The notice was delivered by her dear Aunt. Her father was a Bulstrode, he had been heir Secundus when he married his muggleborn wife and soiled the purity of the Bulstrode line with a halfblood, and one that looked like a muggle weight lifter not a proper delicate flower of an Ancient and Noble line. Not Most Ancient and Noble, but if she didn't look like the front half of a centaur she might have been worth marrying up into one of the Great Houses, and pull Bulstrode into the forefront.
"You are summoned to formal dinner tonight. We are graced with some esteemed company. Lord Selwin has expressed a very great interest. You know he was a victim of the Imperius Curse during the Dark Lord's rise, and is most curious to hear about your experiences with the Dark Lord." Her Aunt shivered when she spoke Dark Lord, and she licked her lips in a way that suggested she was both very aware Lord Selwin had never been under the Imperius Curse to serve Voldemort, and had as few doubts about her precious Dark Lord's cause as Selwin did.
"Bugger." Said Milicent, unknowingly quoting Hermione in a similar situation that very night.
Rising from her workbench where a bewildering array of Zonko joke shop toys and thrift store enchanted objects were in various states of sabotage, she went to her desk and penned a quick letter. She had been experimenting with using her rune Issa to stop enchantments. Some collapsed when stilled, some shut off like a switch, and resumed happily when the stasis was removed, and some were somehow destabilized by even an instant of stoppage, and she would be damned if she could figure out why. Surviving the night seemed the more urgent issue, so she would focus on that now.
"$ Family Dinner. Death Eaters invited. Noodles required for diplomacy$" She wrote in the slanted flowing script of Parletongue. Her Aunt Lydia shivered when she tried to read it. The mind of a non parseltoungue flinched from attempting to read it. Part of the whole "parselmouths are evil" reputation came from the reaction of non-speakers to the sight or sound of the language itself.
Sticking her head out the window, she gave a sharp two tone whistle, and one of the family owls swooped in.
"Gringotts, double quick. Reply requested." She said, feeding the owl a treat fortified with a strength enhancing potion. Hermione was on to something with the potion treated mice. Magical predators like post owls and rock vipers could be enhanced by potions fed to their prey, in ways their bodies could never be enhanced by potions or charms applied to them directly. Hermione would probably write a paper about it. Milicent was less driven to sharing the advantage, and this owl will need its strength.
"Milicent, you are being asked to share your experience, not being fined for breaking Dumbledore's precious school. Besides, the sum total of your trust vault wouldn't buy Lord Selwyn's shoes." Her Aunt Lydia sneered. She had married into the Bulstrode family, and had no understanding of a daughter of that house who didn't live to marry into a higher status than the half blood daughter of the former heir. She naturally assumed Milicent had no idea how rich Lord Selwyn was.
Lord Selwyn was not the highest status of the old dark families, that honour went to Lucius Malfoy, but he had been sufficiently powerful that when he claimed to be under the Imperius Curse, and offered to cover half the deficit the DMLE had accrued largely losing the war with Voldemort until he unaccountably got killed failing to murder the Boy Who Lived, no one really looked too hard to see if he was telling the truth. The war was over, rebuilding was expensive, and Dumbledore did love second chances.
Milicent turned her head most innocently, and batted her eyelashes at her Aunt in a manner that would make Daphne Greengrass blink as she recognized her own techniques replicated perfectly by the usually amazonian girl.
"But Aunty, I am sending for an accessory that will highlight that gown you bought me for the ball." MIlicent said, every facial muscle selling the idea that she didn't recognize the black gown cut far too mature for her age was little more than advertising for a quick sale of a perishable item (ie young girl of noble house) before her innate Half Blooded foolishness reduced her market value to House Bulstrode and her Lord Husband.
Aunt Lydia blinked, her train of thought derailed right off the platform and into the dragon paddock for a good torching and general breakage.
"But you refused to go to the winter ball!" Lydia said, stamping her foot in frustration.
Milicent rolled her eyes. "Right, like I am going to stop spending time with Heir Potter and Heir Longbottom just to parade in front of dozens of heirs secundus and tierce, half of whom are second and third choices for houses so minor I had to look them up. I did read the guest list. It isn't like you invited Lord Selwyn to your winter ball." Milicent said, implying that rather than ignoring political marriage, she simply would only consider do so to move rather farther UP.
To Aunt Lydia, this seemed perfectly reasonable. The idea of parading a half dressed twelve-year-old in front of a seventy-year-old (sure for wizards that was like a muggle early thirties, but still) seemed to be what any decent family would do, and for once Milicent was going to do her part.
Nodding firmly, she barked out an order.
