House On A Hill by The Pretty Reckless
The dead are living still
With intentions to kill and they will, they will
Keep your children safe inside
Out of pocket, out of mind
Until they drink the wine and they will, they will, they will
July 13th, 1978
Ivy's arm was through Avdima's as they walked slowly between Selwyn Estate's dark green hedges. Her mother, who had been given an Invigoration Draught for their stroll, wheezed deeply as they went, her green-tinged skin thoroughly pockmarked. For the first time in months, her silver eyes were as clear and calloused as before.
It was exactly what Ivy wanted; Avdima cognizant but unable to retaliate.
Halting them in front of a rock archway that encased a closed wooden door, Ivy kissed the pad of her index finger and tapped it against the sun-warmed stone with a mixture of affection and sorrow.
"Avdima," she said quietly. "I want you to know that Hazel would have been sixteen today. Just past this door is where we used to heal each other after you and Rhaen brutalised us… You know, she used to ask me why you hated her so much. I never knew what to tell her. The only explanation I've been able to think of is that you're a failure. As a mother, and as a person."
The witch opened her mouth, but all that came out between her dry, cracked lips was a loud rasp.
"Don't strain yourself," she crooned tauntingly. "You're already going to struggle, there's no use in making it worse."
Tightening her hold on her mother, she yanked her roughly back in the direction of the mansion. Avdima stumbled and tried to pull her arm away, but with her deteriorated muscles, the attempts were barely more than a soft tug.
"Now, now," Ivy patted her arm patronisingly as they walked. "With how ill my plague has made you, you had to know you were going to die. Besides, there's a few things I'd like you to know before I dispose of you like the vermin you are."
The massive home came into view and Avdima tried harder to get out of her grasp, but it was fruitless. Ivy suspected that it was taking all of her mother's energy to remain upright, and then some extra to try getting away.
"None of this needed to happen," she continued severely. "You're about to be murdered by your own daughter and all you needed to do to prevent it was not murder your other daughter. If you hadn't, I would've grown up to be exactly who you wanted."
She circled the largest fountain on the grounds, peering at her reflection in the clear water as she went. Her murder face, as Regulus and Theya liked to call it, was in full bloom like the surrounding flowers.
"Tragic, don't you think? For you, I mean. You disposed of Hazel to keep your reputation pure," she spat the word. "And in doing so, raised a filthy blood traitor whose life's mission is to destroy everything you believe in. Perhaps I'm an abomination for the things I've done and for the things I will do, but I won't cease until I've eviscerated it all."
Combative mother in tow, they neared the small set of stone stairs leading to two double doors.
"Also," she hauled Avdima up the steps with little effort. "I thought you should know that I've coerced Theya and Regulus to my way of thinking. Severus will be along eventually as well. When I'm through, that'll be three turned Death Eaters and one smooth-talking politician in the Dark Lord's midst, all of whom are equipped with Occlumency."
Opening one of the doors, Ivy shoved her to the ballroom floor, where she landed hard on her knees. Closing the door leisurely behind them, she watched with dark amusement as the pitiful woman got sedately to her feet and tried to shuffle away, letting out loud, fervent wheezes that were supposed to be cries for help.
Ivy moved with ease to stand directly in her path, folding her arms, and cocking a hip.
Avdima halted, legs quivering like they were going to snap beneath her. With how thin and delicate she was, it seemed like a possibility. She panted hard, breath gently shifting the stringy silver hair that hung over her eyes.
Satisfaction and fury curled within Ivy's ribcage.
"There's no one here," she drawled. "Believe it or not, it was Healer Strout's idea that we spend some quality alone time together since you're about to expire. Well, I take it back; she only thinks it was her idea. Skilled as she is with all that healing nonsense, she's no Occlumens. And the house elves, of course, are unavailable. They, like me, will never fear you again."
Those harsh silver eyes narrowed viciously.
"Selwyns always have a battle strategy, right?" She crooned.
