good sir?"

It was unbelievably temping. Had they been five years younger he wouldn't have hesitated. But he had a wife, a wonderful wife, and though it was only a stroll, it would still feel like a betrayal.

'I'm sorry, my Lady." Goodwin stepped away, "I cannot accompany you this evening. I must return to my family, I'm already terribly late you see."

Delilah giggled again, "Oh Win, always so formal." She smiled, "I must be heading back up to the tower anyway, I'm sure Edmund is tiring."

At the mention of her husband Goodwin couldn't help but stiffen. "Goodnight then, my lady."

"Goodnight Goodwin." She said softly. And then, she had gone.

Goodwin turned and made his way down the grand stairs of the castle to the street below, shaking his head as he went. He pulled out his wand to open the gate and was startled when a young man in Hufflepuff garb stumbled though. He spared Goodwin one, terrified look before charging towards the manor.

A servant late for his duties. Goodwin smiled and continued towards his small cottage, whistling tunelessly to fill the silence of night that surrounded him.

He should have been paying more attention. His only warning was a single, shrill scream from the village before the world exploded around him. Goodwin was blasted off his feet, a wave of heat scorching his face. Everything was on fire. Figures cloaked in Black appeared out of no where, firing curses left and right, cutting down townspeople in the street.

And then a second, more horrible blast ripped though the air. Hufflepuff castle was aflame, consumed from within. The gates were thrown open and the black figures swooped in, slaying those trying to escape.

Goodwin jumped to his feet, pulling out his wand-he had to help, he had to save them, there was still time-

"Goodwin!" a horrid scream sounded from somewhere in front of him. His cottage was in flames, the thatch roof falling in on the stone walls.

"Goodwin!" he heard Rose shriek again, he could just see a figure stumbling around in the flames before smoke filled the doorway.

He would have run to her, he would have if the doors of the castle hadn't at that moment, been wrenched off their hinges with a BANG by eight of the mysterious attackers.

Goodwin didn't realize he had started running towards the castle under he heard his cottage collapse behind him. He couldn't feel, he couldn't think. Everything had taken on a fuzzy, dream-like quality. He stumbled through the broken castle doors, head spinning, lungs filling with smoke as he coughed and looked desperately around for any sign of Delilah.

Did she have her wand with her? He couldn't remember, couldn't think. Figures in black capes darted in and out of his line of vision, firing spells at anything that moved. Goodwin clenched his wand tighter, but refrained from returning fire. The last thing that he wanted to do was to draw attention too himself.

He climbed the stairs to the tower quickly, Edmund and Delilah kept apartments at the very top-if she was anywhere it was there.

"NO!" the cry was sharp, fierce and unearthly in its agony. Goodwin made to duck behind a suit of armor outside the Hufflepuff apartments when he stumbled and nearly fell upon something soft and cold.

Looking down, Goodwin felt the icy twist of a knife in his gut as his bloodshot eyes met Delilah Hufflepuff's lifeless ones.

Goodwin stumbled back curling into his hiding place, his hands on his own chest, trying to hold himself together. She was dead. She couldn't be dead. He had just seen her, he had just spoken with her, he had just touched her. But she was dead. NO! She wasn't dead; she couldn't be dead, stop saying she's dead!

"Your wife is dead." The cold, rough voice in the next room sneered, ignoring Goodwin's mental plea. Goodwin could hear someone, a man, sobbing softly over the chaos.

"And," the voice continued, "You and your daughter are headed the same way." There was a pause, while the mysterious person seemed to consider something, "Yes, I think I'll let the two of you burn-a fitting ending for the famed Hufflepuff family."

The figure exited the room moving swiftly down the stairs without a backwards glance.

After a few, breathless moments during which Goodwin listened for any sign of the figures return, he stood and crept into the once outstations Hufflepuff apartments.

Servants and priceless artifacts littered the floor, lying where they had fallen. Goodwin's eyes were drawn, however, to the groaning man in the corner, draped over a crib.

"Lord Hufflepuff!" Goodwin cried, moving swiftly to Edmund's side. As Goodwin approached however, it became clear that the Hufflepuff heir was grievously injured. A large gash had opened his chest and every inch of his exposed skin was black and blue. It was obvious he could not move without causing himself extreme pain, but even still he fought to raise his head.

"Goodwin!" he gasped, his voice no more then a horse breath.

"My Lord!" Goodwin cried, kneeling next to Edmund and taking his hand.

"T-take her." Edmund rasped, moving aside so Goodwin could see inside the cradle.

A tiny baby nestled in a blanket bearing the Hufflepuff crest, lay there, still miraculously asleep.

"Helga." Edmund whispered, "Take her. P-please."

"My lord-"

The roof of the apartment caught fire then, the sudden heat finally waking the babe, who began to wail in earnest.

"Let's get you out of here-" Goodwin made to lift his lord from the ground.

"No time-too late…" Edmund protested. "Save her, please."

And Goodwin had no choice. He snatched the baby from her cradle and, covering her with his cloak, spared one last look towards her doomed father who stared back at him with a serene look on his face, before fleeing down the stairs and out into the courtyard, just as the roof of the Hufflepuff castle collapsed.

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Many miles away a boy watched the destruction he had caused. It had been so easy; the guards had not been on the lookout for a child. All he had done was undo the spells that had repelled his masters from the village. Child's play really.

A groan sounded from the corner.

"Ah, so you've finally decided to wake up."

Brun Malloy spat out a mouthful of blood as he glared at his son.

"Demon child, I should have drowned you when you were born."

Jacob ignored him.

"Father, I have come to the conclusion that I must seek my fortunes elsewhere."

"You don't deserve to breathe another moment-how could you do that to your mother, she loved you-"

"It's been coming on for a while," Jacob raised his voice, carful not to glance at the cot where the now cooling corpse of his mother lay, "but I know I've made the right choice."

"Jacob-"

"Don't call me that!" Jacob snapped, showing the first signs of emotion, "I have a new name now, befitting to my place in life."

"And what is that now?" Brun laughed.

"Julius Malfoy."

"HAH! You're disgusting! How-"

"Aren't you proud of me father?" Jacob asked mockingly, whirling around and pointing his wand right between his father's eyes. "Aren't you proud that your son is going to make something of himself?"

To his credit, Brun Malloy did not flinch. "You are no son of mine."

Jacob didn't meet his father's eyes when he killed him.

Well that took a long time…can't say it's my best work, but it's something. REVIEW?