"Trudy. Emogene!" Aunt Lydia commanded and two female house elves in quite well decorated livery appeared with a pop.
"Yes Mistress?" They said in stereo.
"Miss Milicent will be wearing the black formal gown. See to her hair styling, makeup, and see that she has appropriate shoes. She claims to have proper jewelry coming from Gringotts, but if it is insufficient to claim Lord Selwyn's interest, you have my permission to take something from the family vaults.
Aunt Lydia strode out. Trudy and Emogene were good House Elves, and liked Miss Milicent, but they obeyed Lord Lancaster and Lady Lydia his wife. Rarely did they have a chance to show Miss Milicent the care and support they felt she was owed as a daughter of the house to which they were bound.
Milicent smiled at Trudy and Emogene, she gave them a big hug. "Oh Trudy, Emogene, we are going to have such wonderful fun. Before you draw me a bath, can you open my window, and put the bed directly beneath it?"
The two house elves had no idea why one would do such a thing, but then again, the two house elves had probably never seen a magically steroid enhanced owl attempt to deliver a magical rock viper by air. Milicent understood though, presentation was all about proper attitude and accessories.
The Trudy was working on Milicent's hair, the short Quidditch hairdo that she usually sported had grown out a bit in summer, but not by that much. Milicent had an image in mind. She had been quite taken by her mother's cinema habit, and had decided that she rather liked the styles of the 1920-30's. The "flappers", had one hair style she could do, and make work. It was the finger wave updo. Her raven black hair and pale skin would draw all eyes to her bare neck and shoulders, where the shining silver runes were etched permanently into her skin.
Othala the footed diamond shape on the top of her left breast, for family. Algiz the trident of the elk horn for protection on her right, and the stark silver line of Issa. The rune of ice, of stasis, of death; nestled right above her heart.
Looking at her night black gown of iridescent scales that swooped down suggesting curves where frankly if you were looking there on a twelve-year-old you needed arresting, she knew the great sparkling flows of loose fabric would draw the eye every time she moved. Her Aunt had bought it to draw the eyes of old perverts to a young virgin, Milicent wanted to draw the eyes of a room full of confident predators to a threat that might just be enough to scare them into staying their hand.
Honestly, inside the House wards, if her uncle wanted her dead, it would happen. The confirmed Lord of House had powers that tapped upon the magics of the house and every enchantment laid by every Lord or Lady of house in their long, somewhat terrifying, history.
Anyone other than the Lord on the other hand, might well be convinced she was more powerful than she was. The Lord himself might be reminded that she wasn't just the lone half blood mistake of his brother, but one tied by blood and magic's unknown to not only two great and ancient Houses, but to whatever power overthrew the Dark Lord at his height.
A massive thump sounded as something landed perfectly on the bed, and the postal owl that was not that something skittered across the floor in an untidy and exhausted mess.
"Ah, Emogene, could you apparate this little guy up to the Owlery and give him a few treats? He is a bit done in" Milicent said smiling softly.
"$ Water Witch, I am here. Why have you summoned me. It rained! The fluffy weakling that carried me was stupider than Night Pigeon of Root Singer. It had best be important $"
Hissed Noodle imperiously from the bed where he slithered all over her sheets to get the English attempt at summer off his scales.
"Miss Milicent, there is a dangerous snaky!" Squeaked Trudy, readying her fingers to snap and dispel the clear and present danger.
"No Trudy, there is THE dangerous snaky. This is Noodle. Noodle meet Trudy and Emogene. They are here to help with the task I called you for." Milicent said, reasoning with both non human species as best she could without outright lying to either.
"$ What is the mission $" Noodle said, rising imperiously to see what trouble his less foolish than most monkey's protege was in.
"$ I am required to look beautiful, and possibly scare people. $" Milicent said.
Noodle preened. "$ You chose wisely. I am clearly the most beautiful of all, and if you are worthy to be my steed, you must clearly be the most blessed, most graceful, and most beautiful of all your poorly designed species! $" Noodle said with no irony or shame at all.
He slithered over the floor, examined her dress against his scales and nodded slowly.
"$ You have covered yourself in some scales, to show that you recognize my true beauty, thus branding you as wise. You aren't wearing many of them, showing you are humble, and you bare your runes of power, to show that you are mine and of course that I will kill any of them if they threaten you, annoy me, or I don't like the offered tribute at dinner. $"
It either amused or worried Milicent that Noodles assessment of her fashion choices and the reasonings behind it were almost perfectly in line with her own thoughts. On the other hand, it proved that she hadn't Hufflepuffed up too much during the school year.
