I've had plenty of inspiration this past week, just no time to write everything down. I hope you like my plot twist, I'm very proud of it. I did have to mess with the canon time line a little bit when it came to the Dumbledores, they are now all two years older than in canon. And wizards and witches live twice as long as muggles, in the sense that they age slower once they reach magical maturity at 17. So 100 is about middle aged or even in someones prime, depending on their magical power.
I've also whined about this in my other story, I need reviews. I've big difficulties writing unless I get a lot of encouragement or a plot twist like the previous chapter. It sound attention whorish, I know. But I never actually got much endorsement growing up and that kinda left ... I hesitate to call it trauma, though that's what it is in essence. Unless you tell me what you liked about a chapter I have feeling it sucked majorly.
Those of you who left big reviews: Thank you so much! You helped me so much in making this story into what it is today.
For those of you interested, a friend told me to make an author page on Facebook, which I'll do right after I posted this. I'll of course use my ffn name.
Chapter 24: Truth or Lies?
'How dare he scorn her once again, for that mudblood he called a wife?' Agnes thought furiously. Was she not a proud descendant of the Ancient and Noble House of Selwyn? She acknowledged that the mudblood was superior in looks, but she doubted the bitch had one clear thought in her empty head. Probably seduced poor Percival to the altar. Agnes tactfully ignored her own, failed, attempt to drug Percival Dumbledore with love potions.
At thirty-two, Agnes Goyle, née Selwyn, had lost all charm youth may have brought her. Childbirth had destroyed her previous figure, in so far she'd had one, and her face was set in a perpetual frown. When Percival rejected her over a decade ago, her parents had forced her to accept the marriage they'd arranged with the second son of the Vassal House of Goyle. Gilbert was a drunk and a gambler, but easy to handle. She'd had to drug him once to ensure the conception of her daughter, and let him to his wine, cards, and mistress for the rest of the time. She did keep a tight rein on the household budget though. No need to let him gamble the family fortune away.
Still, she had approached Percival a little over a month ago, to se if he wasn't amendable for some fun. He'd laughed in her face and thereby set her on her current path. The most work had gone into acquiring the amulets needed to cast the enchantments she was about to. Without them she'd burn out after the first week and that just wouldn't do. She needed this revenge to last for a very long time, to satisfy her honour.
Kendra's daughter was playing outside as usual. Agnes despised how much she looked like her beloved, with those long blond locks and big blue eyes, yet to gain that piercing quality present in all of the Dumbledores. The girl was surrounded by floating flowers as she danced in the grass.
The boys she'd cursed would round the corner soon. They'd see the girl and their inferior muggle minds would finish the rest. And indeed, before long the girl was cowering on the grass as the trio kicked and punched her in an effort to get her to display her magic again.
Agnes had been using that time to cast the enchantments that would disrupt the girl's control over her magic. Just as she'd finished casting, Percival arrived at the scene. And as he revealed his true form, her scorn turned into genuine hate. Hate so deep it would carry on through the next generations…
Midday had become evening before Marvolo had come to terms with his soulmate being a Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore had been the bane of his Hogwarts career. At every turn he had treated Marvolo with suspicion and distrust. From the moment Mrs Cole had shown the wizard masquerading as muggle teacher to his room, he'd put Tom Riddle into the pigeonhole of Evil and Darkness and refused to see anything else. He'd basically driven Tom Riddle to become Voldemort.
Of course matters had been far more complicated than that. But Dumbledore had been his first introduction to the world he belonged to. Had the man been kinder, more accepting…He'd been met with distrust, obviously, at first at least. Had he been fairer in his dealings with the Houses, Tom wouldn't have felt the desperate need to control all of Slytherin. Wouldn't have been indoctrinated so quickly when it came to pureness of blood and its connection to power.
Not that any of that mattered when it came to his soulmate, Marvolo realized. She was his, and he was hers. Unconditionally. Irrevocably. He couldn't bring himself to care whether she was Dumbledore's sister, daughter, cousin,… Oh, he was curious. His inquisitive mind wouldn't rest until he'd figured out everything he could about her. But it wouldn't change his interaction, his estimation of her. After all he hadn't he fought most of life to be judged on anything but his family? Either side?
