Welcome one and all to another chapter of The Philosophy of Fear. In which it's mostly an interlude chapter about what's happening across the pond in jolly old England.
On with the show.
Her father had always been odd, fea-touched her mother used to call him whenever he would forget his wand somewhere or swear he saw a Moon Frog or a Heliopath. But being odd wasn't a bad thing, some of the best people she knew were quite odd, even she was a bit odd at the end of the day. It was because her father was odd that she first didn't notice, she thought it was just another oddity that her father was now doing being fea-touched and all. He borrowed her paints to black out the windows all around the house, it wasn't the first time he had done so when he thought Cornelius Fudge's shadow man was after him.
"Just for a few days, sweety. Then we'll take it down, okay?" He had told her with tiny cracks forming in his eyes. But a few days ago was weeks ago, and still the paint remained.
In the sitting room, just past the hall sat an old empty bookshelf, and behind that bookshelf was a door. A door that stayed hidden and locked to keep all the painful memories down in the deep, dark cellar where her mother once worked.
Her father had begun pacing in front of that door to where her mother's workshop had once sat, arguing with it or with someone. She first found her father pacing one night, talking to himself in whispers and mutters as he was prone to do when writing for his magazine. But now, someone was whispering back to him in a familiar female voice, she had only listened once before making her way back to her room to hide under her covers.
The Morrígan, The Ministry of Magic, July 13th 1996.
She sat in one of the minor court rooms that was used by the Department of Magical Education in the Ministry. It was a small room barely able to fit a hundred sitting people on the news that filled the room. A large wooden table sat at the front of the room big enough to seat three people as the room was illuminated by witchlights. A large stone fireplace sat on one side of the room flickering with green flames, with a large double door of oak and brass toward the back and opposite direction of the large table. A lector stood proud just a little ways in front of the walkway in the middle of the rows of pews. It was a bland and boring room lacking the majesty and history that The Morrígan was used to sitting in the high seats of the Wizengamot Hall. But what she was here for was not a matter for The Wizengamot to debate and argue over for the next few weeks, no, it was arguably far more important that some law.
She sat in the second row in her guise of Talia Peverell, while she was now considered the only candidate for Minister of Magic to the masses, only the highest echelons of government knew of who and what she was. The Wizengamot, the Heads of Departments, and other key individuals were the only ones who knew and were pretty thoroughly threatened into keeping it to themselves.
She was checking her crimson nails for any imperfections, chips, or cracks in them as people filtered into the small courtroom. It was going to be a cramped hearing, not that it surprised her all that much, seeing that this was probably one of the most important hearings in the last ten years. In the front row of the pews were the ones she most expected to be in attendance, Andromeda, Edward, and Nymphadora Tonks all sat near the end of the pew. The young Auror has been turning her head to glare at her every few minutes, no doubt thinking she was here to cause trouble of some kind. The Morrígan took each opportunity to coyly smile and wave at the Metamorphmagus just to watch the girl get closer and closer to bursting a blood vessel in her eye.
The next couple down wasn't all that big of a surprise to The Morrígan, Molly and Arthur Weasley. The matriarch of the Weasley family's face was like stone, her jaw set and her eyes were enraged with fire as she looked forward with her head held high. To Molly's emotional opposite was her husband, the man had a stoic smile on his face as he held his wife's hand. Arthur would look around the courtroom, waving and nodding toward people he knew or worked with from time to time. To The Morrígan they looked to be a friendly and deeply caring couple of many years and children that she knew that Cliodhna favored for being such a close nit and loving family with the single exception.
On the opposite side of the isle sat the Malfoy family, Narcissa, Lucius, Draco, and the lying little harlot, Delphini. The Morrígan detested liars, sure, she may twist her words, give none answers, or allow people to assume things but she had not outright lied to anyone after all, she couldn't. So when the little harlot did nothing but lie to her champion, she got a little…testy with Delphini and spilled her little secret.
Dumbledore was also in the courtroom though for far different reasons than the three families in the front row. No, the man was standing and talking with Amelia Bones and Mason Van-Fem, the heads of The Department of Magical Law Enforcement and The Department of Magical Education respectively. The three of them made up the triumvirate for the legal hearing that The Morrígan found herself attending, though she was attending as a back up plan at the very most and watching the unfolding drama at the very least.
Other than the main players in the front row, many more minor nobles and families were among the pews as well as a few media people sitting in the very back of the room. The room was cramped and packed full of people looking to grab glory by proxy, getting their hands on the vast amount of gold on the line, or from families that secretly support Voldemort or just wanted a way to avoid his wrath when the time came. The importance of the hearing and the mass amount of people in the room called for a small number of Aurors to guard and keep the peace. The six members of the Auror force lined the far walls with sharp eyes and cold looks as they searched the crowd for any threats. They weren't alone either, from where The Morrígan sat in the second row she could feel the luminous power of Lugh somewhere behind her.
Why Lugh, of all gods, was in the courtroom, she had no idea. But he hasn't done anything but watching the mortals around him and sneaking pulls from his hip flask, so The Morrígan decided to mind her own business unless Lugh did something foolish. Albus, Amelia, and Mason finally moved toward the large table at the head of the pews and took their seats. Albus took the right seat, Amelia took the left seat while Mason took the middle seat. Mason lays out the parchment work over his section of the table before picking up the gavel that sat on the table and striking it against the desk.