She sent Trudy down to let her mother, father, Aunt Lydia and uncle Lancaster know that she would be making a grand enterance once she had received word that Lord Selwyn was seated. It was a minor violation of etiquette, but it was on the daring/flirtatious spectrum of maidenly excesses that Pureblood lords were encouraged to permit the unmarried debutantes to distract them from the fact that their fate and other commodity prices were discussed over brandy in the same financial terms at those same gatherings.
Lord Selwyn sat at the head of the table, which was a major violation of etiquette, as in the Lord's Hall the Lord sat at the head, even if the Supreme Mugwump himself came calling. Of course among Death Eaters, this rule did not hold. Lord Voldemort sat at the head of every table, and those who spoke in his name did so as well.
Lord Lancaster and Lady Lydia sat to his right in the places of honour. There was an empty place to his direct left, where Milicent would have the (dubious) honour of sitting for her interrogation. Her father Avery and mother Danica sat just down from her, then the Yaxleys on the right, the Parkinsons on the left, two Mulcibers and the Quincy heir on the right. It was a real whose who of unverified, un-jailed, and unashamed Death Eaters.
"Good of you to host us Lancaster." Said Lord Selwyn smoothly. He enjoyed watching Lord Lancaster swallow his indignation on being forced from his own seat. Lord Lancaster never took the Death Eater oath, as his late father died opposing the Dark Lord during the last war. His sympathies were rather dependent on the Dark Lord's chances, but if nothing else the Death Eaters had proven that no one could protect you from them if you defied them. In a war fought with stunners and bindings versus killings and torture, no one worried about offending the side with stunners.
"I trust your daughter will be down shortly" Lord Selwyn smirked. He would have what he needed, then what he wanted. That was the privilege of the strong among the weak after all. The Dark Lord was returning, and people needed reminding of what that meant.
"Not my brother's daughter, Lord Selwyn. Mine." Said Avery Bulstrode, turning slightly to let the light flash upon his Auror badge.
Lord Selwyn turned to match glares with the upstart who thought a single Auror had any chance of stopping a half dozen sworn Death Eaters from doing as they chose. Yes. It was past time people remembered how a hundred Death Eaters were enough to paralyze Europe and bring Britain to its knees.
The pop of a House Elf arriving stopped the budding confrontation as she made a quiet announcement, and drew all eyes to the dining room enterance.
"Miss Milicent Bulstrode!" Emogene announced in a high fluting House Elf voice, and all conversation stopped.
Milicent had a shining wing of wavy black hair in a finger wave updo secured with a great silver Slytherin serpent. Her black gown was iridescent black scales, swooping deeply in front with folds of fabric that caught the eye as they crossed her young chest.
Her eyes were heavily made up in dark, gothic fashion, and her lips were black as death and smiling with the slow sultry awareness that every eye was on her, and that she knew things that none of them could dream of.
Silver runes of power flashed and sparkled, flaring as they flashed with power as she stepped into the inner wards of the dining room and the House Wards reacted to her blood right and magic. A dozen voices, including her parents, hissed in shock to see such a barbaric and forbidden display of non-human power on the flesh of a noble daughter of a dark house.
Those voices stilled when the black serpent decoration wrapped around her arms and torso like some sort of muggle feather boa made of onyx raised its head and hissed.
It was a living Rock Viper, a magical snake only less dangerous than the basilisk, and it too bore goblin silver runes on its flesh that flashed with magical power as it turned to regard the assembled nobles.
"$ Which ones are your parents, Water Witch? $" Hissed Noodle imperiously.
Milicent turned and pointed to Avery and Danica Bulstrode and hissed in parsletongue to Noodle, watching the shock and horror cross the faces of the assembled Death Eaters as Voldemort's most singular claim to rule the Purebloods, the gift of Salazar Slytherin was demonstrated by a Half Blood from a family with no history of every holding the gift.
"$ This is my father Avery, and my mother Danica $" She hissed to Noodle, stroking his coiling and deadly flesh as the Death Eaters grew as still as one did before the Dark Lord himself.
"$ Tell them they have pleased me by birthing you. They will live $" Noodle said, nodding to each slowly in turn.
With a cold grin and eyes as empty as the depths of space, she translated Noodle's words.
As Lord Yaxley choked in fury, he finally snarled a response, probably assisted by being on the other side of table and presumably out of range.
"You half blooded upstart CHILD. You dare?" He sputtered.
Milicent looked at the chair that Lord Selwyn had pulled back for her prior to her enterance and slid gently into it. Noodle curved around the seat back and loomed above her like the Sword of Damocles, if the sword threatened everyone at the feast except Damocles.
