A/N: At last. I really hope everyone would appreciate the length of this chapter for how long it took me to actually post it. I haven't found time to properly edit it as usual, so forgive me for that.
Thank you to new Followers and Favs, you help me keep at it :)
Chapter 45: Memories of Midnight
Unedited...
~oO Aramastus's Lair, Elmwood Island
Cloud, dust and smoke swirled around him like an opaque sheet as his vision faded in and out of oblivion.
The damp floor beneath his aching body felt like a bed of pins and needles.
Distant cries of agony muted by the raging fire that licked away at the walls and ceiling above floated towards him in slow motion, as if numbed by Time, making it all seem like a dream. And yet, there was a low tremor within him that screamed with an odd sense of urgency — begging him to get up...
Do something... Do something, Remus. Please! came an angsty scream from afar, making him stir awake at last, fatigued and aching all over.
Shards of glass sank into his skin as he tried to push himself up, and yet, he felt no pain.
Blinking back the stinging in his eyes, he slowly allowed the blurred visions to come back into focus.
At once, as if someone had rudely turned up the volume to a hundred, the horror that surrounded him came screaming at him, shaking him awake.
A monstrous fire licked away at the stone walls, leaving a deafening roar in its wake, roaring and exploding all around him, enough to make his heart jump into his mouth.
"Wh... Where... What...?" Sirius slurred, swaying groggily on the spot, trying to remember where he was.
"SIRIUS! Oh, he's alive..." he heard someone sob from the distance. "SIRIUS, GET UP! GET UP AND JUMP OUT THE WINDOW, MATE! Sirius? PADS, CAN YOU HEAR ME?!"
Smothered by the smoke, Sirius's whole body writhed in pain, as he tried to get up and go towards the voice.
"GET UP, PADS!" the voice begged now. "We're running out of time... Mate, please...!"
As if inundated with a jolt of vigour, Sirius swayed to his feet, his head still swimming dizzily.
"THE WINDOW! THE WINDOW!" James's screams came floating by once more.
Scanning the room, Sirius could discern the faint outline of a window through the thick, black clouds of smoke. Looking around, he realised the fire had blocked the entrance to the light room entirely and the only way out of the tower now was, indeed, out the window.
"Go, Pads! JUST JUMP! JUMP, NOW!"
Tears streamed down his face as Sirius looked around the ablaze room once more. An unmoving body lay abandoned at the other end of the room. Without thinking, the heir of House Black leapt across the damp floor and collapsed clumsily next to a pale, thin girl who lay unconscious.
"Cis... Cissa," Sirius shook her desperately. "Cissa, ge' up. We have ter go..." he choked, feeling the fire burning the skin on his back.
"JUST FUCKING JUMP, PADS! GET OUT BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!" James shrieked, no doubt jumping on the spot in anguish now.
Without another thought, Sirius scooped Narcissa Black up in his arms, flung her over his shoulder and stumbled towards the narrow window. Looking down, all he could see was the roaring sea crashing into the tiny island, at least fifty feet below. He didn't know if he would survive the fall, but James's voice rang in his ear once again.
Jump.
That was all he needed. He closed his eyes and hurled himself off the ledge, into the abyss that awaited him below.
Not a second after he had jumped, he heard an explosion go off behind him, one that lit up the entire sea below.
And before he knew it, he felt his face slam into a sheet of steel, as he cut through the film of water and plunged into its depths.
Everything after that came to him in flashes as he bobbed in and out of consciousness.
He did not realise that Narcissa had snapped from his grip as they hit the water, sinking into the sea with him.
He did not hear the sounds of three boys screaming out his name as they hurtled out the tower and dove into the cold sea after him.
Nor did he see the sudden flashes of white raining upon the tiny island like a meteor shower all of a sudden.
All he remembered seeing was a pair of strong arms swimming against the current towards him and grabbing him before he sank into the water again. And incredibly, despite his state of complete daze, he remembered feeling relieved.
~oO Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire
A whiff of smoke graced their senses at the same time as the explosion that took place nearly two hundred miles away from where they stood, as if like a lingering memory.
And the longer she stood there staring into his placid face, the more it felt like a dream, as if time had reversed on them, erasing away any feelings of resentment whatsoever.
"Lue?" Isabella whispered into the night, her lips quivering uncontrollably with emotion. It felt like eons ago since she had seen him from such close proximity. And Merlin, was he handsome. "Godric, look at you..." she muttered, wiping the blood off his lower lip, feeling a sudden bout of anger rising up within.
"You okay —?"
"— Good gracious, Lucius, how did you — Death Eaters, they — were you all really kidnapped...?" she shouted, shaking all over with dread. "— Honestly, what in Godric's name's GOING ON? — Merlin, we were all so worried —!"
"No, Bella... —"
"— I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD, LUCIUS!" Isabella finally cried out, finally allowing herself to voice out the fears that had plagued her for over two weeks now. "WHERE THE HELL WERE YOU?" she shrieked, thwacking him painfully in the chest, but the blond seemed to feel nothing and simply stared dolefully back at her.
"Bella, please —"
"NO! Just look at you!" she screamed, pointing to his frail, scarred body. "IS THIS WHAT YOU REALLY WANT? TO BE A DEATH EATER? TO BE ON THE SIDE OF A MENTAL WIZARD THAT MAY OR MAY NOT KILL YOU ALL IN YOUR BLOODY SLEEP —?!"
"Bella, I really have to tell you something —"
"GO TO HELL!" Isabella screamed. "I just HATE you right now," she sobbed, burning a hole is his skull now. "I HATE that you keep doing this to me —!"
"BELLA —!" Lucius finally grabbed her by the hands and yanked her close to him, hushing her up at once. There was great anguish in his eyes, almost as if his worst fear had come true. And incredibly, she did not need him to put it into words to know that there was a terrible secret behind those grey eyes.
A moment of silence passed when neither of them moved.
"What is it, Lue?" she asked quietly, slumping in anticipation. "What's happened now...?" she said exhaustedly, trying to catch his eye, but he looked away, his breaths coming out in short spurts now.
Looking up, he regarded her mournfully for a second, before closing his eyes in exhaustion, driving her mad with anticipation. "I er..." he began, "I know, Bella."
Isabella frowned. "You know what?"
Lucius pursed his lips grimly. "I know a little of what's actually going on... Why everything's so lousy of late. Why everything seems to be about, well," he looked up and stared into her face, "you all the time. Apparently, there's a reason for it all..."
