CHAPTER 40

6 June 1993 - Cauchemar Abbey, 10:16AM

The soft sigh of Auntie Camilla reverberated throughout a subterranean cavern situated underneath the Selwyn Family manor. It had been fashioned into a personal spa for the de facto family matriarch, illuminated by softly glowing sulphuric yellow pods and the eerie green glow of bioluminescent lichen and fungi that covered the walls.

A massive hot spring sat smack in the middle, filled to the brim with a perfectly heated liquid composed of human, Re'em, and unicorn blood, all forcibly taken. Settled against one side was the hideous old crone, legs languidly stretched out beneath the simmering liquid as she relished in her favorite ablutions. Rehydrated owl eyes - each stretched into flat circles - covered her own, absorbing all of the ocular-boosting nutrients the remains could confer. A unicorn blood mask covered the entirety of her face and her neck, conferring a most satisfying tingle that ran across her flesh. Her entire head was covered in the still-bloody scalp of a recently hunted Veela, meant to stimulate follicular growth of her own considerably lacking strands. Licking the long and gnarled fingers of her right hand clean, she reached into a golden bowl floating beside her and pulled out her hand, tittering at each treat embedded on her frightfully long and yellow nails.

Pickled Niffler eyeballs, extra briny.

She eagerly popped each finger into her mouth, delighting in the savory-salty goodness. Camilla was quite pleased that the Family had its own Niffler breeding farm…along with other breeding farms used for other equally important purposes.

'I truly do deserve this.'

She wiggled her bony toes in girlish delight as she sipped on her double Sangreoni, delighting in its throat-tickling coppery effervescence. Though she'd actually had a wonderful year so far, it was always nice to rest and recharge. Grandfather had agreed to an all-healing ritual to be performed at midnight on New Year's Eve, upon the exact moment when Janus exchanged one face for another. It would be nice to enjoy a shade of her past youth. She'd settled on her eighties, a delightfully debauched decade of half-life.

Another half hour passed before a terrified scream echoed through the cavern. The hag frowned at the sound. Normally she would delight in such sounds as they signaled only the most gruesome of physical and mental torture, but not when she was meant to be relaxing.

The quiet resumed just long enough for her to get comfortable, before once more groaning in frustration as the screams sounded again. Her magically-amplified hearing - not unlike a vampire bat - had detected the sound coming from above, specifically the last room located on the third floor. Cousin Cassilda's private entertainment quarters.

Grumbling in irritation, the harridan retrieved her wand - 9 ½ inch pine with dragon heartstring - and quickly cleaned herself up and dressed, before retrieving her walking cane that resembled an uncommonly long femur.

Slowly but surely, she lumbered her way out of her wonderfully warm spa and ventured upstairs to tend to her mercurial grand-niece.

The Heir's Playroom, 11:03AM

A quiet "Enter" opened the room's door, beckoning the older witch inside.

Cassilda's playroom was surprisingly inviting if not austere, painted in soft shades of creamy ermine and off-white abalone all balanced by decorative splashes of charcoal. It made the dark streaks of blood - both fresh and old - stand out in sharp relief. Mounted on the walls were magically taxidermized trophies from her hunts, dating all the way back to her first year at Beauxbatons. The latest addition was a scalpless Veela head, expression macabrely contorted into one of terrified despair.

With mild interest, Camilla observed the group of five muggles magically chained to the eastern wall of the room. Three were soundly dead, blood-soaked husks of flesh with open entrails already undergoing putrefaction. 'What a waste of decent meat.' The other two were just approaching the cusp of unconsciousness, unrecognizable as they were covered in all manner of bloodied and infected cuts, scratches, and bruises. One was missing both legs beneath the knees, while the other had been completely skinned of all flesh. How she'd kept that one alive Camilla would never know, but it was amusing to see it twitch and seize in tandem. Cassilda stood a few feet in front of her broken human toys, levitating two rather large voodoo dolls beside her. The dolls all bore the identical injuries of their corresponding victims, injuries created by a gold-embossed obsidian knife wielded in the witch's wand hand. Heir Selwyn refused to sully her precious flesh by touching the filthy body of an impure muggle animal.

With a passably indulgent sigh Camilla sat down in the large divan, grateful when Lurch appeared with her double Sangreoni. As perceptive as ever, the dutiful elf waited until the old witch downed the entire cocktail in one large gulp, before summoning another much larger glass of the drink for the woman to nurse. Pleased at her delight in her favorite beverage, the elf disappeared with a soft pop. Gently balancing the glass, she leaned back in the divan before turning her attention to her grand-niece.

Cassilda was in a patently foul mood. Borne of Grandfather's more temperate disposition, she only demonstrated her more dangerously mercurial moods when sufficiently provoked.

At this time, there were only three things that could inspire Heir Selwyn's ire: Any act deemed as disrespect against Grandfather, deliberately disobeying her command (and thereby disrespecting Grandfather), and any mention of Tom Riddle and/or the now Mrs. Libra Riddle.