The mere thought of telling her about Voldemort and the horrors he had committed scared him to…Well, to death. It frightened him even as his subconscious realized it would take much more to separate the two of them.
In an effort to distract himself from the rising dread in his stomach, he had his House Elf bring every edition of the Prophet between late 1887 and early 1901. He skimmed every page for the name Dumbledore. The first mention he came across was the obituary of Kendra Dumbledore, née Hawkings, June 1898. It was short and contained little to no information except for the name of her husband and children. Albus, Aberforth, and Ariana. They had been living in Godric's Hollow, not far — if Marvolo remembered correctly — from the safe house the Potters would flee to, over half a century later.
When he came across Ariana's own obituary, this time with picture, Marvolo wasn't as shocked as he felt he should. It was a smart plan, after all. To let the whole world believe your kidnapped victim was dead, at least when your objective had nothing to do with the remaining family. He didn't quite understand the kidnapper's objective in this case. Why keep a young girl in an eternal sleep?
Unless… no that didn't bear thinking about, and thankfully it hadn't happened. Wouldn't happen. Not if it was up to him. And it was up to him. He'd make sure nothing would ever happen to his precious wife. Yes, his wife. By magic and by soul they were bonded forever, even Death would not be able to do them part.
Gathering his wits about him, Marvolo summoned Severus and Narcissa. He didn't want many people knowing about his soulmate just yet, but he trusted Severus and Narcissa completely.
They answered his summons swiftly, Narcissa carrying a newspaper. Severus was dressed up in elegant robes with silver piping. He must have had his first date with Black and Lupin then.
"My Lord, you have summoned us?" Severus asked respectfully with a slight bow, Narcissa curtsying next to him.
"Indeed. I have strong reasons to believe that my soulmate is Ariana Dumbledore, Albus's sister," he answered.
Narcissa gasped, her eyes widening in shock. "My lord," her voice trembled faintly, "Albus Dumbledore died yesterday evening. The healer called to inspect the body said he died in his sleep. I had not yet seen the Prophet this morning when you arrived and didn't want to disturb you afterwards."
"Dumbledore's dead?" Marvolo asked incredulously as Severus snatched the paper out of Narcissa's hands.
"And Grindelwald as well. Dumbledore was found with a letter in his hand, declaring Grindelwald's passing on. Apparently the guards had thought it fitting for Grindelwald's destroyer to be notified." Severus looked up from the paper. He could see the comprehension dawning on his Lord's face, even though he and Narcissa were as bewildered as could be.
"So they were soulmates too. I've always wondered why the old coot aged so quickly. At 115 he should have been in the prime of his life still. Instead he looked twice his age, even if he didn't act like it." Marvolo was sure he was right. He couldn't explain why, but he knew he had stumbled across the truth of Albus Dumbledore.
"Well, I think we ought reunited at least two siblings, no? I believe Aberforth Dumbledore owns the Hogshead in Hogsmeade. Could you get him first thing in the morning, Severus?" Marvolo ordered.
Severus silently acquiesced before they were dismissed and he moved to his quarters. He knew Harry would be waiting for him, excited to hear how his date had gone.
It had gone fine, well more than fine, but Severus was sure that if he dared say that out loud Black would grow an even bigger head than he already had. They had been considerate of his preferences and had taken him for a tasteful lunch at an expensive yet elegant restaurant at Vertic Alley.
It had been a delightful experience and afterwards they'd taken him to a bookshop hidden in muggle London, which Remus had discovered some years back. It was filled to the brim with rare books on every possible topic one could think off. Books that were thought to be lost and books forbidden by the Ministry for the stupidest of reasons. Even Sirius had found a tome or two. Well, perhaps not as surprising as it might sound. For all that he was a prankster by heart, or perhaps because he was, Sirius was quite talented in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions.
All in all, it had been a wonderful day and Severus looked forward to the next day. Though he would never admit it out loud. Not even to Harry and Andromeda. He'd also formally invited them to celebrate Christmas Eve together and asked them to accompany him for the Yule Ball.
Harry signed in relief as double Potions finally ended. Sure the new teacher, Professor Saylor, had far more patience than Professor Snape. But that didn't mean the standards were lowered. Quite the contrary. Because he explained everything in detail, he expected them to turn out better potions than before. At least the shields above their cauldrons prevent accidents, especially the intended ones.