Isabella felt her heart clench anxiously.
"There's something I learnt while I was... locked up in that tower," Lucius continued, nodding his head ominously. "Apparently, there was a reason why I chose to befriend you, a reason why, despite my cursed blood, I let myself, you know..." he paused, quivering slightly, as if he could not physically get himself to say the words out loud. "There's a reason why everything between us is so shit..." he cursed, woefully.
Isabella raised her eyebrows slightly. "What d'you mean?" she said, her words drowning in the breeze.
Lucius paused for a second to admire the brunette's thin, pale face. "Bella, you're not an ordinary witch in any sense," he began. "There's a reason why the Dark Lord is so obsessed with you... You have no idea who you really are... Your birth, Bella, is perhaps one of the most important phenomenons of the magical world today — everything depends on you..."
The screws in Isabella's head seemed to have stopped turning entirely because she did not understand a word of what Lucius was saying. Why on earth would someone as insignificant and dinky as her demand the attention of the Dark Lord?
"Me?" she asked incredulously.
Lucius simply smiled and shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out something small and shiny. "This belonged to You-Know-Who until I stole it from him two weeks ago," he said, holding a tiny golden ring between his fingers up to his eye level at looking at her through the hole in the middle. "He wears it wherever he goes."
The gold band in Lucius's hand was large, indicating that the wearer was a extraordinarily large man. And as innocent as the ring looked, the intricate Elven markings on the inside held the tell-tale signs that it was no ordinary metal.
"Why is it so important?" Isabella asked.
"Because it's not just a ring," he said, looking up grimly. "It's not any ring. It's," he paused and looked at her, fighting a wave of trepidation. Drawing a breath, he said, "It's Mávros Slytherin's."
Isabella sensed a 'but' in Lucius's tone, though.
An urgent ticking of a clock resounded in the back of her head as she stared into the immaculate gold disc in his finger.
"Windsmere gold," she muttered to herself, knowing instantly how powerful the metal is, and how much magic could be packed into it. She looked up. "What is it really?"
A slight smile flashed across Lucius's face as if he was so proud of how clever she was. "You know, family heirlooms today are more or less useless pieces of jewellery that gets passed down, but that wasn't case back then... Heirlooms had a very distinct purpose, a means through which descendants of the true owners get to learn a thing or two about their families, a tool that permanently houses secrets down through several hundred decades."
"Tell me about it," Isabella scoffed impassively, looking keenly at the beautiful Elven inscription on the outer surface of the ring.
"It's a Pensieve, Bella..." Lucius said, making her eyes fly open in surprise. "Mávros Slytherin's Pensieve..."
"A Pensieve?" she asked incredulously, shocked to her very bones. "I don't believe it —"
"— I didn't either until I went in myself..."
"— I didn't regard Mávros to be this foolish —"
"— He isn't," Lucius asserted. "He meant for his memories to be accessible only to a true heir..."
"But you're not his direct descendent or anything, how on earth —?"
"— I'm a Malfoy..." Lucius simply said.
Isabella blinked confusedly. "But..." she started, "Malfoys are the result of Aglæca's union with a Nameless..."
"She was still his wife, though."
"But Mávros hated her, I thought!" Isabella continued to argue ballistically. "Why would he even consider accommodating her love-children into his Heriloom?"
"Exactly what I was wondering about as well, but look, it just goes to show that Mávros was an extremely complex man and wizard," Lucius said. "We don't know the details of their relationship, but that doesn't matter at all now, does it?" he said, leaving an eerie silence in his wake.
"The Woodsmen were absolute geniuses," Isabella muttered, finally understanding the extent of Windsmere gold's greatness and why it was so sought after, why wizards did not mind wiping out entire kingdoms to get a bit of the gold... "
Lucius nodded. "There are secrets in here that no wizard on earth is aware of... Except, perhaps, the Dark Lord, and now me..." he whispered, his voice leaving a trail of disquiet behind it.
Isabella's heart was pounding in her chest now even as the tale of The Cursed Pair came flashing back to her. What more could there possibly be to that story?
"History repeats itself, they say, Bella," said Lucius, clawing on to her gaze. "You want to know yours?" he said and put his hand out with the ring resting on his palm.
~oO Aramastus's Lair, Elmwood Island
He opened his eyes, fire blazing in his pupils as more and more white flashes of light rained down on the tiny island around him. The fury burning in his chest as he looked up at the ablaze tower threatened to explode out his wand. Gripping it tightly between his fingers, he turned around to greet the white-with-rage McGonagall.
"Dumbledore!" they heard a scream resound from inside the blazing tower, followed by the thundering of feet, almost as if the Death Eaters inside were fleeing at the mere sight of the Order members assembled outside.
"Get them all," Dumbledore ordered quietly.
"But, Dumbledore," Moody growled, sounding uncharacteristically concerned, "the children —"
"— I will take care of them," Dumbledore said, turning around and watching a group of boys paddling through the rough ocean towards them.
The door to the tower burst open and out rushed Corbett, the Death Eater who screamed, "STUPEFY —!" but Arthur Weasley had already sent a Disarming Spell at him, making his wand fly out of his hand and land into the sea. The look of horror on Corbett's face was priceless from that moment on.
And just like that, the rest of the Order members simultaneously jumped into action, their wands aloft as they hurtled into the tower.
The old wizard turned around just in time to see James, Remus and Peter haul an unconscious Sirius and Narcissa onto the rocky beach, their clothes sopping wet and hanging off their bony bodies. A pang of sympathy coursed through him as he inched towards the petrified bunch of students — clearly, they were not expecting adult company, neither were they aware that Dumbledore was here to merely get them back to safety, not reprimand them.
"Professor," James coughed, his hand still securely wrapped around an unconscious Sirius. "We're sorry..." he sputtered as the tall wizard approached them. "We really are —"
"— I could not have asked for a better set of iron-willed young witches and wizards to fight this war with, James," Dumbledore countered instead, regarding the the bespectacled sixteen-year-old solemnly. "Do not ever apologise for doing things that grown wizards are reluctant to commit to, dear boy... The wizarding world has a future because you, my students, are willing to risk your lives to protect Wizardkind..."
Remus sputtered on the spot, while Peter looked like he would burst into tears any minute. "Now, without waiting another second, you are to take Sirius and Narcissa over to 'Grew Cottage at once and get healing attention from Pomfrey."
Peter looked unsure at first, but looking at the sternness on Dumbledore's face, the stout boy nodded at once. "How many else were part of your group, Remus?"