"Dear Niece, what plagues you today?" Cassilda didn't respond, but used her gilded ritual knife to slice an ear of a doll. The corresponding muggle screamed in agony as blood macabrely sprayed against the drenched walls. She repeated the action against the other doll, smiling cruelly at the effects.

"Nothing plagues me in particular Auntie. I just…ran into an old friend in Hogsmeade today, and it inspired a bout of stress I'd rather not discuss."

'Hm, so either Riddle or his wife then.' Camilla received additional confirmation as one of the muggles screamed in primordial agony as her internal organs were skillfully pulled out of her body with the knife tip and burned to a crisp ash. The older witch couldn't understand the younger's enduring obsession with the filthy muggleborn boy, but she supposed it had to do with the keen…physical appetite of youth. Cassilda had expressed a powerful desire to possess and consume the man, a desire which had only grown greater as the man's influence had strengthened. She'd tried seduction, blackmail, and even compulsion, but all had surprisingly failed in the face of the man's will and intellect. That he was now married to the sworn enemy of her Beauxbatons days made the desire stronger, fueled by her rage at her adversary having that which she wanted.

Like Grandfather, Cassilda hated being denied what she wanted.

Watching the younger witch furiously poke at the two dolls for a few quiet moments, Camilla could only sigh as the younger witch screamed in pure agitation before wandlessly setting all her toys aflame. A sharp swipe of her hand Vanished the remaining ash before she stomped over to her other divan and elegantly tossed herself into it. The younger witch would never deign to act so casually with anyone else in the Family, but she had always shared a special camaraderie with her favorite Auntie.

A comfortable silence reigned, before Camilla asked if Cassilda wanted to rejoin her in her spa to "relax before the evening's events." Contemplating for a few moments the younger witch nodded her ascent, before magically changing into her favorite luxury robes as her aunt did the same. A soft pop presented a floating tray carrying a full crystal pitcher of double Sangreoni, accompanied by delicate crystal wine flutes and small servings of baked crème de foie licorne for a light snack.

After all, the real feast would be tonight.

Le Petit Château Bonnevie - Viviers Ardèche, 2:13PM

Glaring at her elaborate vanity mirror Miranda angrily threw her hairbrush across her bedroom, resisting the urge to scream in angered frustration. Her enchanted mirror cooed words of comfort to soothe her poor mood, but she was in no mood to listen as she cast a quiet "SILENCIO" at the reflective surface.

Today was the day she and her parents would be having dinner with The Family. The mere thought of it sent chills racing down her back, and once more, she was ever grateful for possessing her Occlumency shields. She was especially worried about what the stress this evening meant for her mother, who was currently five months pregnant with a baby boy and the would-be Heir of la Famille Bonnevie. The thought of even eating food prepared by a Selwyn elf filled the young witch with dread, paranoid that they'd end up poisoned for her efforts. Miranda would ensure all three of them would ingest her special brew of poison antidote prior to eating their meal. Bezoars would be taken along as extra insurance.

Though she had suffered the least punishment in Hogwarts as a result of Cassius' blunders, House Warrington still outranked her family and could use that to their advantage. Despite Aunt Juliana's affection for her niece and her strong desire for the Bonnevies' inclusion into The Family, Cassius was still her only son and therefore her top priority.

Tiredly she exited her room and went to stand on her balcony, basking in the bright sun of the afternoon. Situated on top of a hill in a relatively remote countryside overlooking the Rhône River, the medieval-style castle had served as the sanctuary for most of the Bonnevies since their expulsion from the city of Versailles in the wake of the French Revolution. Though the 35-room edifice was massive and extravagant compared to almost any other truly humble abode, it was considered an affront to the Bonnevies of olde considering the 167-room palace they'd enjoyed at the height of their noble rule. The conclusion of the Revolution had resulted in a considerable dwindling of the Bonnevie family's eminence and wealth, and at the current time, their primary goal was focused on regaining that which they'd lost.

By any means necessary.

Her mind inevitably drifted to Fred Weasley, before she winced those memories away. Miranda had desperately wanted to connect with the ginger twin before she'd officially confessed to Dumbledore, but the weight of her persisting cowardice had prevented her from doing so. It was inevitable that he'd found out, because the two letters she'd sent to him had received no response. 'I reckon I'm dead to him now.' She furiously rubbed away the tears that fell down her cheeks.

A series of buzzing noises shook Miranda out of her depressing reverie, leading her back into her room. On her writing desk was a copy of talking parchment Harry Potter had gifted her on that fateful day she'd confessed to her sins against his brother. Created by Granger as a mere Firstie (and wasn't that incredible), it allowed the two to easily communicate with each other with utmost discretion.

Reading through the latest message the witch smirked, feeling a touch more hope than she thought possible.

The Grand Dining Hall - Cauchemar Abbey, 6:44PM

The delicate clanging of silverware was all that could be heard as the assembled guests enjoyed the second course of their French-themed meal.