"Mine I think." Milicent said, sliding into the chair and pulling it into the table. She smiled at Lord Lancaster.
"An honour as always to sit at YOUR table, my Lord Uncle." Milicent said, making it clear who she believed rightly ruled in this place. She was supposed to be prey here, and they had come to make sport of prey. They must be taught otherwise, or the very real power differential between them, magical, monetary, and legal, would snuff her out in a heartbeat.
Authority is an illusion, a shadow cast by fear upon the soil of weakness that allows it a foothold. This was one of the sayings of Salazar Sytherin, but oddly, not one the House Masters had ever put up on the common room wall. It wouldn't do to have those not born to power questioning its foundations after all.
Turning to Lord Yaxley, she smiled and hissed.
"$ Power dares, weakness excuses, cowardice mocks. $" Milicent hissed, and Noodle nodded sagely, responding simply with "$ Correct. $"
Milicent translated. "Power dares, weakness excuses, cowardice mocks." "It sounds better in the original Parseltongue, but even in English it's true." Milicent offered to Yaxley, quite enjoying having disrupted whatever script the Death Eater cabal had in mind for her. Whatever it was, she didn't imagine she would enjoy the ending.
"You think to quote the Dark Lord's words to us? We who knew him, and sat by his right hand?" Snarled Lord Parkinson.
Milicent cut off a bit of steak, a bit rare for her tastes, but perfect for some. She held it up on her fork, and Noodle stripped it off with a strike that shut Lord Parkinson up rather neatly.
She took a mushroom, a bit of mashed potato and a better done bit of steak and chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"Are we all done pretending Sirius Black somehow put you all under the Imperius to be Death Eaters, some of you when he was younger than me according to the timeline. Besides, they are Salazar Slytherin's words. He left them in Parletongue written in the Great Hall for any of his successors to read. Not my fault Voldemort lied about writing them. Anyone with the gift could read them." Milicent said, a less than subtle reminder that Harry Potter, was also known to have the gift. She took a bit of the red wine. She was never allowed wine. If she got murdered tonight, at least her last drink would be really good wine.
"Ah yes, the Dark Lord's own words." Lord Selwyn said, drawing the conversation back to his aims, his needs, and most importantly, his control.
"Rumour has it, and we do hear rumours from every department in the Ministry and of course from the faculty of Hogwarts, that you personally heard the Dark Lord's words." Lord Selywn said softly.
"Those of us who suffered so terribly under the Imperius Curse are of course most interested in what the Dark Lord said about his return, and his plans."
Lord Selwyn said, mouthing the lie that set most of the table to quiet laughter, but made her father's lips draw into a tight white line. His hands gripping his table knife like he yearned for his wand. He was not lord here, nor a match for half a dozen death eaters with his wife and daughter in the crossfire.
Milicent laughed. "It was funny hearing him speak. He spoke to us in Parseltongue, then lied to Quirrell about the translation. He uses his people worse than House Elves, because House Elves are actually hard to replace and expensive. Idiot purebloods willing to die for him are so much cheaper." Milicent said coldly, letting her contempt for the Death Eaters flower fully in the open
"Stupify" Said Lord Selwyn, the light touch of his hand on Noodle's body enough to conduct the spell wandlessly.
"Enough girl, you will give us all your secrets, and when you leave here, you will indeed discover how many things you can be made to do under the Imperius curse. We will have a use for all your little friends in bringing the Dark Lord back to his rightful place." Hissed Lord Selwyn.
His wand flashed out, and the will of one of the inner circle Death Eaters slammed into Milicent Bulstrode.
He slammed into her mind and vanished in a sea of night black coils, everywhere he turned he found only impenetrable black scales and hissing laughter. The girl's and the snakes. His body remained frozen as his mind was lost inside the prison formed of snakes and hunger.
Milicent on the other hand fished her wand from the upside down holster in her dress back and pressed it experimentally into the Dark Mark on Lord Selwyn's wrist. Hissing in parlselmagic, she put all of her power into the name of the rune, the essence of Issa, of stasis, of ice, and of death. She had no idea what kind of magic was bound in the dark mark, if she had a dozen years she would never be able to master it, maybe Hermione in the same time, but not her.
She didn't have to understand how the power flowed or what it did to understand her own rune though. To understand stillness. The silence at the end of every song, the emptiness after the last heartbeat. Before the primordial explosion that created being, there was and ever had been only silence and stillness. Even now, behind the veil of motion, light, and material, the essence of the universe remembered nonbeing. Remembered stillness, silence, and emptiness.