"Frank, Clay, Lily and Meadowes, Professor," Remus replied, looking crest-fallen beyond measure. "I was fighting off the Death Eaters alongside Claiborne when a swarm of lychs crashed through the marble floor and..." he choked, "we were separated and... I just hope they're all fine down there..."
"Leave it to me to bring them all back safely, Remus," Dumbledore said, holding him firmly by his shoulder. "And I am willing to go to any lengths to keep that promise," he declared, even as the gold Time-Turner caught the glint of the slowly rising sun over the sea. Remus looked up as if to see if Dumbledore was being absolutely serious about what he was saying; and he was. "Now, get down to 'Grew Cottage," he said, handing Remus an old candle stick Portkey. "Leave. Now."
It was an order.
~oO 'Grew Cottage, Landers Down
Sirius stirred awake and looked up to find the sun streaming in through the windows.
Looking around, he instantly recognised the place going by how the room he was resting in resembled the cylindrical wooden holes of Flobberworm babies on tree trunks. This was Peter's room, of course. The four boys have camped in this small, yet cosy room countless times in their second and third-years, post which they stopped getting invited over by Mrs. 'Grew; and although Peter had not given an explanation as to why, the boys knew that it was because the 'Grews were growing shameful of their poverty over time...
Pushing himself up, Sirius clambered down from his bed and realised he was wearing Peter's oversized T-shirt and boxers, one that hung off his lanky, lean body. He thudded across the room and peeped out the door to find the room next to his was open too as he heard muffled voices of people chatting away from the floors below. Sirius did not even need to go down the wooden, spiral staircase to know that it was James and Remus, talking rather animatedly with each other about the war, no doubt.
"Quite a school year, huh?"
Sirius jumped and whirled around and found Narcissa standing by the open door next to his, looking just as weak and exhausted as him.
Sirius scoffed. "Doubt if we'd ever be going back, actually," he shook his head impassively, and exhaled, trying to ignore the awkward silence that had fallen between him and his cousin. It had been ages since he had last spoken to her, in fact, he couldn't even remember when they last stood in such close proximity and not drawn their wands out.
"And I'd rather take those stupid A.P.E.s than jump buildings, y'know?" Narcissa drawled.
"Or get kidnapped," Sirius added with a snigger, making her bite back a smirk too. A second later, however, she got forlorn once again. "How did you know?" Narcissa asked, leaning against the door frame.
Sirius looked up. "We didn't," he said truthfully. "Wish we'd listened to Lily from the start... We could've gotten there a lot earlier."
Narcissa stared back expressionlessly. "Evans? Really?" she said, raising her eyebrows slightly. "Oh, how I hate her..." she leered, except Sirius knew her brain was exploding with respect for Lily on the contrary.
Sirius nodded. "She is the best."
"Well, I reckon 'thank you' is well in order —"
"— We're Blacks, Cissa," Sirius cut in, shrugging matter-of-factly, his jaw clenching with emotion. "Shouldn't come as a surprise that I had your back."
"Except it does," Narcissa whirled around earnestly. "After all that you've gone through, after all that Trixy has put you through," she paused, her breath hitching in her throat. "It's hard to believe you still thought it'd be a good idea to rescue me —"
"— You're family, Cissa —"
"No!" Narcissa exclaimed, breathing heavily. "Families don't do this," she insisted wistfully, bringing a frown on Sirius's face. "Families look out for each other, not tear them apart... And Bellatrix has done nothing but caused you a world of pain!"
Sirius, though, did not say anything and simply smiled. "I'm glad Rommie's having such a great influence on you..." he said. "I was afraid you were going to take after Bellatrix."
But Narcissa looked like she was fuming on the spot with disbelief. "How are you able to smile through all her crimes against you, Sirius? Even I still won't forgive Bellatrix for blackmailing Regulus into doing all those horrible things —!"
"— Blackmail?" Sirius whipped around, scowling in confusion now. "What are you talking about?" he demanded, inching closer.
Going by the blank countenance on Narcissa's face, she looked like she regretted saying anything now. "Sirius... Your family's powerful," she began. "But they're also regrettably stupid," the blonde churned out coldly.
A fierce eyebrow raised on his forehead as he tried to assess where she was going with this. "I'm convinced I was picked off the side of the road, yes," he countered sarcastically, but Narcissa seemed unperturbed.
"Sirius, both your mum and dad have earned the Dark Lord's wrath enough to get marked on his personal hitlist." Narcissa ground out in her most 'I'm-not-kidding' tone. "Let's weigh out your family's crime list, shall we? You are, whether you like it or not, the Lord of House Black, the one with the most power over the entire Black bloodline..." she began, surprising Sirius quite a lot, because he had not seen his cousin exhibit an atom of emotion on her stone-cold face in forever. "Your mum is Queen Black, and yet, refuses to herald the Black dominance in the Death Eater clan and fight against the Blood-Traitors. And your dad," she paused, a look of pure disgust creeping up her face, "you have any idea what your father has got himself into?"
Sirius blinked. He hadn't spoken to his father in over three years and had only ever been in the same room as him every time his mother went off the rails and brought the roof down screaming at her husband who was seldom sober, which wasn't many.
"I'm guessing nothing honourable," Sirius croaked out scornfully.
"Bellatrix was out in a Muggle neighbourhood just routinely terrorising and torturing a bunch of Muggles when she was interrupted by someone... a wizard — perhaps the last thing she was expecting in that situation was a wizard coming to rescue a bunch of crummy Muggles — but do you want to guess who that wizard was?"
A numbness crept up Sirius's hands as he mutely stared back at his cousin. It was no secret that he despised his mother with a passion and disregarded his father as a waste of space for the longest time. He didn't think there could ever be a quality that his father possessed that could redeem his reputation in Sirius's heart and yet, here he was, hopefully being proved wrong...
"Orion was drunk to his bones as usual, and yet, he tried to duel Bellatrix. He embarrassed himself quite a bit, of course — but the catch was, it made her curious as to why he was even there in the first place," Narcissa paused. And what she said next left Sirius numb with shock. "Turns out Orion was having a secret affair with a Squib, Sirius — Arabella Figg..."
A slow sense of understanding descended upon him as he put two and two together. So that was what Bellatrix used to blackmail Regulus into doing per bidding... Threatening to kill off his parents for all their dishonourable actions against the Pureblood clan — and Regulus, unlike himself, would do anything for his parents... Even if it meant killing off the kindest two people he had known all his life — the two people who had nearly raised the boys as their own...