Avdima started forward, and Ivy drew Ariadne's yew wand, moving closer to jam the tip hard into her mother's jugular notch. The witch stumbled back with a scratchy cough, bending over slightly.
"You're going to die like your daughter, Avdima," Ivy tilted her head. "Helpless. Afraid. With everyone thinking you died of illness. Knowing that you're despised by those whose job it is to take care of you. Thinking you can trust your family to not murder you – not to torture you."
Her mother began to quiver, holding up shaky hands as though it was any defence against Ivy's old, festering wrath.
"I'm not going to torture you," her voice was silken and deadly. "That'd get me caught. You deserve far more than the few months of suffering you've dealt with, but as much as I would love to use the Cruciatus Curse on you, I plan on getting away with your murder."
Ivy crept forward with a sardonic smile and Avdima took a clumsy step backwards.
"I've been planning this since 1975," her voice rose with each word. "But I've been planning the eradication of your world since you had my little sister murdered in the fucking cellar!"
Her manic, frenzied scream echoed off the grand walls.
Avdima finally looked as terrified as her daughter wanted her to be.
Ivy felt the sweetest, most delectable satisfaction when she slashed the yew wand through the air. "Draco Morbus!"
The yellow Dragon Pox Curse struck Avdima violently in the chest. With a mighty convulsion, she let out a grating wail of pain and sunk to her knees. Ivy walked closer to watch with wide, fervent eyes as her mother heaved for breath and collapsed to the polished floor, coughing raggedly.
"I wanted you to know," she crouched down beside the diseased, twitching heap, and gripped one of Avdima's wrists tightly. "That it was me who did this to you. That it is me who will lay waste to everything you care about. For Hazel."
Gripping the yew wand, she murmured the incantation of her Slicing Spell, opening a gash on the palm of Avdima's wrinkled hand. The dying witch let out a coarse shriek and Ivy gouged open her own palm, then forcefully clasped their bloody hands together.
Pointing Ariadne's wand, she said the Blood Oath incantation: "Sanguinis Vinculum!"
Their mingled blood began to encircle their joined fingers like thin gleaming threads. Avdima reached with her other hand to scratch weakly at the floor like she wanted to crawl away, her hoarse gasps growing quieter and more uneven with each passing second.
"I swear on the blood running through our veins," Ivy hissed as the strings of blood reentered their bodies painfully. "When I'm through, I will spit on your fucking grave. Lest our bloodline be destroyed."
The wounds closed into fresh scars and her mother's hand thudded to the floor with all the grace and finality of death.
Rising slowly, she stared down at Avdima's diseased corpse, slender fingers toying absently with the yew wand. She half expected her mother to let out a gasp and sit upright. But the horrible woman really was dead. This was evidenced by how the area around her body began to produce delicate black ashes.
Soaking in the blinding fulfilment and unadulterated relief for several long moments, she stroked the black ribbons in her hair.
We did it, Hazel, she thought with a smile.
Giving her mother's body a gleeful kick in the ribs, she let out a shriek of wild laughter.
Spinning on a heel, she bounced off towards the library, where she cast Sticking Charms on objects around the room that could be pulled out of their designated places.
Then, she procured the bound book she'd purchased from Borgin and Burkes. Setting it on a heavy wooden table, she withdrew her hazel wand, clutching it in her left hand while the yew remained in her right fist. Waving Ariadne's wand, she rapidly uttered an incantation, causing the cursed tome to unbind itself. At the same moment, she let go of the yew wand midair and dove under the table, securing her arms tightly around a table leg.
A loud whooshing sound filled the library and Ivy's body was pulled horizontal to the ground by a powerful, unstoppable wind, causing her to give a panicked yelp. Cold air surged through her clothes as the table rattled, and she slowly loosened her left arm from around the leg, making the right hook of her elbow the only thing stopping her from getting sucked into the book.