"$ Issa $" She hissed, letting the primal power of the void flow into Lord Selwyn's dark mark through her wand. Her runes blazed with power, the white slash of her ice rune in her mid chest blazed like cold fire and Lord Selwyn screamed, and dissolved into black smoke and cold ash.
The Death Eaters in the room grew still. Only one person had ever killed like that. When the Dark Lord removed his favour, that is how you died. He used it as punishment to his Death Eaters when they assembled together to impress upon them that those who bore his mark were his forever.
"$ That stupify spell hurt me Water Witch. I am well pleased that you killed him for it!$" Noodle hissed, angry, but quite unstunned by the late Lord Selwyn's spell.
"$ Honestly, I didn't know what it would do. I still don't know what it did. I would have to do it again a few times to really if this is the result of the Dark Mark stopping reporting to Voldemort, or just some sort of failsafe against taking it off. $" Milicent said, nerves making her babble.
"$ Water Witch, stop playing Mouse Giver, and remind the prey they should be running. Some of them might remember they too can fight.$" Noodle reminded her, slithering onto the table to bring Lord Yaxley into range of fang and consequence.
"Does anyone else think to raise hand or wand against a daughter of Bulstrode House beneath its own wards and before its own Lord?" Milicent said haughtily. When in doubt, appeal to tradition and pride. It was a spinal reflex, bypassing the brain altogether with the purebloods.
Lord Lancaster rose and made a ceremony about blotting his lips with a napkin before drawing himself up fully, hand well away from his wand, and staring down his not inconsiderable nose at his guests.
"I find the actions of Lord Selwyn have violated the hospitality of my hall, and offered insult to a daughter of my House. I rescind my invitation. You may leave now." Lord Lancaster said, noting that Avery, Danica, and even Lydia had rose, wands in hand to face down the table.
"$ Leave now $" Milicent hissed, letting her power lend those words a touch of Legimancy mental command. The push was not powerful enough to overcome the will of an adult wizard, but to Death Eaters, the compulsion woven into a command in Parseltongue brought back memories of the Dark Lord's commands, even as the drifting black ash of the dead lord Selwyn reminded them of his puishments. Pursued by the ghosts of power no one in that hall commanded, they fled.
Milicent collapsed to the table, and Noodle wrapped himself around her.
"Bloody hell, I thought I was going to pee myself. Instead, I don't think I will be able to pee for a week. I don't think I have ever been that scared. Even facing Voldemort." Milicent said, face pressed into the table.
Noodle rubbed his face against her gently. "$ That was your first kill. It is always terrifying. Eat some of the prey beast in sauce. You should always feast after your first kill. $" Noodle urged her.
Milicent started laughing. Her life coach and psychological counsellor was a magical Rock Viper. She really was in trouble. Rubbing Noode with her cheek, she cut them both a bit of steak, her own with a speared mushroom and bit of mashed potatoes for texture.
Lord Lancaster sat down, took a big breath and small sip of wine.
"I think, on balance, it is time we rethought our position on the return of He Who Must Not Be Named." Lord Lancaster said, and Lady Lydia shot a worried glance at him. With a gesture to Emogene.
"Emogene, be a dear and box up Lord Selwyn. Find an urn or something. Nothing too expensive. Something basic. He did die an enemy of this House." Said Lord Lancaster, moving his own chair back to the head of the table.
"So," said Lord Lancaster to his neice, finally looking at her as a potent and contributing member of the House, not a pretty adornment to be auctioned off for short term political gain.
"Tell me about your friends." Lord Lancaster said softly, pointedly looking at Noodle and the runes burned and woven into her flesh.
Milcent looked up and asked softly. "Not about Voldemort?"
Lord Lancaster made a sweeping gesture, oddly similar to what Emogene had made to stuff dead Death Eater into an urn. "No no. I remember his lot well enough from before. Tell me about my options."
Milcent realized how Pureblood customs were really more grounded in practicality than Hermione, Harry, or even Neville would credit. The time it took to gently cut and chew a piece of medium steak, with a rarer bit for her snake, allowed her time to properly form an frame her thoughts.
Only a Griffindor would face Voldemort alone. Probably die doing it to, most likely while failing. Her Hufflepuff friends knew enough to face him with their friends beside them. She however was Slytherin. Power coiled in the shadows, formed in the needs, desires, and fears of those who would not act on their own, who must be driven to act by one with the wit and the will to convince them that their only safety, salvation, or satisfaction came from striking when and where you directed them.
Wars are started by true believers, but they are mostly won by people tricked into offering their own blood and treasure to do someone else's will. Time to get Slytherin about this, and start those shadows dancing to her tune.