He slumped against his door as a wave of hopelessness crashed into him.
Narcissa, who had been watching him all this while, scowled solemnly. "You fancy Williams, don't you?" her voice cut through his thoughts.
Sirius scoffed apathetically. "Why, is your Dark Lord going to eventually off us too?" he wrung out chokingly. "Does he know that she isn't Muggle-born like he'd thought? Should have come as some consolation, if you ask me —"
"— even if he did, he wouldn't kill her because she was a Muggle-born, Sirius," the dark-eyed witch interrupted him. "There's something else about her that disturbs Him quite a lot... And going by how hush-hush everyone is around the subject, I'm guessing it's something quite big," she said mysteriously.
Sirius's face hardened, but did not say anything. "Why are you telling me all this?" he asked quietly.
The blonde hesitated, as if she was surprised he thought so less of her.
"Because I owe you," she said finally. "I owe you my life... And unlike popular belief, not all of Druella Black's daughters are blood-thirsty and cruel, y'know."
The corners of Sirius's eyes itched with emotion, but he did his best to seem cold. "I love her, Cissa," he began, his heart burning with fury now. "And I'm not going to let a soul lay their hands on her under any circumstances... You can ask You-Know-Who to shove it up his arse."
"Yeah, I'm not going to do that," Narcissa scoffed matter-of-factly. "But I am going to repay you in anyway I can."
"That won't be necessary."
"It's not your choice."
The cousins glared at each other with a mingled sense of hatred and respect oozing out of their eyes at the same time.
"A Black always pays his debts." Narcissa folded her hands definitively. "And so will I," she declared fiercely, an undying fire burning in her eyes. If Sirius knew anything about Narcissa, it was this: that she was excessively particular about keeping her word.
Sighing in exhaustion, Sirius tried to push his worries out of his head, but he couldn't shut out the voices.
"D'you even know where she is, though?" asked Narcissa.
"She's safe."
"So, she's with Malfoy," she scoffed dryly. "Funny you should trust him."
"I loathe him," Sirius stated. "But I do trust him."
Narcissa bit her lip disapprovingly, but Sirius was in no mood to argue with her, because a new kind of dread mithered his insides. He was looking ahead at his blonde cousin, but he knew someone else was watching from behind and it made him sick with dread.
"What's the matter?" asked Narcissa.
"Nothing," Sirius replied as he turned around and looked straight into the eyes of his stalker, peeping back at him from inside a tear in the ceiling...
~oO Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire
Isabella looked at Lucius's outstretched hand.
"Am I going to like what I see?" asked Isabella.
"Depends on how you see it."
"How did you even get it?"
"We risked our lives, of course," Lucius smiled.
"We?"
"Meadowes. As a Death Eater, we all knew there was something terribly mysterious about this ring, but no one, except Bellatrix could get close enough to You-Know-Who and get it..." Lucius said, shuddering slightly. "It took timing and team-work to execute it as stealthily as possible... I distracted Bellatrix by starting a conversation about my marriage, a topic she's very keen on. I pretended to be desperately interested in Narcissa while Meadowes took Bellatrix's form and entered the Dark Lord's lair... Merlin knows what she had to engage in to successfully retrieve this thing."
Isabella simply listened on, amazed beyond words. And this was a girl she had shared a classroom with. A sixteen-year-old girl who had no business dealing with the likes of Voldemort or Dumbledore and yet, here she was, tampering with the very strands of War... In all honesty, Isabella still could not tell whose side Meadowes was really on, what she was fighting for, nor understand why she was bringing an entirely third dimension to this War, but she was certain of one thing: Dorcas Meadowes, the disagreeable Slytherin girl, is truly the one dictating the fate of Wizardkind's future...
A thrill of shock ran up her, leaving a string of goosebumps on her hands as Dorcas's image flashed before her eyes, and Remus's words from the night when Hogwarts was attacked came floating back to her: 'There's definitely a spy among us, Izzy...'
He was right. Dorcas was that spy. Question still though was, whose side is she really on?
"It was when You-Know-Who realised the ring was missing that he ordered to throw us all into that tower," Lucius's voice shook her out of her reverie. "He knew it must one of us, but I knew he would never suspect me, so I kept the ring and Meadowes left to get help."
A moment passed when Isabella regarded her best friend with utmost awe.
"So?" Lucius asked, rounding up on her and holding her in an idyllic gaze. "What do you say, Williams? Up for a dragon ride?" he winked sardonically and waited for her to make up her mind.
Isabella thought for a second. Was she really ready to look into the murky details of the past? Can she honestly handle the revelations that this Pensive holds? Yes, she can. She has to...
Isabella sighed decidedly. "Let's go," she said, slamming her thin hand into his massive one, having made up her mind. "Let's get this over with," she pursed her lips, bringing a resigned smirk on his sallow face.
Without another word, Lucius raised his wand and tapped the golden ring. At once, the hollow middle got replaced with a thin transparent film of swirling silvery smoke.
Isabella's heart began to hammer in her chest as anticipation mounted.
Simultaneously, the pair took a great gulp of breath and plunged their heads into the tiny disc. And almost as if they had shrunk to the size of a pea, Isabella felt herself plunge and hurtle clumsily into a bottomless abyss, making her heart jump into her throat. The pair of them sped through a cold blackness, spinning furiously as they went, and then —
Their feet thudded hard against a thickly overgrown forest floor as a gust of wind slammed into their faces out of nowhere. Dust and dried leaves stung their faces as the pair of them tried to make sense of where they were, their ears at once catching the cacophonic sounds of birds and wolves in the wake of an army of horses and men galloping through the forest some distance away. A strong river rushed past them, adding to the deafening discord of chaos.
And Isabella did not have to see it to know that they were caught smack in the midst of an imminent war, the signs of which was echoed by the howling of a massive, ominous storm brewing above them in the dark clouds, making her heart get instantly gripped with terror. And in spite of being aware that they were actually inside Mávros's memory, Lucius found it necessary to wrap a protective arm around Isabella's shoulders, as the willowy brunette braved the gale of wind enveloping them. The howling of the wolves got louder, making her insides squirm uncomfortably.
"Where are we?" Isabella screamed to make her voice audible over all the noise.
"At Woldorin's border!" Lucius yelled back, just as a hooded witch came into view as she slid out from behind a massive tree standing by the water's edge, looking terrified to the say least.