Fist clenched tight around her hazel wand, she pointed it above the table at an awkward and uncomfortable angle, hollering another incantation. The tome slammed shut on the wooden surface above her and she dropped to the ground, landing hard as the wind was knocked from her lungs.
Ivy gasped for breath, eventually sitting up once she regained herself.
Ariadne's yew wand was nowhere to be seen.
Peeking above the table timidly, as she was wary of the beat-up book, she feared it would suddenly unbind itself on her. When it didn't, she let out a whoop of excitement, knowing the wand was contained. Grabbing the book, she shoved it back into its place amongst the vast shelves.
Although relieved, she was admittedly astounded that her insane idea had worked.
After reading up on wandlore, she'd found that breaking a wand was traceable – not easily, but it could be done. This way, the murder weapon was contained and anyone who came across it would be equally as incapacitated. She would figure out a permanent binding and place for the book later, once any investigation into Avdima's death was over.
Ready for the most crucial phase of her plan, she headed back to the ballroom.
Casting a few fruitless Reviving Spells on her mother's body, she got to her knees and set the hazel wand beside herself. In an effort to conjure tears, she set her mind on the Muggle she had tortured and killed, causing her to break into sobs within moments.
"Minsty!" She cried, clutching Avdima's cooling hand.
There was a sharp crack.
"Yes, Mist-" The house elf let out a horrified shriek.
"Get Healer Strout," Ivy said miserably. "And the Magical Law Enforcement Patrol."
There was a steaming cup of undrunk chamomile tea sitting on the dining room table in front of her. One hand in her lap, her other was being held atop the table by Healer Strout, who was a short woman with a kind face and blonde hair.
Both their eyes were puffy, though Ivy was still whipping up the occasional bout of tears for effect. When she did, Strout voiced words of comfort, and Minsty raced to her side, offering food that she continually declined. Despite being famished from that afternoon's feat, she knew if she was truly grieving a loss, she wouldn't have an appetite, so she eventually told Minsty to go rest.
"Ms. Selwyn," Cygnus Black III entered the dining room with his far younger companion, Sturgis Podmore, both wearing black Patrol uniforms. "We're sorry to say that the Mediwizards weren't able to revive your mother."
Healer Strout clutched her hand tightly, and she thought of the Muggle man, causing her lower lip to wobble predictably. Blinking up at the ceiling, she was unsuccessful in pushing back her tears, so she wiped them away hastily with a small nod.
Regulus's uncle took a seat across the table from Ivy and the Healer. His dark hair was thinning but neatly combed, his brown eyes sharp but oddly empathetic. Podmore, who she'd learned was almost finished with his training for the Patrol, seated himself as well.
"You did the right thing trying to Rennervate her," Podmore's light eyes were kind as he placed her hazel wand beside the cup of tea. "It was all you could have done."
Ivy nodded silently.
Podmore reached into his pocket and brought out a Secrecy Sensor. As soon as she laid eyes on the gold, squiggly item, it began to vibrate aggressively.
"You don't plan to interrogate the girl?" Strout glared at the wizards and scooted closer to her. "Hasn't she been through enough? The poor thing just watched her mother die before her eyes!"
"Put that away," Cygnus said as the Secrecy Sensor continued to buzz.
"But-" Podmore started.
"I've told you," his superior snapped. "Dark Detectors are unreliable. Everyone has secrets and when we show up, they worry we'll find out about their affair or the sweets they stole from Honeydukes when they were nine. If someone is hiding something significant, we have far more effective methods of figuring it out."
Podmore looked disappointed as he put the device away.
"Now," Cygnus pulled a roll of parchment from his robes. "Walk us through what you did today. From start to finish."
"Shouldn't we talk to them separately?" Podmore asked.
"I don't want to be alone," Ivy was impressed with how small and pathetic she sounded, as well as with the fresh set of tears she managed to procure.
"It's fine," Cygnus waved his inferior off. "Go on, Ms. Selwyn."