For Cassius Warrington, it was a sheer battle of will to neither adjust his too-tight collar nor vomit his paltry meal as he shakingly ate his Bisque de Crevettes without dribbling it down the front of his shirt. In any other context he would have delighted in the creamy and well-seasoned shrimp soup.

Today was not that day.

It was the boy's first visit to Cauchemar Abbey, the ancestral home of the Selwyn family since some time around the Eighth Century. He could still recall the horrified fear in his parents expression when he'd shared the Howler invitation (which had somehow not exploded as expected) he'd received to attend supper at the vaunted Family manor. It was compounded by the fact that neither adult had received any such invitation, as blatant an insult as ever. One did not invite the Heir to a formal social affair without inviting the Lord and Lady that birthed said Heir, a fact which a traditional pureblood House Selwyn was very well aware of. Young Cassius had witnessed his father drink himself into a stupor as his mother had taken extended refuge in her private parlor. The boy had been unable to sleep that night and the many nights leading to this event.

A soft ringing bell sounded, accompanied by soft pop of the Selwyn elves Lurch and Pugsley as they Banished the second course and summoned the third, before disappearing once more. Everyone quietly resumed their eating, with Cassius extraordinarily grateful that he'd taken his deportment classes seriously else he would have been at a complete loss of which fork to utilize for his serving of Sole Meunière. Looking around the room, the young wizard took in every relevant detail he subtly could in the oppressively gothic abode. The throne-like chair at the head of the long table was empty. It had been reserved for Adramalech Selwyn who had been Lord Selwyn since before Cassius's grandfather had been born. Now a recluse, the man was neither seen in public nor private, at least not by Cassius. 'Fitting, man's over 160 years old!'

To either side of the empty chair sat an elderly witch and a positively ancient wizard, Auntie Camilla and Great-Uncle Merihem, Adramalech's younger siblings. The aged hag was draped in a long robe created entirely of skinned Jarveys, their expressions frozen in a rictus of terror. Merihem's dark robes and dark hair practically blended into the onerously dark surroundings, only leaving an uncommonly pale face. Merihem's granddaughter, Cassilda (the House Seneschal despite her youth) sat between Merihem and her father Aldones. The admittedly striking witch was outfitted in expensive blood-red haute couture robes, topped off with an elegant diadem sat atop her blonde head, the rubies of which had been fashioned into bleeding roses. Cassilda's older brother Hyades, a neckless hulk of a wizard who rarely spoke, sat beside Auntie Camilla and quietly ate his meal with more grace than Cassius would have ever expected.

Moving down from the head of the table, Corban Yaxley sat with his wife and two sons, practically preening at the significance of his position. His success in helping destabilize House Potter and its Lord had earned him and his family the blatant favor of Grandfather. Vasilka (always with a flair for the dramatics) was also adorned in couture aubergine dress robes that rivaled Cousin Cassilda's, emphasized by the massive yellow diamond necklace adorning her décolletage. Glimmering drops of matching yellow diamonds adorned her ears, wrists, and fingers, as resplendent as any queen. Giles - the elder brother and Corban's Heir - locked eyes with Cassius before smirking and continuing his meal. Albert did the same, elegantly covering his snicker as he chewed on his buttered fish. Heir Warrington bit back his snarl, equal parts annoyed and agitated that he would be under their collective thumbs during his upcoming stint at Durmstrang.

Sat next to the Yaxleys were the Carrows. Amycus and Alecto sat across from each other, and each had one of the identical twins, Hestia and Flora, sitting beside them. Cassius had once jokingly asked his father whether Amycus and Alecto were brother-and-sister, husband-and-wife, or both. His father immediately grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him furiously while shouting almost hysterically "NEVER ask such things where anyone else might hear!' Flora and Hestia rarely spoke at dinner, but they constantly gave each other significant looks, as though they could hear one another's thoughts. They also took turns glancing at Cassius and smirking, as if to suggest to him that they knew something vitally important that he did not. While Heir Warrington was by no means the most astute of Slytherins (or ex-Slytherins in his current case), he was still astute enough to recognize a terrible undercurrent of tension that flowed beneath every bit of casual dinner conversation so far, all of which focused on banal observations about fashion, Quidditch, recent theater productions, and the usual very colorful Mudblood joke. In spite of all that, It was as though nearly everyone in the room was waiting with bated breath for an ax to fall.

Specifically on House Warrington's collective necks.

It was fitting really, considering said House was seated at the farthest end of the table from the great chair. None in their family missed the significance of the seating arrangements. Even poor, pitiful Uriah Travers was seated ahead of them, already drinking himself into a stupor. His House was on the verge of extinction; a dead wife, no male Heirs (miscarried in his deceased wife's first two pregnancies), and a permanently infirmed daughter. He had a brother who could have taken on the mantle in accordance with House Travers' charter, but he was a convicted Death Eater currently rotting in Azkaban Prison, survived by a Squib daughter who'd been forced to flee her home as a mere child to avoid the wrath of a bigoted pureblood father. As far as Cassius knew, Uriah Travers had nothing left to offer anyone save the five votes he cast in the Selwyns' favor whenever called upon to do so. Whenever he eventually finished drinking himself to death, the House of Travers would likely die with him.