Crouching and cowering behind bushes, the witch stealthily moved towards them, looking quite evidently gripped with desperation and terror. Shivering in the cold wind, (just as Isabella and Lucius were), she impatiently moved her hood just a little to reveal her face and a hint of silver white hair, and scanned the length of the gorge, as if waiting for someone. Something about this whole situation made it more than apparent that this was a suicide mission — almost as if all of Woldorin and Gryffindor's futures depended on this moment...
Time was running out, but the witch was determined, as she stayed put and waited patiently, watching the coast like a hawk. Her face may have been ridden with filth, and her hair unkempt, but there was something extremely striking about her wind-swept face that screamed royalty...
A horse neighed loudly nearby, giving Isabella and the hooded witch a start. At once, the white-haired witch jumped back behind a large tree and waited, panting in sheer fear. Isabella swung around to see if anyone had arrived, and although she saw or heard no one, she knew something was not right — they were not alone and she was certain of it...
But before she could even fully process the dread that was creeping up her spine, she heard a loud 'Psst!' resound behind her. Turning back around, Isabella realised the noise had come from the ground, and much to her surprise, a little head was now sticking out of a giant Bubotuber flower by the riverbed facing the hooded witch hiding behind the tree.
"Evie!" the head whisper-yelled, trying to get her attention. "Evie!" she called out more desperately this time, slipping further inside the flower as she heard the same rustling sound as did Isabella a few metres away (Isabella jerked her head once more in the direction of the rustling, except there was no one there yet again). "Irvette! Here!"
The white-haired witch looked up and stealthily jumped out of her hiding spot. "Ebonee!" Irvette exclaimed and rushed forwards.
Isabella's world spun when she realised who these witches really were. They were the youngest two daughters of the Hadens...
"Oh, thank the stars, you ar't finally hither! Wish the others come upon the hour too!" she whispered hurriedly, as she helped Ebonee out of the flower.
As soon as Ebonee got to her feet, however, she turned towards Irvette, her eyes holding great anguish and happiness in them all at the same time. "Oh Evie... How many moons hath't been since I did see you?" she whispered teary-eyed, even as Irvette ran into her arms, sobbing into her shoulder. "How have you beens't, my love?" she asked, except it looked like she already knew what Irvette's answer was.
Irvette pulled back, smiling resignedly through her tears. "I am only thankful yond I did get to see thee once again," she said, bringing a pitiful smile on her elder sister's face.
Ebonee, too, had long curly hair, except it had a golden hue in contrast to her sister's white. She looked very similar to Irvette, except her eyes carried an intensely calm tone in them in contrast to the steely fierceness in her sister's.
"Far too long, sister," Irvette said, her hood falling off her head entirely now to reveal her thin, staggeringly beautiful face. "But we must maketh haste. The woods ar't infested with werewolves."
"My dear, werewolves ar't repulsed by Ha'dene blood —"
"— Yes, but they can'st smell us and Da'rian would have our heads if he ever found out," Irvette rasped, quickly tugging in her wand and scanning the coast once again. "Besides, a serious danger awaits the Ha'dene family. Whither ar't our beloved sisters?"
"I am hither as thee did wan'st me, Irvette."
Isabella's stomach jolted as she looked up to see who had said those words. Right above them, on the tree that Irvette had been hiding behind all this while, sat a great big bald eagle, looking curiously down at the two witches.
Within seconds, the giant eagle had flapped its wings and swooped down towards the forest floor, whilst simultaneously transfiguring into a tall, even-faced witch, who also wore worn-out travel robes as Irvette did.
"Leonara..." Isbaella whispered to herself.
"Sister! What did take thee so long?" Irvette cried, as her older sister gracefully straightened up and met the other two with a cold nod.
"I wast hither all 'long, dearest Irvette. But I did keep silent to make sure 't very much wast thee," Leonara said impassively, whilst Ebonee was gushing with happiness upon seeing her older sister.
But Irvette seemed to have no time for reminiscing. She was racing against time. "What about Aglæca? Will'st she come?!" she demanded, desperation becoming quite evident in her face.
"Nev'r suspect a daughter of Ha'dene, Irvette. When summoned, we wilt at each arrive," Leonara stated evenly, and looked straight to the river beside them, as if she already knew where Aglæca was. Wisdom seemed to ooze out of her entire being as the three sisters saw the rough waters bubble and boil all of a sudden until a head appeared, breaching the surface and rising up to reveal their oldest sister, rowing towards them in a tiny wooden boat, her hair waving furiously in the wind.
Irvette's eyes filled up upon seeing Aglæca, the Queen of Ceadesmort and the fiercest and boldest of them all... The boat thudded to a halt as it reached the shore and the light from the setting sun fell upon her face to reveal the disgruntled, most dispassionate face of the Slytherin. And the minute her sights fell upon Irvette, she became even more savage-looking.
Slowly, Aglæca stepped down from the boat even as the others bowed low to show their respects to the first-born of Haden. The challenges of life wore heavily upon her face, yet she held a proud front as she sized up Irvette through the bridge of her nose. "Ye summon'd me...?" Aglæca leered slowly, allowing her sister time straighten up from her curtsey.
"Only because the matter was of utmost importance, sister..." Irvette stated apologetically, but assertively.
Aglæca raised an unforgiving eyebrow. "Whate is it this time? Seduced anothere of our husbands, has't we?"
"Dost not be absurd, Aglæca," Leonora shot back, her hawk-like eyes piercing her elder sister's skull. "Ite is worrisome that thou ar't no' aware of th' perils that surround the Ha'dene fa'ily."
Irvette nodded solemnly. "She is't right. Doom is upon us and we to must make all haste or be ruined forever..."
The sounds of the Woldorin army marching towards the city walls half a mile away was louder than ever now, making even Isabella anxious.
Aglæca seemed to consider their statements, and at last conceded. "Foolish Daerian has set free the werewolves, has't he not?" she scoffed, looking around, her ears perking at the ominous howling in the background. "Take't us down, then, Ebonee," she commanded, and the timid witch jumped into action at once, as she pulled out her mace like wand and tapped the ground once, only to have it rumble and tremble underneath feet, almost as if the land below was giving away, falling into an abyss. Isabella held on to Lucius fearfully, but the four sisters seemed completely unperturbed as the lot of them descended into the murky depths of the forest until a large chamber began to appear around them.
At first Isabella could not make out where they were headed or what the place looked like until light from several hundred candles and lanterns shone through to reveal a long circular passage that ran the entire length of the river above. She swung her head from right to left and realised there were other tunnel openings lining the tunnel they were standing in right now, almost as if they trapped inside a giant groundhog's burrow...