"I call this court to order, please, everyone in attendance, if I could have you all take a seat so we may begin," Mason says, his magically enhanced voice rolling through the room as if he shouted over the loud crowd. Mason Van-Fem was the son of immigrants from the Wizarding World War, his parents were smart enough to see where the bones were rolling and got the hell out of France before it fell to Hitler and Grindelwald blitzkrieg tactics. He was a thin man with graying hair and a razor thin mustache and combed back hair, his brown eyes were soft as the wrinkles and crow's feet from his age were just now beginning to show. He was dressed in pale red robes with a soft cream under suit as he gave off an air of someone genuinely trying to help. The Morrígan likes Mason Van-Fem for the simple reason that he was forward with what he wanted to do and bluntly honest with everything in his life.
The crowd quiets down and soon finds their seats as Mason's eyes sweep over the gathered masses with a look of subtle annoyance. The man found the circus in front of him utterly ridiculous to have over what was on his docket today. With the want to get this horse and pony show in front of him over with as soon as possible he bangs his gavel once more to call the court to order.
"I call the Family Division of The Wizengamot to order for the placement of one Harry James Potter, heir to both the noble house of Potter and the most ancient and most noble house of Black as of-" Mason says, his voice strong and clear as he lifts his wrist to check his watch. "-Ten thirty-two AM on July ninth of the year nineteen ninety six," he says before making a note on the parchment in front of him and banging his gavel once more.
"Before we move on to the case itself and the statements of the generous families that have put their name forward to give Mister Potter a home, I have a few announcements I would like to make," Mason says as he clasps his hands together in front of him and adopts a stern look. "Do to the inherent…political nature of this hearing and the renown that Mister Potter has attached to him do to being who he is, our clerks in the Department of Magical Education have been working nearly none stop for the past four days sorting through the vast amount of families that put forth their names to take the boy in," he says with measured words as he looks out over the crowd. "While I thank every one of the families who put their names forward for the generous act of wanting to open their doors to a child, I'm afraid to say that we have rejected almost ninety percent of the submitted parchmentwork," he says with a stern face and much to displeasure of some of the crowd.
"We are only looking at four families today to place Mister Potter with. The rest of you will be receiving letters in the owl post as to what reason you were not considered in this matter. I am very sorry for those who had taken times out of their no doubt busy schedules to come here today. That being said, unless you become a hindrance to this due process, you are more then welcomed to stay, otherwise you will be removed from my court," Mason says, his hard eyes sweeping over the courtroom to find anyone contentious enough to speak up so he could have them hauled off. Thankfully, none stood up to cause a scene in the house of law.
"Excellent, I now turn to one of my esteemed colleagues for an announcement on his part. Headmaster?" Mason asks, turning to the Headmaster of Hogwarts with a rised brow, as if he wanted to know what Dumbledore has to say.
"Thank you Mason," Albus says with a dip of his head in a show of respect before he stands and folds his arms in front of him. "As you all may are aware, the Headmaster of Hogwarts has always been given a place in the Family Division of the Wizengamot courts due to how involved the professors of Hogwarts are in most of the lives of the children that are normally involved in these cases. We are able to collect first hand statements of those professors and the childrens peers to help inform the courts as to what the best course of action should be," he says, informing those who didn't know one of the many responsibilities of the Headmaster of Hogwarts.
"But, in lue of my position, I feel that I am far too close to this particular case, in both my personal feelings and political beliefs. So, I will be excusing myself from this esteemed body and stepping aside," Albus says much to the hushed whispers of the cramped courtroom. Dumbledore pauses for a moment to allow the commotion to calm down and the flashes of the photographers to stop before speaking again. "I have personally made a few mistakes when it has come to the placement of the child in question in the past, ones I do not wish to repeat-" he says as The Morrígan hears the matriarch of the Weasley family mutter too true under her breath in anger. "-But I will remain in the court if Judge Van-Fem and Director Bones wish to ask for my opinion, but nothing more," he says with a nod before turning his head and nodding once more toward the two he had just named.
"We understand Albus, and thank you for your honesty and transparency in this matter. You may take a seat," Mason says as he gestures to the crowd in front of them while Amelia also nods her head in understanding. Dumbledore steps from behind the large desk with his hands folded behind his back, his pomegranate colored robes fanning out as he does, and makes his way over to The Morrígan.
"My Lady," he says with a respectful bob of his head. "Do you mind terribly if I sit with you?" He asks, raising one white eyebrow in question to her. The Morrígan merely gestures to the free spot next to her in agreement before Albus squeezes past her and takes his seat calmly. The next hour and a half is a bore to The Morrígan, she watches as one by one the families that the Department of Magical Education saw as good fits and had a good case to take Harry in and plead their cases.
Andromeda and Edward Tonks spoke of their connection to Sirius Black, how she, Andromeda, was his closest cousin to the man. They spoke of how they had taken Harry in not two years ago for the last few weeks of summer vacation and their interactions with him. They spoke of what they wanted to do in the future for him, emancipation. If the Tonks family attined custody of Harry, they would formally submit the legal parchmentwork that would allow Harry to be recognized as an adult in the eyes of the law while also helping him with whatever he needed. Both freedom and support for the boy who had lost so much in the last few weeks. Mason listened to them, asking questions when necessary and making notes before thanking them for their time and sending them back to their seats.