"Well," she said quietly, wiping her puffy eyes. "I woke up. Had breakfast, bathed, and read to my mother for a bit. Then Healer Strout gave her an Invigoration Draught so we could take a stroll."
"That Invigoration Draught-" Podmore began, but Cygnus pointed to something on the parchment. He read it, then nodded. "Never mind. Continue."
"Strout left once my mother was on her feet," she sniffled. "And the house elves were dismissed to their chambers."
"St. Mungo's gave Lady Selwyn a few weeks to live," Strout interjected. "We moved her here to be more comfortable. I cleared it with my superior to give Avdima an Invigoration Draught, as we agreed it'd be nice for her to have some time alone with her daughter before she passed. Feel free to verify all this with St. Mungo's, of course."
"We will," Podmore smiled.
Strout glared at him meanly.
Cygnus looked between Ivy and the parchment. "Proceed."
"I thought the fresh air might do her good," her voice wobbled. "I wanted to go through the gardens, but midway through she started wheezing something awful, so I brought her back. We were in the ballroom when she collapsed."
"Tell us more about the collapse," Podmore said.
"She fell to her knees," she pictured the Muggle man again and her throat tightened. "And was gasping a lot. Then she fell to the floor."
"That would explain the bruising on her knees," Cygnus tilted the parchment.
Podmore peered at it, then spoke in a fair tone. "But not the bruising on her ribs."
"What are you suggesting?" Strout put an arm around Ivy's shoulders.
Resting her head on the Healer's shoulder, Ivy blinked slowly to maintain her disoriented, sorrowful demeanour. Having Strout there was a better move than she'd anticipated, as the woman was jumping to her defence at every sign of trouble. She hadn't expected her to be so motherly either which was a pleasant, albeit ironic, bonus.
"He's not suggesting anything," Cygnus gave his inferior a contemptuous look.
"Good," Strout said sternly. "Because any good Healer would tell you that someone in as decrepit a state as Lady Selwyn is very prone to bruising from lack of nutrition."
If Ivy had known that, she would've gotten a few more kicks in.
Cygnus was silent for a long moment, looking over the parchment, before he began rolling it up. "Right. Ms. Selwyn, the Greengrasses are waiting in the other room to collect you for the time being. If we have more questions, we'll owl you to come to the Ministry."
"Surely," Podmore looked confused. "We should ask the house elves more questions. Take another look around."
"We've already done that," Cygnus got to his feet. "Unless you feel the need to rifle through the young lady's drawers, we've got other matters to attend to."
"But there's been a death," he said reluctantly. "Doesn't that warrant additional investigation?"
"We have investigated," he said gruffly, stuffing the parchment back into his black uniform. "Lady Selwyn has been – was sick with Dragon Pox for months and finally succumbed to it. I visited her myself when she was in hospital, this is no surprise. Now, let's crack on, Podmore."
"Yes, sir," Podmore tugged the straw-colored hair on the nape of his neck and got to his feet.
"It's a right shame what happened to your mother," Cygnus gave Ivy a grim look. "She was a good witch."
She wasn't surprised that someone like him thought so. She was disgusted, sure, but certainly not surprised.
As they left the room, Strout ushered her to follow.
She did so absently, as the perks of nepotism made her uneasy.
If Cygnus hadn't known her personally or thought of her as anything other than pureblood, she knew for a fact that the investigation would have been handled far differently. Not to mention, they didn't seem to recall that since she no longer had a guardian, there was no guardian present for their conversation. Her statement might not even be admissible in court if it came to that.
Her government was abysmal.
While it worked in her favour for now, one day she would be found out. Whether it was for murder or something else, it was inevitable that someday she would get caught. Secrets could only stay hidden for so long. This made her wonder for the first time in a long time what would happen to her when she was discovered.
As Ivy went to meet the Greengrasses, she decided it was time to put a failsafe or two in place.