Author's Note: So sorry for the delay! I know I had previously said that this was to be the last chapter, but the amount of information that is covered within this had to be separated into two different chapters. I hope that doesn't hurt many feelings out there. ;) Since it has been so long since I have updated this story... two months, I know I have went a lot longer without updating, but during this time I was diligently writing on this story plus four or five other stories (one story that hasn't been released to this site as of yet... just waiting for the perfect time). Enough about all of that... I am sure you are all ready for this! So on to the chapter!
One month later...
Golden sunlight filters through a tiny gap between darkened curtains in a spacious study. Though the day is a bright and beautiful one, its golden rays can not penetrate the darkness of the room. The only light source came from a roaring fire in the fireplace behind a large desk.
Behind the desk sits a man whom most feared and no one ever dared confronted. For good or for ill, He is, after all, the man who changed the wizarding world to its current state. As Voldemort continues to read over the parchments littering His desk a knock on the door shakes Him out of His perusal.
He ignores the knocking because He knows that He did not send for anyone. The knocking eventually subsides and He continues reading, but becomes enraged when the door opens and a figure emerges from the opening.
"I-i-i didn't realise that you were still in here, My Lord," the man stutters as he closes the door behind him. "I thought you would have been getting ready for the wedding."
"If you did not know I was in here, Pius, why would you have knocked?" Voldemort snarls as he sets the parchment down and stares at the interloper.
"I-i-i don't know," Pius mutters as he stares at his feet.
"Why are you here?" Voldemort questions as He folds His hands on top of His desk. His ire reaching its apex at the disturbance to what is to be a glorious day. "More-so, why would you enter my study if you thought I was not here?"
The wizard continues to stare at his feet. Afraid to face the wrath he knew would be coming.
"Answer me, Pius!" Voldemort exclaims as He slams His fist against the desk top.
"I came with information from the Minister of Magic in France," Pius finally says as he lifts his head slightly to glance at the desk. "He wishes to speak with you about some of his concerns involving the werewolves that Fenir left to watch over things."
"There is nothing to discuss," Voldemort states simply. "I trust that Greyback left the proper amount of werewolves in France and that they are making sure that our friend, the Minister, is following orders."
"That is the problem, My Lord," the wizard replies as he moves closer to the desk. "Minister Chandonne feels as though the half-breeds are not allowing him enough leeway to perform his duties. He thinks that with less oversight, he could bring our cause to the surrounding countries to make domination easier for you."
"Our cause?" Voldemort questions as He stares at Pius questioningly. "When has My cause become your cause? I know who you are, Pius. You are a man who sought power over anything else! I believe that if the Order of the Phoenix was winning, you would have tied your lot with them."
"Sire, I would never..."
"Oh, come off it Pius! You were just like the other Ministers that came before you, arrogant, self-centred men who only associated themselves with others who could better their station. Be glad that I still have use of you and your pathetic kowtowing."
"I... yes, My Lord," Pius answers as he stares down at the floor again. "But may I offer a suggestion, My Lord?" he asks softly after a few moments of silence.
"Be careful with what you say, Pius," Voldemort says coldly. "You are already entering a dragon's nest that you did not wish to traverse."
"Just listen to what Minister Chandonne has to say, you might change your mind if you do. If you just lessen the amount of werewolves in his..."
"No, no, no, Pius," The Dark-Lord states as He stands up from His chair and raises His hand in dismissal. "I have already told you that the proposal is utterly out of the question! The Minister of Magic of France can wait to speak to me when I have the time for him. I am the one who gave him his position. If he can not wait..." He grins darkly. "He will die."
"Y-yes, My Lord," Pius stammers out as he slowly backs away towards the door of the study.
"Oh, and Pius..." Voldemort pauses as He stares at the man He had placed in the Minister's chair after Scrimgeour's demise. The man stops with his hand on the door knob and turns, visibly shaking "If you walk into my study again, uninvited... you will share his fate."
"Yes, My Lord," the minister yanks on the door and as soon as it opens enough, he races through it.
Chuckling darkly to Himself, Voldemort turns to stare at the fireplace behind Him. The flames licking the logs greedily. "I think he finally understands exactly how disposable he is, wouldn't you agree, Nagini?"
The snake hisses its agreement as it coils itself around its master's shoulders. "I know you wanted to eat him, but he still has his uses... for now," Voldemort says as He gently strokes the snake's head. "Once Severus has returned from Latvia, I will have a discussion with him. I think it is time for a more competent Minister, but that can wait for later; today is a day for celebration!
"Let us go, Nagini, the guests are probably waiting for the fête to start!" He walks towards the door, but lingers with His hand resting on the doorknob. "If only you all could see the world I have created," He says with a smirk as He stares at the wall above the mantle. Above the fireplace, framed like macabre hunting trophies, were the heads of the Weasley family (minus Ron, Percy and Ginny), Mad-Eye, Remus, and in the centre, the infamous Harry Potter. His head was considered the highlight of the wall. The rest of the Order, including Minerva, were sent to Azkaban on charges of sedition and would never see the light of day again. "If only you had really seen the full manifestation of my ideals, I believe you would all have liked the world. With a little bit of coaxing, of course." Turning his head away from the wall, Voldemort opens the door of the study and walks out into the hallway. "Now we must hurry, my dear, Nagini. We mustn't be late for the wedding!"
"What are you doing, Hermione?" Narcissa hisses. The normally unflappable witch was running her hand through her blonde hair and pacing the darkened corridor frantically. "You do know that you are marrying my sister in less than two hours and here we are in the dungeons..." she pauses briefly before sighing, "so you can speak with a filthy blood-traitor? You know Bella is not going to approve if the wedding doesn't start on time, hell, the Dark-Lord is not going to approve!