The next people to be called up was the Weasley family. They spoke of the long friendship that her youngest son had with the boy who lived, how Harry had spent numerous summers with them. Molly spoke from her heart, how she was worried about Harry, how she cares for him and at one point even calling him her son. Molly spoke of Lily and James, Harry's parents and how they called them friends during the closing years of the last blood war and wanted nothing more than to see their child happy and taken care of. The woman wore her heart on her sleeve and spoke with such protective ferocity that even The Morrígan was hard pressed to deny it. Molly Weasley was nothing less than a mother who would fight tooth and nail for her children, be them hers or the ones she sees as hers.
Arthur, however, spoke with a calmness that The Morrígan had come to expect from a man dealing with fools and mundane contraptions all day. His words were soft and patient, being able to calm his wife from going off on a tirade with nothing more than a gentle touch and whispered words. When Arthur did speak his words, no matter how soft, were heard by all. He was a father, plain and simple, he was loving but firm and chose his words carefully as he spoke about Harry. His pride in the boy and not from the grand titles thrusted upon Harry, no he spoke of watching Harry grow, of his academic achievements and his skills on the Quidditch pitch, of how Harry was thrusted into impossible situation after impossible situation only to rise above it all. Arthur spoke of Harry not as the world saw him, but of who the boy truly was. Kind, caring, and fiercely protective of those Harry had grown close to.
The Weasleys' speech was moving, even to The Morrígan and she could see why Cliodhna has favored them.
Mason didn't interrupt them as much as the Tonks family, letting the Weasley family pour their hearts out to him as he nodded along and made notes. The Morrígan didn't doubt the man could see the same things that she could see in the couple and their earnest and honest love they held for Harry Potter. If it wasn't for what was coming, The Morrígan didn't doubt that the Weasley family would leave the ministry this day with custody of one more child.
The next person Mason called to speak was the Malfoy family. Narcissa, ever prim and proper, spoke of family ties and the importance of lineage, of how the next head of the House of Black should be raised by the last true member of the House of Black. She spoke of the importance of heritage and respecting the past and where they had come from, as well as the very public relationship that her niece, Delphini Lastrange, has with Harry. Only for the girl in question, who looked as miserable as The Morrígan hoped she felt, to flinch slightly at the mention.
But something felt…off to The Morrígan. Narcissa Malfoy was a convincing and charming woman that could talk a spider out of its web when needed. But her speech lacked that air to it, as if she put none of her personality into it and was blandly reading off a script that she distested. Mason could see it as well, his eyes narrow as he took no notes nor asked a single question to either Narcissa or Lucius. He had gone so far as to cut Lucius off before he even got a few short sentences into his argument and thanked them for their time before sending them back to their seats.
The Morrígan turns to look at Dumbledore, but even the wizened Headmaster had narrowed eyes and a frown at Narcissa's speech. Albus' eyes follow the Malfoy couple back to their seats as The Morrígan turns to look at them to witness yet another oddity. When Lucius and Narcissa sit down, Lucius tries to wrap an arm around his wife's, but Narcissa deftly and subtly rebukes him and clasp her hands in her lap before turning slightly away from Lucius. The man in question takes the snub in stride and doesn't remark or force anything, but by the way he grips his cane he is far more enraged than his face and actions give away. Even Draco and Delphini look at the two with confusion, fear, and uncertainty. But before The Morrígan can ask Albus for his thoughts on the matter, Mason Van-Fem speaks up to call the last person to the lector.
"Lady Tailia Peverell," Mason announces, catching The Morrígan's attention. "You will be the last person to speak before me and Madam Bones retire to debate our judgement," he says as he places his forearms on the table.
"But, of course-'' She feels it. A shadow of unrelenting power entering the ministry, strong and steady steps carrying it towards the courtroom. "-your honor," The Morrígan says with a growing smile before standing. She turns to look at Lugh in the back row, he has turned to look at the door and sighs out in relief as The Morrígan sighs inwardly, not wishing for it to show on her face. She takes slow and careful steps toward the podium, her smile never falling before standing before it.
"First, allow me to thank the Family Division of the Department of Magical Education for considering me for taking in Mister Potter as family," she says with a slight pause as Mason nods his head toward her to both accept and to ask her to continue. "And with that thanks, I wish to be completely honest with you and this esteemed body. I did not put my name forward for the love of the boy like the Weasley family did, or dedication to the late Lord Black like his cousin has. I confess that I merely wish to see the boy safe from the enemies that rally against him," she says, watching as Mason raises a thin eyebrow toward her.
"Do you care to elaborate on that, Lady Peverell?" Mason asks calmly, but by the look in his eye he already knew what she spoke of.
"Let us not play the ignorant game, your honor, it is below us and the matter of discussion," The Morrígan says, pausing slightly to allow all the attention in the room to turn to her. "The known terrorist, Tom Riddle, also known by the moniker of Lord Voldemort, has returned," she says bluntly, ignoring the gasps from the mortals behind her and bearly fights off the urge to roll her eyes.
"And he will be coming for Harry Potter sooner or later for the very reason we have enjoyed these last fourteen years of peace," The Morrígan says, her voice steady and clear as it carries to the back of the room where the press stand. "Because Harry Potter defeated him when he was just a babe in the crib. Because Lord Voldemort is afraid of the power Harry Potter has, and rightfully so," she says, adding on the last bit to add speculation to the papers that would no doubt sell out because of this hearing.