Seated across from Cassius was Miranda, sat next to her parents Sir Armel (Juliana's elder brother) and Lady Edmée Bonnevie (née Montmorency). Though he knew she felt the force of his glares, the older witch ignored him completely as she elegantly ate her meal. Her parents and his own exchanged nervous glances at the current state of affairs, but none dared to speak. It had been the elder Warringtons' hope that the Bonnevies might someday be brought into the larger Selwyn family network, thereby extending the Selwyns' reach into France where most of the Bonnevies resided. But all his parents' work on that front had apparently been ruined by Cassius's disastrous screw-up the previous term, a screw-up he still believed to be solely the fault of Miranda. 'Fucking bint.'

More courses were served as the dinner proceeded on, the thick cord of tension growing ever stronger. The food was excellent, as to be expected for an Ancient and Noble House at the height of its power. Dessert soon arrived, a colorfully sweet array of Pêche Melba topped with a cream raspberry jam sauce along with Cassius' true favorite - ananas flambes au kirsch. The dessert plates were soon taken away, allowing everyone to move from the dining room to a large study and billiard room where Pugsley and Lurch busily served drinks: artisanal butterbeer for the minors, glasses of Château Lafite 1787 for most of the women, and 1874 Special Reserve Swott Malt Whisky for most of the men. Cousin Cassilda, Auntie Camilla, and Great-Uncle Merihem eschewed all those drink options in favor of a thick ruby-red beverage that looked like some sort of cherry cordial served in tall fluted glasses. The house elves served the drinks in silence, and none of them so much as made eye contact with anyone in the room. Cassilda took a sip from her drink, licked her lips as if to savor the taste, and then elegantly reclined against a billiard table before addressing the group.

"Let me begin by saying that Grandfather is still resting and will not be joining us this evening," she said. Immediately and to Cassius's surprise, a good deal of the tension in the room drained away as Cousin Uriah actually exhaled in obvious relief.

"However, I spoke with Grandfather at length, and he has a number of questions which he finds… most pressing." She sipped her cordial once more as she licked her lips, with Cassius nervously noting that her teeth looked distinctly…sharper. "Let us begin with the most obvious ones. Cousin Corban, what are your plans for this upcoming summer?" A small wave of confusion followed the non-sequitur, but after a moment of hesitation, Corban responded:

"In line with continuing on my Potter Project, I will be working closely with Auror Potter now that we are officially Auror partners, signed off by the DMLE. I have a few…boys' club holiday trips planned, and I will ensure Potter invites his Heir. Giles and Albert have been properly debriefed on how to approach the boy, mainly drawing on his love of Quidditch to break the proverbial ice. His father was relatively easier than expected to manipulate to his own downfall…I suspect his Heir is of a similar will. Naturally, you and Grandfather will be apprised of all our progress. My lovely Vasilka is working with her own contacts to introduce a potential pool of second-wife options that can easily ingratiate themselves to Potter's favor, pureblood of course. If we cannot bring the House down to its knees and be destroyed, then we can succeed in controlling it and all its affairs from within."

Cassilda gave a small smile, looking reasonably pleased. "Excellently stated Cousin, your plan seems equally sound and effective. Once more, Grandfather would like to extend congratulations on a job well done, and he hopes you continue on your successes." Cassius bit back his irritation at the man's preening, matched by his wife and his two idiot sons. The Carrows exchanged tight glances but otherwise deigned not to speak.

Auntie Camilla snickered. "I always said you were my favorite, Little Corby." Corban's smile faltered, and he swallowed at the possible implications of gaining the favoritism of this particular witch.

"Moving on," said Great-Uncle Merihem as he lit up his signature pipe, the one that had been carved with the face of a leering daemonic imp, "has anyone heard any juicy rumors about the cause of the demise of Lord Malfoy's marriage?"

Juliana glanced at her husband before quietly speaking up once he nodded. "I have heard from my sources that Narcissa initiated the divorce citing 'irreconcilable differences' as is her right given the unique nature of Lord Malfoy's marriage contract. My sources indicate that she walked away with almost 75% of Lord Malfoy's assets within his vault, liquid and non-liquid alike. My sources also indicate that Narcissa rejected any custody of Draco, officially severing ties with the boy. I am not certain why, but if the Family thinks it important, I will make further inquiries." A curious wave of murmurs went through the group as Cassilda stared unblinkingly at Juliana.

"Please do so," said Seneschal Selwyn. "Lucius and Narcissa have always seemed to be in lock-step with each other, at least publicly anyway. Though Narcissa has always been earnestly more…outspoken in her devotion to the noble cause, Lucius has played his part exceptionally well. Still…this might be indicative of the changing tides of House Malfoy that Narcissa has walked away so openly and so…brazenly. Do keep us apprised Juliana."