As the students walked out of the classroom, Harry felt someone take his hand and pull him to the side. He turned and saw Draco, looking a little bashful with one hand behind his back.
"Hey," Harry whispered before giving in to the urge that had been plaguing him all week. He stood on his tiptoes and kissing Draco's cheek even as he blushed fiercely.
Draco was momentarily stunned before smiling softly and returning the gesture. Thankfully the corridor was deserted, because they were once again toeing the edge of propriety.
"Hello love. I…I wanted to ask you a very important question and I didn't want to embarrass you by asking in front of the entire school," Draco explained and Harry beamed in gratitude.
Draco took a deep breath. He turned their clasped hands so Harry's was on top and offered the bouquet he'd carefully put together with his other hand. "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to accompany you to the Yule Ball?"
Draco was nervous though he didn't really understand why. He knew Harry's answer, knew the smaller boy had been waiting for this moment ever since Uncle Sev had told him about the Ball — and didn't it pay off to have such inside knowledge? —, yet he couldn't help but fear rejection.
He had nothing to be nervous about. Harry's answer was everything he expected and more. Harry literally glowed as he shouted "Yes!" and hugged Draco. The hug didn't last long, Harry was still too shy for that, but Draco treasured each second his beloved was in his arms. Thankfully his hands were occupied or he wouldn't have been able to resist groping Harry in inappropriate place and his love definitely wasn't ready for that.
As Harry shuffled backwards again — so red Draco was convinced he'd leave with a sunburn today —, Draco offered the bouquet. Harry graciously accepted it and cradled it in his arms like it was a newborn and not just flowers. Draco explained the flowers meanings while they walked to the Great Hall, though not before stopping at Sev's rooms to put the bouquet away safely. The pale pink sweet peas stood for their date, the white bouvardias represented Draco's enthusiasm, and lilies of the valley symbolised the pureness of their love.
Just like last time they entered the Great Hall they walked over to the Gryffindor table. By now it had become routine to spend dinner together, while alternating tables. It had been a battle and a half though to get the approval necessary to organize this kind of dates. However with Harry's difficult past and their relative age approval had been granted for informal dinner 'dates'.
During dinner Fleur took up Luna's advice for the first time. She sat as far away from Bill — who love to torture his little brother by eating at least one day a meal at the Gryffindor table — as possible and struck up a conversation about the workings of the French Ministry and the differences with its British counterpart. Viktor put in his own two cents, as his father was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.
Ever since she got to know the younger girl better, Fleur enjoyed feeding Hermione's curiosity, she expected the bright witch would rise high in the political ranks once she graduated. Well, or become an inventor. But Hermione's innate righteousness made the first option far more likely in Fleur's opinion.
Fleur made sure not to look in Bill's direction, though not too obviously. Earlier she'd asked Luna to —discretely — keep an eye an eye on the oldest Weasley brother. She knew better than expect immediate results, but her desperation was growing by the hour.
Eventually the discussion progressed to the Yule Ball and dates. Hermione was still keeping her mouth tightly shut about her necklace and where or not she had a date. Fleur suspected it was actually a courtship necklace and that Hermione simply didn't want to steal Harry's thunder.
Ron on the other hand was doing his best to suppress his growing blush. He was doing a good job, except for the top of his ears. Interesting, she hadn't expected him to have his eye on anyone.
Viktor was difficult to read. He had perfected his grumpy mask over his quidditch career and kept his silence almost all the time. Fleur couldn't deduce whether he had someone in mind or just was over all the fuss. She did notice his eyes flitting over to the Slytherin table from time to time. A first for Viktor. This required further investigation.
As Veela Fleur was a matchmaker by heart. She simply couldn't resist a good romance and her new friends had so much potential among them!
From the moment Harry had resisted her Allure that first evening, he and his friends had piqued her attention. When he'd walked into the backroom on Halloween, looking lost and so very young, he'd made himself a place in her heart. She'd taken a risk to break away from her school clique, one she had yet to regret.
They were so open and accepting in a way she'd never experienced before. Boys lusted after her and girls hated her. That was how'd always had been, how she'd expected it to be for the rest of her life. Now she had friends and even hope for a true love match, like her parents. Yes, life was looking up for Fleur Delacour.