"And how would you see the boy safe if that is the case, Lady Peverell?" Amelia Bones asks, one brow raised over her monocle
"That is by far the most simple thing of all this," The Morrígan answers smoothly. "The boy already has the best protection at the moment and I would elect not to remove him from it, the townhouse-" she begins to say, and thanks the domains that she was cut off before she reveals too much, when the door to the courtroom opens. She turns, her face was the picture of surprise when she does, to find Scáthach walking into the courtroom with crimson eyes blazing looking to all the world as a woman on a mission. The Witch-Queen was dressed in her customary black dress with a red and black bratt hanging over one shoulder and secured with the symbol of the Fianna, and in one hand was a simple rolled up scroll.
The voices from the hidden door didn't stop and as the weeks went on her father got odder and odder. Mail piling up on his desk unanswered, going without shaving and taking baths only in the pond on property while fully dressed. Writing on full rolls of parchment as his handwriting got messier and messier to the point where it was nothing but spirals near the bottom. But it wasn't an article or a story that her father wrote in long and loopy cursive set in thick red ink, but a poem, one that had seemed to get lodged in his head.
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a woman who wasn't there
She wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish she'd go away…
On and on it went drawn in red ink and spirals, it worried her to no end and when she thought to tell her cat the truth she found her father had thrown it out. Spreading salt across the thresholds and windowsills while hanging iron horseshoes above each of the entrances to keep her cat away. It was the first real time she felt afraid of her father and his whispering door that started to smell faintly of blood. She wanted to write to someone for help, she wanted to write to Harry, for she knew, deep down, in misty memories that were not hers that he would come. Harry would stop whatever he was doing just to charge across the world to save her, to kick down the door and let the shadow with Fathomless eyes that walked in his shadow take everything that would think to hurt her.
Her only problem was that she couldn't find a quill, nor a pen, or a feather, or any of her brushes. Nothing that she could use to write, she found the charred remains of them in her father's office along with a single black feather quill dripping thick red ink.
She now knew why her father had taken to wearing gloves and long sleeve red robes…
The Morrígan.
The hearing didn't last much longer after Scáthach had shown up, the apprenticeship contract she had with her was all that was needed. A clause in the contract named her the legal guardian of Harry, something that was signed in blood by Scáthach, Harry, and Sirius Black before his death. Though that last one The Morrígan was sure the Witch-Queen had forged herself just in case anyone would try and speak out against it. Of course some of the minor nobles did, not liking the thought of the Grandmaster of the Circle of the Fianna having custody of a national hero. But there was little they could do against Scáthach and the iron-clad contract the Witch-Queen had her hands on.
But now with that minor concern passing and her prophesied hero secured at the moment, The Morrígan was free to turn her attention to other important matters.
This is why she stood, some twenty feet away from where Scáthach was as she was talking to Arthur and Molly Weasley. The couple knew for a fact that Harry wasn't in hiding on the islands like Dumbledore reported to the ministry. If the boy was, he would be at Grimmauld Place behind the fortress like wards, but he wasn't.
"If you could just tell us where he is, we're worried. Neither Ron or Hermione has been able to get a hold of him, and we don't know if he's ignoring their letters of what," Molly says quickly, her face pinched with worry and anxiety while talking to Scáthach as Arthur arm was over his wife's shoulder in a show of support.
"Please Lady Árd-Greimne, all we want to know is if he's okay, if he's safe, and if it isn't too much trouble, to write to him," Arthur says calmly, the skin around his eyes bunching from the look of his own worry he was giving to Scáthach.
The Witch-Queen sighs out before looking around for a moment and leaning in toward Molly and Arthur. "Harry isn't on the isles at the moment, he is with the Hunters of Artemis in America," she whispers softly and The Morrígan watches as Arthur relaxes a bit at the news. Though Molly still looks like she wants to say something, Scáthach holds up a hand to cut her off before she can speak. "If you have anything you wish to send to Harry, just send it to me at Hogwarts and I'll make sure it gets to him, I promise," she says with a small smile gracing her lips.
"Thank you, Lady Árd-Greimne," Molly says with wet eyes and a smile as she curls herself against her husband.
"Please, just call me Scáthach or Professor if anything else. I have a dislike for titles," the Witch-Queen says with a smile of her own. Scáthach and the Weasley's share pleasant goodbyes before her attention fully turns to The Morrígan with a frown. "And what do you want?" She says shortly as she walks over to The Morrígan, her frown never leaving her face.
The Morrígan does nothing but folds her arms behind her back as Scáthach walks up to her. "I just wish to inform you that I will be calling a meeting of all of us soon, I expect you to be in attendance," she says flatly to Scáthach. The Witch-Queen's face begins to twist into something rebellious as it normally did when The Morrígan asked anything of her. But to the Queen of the Celtic Gods surprise, the look stops before it could spread to Scáthach's eyes before she sighs.
"That is…fine," Scáthach says with some difficulty to The Morrígan, causing the Washer in the Fens to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "I had wished to bring something up when I next met with the others, so this will do nicely if we can get everyone in the same room," she says as her shoulders relax as the Witch-Queen crosses her arms beneath her breasts.
"Oh? And what would that be?" The Morrígan asks, genuinely curious about what Scáthach wanted for there wasn't much the Witch-Queen could not do or get herself.