The minute everything settled around them and out of earshot from possible eavesdroppers, Ebonne turned towards, Irvette. "Evie. Make haste! Tell us wherefore hath't thee did summon us at such an trecherous hour?" Ebonee said.
Irvette looked on, overcome with despair and exhaustion. "Grave news. All's lost, I'm afraid."
"Speak clearly, Irvette!" Leonara spat out.
Blinking back tears of exhaustion, Irvette looked them squarely in the face. "I overheard mine own Seer whilst in conference with Da'rian last night. We has't beene betrayed. Our secrete has't been reveale'd," she declared apologetically. "I did note know she was a spy from the R'otdel clan..."
A streak of shock coursed through Leonara and Ebonee's faces as they gaped back at Irvette. Even Aglæca looked mildly concerned, and that was enough to suggest that something absolutely dreadful had happened.
"Dear M'rlin," Leonara whispered, her lips trembling with rage.
Aglæca though simply seemed to acknowledge the fact objectively. "'Tis time then."
A silent tear ran down Ebonee's face. "Ar't ye certain, Aglæca? Must we? 'Tis our legacy, sister —"
"— I am aware," Aglæca nodded. "If we performed this witchcraft now, the Ha'dene legacy would'st end with us, ne'er to have any more children borne with o'ur gift — the gifte of immortality."
"No more immortal child'ren of the Ha'denes..." Ebonee nodded, her face marred with disbelief, as if trying to convince her otherwise.
"Yes. Regrettablye, Da'rian is now aware that the Ha'dene heirloom is really o'ur blood. My King has't commissioned a secret ploy to kill us all fo' ite..." Irvette said despairingly.
Leonara looked murderous now as she glared daggers into the lantern in front of her. "I will note be be-such hunted down like a pathetic Hippogriff to quenche the desirese of foolish, venal kings..." she hissed ominously. "I shall't die rather."
"Do note lament, dear Ebonee," Irvette said, pulling her into a warm embrace. "The legacye had to end some day, did it note?"
"'Tis decided. Make haste, Irvette. It is a treacherous hour," Aglæca said bitingly, and yet Isabella thought she saw a flash of cold sorrow cross her face.
Without another word, the four sisters stepped forward, each carrying varying degrees of woe as they got prepared for the worst.
And even as Isabella looked at their despondent faces, it was evident from their demeanour, just how much each of them had endured in their journey so far, the pride in their faces becoming proof to the weight of the power they each held within them. The betrayals, the suffering, the moments of resurrection that they each had faced in their life's journey so far, all went without saying. Yet, despite any bad blood that they may hold in their hearts, the yearning that exuded from their eyes was charmingly pure.
Having read the legend already, Isabella knew that this would, perhaps, be the last ever time that the four of them would see each other ever again. All the events that followed this epic moment are marred with treachery and pain, ripping the sisters apart to four corners of the world, until their last breaths.
Leonara's face hardened, as she looked the others in the eyes. "Longe liv' the Ha'dene legacy."
And with that, simultaneously, the Haden sisters drew out their wands and held it straight at their wrists.
Moving their wands in a synchronised way, the four of them closed their eyes and muttered a, long, complex-sounding incantation under their breaths. As if like a dance, their bodies swayed slightly along with their wands, as they each twisted and turned their wands in identical swishes...
Slowly, but steadily, their wand movements became faster and wider until their bodies had started to shudder.
Several minutes passed, and although it wasn't evident at first, Isabella could definitely feel an odd, eerie kind of magic surround them all, enveloping them like a cucoon... She looked around at Lucius and back at the floor that had now started to rumble and tremble beneath their feet.
"What're they doing...?" she asked more to herself, only to realise for the first time since they got here that her hand was tightly wrapped in his...
"E'eryone wanted to know why the Ha'denes were so powerful," Aglæca muttered, as tears streamed down her face. "E'eryone wanted to lay their hands on the Ha'dene Heirloom. Little did they know that our secret, our heirloom was our own bloode. 'Tis what made us immortale..."
"We ar't the Ha'denes, by birthe, and by death," Leonara continued, as their wands movements got wilder and wider, causing a gust of wind to trapping them all inside of it... "O'ur child'ren will note be immortal, but o'ur legacy shallt live on..." she mumbled, plunging the others into a world of despair, but it only seemed to make them more determined to complete the mission, as their bodies started to shudder uncontrollably.
Ebonee's eyes rolled into her head, almost as if she was writhing in pain, but the four Queens did not stop.
Faster and faster became their wand movements until a tiny slit began to appear on their wrists simultaneously. Isabella frowned, trying to understand what was going on until she realised tiny drops of blood from each of their wrists began to rise up to meet at a point where they merged into one tiny scarlet drop, twisting and turning in the air...
As they continued to chant the incantation, the slit on their hands got deeper and wider and slowly, tiny droplets of blood began to trickle down their pale hands and got carried into the air where it joined a tiny whirlpool of their blood...
Their whole body shuddered painfully, as if every atom of their blood was being drawn out on the command of the spell. As they bled more, the droplets in the air grew and grew until it was at least an inch wide...
By this time, the four queens' faces seemed so stretched and wrought with pain that it was too painful to look upon. However they, stubbornly as it seemed, held on, until the last drop of blood rose from Leonara's hand and ascended slowly to merge into the now giant crimson drop at the centre. After what seemed like ages, the spell exploded at last, throwing them backwards, as the crimson drop spun uncontrollably in the air before falling on the floor with a loud Thud!
Looking into the faces of the sisters, Isabella thought they suddenly looked a bit more aged and sickly than they had until a second ago...
Irvette nursed her bleeding hand as she picked up the blood-red stone off the floor and stared into its depths.
"The Ha'dene heirloom," she whispered, allowing a slow tear to fall down her face. "P'rhaps the most pow'rful magic yond shalt ev'r existeth in the Wizarding realm until the end of Time... But thus ends our reigne of immortality..."
"Pride over e'rything else, Irvette," Leonara reminded her. "Our lives may be cut in halfe, but we still live with our heads held highe," she said straightening up to her full height, looking worn out, but still just as beautiful.
"There is no telling when we may lose our lives, dear Leonara," Irvette said. "Hence, we must assign a Keeper to protect the Stone..."
"As the oldeste, I should'st have it —" Aglæca began.
"— Pardone me, dear sister," Leonara cut in, "but I muste decline."