"It shall be done Cousin Cassilda." She gave a light curtsy, internally relieved when Cassilda politely nodded. Antonius felt his racing heart calm a touch, hoping that this new development meant that his family was off the hook for recent indiscretions.

There was a brief lull in the conversation as everyone sipped at their beverages, some with more confidence than others. Just when Cassius hoped he was home free, Cassilda spoke once more: "It is interesting to see such a wave of…change sweep across our world and affect those of our noble fraternity. So much so, that even we find ourselves affected. Don't you think so, Cousin Miranda?" The witch momentarily froze as her parents stiffened, before her face smoothed into a perfect mask of civility.

"Indeed Cousin Cassilda. Though I cannot speak for the source of change within others' lives, I can say with confidence that the source of change in my life…and that of Cousin Cassius'...is Harry Potter." Her tone held a distinct note of disgust at the mention of the second-born Potter son.

"Oh, Cousin Miranda? Do tell us more."

Miranda looked over to the Warringtons for a brief second and then stood to address the Family. Cassius resisted the urge to hurl his drink at her.

"Ever since the second semester of his First Year, Harry Potter has possessed a unique…influence in House Slytherin that has been most vexing. In that time, he succeeded in securing the alliance…and seeming genuine friendship of Heir Zabini and Theo Nott, both of whom have loyally remained by his side till this day. Somehow, the puny Potter even succeeded in securing the brief alliance of Prefect Kolumbiko (Cassilda quietly ground her teeth), Heir Montague, and Quidditch Captain Flint to cull Draco Malfoy's antagonistic efforts. Now seemingly, Potter has earned Heir Malfoy's fierce loyalty." She sneered in a most believable manner. "No one knows what he did to achieve that, but it resulted in a significant alteration to Malfoy's own character over the course of the next year, to the point that Draco also developed an extremely close friendship with a filthy Mudblooded Hufflepuff!"

The rest of the Family began to murmur at that news until a barely audible cough by Merihem caused them all to instantly go silent.

"These are remarkable claims, Cousin Miranda. And refresh my memory. Was it not also this ... Harry Potter, who played a role in your own unfortunate reversal of fortune?"

Miranda returned Cassilda's gaze levelly and did her best not to show fear. "It was," she said evenly.

"Please," Cassilda purred almost seductively. "Tell us more."

Miranda spared the merest glance at her aunt's family before she began. "It began with a plan by Cousin Cassius. As I'm sure you all know, the Boy-Who-Lived and his little brother have possessed a keenly antagonistic relationship with each other, ever since the latter was Sorted into Slytherin in direct contrast with House Potter's legacy…though that doesn't include the mudblood Lily Evans." Uriah Travers' face tightened significantly, though he was certain not to interrupt. "Anywho, the relationship between the brothers has been combative at best since then, and Lord Potter has made it exceptionally clear that he loathes his son in equal measure. Thanks to Cousin Corban's skillful machinations, the relationship between the brothers significantly deteriorated when Lord Potter utilized that spell against the mudblood and successfully cursed her. This past spring, after the mudblood's petrification at the hands of the so-called Heir of Slytherin, Cousin Cassius came up with a plan to utilize modified Polyjuice Potion in a scheme to impersonate Harry and attack Jim. He believed doing so would cause further irreparable damage to their relationship, the trauma of the event driving Heir Potter to influence his father to eliminate Harry once and for all. While I'd disagreed with the-"

"LIAR!"

Everyone sharply turned to Cassius at his wrathful exclamation. Cassilda lightly cleared her throat before giving him a soft look that strongly urged him to keep his mouth shut. Gulping, the boy shakingly sipped his drink as the room's remaining occupants exchanged curious (and in the Yaxleys' case amused) glances.

"Please Cousin Miranda," said Cassilda in soft dulcet tones. "Continue on."

"Thank you Cousin Cassilda. As I was saying, I had believed the plan would have been more effective had we targeted Harry Potter by impersonating his older brother. Their filthy mudblood mother laid petrified in the Hospital Wing, felled by the Heir of Slytherin and afflicted with an olde magick spell that will soon kill her, if she's wasn't cast out of our society long before then for seducing Lord Black while married to Lord Potter. We were all aware how disgustingly close and protective Potter is of his precious mudblood mother. I believed he could have tricked him into thinking Jim had attacked him and forced him to retaliate on his own, the proof of his actions would have secured his immediate expulsion from our world, along with his mudblood mother. Lords Black and Gaunt would not have been able to reverse the decision or influence any other more favorable one. The former was the target of Line Theft by the boy's father, while the latter bears no blood relation to influence any decision to protect either mother or son. However, I ultimately agreed with Cousin Cassius' plan because at that moment, I believed it was suitably clever to be effective, even more so considering the fact that he pulled rank on me to achieve it." Cassilda turned to stare at Cassius, before tittering and taking a slow sip of her cordial.

"And tell me dearest Miranda, did you believe that plan would work?"