"Let's just go, Hermione," Narcissa changes her tone to one that almost sounded pleading. "What do you think you will learn from this young Weasel? We've already used her for one of the most important plans that you and Bella could create for our Lord. You can speak with her after you come back from your honeymoon, but I don't understand why you would want to speak with her.
"You pushed it with the Dark Lord when you asked that she remain alive and then I thought you were utterly mad when you asked Him if you could keep her on in the dungeon. She should be in Azkaban with the rest of her ilk! So, come on Hermione, Luna and I need to get you ready for your wedding. I'm more than certain Dora and Andromeda are already finished with Bella. I..." Narcissa frowns as she stares into the eyes of the young witch she had followed down into the basement, to the dungeons just fifteen minutes before.
The look she saw on Hermione's face was not a look she had ever seen there before. Oh, she has seen every facet of the young witch's emotions since they had spent more time together when Hermione had defected from the Light. Everything from anger to zeal. The gamut of emotions the young witch possessed was as wide as Bellatrix's and just as unstable. Narcissa had learned quickly that to be able to keep the peace within the manor while the two women were home, was just to stay out of the way, especially during the time after Rabastan had tried to kill Hermione. Lucius and herself both felt as if their home had become a war zone after the incident and laid low within their personal wing of the manor along with their son Draco.
No, the look on the young woman's face now revealed an emotion that the youngest Black sister had never seen before... confusion.
Before Narcissa could speak again, Hermione replies. "We still have time Cissy. I want to know if there is something we may have missed the Weasel may know." The familiarity in which Hermione uses the older witch's nickname causes her to relax slightly.
"What could a blood-traitor Weasel know, Hermione?" the blonde asks as she takes a deep calming breath and allows herself to hear out the younger woman.
"Her brothers, the twins, were geniuses at creating gag items," the brunette starts as she stares at the woman in front of her.
"Yes, I know of the shop they had on Diagon Alley before their end. Draco tried to drag..."
The younger witch cuts her off as if she did not hear her. "One of the items they had was a lovely little gem of an idea called an Extendible Ear. They would use it to eavesdrop on Order conversations when we were all ordered to leave a room." Hermione smirks before continuing. "They thought we were too young to understand the nuances of war and that we should be kept out of such dark conversations. Too bad they never realised that the one person they thought was too innocent to hear them would help destroy them all."
"Well, we all agree that the Order was a bit dim, but what does all of this have to do with everything?"
Hermione sighs, "She might have overheard something... anything that might have to do with my parentage!" Now Hermione paces back and forth as she tries to sort her idea into words for Narcissa. "I don't believe that I'm really a mud-blood. How can I be? My past life came from an old pure-blood family from Ireland. How could I have been reincarnated into a muggle-born? What did I do to deserve such a thing?"
"Hermione," Narcissa moves slightly closer to the younger witch. "You know that isn't how reincarnation works. Maybe that is what they believe in the Far East, but you should know that isn't how it works. A soul as bright and strong as Enyo's found a way back from the land of the dead. It didn't matter what sort of body it came back into, it found a way. Just be glad you did arrive back into a magical body. Can you imagine what it would have been like to find out that you were completely cut off from the magical society? You found a way to come back to my sister... to us. You helped bring about a change in our world that will last more than a thousand years. You brought back an age in which Salazar Slytherin would be proud."
The younger witch closes her eyes with a sigh. "You're right Narcissa, but I just need to ask her this one thing. I just feel as though something is not right about my birth parents. Just this one question and I will let it go if the answer is not what I wish, but if I am correct in my assumptions I will wish to press further to find my answers."
"All right," Narcissa replies as she nods her head."If you are right, we will continue looking into the matter after your wedding. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
The two witches walk down the stairs towards the lower levels of the dungeons. An area in which the Dark-Lord keeps the low-priority prisoners. People who are past the point of ever seeing sunlight ever again. This is where Ginny Weasley and Sybil Trelawny are kept. The first one because Hermione wished to question/torture further, the latter because of her gift of prophecy; though the prophecies from Trelawny are few and far between, it didn't mean that she would never have one again and the Dark-Lord used it to His advantage.
As the two witches move further down the long corridor at the end of the rather lengthy staircase, Hermione pauses outside the old Divination professor's cell. A light murmuring filters through the dank granite stones into the hall. Turning towards the sound, Hermione abandons her previous goal and focuses on the professor. She leans against the heavy oaken door and strains her ears to hear the words that were murmuring out of the half-crazed witch's mouth.
"The daughters of Mars... war.. famine... cease. Blood pure in both... create child... must warn Albus... we need both progeny and snakes. If we don't have them for our side, all is lost. The Light will be lost."
"What did she say?" Narcissa whispers close to Hermione's ear.
"The old hag probably had as much footing as I did in the Order," Hermione says with a smirk as she turns to face the youngest of the Black siblings. "She knew... the bitch knew of a prophecy that mentioned the progeny of Mars. Daughters of War and no one even knew about it! I believe she meant Bella and myself... and she mentioned both being pure in blood. Maybe she knows who my family is or was."
"Did she say anything else?"
"She mentioned a child born between Bella and myself and that she must warn Albus about bringing the progeny of Mars and the snakes to the Light that if not, the Light would lose."
Narcissa laughs softly. "She's a little late, isn't she?"
"True, but it wouldn't hurt to speak to Our Lord about this after the ceremony," Hermione replies as she stares through the barred window into the dark, dank cell.
"Speaking of the ceremony," Narcissa says as she touches Hermione's shoulder lightly. "We need to get going. We don't want the Dark Lord or my sister waiting any longer."