"It's something that will no doubt cause an argument among us, but you have my word I am not doing anything malicious," Scáthach states, looking The Morrígan in the eye. The washer frowns at the lack of information, but nods, she would find out soon enough. If it had anything to do with the war at their doorstep, The Morrígan would rather have Ence around just in case. It was then that Lugh came meandering out of the courtroom and into the busy halls of the Ministry, Scáthach turned to him and offered him a short nod which Lugh returned.
"Scáthach," the God of justice greets the Witch-Queen. "Hell of a good showing ya did in there, and with the Weasleys as well, twas kind of ya," he says with a small smile of his handsome face.
Scáthach merely shrugs at his words. "I wasn't about to let my students be dangled over man eating bottom feeders when I can do something about it. And Molly and Arthur have been nothing but welcoming and loving to Harry, so I don't see any reason to cut them off from him," she answers easily. "But what I am curious about is what you were doing here, Lugh?" She asks the Sun God who squirms a bit under her blood red gaze.
"Oh, you know- just looking out," Lugh says bashfully as he scratches the back of his head while looking away from Scáthach. Both the Witch-Queen and The Morrígan chuckle a bit at Lugh's reaction.
"Did you hear what I told Scáthach?" The Morrígan asks only to see Lugh nod his head.
"Aye, I did. When?" He asks.
"In a week's time," The Morrígan informs him. "We need to discuss what our plans are for our enemies before they start," she says, a frown appearing on her face at the thought of what was to come. Albus chooses this moment to make himself known, sweeping out of the courtroom with his arms folded behind his back and an inquisitive look on his face.
"Before they start?" Albus asks as he joins their little gathering, his eyes flicking between them all. "Before who starts what, My Lady?" He asks, sounding as respectful as possible for a mortal who stepped into a discussion between gods. But as The Morrígan opens her mouth to either tell him or reprimand him for his actions, she wasn't sure which one yet, another even more unwelcomed voice answers him.
"Why before we begin our frenzy," a voice as smooth as silk says as the three Dé Danann all swiftly turn to their unwelcome guest. Dressed in fine white and gold robes with a black top hat with a red band around it was the Father of Puppets, Bres. "I dare say that The Morrígan knows more than anyone else what we Formorians are capable of doing to a population of the fearful," he says with a slick smile.
"You," Lugh says with the heat of his rage in his voice and moving to step forward no doubt to rip the Spider apart. But The Morrígan reaches out and grabs him by that arm and pulls him back.
"Not here, you fool," she hisses in a whisper at Lugh as she glared at him. "Too many mortals would be caught in the crossfire between you two," she tells him and thankfully, after a moment when rage spreads across Lugh's face, he sighs angrily before stepping back. "What are you doing here, Bres?" The Morrígan spits with contemptment at the Spider. Bres just chuckles at their reactions to him before he leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest.
"I've heard some many wonderful things about this place-," Bres says, gesturing around him at the Ministry. "-and I just wanted to come by and check it out myself and I must say, these mortals really do set up an appetizing meal," he says hungrily as he flashes his shark-like teeth to them. He turns, looking over the crowd with a cold, cruel smile. "Look at them all. So ignorant, so afraid, so unaware and yet so delicious. It's like this little section of the world was handmade just for me, so much paranoia and fear that the government is going to do something to them, so many are scared that they're being manipulated by another. Like a grand tapestry woven of bloody fear creating the image of such an enticing feast," he says with a whimsical sigh escaping his lips before turning back to them.
"But what about you four? Hmm?" Bres says as he pushes off the wall, letting his arms fall to his side. "Well, God of Justice? Where is the Justice in what happened to your beloved son? Are you truly going to let this conniving bitch go after what she did to your dear Setanta?" The Spider mocks Lugh with a bloodthirsty grin. "All because Setanta wouldn't stick it in her," Bres says with a laugh as Lugh's fists ball and his eyes begin to flick back and forth between The Morrígan and Bres as if he didn't know who to punch first.
"Or perhaps I should speak to you, oh Mistress of the Land of Shadows?" The Father of Puppets says as he rounds on Scáthach. "Have you ever wondered why the reincarnation of your beloved nephew, someone who was almost like a son to you, ended up as he is? Did the boy ever tell you the details of his past and just who sent him to quite the singler hell?" He says with a chuckle before turning to Dumbledore with a sly grin as Scáthach looks to the old Headmaster with narrowed eyes. "I couldn't even imagine the defense that man would give, perhaps the same defense he gave after him and his former lover gave when they killed his little sister," he says mockingly to the old Headmaster who in turn stands a little taller.
"There wouldn't be a defense," Albus says, anger and power causing his voice to come out like a rumble of a thunderstorm. "For there is no excuse for those crimes," he says as the deathstick finds its way to his hand.
"Enough, Bres," The Morrígan states as her anger causes a small tremor to shake the whole of the Ministry and her brown eyes bleed black. "If you've just come to play mind games, mortal lives be damned, I will let Lugh rip you apart," she says with a clenched jaw as Lugh steps forward, twin burning stars glowing in his eyes that not even his sunglasses could hide.
Bres scoffs out a single harsh laugh. "As you wish, Morrígan," he says before pulling Brigid's top hat off of his head and bends forward into a low bow to her. "Do pass my…love along to my dear wife, won't you?" He asks as he straightens up and turns on his heel and disappears into the crowd of mortals.
"Lugh," The Morrígan says, only getting an angry grunt from the Sun God in return. "If you come across him on the battlefield, be a dear rip out his tongue and bring it to me," she says mercilessly.