The others looked at her quizzically.
"Remem'er what Mother proclaimed what the traits to possess the Ha'dene Heirloom oughte to be?" Leonara continued. "He who possesses no desiree to use it, but protect it, shall't be granted the gifte," she said, looking dreamily into space, her eyes staring woefully into the darkness. "He who is unconsumed by the trappings of life, love, revenge and self shall't be the true Keeper. You, Aglæca are reckless and destructive, consumed by vengeance. Irvette," she said turning to her youngest sister, "I can foresee you committing a great crime against love, thus ar't unsuitable too. Whilst I am unprejudiced, I ar't not selfless either..."
As a clear answer, the others turned towards Ebonee Hufflepuff. "You ar't everything we ar't note, Ebonee," Leonara declared, placing the Stone firmly in her palm and closing her hand. "You ar't, henceforth, the Keeper of the Stone. You shall't protect it with your life and carry it through ages, until the Cursed Pair ar't reborn for the seventh time, as brother Everard had thus declared, and look for the rightful heir of Ha'dene to bestow upons't them the sole responsibility of protecting our blood, the Ha'dene Heirloom..." she stated, as unbridled tears of joy gushed forth from her eyes.
"Worry not, dear Ebonee, for the rightful heir of the Ha'denes can be either of our children, will't they not?" Irvette said, pointing all four of them. "Ar't we all not sisters, ar't we not descended from the same blood as our ancestors?" she said.
Ebonee flashed them a resigned smile of acceptance and nodded in Irvette's direction. "It is an h'nour," she replied, as she assumed the mammoth responsibility on her shoulders as the official Keeper of the Stone.
Isabella, who had sat on a rock nearby and watched the whole thing unblinkingly finally realised what all those unconnected events meant all along...
"The h'our has drawn to a close," Leonara whispered urgently, alerting the others once again.
"Irvette, followeth the length of the tunnel and thee shalt reache thy castle," Ebonee said, giving her younger sister's hand a good squeeze, both of them battling painful lumps in their throats as they nodded in assurance at each other.
"Mine love shall'st always be with thee. Stay bless'd always, daughters of Ha'dene," Leonara said shakily, giving her three sisters one last look, before whirling on the spot and Disapparating out of sight at once.
And in just a blink of an eye, the others clicked their fingers, and disappeared in a Blip! too, except Irvette, who stood there continuing to stare into the place where they had all stood until a second ago, steeped in sadness.
And oddly enough, although the only other person stood in the tunnel was Irvette, Isabella got a strange feeling that there was someone else in their presence — an aura that was unmissable. Isabella's heart began to pound slowly against her chest as she remembered the sounds of footsteps she had heard when they standing by the river a while ago, and a wild sense of panic raced through her.
Irvette, too, seemed to have sensed it, as she turned around and stared suspiciously into thin air. Her breaths were coming out in short spurts now, as she felt the presence of someone else in the little tunnel as Isabella did too...
And even as she whipped around and considered making a run for it, a chilling male voice spoke to her from behind.
"Doubting thy heart yet again..."
Irvette nearly choked in surprise as she whirled around to see who had said it, but she was still staring into thin air. It was almost as if she recognised that voice, a voice that she was absolutely terrified of, one that she detested to her bones...
"Who... Who is't th-th'ere...?" Irvette stammered, weakly pointing her wand into space and clutching onto her robes for dear life.
"The one consum'd mind, corse and soul by thy thoughts, fair Irvette," spoke the male voice, and just like that, an invisible veil of slippery silk seemed to slither off the head of an extremely large, bald wizard, standing in front of Irvette, and looking terrifyingly menacing to say the least.
He was gigantic to say the least, towering above them all at six feet, five inches; he wore green and silver armour, his arms were the size of mini tree trunks, his head was entirely bald and shiny; and he sported a thick beard and mustache, giving him the gruffiest look ever. There was a slash across his left eye from his forehead to his face, making him look blind on one side, coupled with numerous other scars etched across his entire body, indicating the number of wars that this giant of a wizard may have ventured into...
Irvette, who could seemed to believe her eyes, looked between the wizard and the silver-grey cloak that lay by his feet, unable to comprehend what had happened.
"How didst thee...?" she stuttered shakily, a wave of disbelief spinning her dizzy now. "What is't yond —?"
But Mávros hushed her down.
"Mine own Cloak of Invisibility," he muttered deeply, putting his hands up to calm her down.
Irvette's eyes narrowed in pure rage. "Spying... Falsing... Treachery!" she screamed , balling her hands into a fist. "Is this all the heir of Slyth'rin is acknown of?!" she shrieked, twisting her wand straight at his face, her anger bubbling out through her eyes. "Doth thee w'nt to witness a witch's MAYHEM?!" she bellowed, her voice reverberating off the tunnel's walls like an eerie banshee's howl...
"Aye," came Mávros low growl, as he nodded at the tall and slender witch. Surprisingly, however, the King of Caedesmort seemed completely unperturbed in contrast to Irvette's murderous wrath. For a woman as small as her, to go up against a beast of man like Mávros itself showed how absolutely fearless the Gryffindor queen was. "Show me thy wrath. But allow it to be thy heart's sooth, because yond's all I yearn — f'r a whiff of thy soul..."
Irvette had still not lowered her wand as she continued to glower at him, but also shrivelling on the spot that all of that blood magic minutes ago were for nothing, that death for Ebonee was certain, that Mávros would stop at nothing to get his hands on the Stone now... "How can thee liveth with thyself?" she muttered, emotions threatening to explode out of her. "With thy heart filled to the brim with filth...?"
"As a Slyth'rin heir, I believeth th're is virtue in doing the right thing the wrong way too... Sometimes..." he leered into her face, but oddly enough, seemed to show no sign of capturing her or attacking her whatsoever...
Irvette scoffed derisively. "And what wast right about what thee has't committ'd anon, L'rd Slyth'rin?" she asked, squinting dangerously at him. It was astounding how completely devoid of fear Irvette was of the Dark Lord breathing fire down upon her. "Thee claim to love me, yet thee spy on me, betray mine trust, and forswear to me? WHITHER IS THE HON'UR IN THAT?!"
"MINE HON'UR LIES IN PROTECTING THEE —!"
"— I DOTH NOT NEED PROTECTION FROM THE FOE OF MINE OWN HUSBAND!" she shrieked, stabbing him with the most savage look ever.
At once, Mávros's demeanour turned minacious-yet-rueful.