"Honestly, no Cousin Cassilda," Miranda said bluntly. "Jim Potter is a notoriously short-sighted idiotic hothead who was more likely to use an illegal curse against his own brother than sensibly concoct a plan of true cunning to rid himself legally of his brother for good." She paused here to take a small sip of her butterbeer. "Fitting, considering he revealed himself as a Parselmouth in front of the entire school and further damaged his own reputation as many thought the Gryffindor Boy-Who-Lived to be the Heir of Slytherin."

Cassius saw that as his moment, and once more spoke without permission: "And with that, I was immediately convinced that Heir Potter was the one behind all the schemes, had been behind all the schemes as the true Heir of Slytherin with his Parseltongue abilities. Mrs. Norris had been a test run, moving on to bigger prey when he'd succeeded. Felling his filthy mudblood mother had proven his ruthlessness and commitment to the Dark Lord's cause and demonstrating a keen commitment to our noble cause, an asset An asset. A useful and powerful tool that could be swayed to their side and seduced with darker ideologies in line with that of the Dark Lord!" Incredulous looks met his statement, causing the boy to lightly deflate in spite of his bubbling temper.

"I imagine that would have been the case Cousin, had Gilderoy Lockhart not been revealed to the Death Eater who orchestrated all of those events and confessed to them as well, a tool of the Dark Lord that dealt quite the damaging blow and summarily confessed to doing so in front of two senior aurors. Not only that, Harry Potter somehow discovered that the Professor was also the one who passed along the Modified Polyjuice to Cassius here for his plan. And of course, the little halfblood bastard ratted all of us out to Dumbledore the minute he had the chance." Miranda allowed her expression to twist hatefully, lightly relaxing her shields in the manner Harry had taught her to make the emotion seem more believable.

It seemingly worked as Cassilda nodded in a passably good-natured manner. "And what happened once you had to…confess to Albus Dumbledore?"

"I told him the most believable version of the truth that I could. That Cousin Cassius orchestrated the attack utilizing pilfered modified Polyjuice to impersonate Harry Potter so we could rough the boy up as a means of attacking the Boy-Who-Lived and inciting his wrath enough to attack his little brother and hopefully get him expelled from Hogwarts." Miranda's tone was carefully bitter, with just enough anger mixed in to ensure that her audience was convinced. She imperceptibly sagged in relief at the feeling of her mother's warm hand laid reassuringly against her back.

"LIAR!," roared Cassius once more as he jumped to his feet. He barely felt his parents each grab a shoulder and attempt to shove him down to his seat. "You were in there mewling like a pathetic little quim, crying about how sorry you were and how you truly never meant to hurt anyone while throwing me under the knight bus! You lying conniving little slag!" Several eyes widened at the boy's language, internally musing on whether he'd even survive the night. Unbeknownst to him, Giles was hoping he wouldn't so he'd win his 50 galleon bet with his younger brother.

Cassilda glanced at the three Warringtons almost diffidently before tilting her head and blinking exactly once, a rather unnerving action given her mismatched blue and green eyes. Antonius and Juliana finally succeeded in roughly shoving the boy down. "Be SILENT!" Antonius hissed furiously at his son through gritted teeth as his mother dug her very sharp nails into his arm to ensure he remained quiet.

Auntie Camilla lightly cleared her throat in seeming approval before turning to Miranda. "What say you to that dear?"

"Cassius is correct, Auntie Camilla." The boy was briefly triumphant, before sagging in defeat at her following words: "I mewled and cried to demonstrate just enough believable contrition to lessen the punishment I knew I would incur. Dumbledore has always been notoriously soft-hearted when it comes to 'recognizing one's mistakes', 'making amends' and other such similar rubbish. My plan worked, considering I was merely suspended for the remainder of the recent school term and will be back to complete my sixth and seventh terms. And in doing so, will maintain just enough proximity to Harry Potter to observe or destroy, should the Family will it so." Cassius fumed at the reminder of his expulsion as the older witch had the temerity to sneer at him.

"A very sage point," murmured Merihem, before turning his focus back to Cassius and smiling. The increasingly horrified boy did his very best to hide his fear at that reaction. Cassilda then tittered as she finished her cordial in one sure gulp and licked her lips and teeth clean. Pugsley immediately appeared and replaced the empty glass with a fresh one, before quietly disappearing with a soft pop.

"Grandfather was most displeased to hear of your expulsion, Cousin Cassius. Such a colossal waste, considering all of the time and effort we've poured into House Warrington to provide the lifestyle with which you've all become so accustomed to." Cassilda tutted condescendingly, before turning to address Miranda: "You as well my dear. We have all invested an even greater deal of time and effort into you and your family's upkeep, considering House Bonnevie's more …humble station in the grand scheme of things." Armel's jaw clenched in anger but he sensibly chose not to respond as Cassilda continued on. "He desires ... an accounting. Are you willing to meet with Grandfather dearest Miranda? …One-on-one, as it were?" She tittered as she sipped her cordial, never once taking her heterochromic gaze off the secretly frightened witch and her family.