"Aye," Lugh says with a nod and a growl. "I think I can do that for ya," and from the look in his eyes, The Morrígan doesn't doubt it for a second.
Bolted and chained doors to the outside world, a pond of water replaced with sand, unbearable and permanent sticking charms on painted windows. Trash and litter started to pile up and food began to grow scarcer in a home that held cherished memories but now housed only fear for her. Her father becoming worse and worse, his conversations with the hidden door no longer whispers but one sided screaming matches. His once clear blue eyes now cracked and broken with dancing fractal patterns for pupils.
Her father could or would not stop, and she wasn't quite sure which option was worse. She tried to call out to her cat, but unlike all the other times he could not come to her aid.
She would hear him scream into the late night. "She isn't one of them! She can't be! She's my little girl! No! No-no! I won't! Y-you c-can't make me!" He would yell, trying to convince himself more than the door to not feed her to the hidden door chunk by bloody chunk. But it did not stop him from standing in her doorway with a knife watching her as she pretended to sleep and petrified in fear. Oh, how she wished she had her wand, to have anything to protect her, but her father had taken it from her and hidden it weeks ago when this all began.
She often cries herself to sleep these days.
Grimmauld Place, July 20th 1996, 10 pm.
Two meetings were happening at roughly the same time, both mirroring one another in subject but not context. As the Gods talked about topics on war, mortals, champions, and blood the mortals gathered at Grimmauld Place spoke about the damages wrought so far.
Disappearances have jumped up a staggering amount of the group's own members, of other witches and wizards, and even mundane mortals to be never seen again.
Sickness and fever sweeping over the country like a plague forcing mortals, magical and mundane alike, in doors in fear of catching the plague themselves.
Fear and paranoia spread like wildfire among the populace of the Isles thanks to the government, both magical and mundane, unable to come up with answers. The new talk radio station helped the paranoia by spouting conspiracy theories day in and day out about how the government was behind it all, how it was watching them all, even turning the frogs gay.
Monsters led by Death Eaters came crawling from the filth and darkness and descending upon village after village, stripping them almost bare of life.
The country was being gripped by fear in impossible ways as the war began again in earnest. They could do nothing about it, try as they might, they always arrive just a few minutes late if they made that far at all. The worst news of the day was the simple fact that Azkaban had fallen, pulled up from the sea, the once gray hell was remade into a tower sat out at sea where Voldemort and the Formorians now controlled. The situation looked as hopeless as one could expect when warring against uncaring demons and an egotistical madman hell bent on bending the world to his twisted vision.
The Order of the Phoenix sat at the dining room table arguing about what to do, tactics, and how to help the people of the isles. Lost in their own fear and anger, none of them noticed a spark of hope igniting above their heads before in a burst of flame, a girl fell from the air and landed on the table…
Hard.
"Ow! Motherfucker!" The girl yells out as her shoulder slams into the table before the back of her head hits the hardwood. "I swear to the gods I'm going to deep fry that stupid…" she says as she pushes herself up, rubbing the back of her head where a goose egg was starting to form. Only to open her eyes and see herself surrounded by a lot of angry looking people pointing wands at her. "Oi, hold up! Don't curse me! I'm not even armed!" She cried out holding up her hands in surrender.
A rough hand grabs her and yanks her off the table before slamming her into the wall. "You!" A man with a scarred and electric blue eye whizzing around in an empty eye socket barks in her face. "Who the hell are you?! Who sent you?! How the hell did you get into the house!?" The man screams in her face as his wand jammed under her chin menacingly.
"Alastor!" Dumbledore quickly barks over the retired auror yelling, catching the man's attention as the fake eye spun around the look at his old comrade. "Calm down, the girl is here on my invitation," he states calmly.
"You just gave her a way into headquarters, are you daft man!?" Mad-Eye barks at Dumbledore, not moving his one good eye from the girl.
"Of course not, I gave her one of Fawkes' feathers. When she used it he was to bring her directly to me, and it just so happens that I am here," The Headmaster explains, causing Moody to grumble before turning both his eyes to the, surprisingly calm, girl. Alastor grunts before letting the girl go and backing away from her, but not putting away his wand as he glares at her.
The Headmaster sighs before stepping forward. "Miss Lestrange, as inopportune as a time for you to, shall we say, drop in on us. It warms my heart to see you relatively unharmed, my dear," he says with a smile to Delphini Lestrange.
"Right, I'm just gonna ignore the way these folks treat a girl falling out of time and space looking for protection," the blonde says with a huff as she straightens her robes.
"Yes, how very rude of us," a sarcastic drawl comes from the corner of the room, turning to the voice with wide eyes Delphini recognizes one of the Death Eaters she had most avoided during the last month.
"Headmaster!" Delphini snapped, quickly pointing at Snape. "That man is a spy! He's been reporting to the head snake about what you've been doing all summer!" She yells before turning back to the Headmaster, who was now looking at his Potions Professor.
"Severus, how could you?" Dumbledore says dryly as his bright blue eyes twinkle with mirth.
"Oh no," Snape answers back just as dryly. "All my nefarious plans have gone to ruins thanks to one meddling child, what will I ever do?" He says sarcastically and not seeming the least bit concerned about what Delphini just said but other than a few people in the room rolling their eyes, no one does anything to the dark man.
Dumbledore chuckles lightly before turning back to Delphini. "While I thank you for your warning, my dear, I assure you, I trust Severus with my life," he states with a small smile before it falls to a frown. "You, however, are under a bit of suspicion," he says with a tilt of his head toward Delphini.