"Mine own only sine wast to alloweth mine own heart to did beat f'r thee..." Mávros growled, silently.
Irvette graced him a look of disbelief, derision exuding from her very core. "Thy sins ar't ahead of thee, L'rd Slyth'rin," she hissed, her face twitching with despair and downright hatred for the greatest wizard to have ever lived thus far. "Thy greatest sine wouldst beest at which hour thee hunt mine own sist'r down and kill h'r to proclaim the Stone, our blood, as thy own..." she said, her lips quivering in sadness.
Mávros did not say anything and insouciantly pushed her wand away as he stepped closer to her until their faces was just inches apart. Irvette did not protest either as she braved his presence.
"I has't nay such intentions," he began, frowning minaciously into her tear-ridden eyes. "I nev'r lust'd aft'r the Ha'dene heirloom as did the oth'r socer'rs. Unlike thy husband, I wouldst not rath'r murd'r thee to possesseth the heirloom either..." he rumbled, sending a thrill of shivers up Isabella's hands. "I has't nay int'rest in imm'rtality, lov'ly Irvette. As a Gryffind'r, all I pray thee is to groweth the strength in thy heart to leave thy marriage and joine thy soul with mine... Matt'rs of the heart is unbound by rules, love. The stars shalt f'rgive us if 't be true the loveth within us is pure, Irvette, I begeth of thee, doth not forswear to yourself..." he exclaimed quietly, the veins in his temple threatening to burst any second.
Irvette, who had gone cold with disbelief at the Dark Lord's words too, simply stared back in shock; and perhaps, maybe a with tiny bit of amazement too... Without another word, she drew her wand out and reached out for his hand, surprising him quite a lot in the process. But Isabella instantly knew what was happening when the Queen of Woldorin clasped her hand with his and placed the tip of her wand onto their linked hands.
"Thou ar't a decent wizard," she spluttered, as his disbelieving eyes laden with hurt met her hawk-like, grey ones. "But I impl're thee to make an Unbreakable Vow yond thee shalt not desire to possess the Stone of Imm'rtality, n'r beest a threat to Ebonee Danelle Hufflepuff's life."
It wasn't clear if Mávros was choking with undeniable emotions of gut-wrenching woe at her distrust from within, because he readily nodded, tightening his grip on her thin hand.
And just as Irvette began to ask a number of questions to seal the vow, a grey cloud of smoke wrapped around them, turning Isabella and Lucius's world upside-down yet again until ground beneath solidified once again, this time taking them to a balcony on one of the highest towers in Woldorin's castle. It was night-time and the moon shone brightly down at them.
Irvette stood on the ledge looking sombrely into the vast city that lay beneath her — she looked slightly older, as if it was at least a couple of years since the four sisters had created the Stone. Behind her stood an old, cunning-looking witch, bent double with age, clinging on to her mast to keep her upright. Next to her, on the table lay a large crystal ball, inside which remained the fading remnants of a silver-white cloud, almost as if a new prophecy had just been made.
It was a cloudless, peaceful night, but the mood in the room seemed formidable, as a disquiet lay in their wake.
"Thee has't to lift the curse upon the Gryffindor bloodline," Irvette hissed severely. "Deny my c'mmand and prepare to die at the m'rcy of my wand!"
"But, thy Highness," the old Seer mumbled shakily, "the curse is link'd to the prophecy already madeth... Lifting the curse anon shalt have catastrophic consequences, one yond couldst survive through a thousand years..."
"I DOTH NOT CARE!" Irvette screamed, whirling around at the speed of light and pointing her wand at the horror-stricken face of the Seer, her eyes widened with rage. "The future of the Gryffind'r bloodline is ALL I care about!"
"A warning is all I can giveth thee, thy Highness," the Seer insisted. "But thy w'rd is mine own hest," she said bowing low.
Perhaps, it might have been the trick of the light, but Isabella thought she actually saw the Seer smiling in glee as she was bowing.
"Lift the curse I shalt p'rform..." the old witch said, and raised her mast over the large prophecy ball that had turned pearly white once again. Muttering an incantation frantically under her breath, the old witch opened her tennis ball-sized eyes even wider and looked deeply into the swirling mist, even as a new prophecy resounded around them all once again.
'When the sky burns with fire, and the moon turns blue...
The day when the wind freezes water, and ice becomes dew...
His eye goes astray, and then there's two.
An act of sin, and a King's birth hence,
Dawns a realm shrouded in secrets whence...
A silver mist in the hue of night,
Stung with guilt, that melts in light.
Gloom prevails, but the heart beats true,
Woldorin will not have an Heir, but the blood runs through...'
The old witch's throbbing screams faded into the smoke as the final memory took shape around them, bringing them to a cemetery this time. It was night again, and the cemetery was deserted except for a lone wizard, wearing a dull, black cloak, his hood drawn over his head. The dead leaves rustled ominously over the tombstones, 'Queen Irvette A'rwyna Ha'dene-Gryffind'r, the mightiest of queens, with a heart of gold.'
Isabella went around the tombstone and looked into the lone wizard's hood to see who it was and realised it was Mávros Slytherin, fuming with rage and burning with sorrow all at the same time. It looked it had been several weeks since Irvette had died; she had been only twenty-nine years old...
"Doubt'd thy heart till the end," Mávros whispered severely, his face shaking with emotion. "Didst betray me, has't thee not? Thou ar't peaceful anon, but thee has't did bury me alive!" he hissed, visibly shaking now. "Wherefore has't thee did punish me so? O'r didst thee bethink I wouldst not res'rt to committing m're sins with thee gone? Doth thee not knoweth who is't I am?" he bellowed into the silence. "I am the Dark L'rd of the Und'rw'rld! I am Sa'tan himself..." he rumbled, as he balled his fist in mind-numbing fury.
"I curse thee," he muttered. "I curse thy blood, I curse thy son and I curse thy family F'R GEN'RATIONS TO COMETH! Thee shalt nev'r finde true love, except in seven births hence. At each of those births, thee shall beest shown two paths. Taketh the path towards Da'rian, and thee shalt p'rish at once... Seven births hence, thee shalt feele the pain yond resides in mine own heart today... I curse thee. I curse thee!" he screamed.
With a THUD! Isabella and Lucius got thrown out of the Pensieve and their feet landed back in the garden outside Malfoy Manor. Isabella's heart had not stopped hammering in chest, her head swimming with information, details she did not fathom even a tiny bit. She looked up and found Lucius battling thoughts and questions of his own...