Miranda swallowed painfully as her parents gripped each other tightly, with Edmée resisting the urge to soothe the kicking baby in her belly. "If it is Grandfather's desire that I plead my case for myself and also for my family, then of course, I will be honored to do so."

Before his parents could stop him once more, Cassius Warrington angrily leapt to his feet. "I DON'T BLOODY THINK SO! The plan was mine! And it would have worked if bloody Miranda hadn't lost her nerve in Dumbledore's office and bloody ratted me out! Let me speak to Grandfather! I demand to see him!"

Several people in the room gasped aloud as Cassilda Selwyn fixed the impetuous boy with a piercing gaze. Along with a smile that was somehow unlike any other smile Cassius Warrington had ever seen before as her prettily painted mouth stretched to evenly touch each side of her face. With a flash of horror, Heir Warrington realized that the cordial had stained her too-sharp teeth blood red. Though he could not see them, Auntie Camilla and Great-Uncle Merihem held matching expressions as everyone else in the room continued gawking. Albert was secretly delighted that he'd be the one winning 50 galleons as he'd bet that Cassius' rash idiocy would get him and his parents eaten.

Both Antonius and Juliana moved to rise and apologize for their son's outburst, but Cassilda simply raised her right hand without taking her unblinking eyes off the boy. His parents both froze instantly.

"You ... demand to see Grandfather?!" Cassilda repeated almost deliriously as if she couldn't truly believe what she had heard. Then, she shook her head with what might have passed for pity to anyone who didn't actually know her, never once removing her gaze from the idiot boy. "You don't know anything about what's going on, do you Cousin Cassius? You truly believe you are entitled to whatever and whoever you want, don't you?"

Cassius sneeringly replied without realizing he'd done so: "No different than your entitlement to Tom Riddle is it?"

His parents turned bloodless in horrified shock as nearly everyone else in the room gasped out loud at the boy's enduring fatuousness. Antonious was aghast as he immediately felt regret for ever sharing that tidbit with his absolutely stupid son. Uriah loudly choked on his scotch as Merihem and Camilla exchanged incredulous glances, both wondering if there would be anything left of the boy to show Grandfather once their grandniece was through with him.

Said grandniece continued to stare unblinkingly at Cassius, who'd just realized the grave error of his statement. Her mouth was stretched tightly over stained teeth as her mismatched eyes flashed in a fury, like a too-smart wild animal baring its teeth before it delivered the killing blow. Suddenly, he realized that the room and its occupants all seemed to shrink in on itself. The increasingly agitated idiot realized that he couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from her unyielding one as everything faded to a dull roar.

With a foreboding sense of terror, Cassius felt the sensation of a spindly human (or perhaps non-human?) hand slowly climbing up his back…over his neck… before tightly encircling his neck! It was freezing… unnaturally strong… and the flesh was rotted… and he couldn't breathe… and he was choking… and he was going to DIE!

The horrifying experience continued on for a few seconds as Cassilda's wrathfully terrifying visage filled every inch of his blackening vision as he was denied much needed oxygen. He belatedly realized that he was levitating some inches of the ground as he approached the cusp of unconsciousness.

Suddenly, the hand disappeared as Cassius was unceremoniously dropped hard on the floor, choking in heaving breaths. He hacked and sputtered in an attempt to get air back into his brain and lungs as his parents stared in terrified relief. The room's remaining occupants weren't so forgiving as they woodenly watched the boy attempt to get himself back together, bearing expressions ranging from utterly aghast to viciously amused depending on each individual's capacity for empathy. None, not even his own parents, dared to approach him.

Taking a decadent sip of her cordial, Seneschal Selwyn elegantly held up her left hand in the general direction of Miranda without taking her hypnotic gaze off of young Cassius. She waved her fingers dismissively towards the girl and her family, who took the meaning and swiftly sat down while trying not to show their collective relief. The Seneschal turned her terrifying gaze to look back and forth between Antonius and Juliana, like a cat trying to choose which of two captured birds she should devour. "The boy knows nothing. You brought your fourteen-year-old son and Heir to the Abbey of Nightmares for his first visit ... and he knows nothing about who we are! About what the House of Selwyn truly is! Ça alors!"

Then, she turned back towards a somewhat recovered Cassius who dutifully kept his head bowed as he laid on the floor, equally amazed and relieved that he still had one attached to his body.

"Well then, Cousin Cassius," Cassilda said snidely. "If you are so ... eager to face Grandfather's judgment, who am I to deny you chérie?"

"NO!" Juliana shouted as she finally jumped to her feet, driven solely by maternal instinct to not see her son…perish by Grandfather's hand. "Cousin Cassilda, the decision to… to not tell Cassius about ... about the true order of things in our great house was made by my husband and I. We are the authors of our son's ignorance. We are the ones responsible for his abundant lack of cunning and decorum." Then, Juliana took a deep breath before continuing. "And I… I am Miranda's aunt. It was my desire to bring the House of Bonnevie into harmony with House Selwyn. That makes me equally responsible for any missteps on Miranda's part. Please, I beseech you! Allow me to be the one to meet Grandfather and plead our case to him."