The girl sighs. "Yeah, no. I get that," she says, running a hand through her hair. "So, how do we prove that I'm not here as a plant or whatever?" She asks, looking back at the Headmaster in the eyes. She watches as his eyes narrow a bit before feeling, what could be only described as, a polite knock at her mental shields. "Oh," she says before sighing and standing a bit taller. "Since you asked so nicely," she mutters before she swings open the barred door to the aviary in her head, she could feel the Headmaster waltz into her mind, right past the huge Augury standing guard in the cage. Dumbledore makes sure she knew where he was in her mind and what he was looking for and with no resistance from her he brought up memories she'd rather not relive.
Bellatrix hugged her, welcoming her back from Hogwarts and asking probing questions about the mission Delphini got from Voldemort. The hug was swift and cold to Delphini as her mother was more worried about Delphini's success than seeing her for the first time. Delphini lied to her, fiction falling from her lips in a cascade telling her mother Harry didn't suspect a thing before giving a false smile.
Endless hallways of different manors that her mother had dragged her too over the weeks. Meeting people she didn't care about, some full of dark cloaks and silver masks with her father standing at the forefront looking more monster than ever. Some meetings she was just with her mother and step father as they tried to get her married off after the war to men older than her.
One had decided to get a bit handsy with her, so she had taken it from him with a needle and a poppet. Bellatrix was beside herself in her wrath as her stepfather yelled at her, but then her mother, Bellatrix did the unthinkable to her.
"Crucio!"
She writhed on the ground, screaming in pain as Rowle stood over her, a sneer on her face as she looked down at Delphini in scorn. "Filthy fucking half-breed! How dare you speak-"
no, focus! Rowle was in the past, she was dead! She stood outside the manor, watching it burn with a hollow feeling in her chest thinking that this is what she wanted, what she always wan-
Focus!
The blonde woman in the meeting, attractive and lovely looking in her white sundress. But her tattoos were off-putting, they moved, always watching Delphini no matter where she tried to hide, always watching her. Knowing her. Other monsters walk the hall, some worse than her father but none worse than the blonde woman.
Bellatrix leaning over and whispering into her ear of how Delphini would take the mark and serve her Lord-Father. But like always, Delphini rebelled, in private she had told her moth- no, she told Bellatrix she wouldn't do it, that she would never do it.
"Crucio!"
Cold and shivering in the cold rain, thrown in the aviary with only Tycho for compa-
Aunt Narcissa at her bedside, her hands running through her hair in a comforting manner as Delphini's body spasms from the after effects of the curse her mother held her under for almost a minute.
"She won't do this again, I won't let her," Aunt Narcissa whispers to her late at night. But Delphini had already made up her mind, she would not allow it to happen to her again.
She planned and crept through manors while the others met to speak with the head snake. "Amazing how dumb magical people are," she mumbles to herself as she jimmies doors and desks, looking and searching, finding and copying, before escaping back to them.
The feather is light in her hand. She would be able to see Harry again, she would be able to explain to him, to tell him how much she loved him. The door opens and she quickly turns to see Aunt Narcissa looking at her and then to the unmistakable feather in her hand. Delphini begins to shake, she didn't want to hurt her, she didn't want to fight Narcissa.
But to her surprise, she doesn't. "After dinner," Narcissa says as she hugs her closely. "Leave after dinner, when everyone is asleep," she whispers to her, and Delphini begs her to come with her, to escape too.
Narcissa smiles sadly. "I won't leave Draco here alone with that monster," she says before planting a kiss on Delphini's forehead. "After dinner," she says once more.
Delphini blinks and she's back in the dining room surrounded by people, some familiar but most weren't. She sniffs before wiping away the tears in her eyes before looking back at Dumbledore. Her headmaster was looking at her with an odd look of pity and pride before placing his hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay, my dear," he says softly, giving her a small smile. "You've been very brave and have gone above and beyond anything I could ask from you, thank you Delphini," he says sorrowfully but with a strong smile.
"Yeah, whatever," she says, looking away from the Headmaster. "Do you want what I have or not?" She asks after taking a deep breath and turning back to Dumbledore.
"If you want to hand it over, my dear. The feather never had any expectations attached to it," he reassures her but all Delphini did was shrug.
"I already stole it, so I might as well," Delphini says before reaching into her pocket and pulling out her shrunken trunk. Placing it on the floor, she pauses for a second. "No one's gonna curse me if I pull out my wand are they?" She asks, turning back to the Headmaster.
"Of course not, Miss Lestrange," Dumbledore says as his eyes sweep over the people in the room, most putting their wands away bashfully, other than Delphini's cousin. Dora stood with her arms crossed and wand in hand with a brow raised on her face.
Delphini just rolls her eyes and flicks her wand into her hand before unshrinking her trunk. "I don't know everything I made copies of, most of it is written in Parselscript I think," she informs the Headmaster as she digs around in her trunk.
"Not to worry, Miss Lestrange, while I can not speak it I have over the years I've learned to translate the written form," Dumbledore reassures her, causing an impressed hum to escape Delphini before she pulls out an armful of papers, parchment, and maps before dumping them on to the table.
"The pages are from books he had marked off, ones I could actually read. He was looking into the wards around the Ministry, Hogwarts, and a few other locations and oddly enough, wand lore," Delphini says with a frown as she came to terms with never understanding her sperm donor's mind. "The parchment is the stuff in Parselscript and I have no idea what the maps are for but they looked important so I copied them too," she says before placing her hands on her hips, looking proud at herself and the shocked looks of the members of the Order. As information was pasted back and forth between the members of the Order, it was Moody who recognized what the maps were.
"Attack plans, the bastard is picking and choosing which villages to feed those fucking monsters," he growled out as Dumbledore and Snape share a look and a smile. Delphini, however, didn't care. Her part was over as she turned to Dumbledore and asked a single question.
"Where's Harry?" She asks. Delphini had too much to talk to him about, too much to tell him, and so much to apologize for and she was unwilling to leave it alone longer then she already had. But as Dumbledore turns back to her, a sad look enters his eyes, a pit grows in her stomach as she realizes…
Harry wasn't there.
A crash, a bang, and a rattled woke her from her fitful sleep. The sounds were quickly followed by incoherent yelling coming from the sitting room, so with soft steps in the dark she sneaks down the stairs. She finds her father kneeling before the hidden door that was no longer hidden, the bookshelf was thrown aside and broken to lay bare the old wound that had festered behind it. Her father was weeping and pulling out bunches of unwashed and oily hair with skin still attached as he repeated the poem over and over again.
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a woman who wasn't there
She wasn't there again today
I wish, I wish she'd go away...
When I came home last night at three
The woman was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn't see her there at all!
Go away, go away, don't you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... (slam!)
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little woman who wasn't there
She wasn't there again today
Oh, how I wish she'd go away…
Over and over, again and again. Whenever he reached the part asking the woman not to slam the door, the hidden door would open and slam again and again.
"Daddy?" She says in a small and scarred voice, tears gathering in her eyes as she watches her father freeze before slowly turning to look at her.
His blue eyes were now gone completely, all that was left was the rainbow fractal pattern that had crept into his eyes over these long weeks. His face was broken with anguish and heartbreak as black tears ran down his cheeks.
"Luna," he says her name for the first time in a week, the remorse in his voice causes her own tears to slip down her face. "I'm sorry," he says before the door that wasn't there opens and two spears punch through her father's chest. For one horrifying moment, the blue returns to his eyes before he looks down at the spears before they curl like fingers. Her father is yanked backwards into the open door as she screams for him, running forward to try and do something to save him. But the hidden door slams shut, echoing his screams and the laughter of the monster that pulled him into it down countless corridors.
She runs to the door, screaming for her father before slamming it open and tripping down the stairs that led to the cellar. She lands painfully on the landing before a door that wasn't there before with spirals painted all over it. Across the walls were carved in dripping red ink was a song that curled into spirals as if to mock her.
And mock her it did, as a distorted laugh echoes from just beyond the door in front of her and a wet ripping and tearing sound follows soon after. The hidden door slams shut, locking her in the stairwell as the sounds of a feast fill her ears. She brought her hands up to cover her ears from the sound, not wanting to listen, not wanting to know and before she knew what she was doing, the first verse of the song written on the walls fell unbidden from her lips.
"Guests line up to leave their moldy bedroom,
In a dimly lit, moonlit hotel,
The turtles are dancing with the raccoons,
A zombie joins but gets a firm "no thank you,"
Chapter done!
And my God was this a creepy one! Okay, show of hands, who guessed it was Luna before it was revealed?
So, a few things in this chapter. The first part with the Morrígan was entirely set up for one little detail that I'm sure you all caught. Tbh, it was a bit long for my taste but I'm not going back and changing it because I'm a lazy fuck.
The second part was set up for what the Dé Danann are cooking up, that thing about Champions which should be showing up in three-ish chapters depending.
About Luna because I can already hear people yelling in the comments about Manannán. Manannán promised a few things, but the most important things for this was A: he would not intervene or interfere in Luna's life and B: so long as she was by his domain she would be protected and as we know, if a Dé Danann gives their word that have to abide by it. Hence why Lomm influenced Xenophilius to fill the pond with sand and kick Cait-Sith out of the house and keep him out.
For Snape spying because I'm sure I'm going to get a few comments about how Delphini did his job better than him. Well for those who don't understand what it's like to spy during an active war, like me learn ya something real quick.
How many of you have seen 2014 The Imitation Game starring Benedict Cumberbatch? It's a movie about Alan Turing and him building, basically, the first computer to crack the Nazi's Enigma Machine. The Enigma Machine was used for coded messages for the Nazi's during WW2 and towards the end of the movie they completed the code breaking machine and were able to decipher a coded message about attacking a ship.
The message was sent out in the morning and they broke it that night and now knew the attack on an alley ship was going to happen in a few hours, more than enough time to warn the ship, but they didn't and everyone on the ship died.
So why didn't they warn the ship? Simple, if they told the ship at the last minute it would have tip their hand that they cracked the Enigma Machine, which would be bad.
In this analogy, Snape is the Turing Machine. Him and Albus have to go over all the information he gathers and gives from/to Voldemort and decide which people need to hear.
Is it fucked up?
Yes.
Is it what's smartest to keep the only source of information in the enemies camp safe?
Also yes.
But no one ever said war wasn't hard.
Also, just so I can get this little thought out, how would everyone like a one shot set in the Heir to the Hunt AU about Percy Jackson meeting an older sibling? I'm talking like sixty plus years older then him.
Kingsaxcul, Out!