"Yes," Cassilda said almost dreamily. "I'm quite sure there will be some pleading involved on someone's part. But I am deeply moved by the maternal devotion reflected in your speech." Her condescending expression suggested otherwise, but Juliana smartly didn't point that out. Then, she turned to look at Antonius who was still sitting in his chair utterly speechless.

"And what of you, dearest Cousin Antonius. You are Lord Warrington, after all. Will you now take this moment to display your sense of chivalry and heroically demand to take the place of your wife and son?"

Antonius simply stared unblinkingly at the woman, his mouth open and quivering as if he wanted to speak but simply couldn't bring himself to utter the words.

Cassilda laughed softly. "No," she said, her contempt obvious in the face of his cowardice, "I thought not chérie."

Pugsley immediately appeared and delicately took her cordial, bowing low as the witch instructed him to place it in her room for later. The minute he disappeared, she turned to the rest of the Family. "This meeting has ended. All of you, please consider the matters we have discussed. Should you have any information to share, please do contact us. I am certain all of you are aware how. If Grandfather has any instructions for you, they will be disseminated by the usual means."

Juliana Warrington walked over stiffly to her still down son and kissed him on the forehead before following Cassilda out of the room.

The Lord's Playroom, 9:39PM

"Here we are dear. Please enter of your own free will."

With poignant trepidation Juliana crossed the threshold of the room, which Cassilda had called Grandfather's personal playroom. She had been unable to hide the shudder of pure terror that had raced through her body at that description. Juliana jumped as she heard the door close behind her, wishing that she hadn't been forced to forsake her wand. 'Moot point really.'

Venturing further into the oppressively dark room, the witch took in as many details as she could make out. Each wall bore several gothic motifs (painted ink-black with red accents), made all the more terrifying by the mounted taxidermized heads. To her horror, Juliana realized that the bulk of them were human, with faces permanently frozen in a rictus of primordial fear.

The eastern wall had been fashioned into a massive Floo, enough to comfortably transport a family of at least five. Lining the mantle were carvings of daemonic imps bearing a variety of macabre expressions; some leering, some cackling, some screaming, and others…staring in hunger. With growing horror Juliana realized that they were in fact animated, and had been staring at her the moment she'd entered the room. She fought her instinctual panic to turn around and flee.

The north-facing side of the room was the most intriguing to the perturbed witch; rising out of the carpeted floor was an elevated multi-stepped dais that seemed to stretch into a fathomless black ceiling. The material comprising the dais was of great morbid interest; instead of the polished bone-white yew beams that made up the floor, the pyramid-like structure was made of an oddly viscous material that resembled orichalchum mixed with…blood.

A lot of blood.

Unbidden, Juliana wondered if all of the liquid had come from the bodies of the unfortunate victims whose heads now decoratively lined the walls. Shaking off that ghoulish but not entirely impossible train of thought, she focused her attention on the painting she could see mounted on the wall behind the dais. It was massive, covering the length of the wall. It was oddly blurred, as though there was a distortion field cast over it that prevented her from focusing on the subject within the frame. It seemed to be an impossibly tall and gigantic man dressed in sulphuric yellow robes, the trim of which was oddly…tattered. He seemed to have a halo…or was it wings?... that framed the background. His face was even more bleary and distorted, almost as if he was wearing a mask carved out of bone…pale bone…a pallid mask…Juliana rapidly shook her head, regaining her focus as she looked away from the disturbing image. The singular gold plaque mounted underneath the painting spelled out who the subject was and what year it was created, but it was written in an indecipherable runic text that was completely backwards and therefore was unintelligible to Juliana.

She was thankfully spared, since some things were best left unknown.

A low masculine voice reverberated through the room, causing the nervous witch to jump in fright: "Welcome Juliana." She gulped, before politely greeting him back as she curtseyed low. "It is a most esteemed honor to be in your presence, Grandfather." A resounding chuckle was all she received, causing her to shiver in fear.

The quiet sound of measured footsteps echoed as Grandfather slowly and gracefully descended from the raised platform before coming to stand about a foot away from his guest. Juliana's eyes widened, as this was the first time she was seeing the man fully…rejuvenated.

He was incredibly tall, a little over six-and-a-half feet. He wore elegant custom black robes made of the finest Acromantula silk and dragonhide leathers, all trimmed with blood-red embroidery in repeating patterns of a dark red rose dripping blood - House Selwyn's enduring motif. She noticed he was barefoot, a striking oddity to his rather traditional appearance. Icy white hair on a receded hairline had been slicked down in fashionable waves, allowing his bloodless face to stand out in sharp relief. Though bearing many criss-cross grooves of lines, his face still held the shadow of a very handsome man - all sharp and sweeping angles of patrician masculinity. His mismatched jade green and crystalline blue eyes - Cassilda's eyes she realized - stared out unblinkingly, seemingly cataloging her as though she were a strange…and scrumptious specimen he couldn't wait to devour. A surprisingly aquiline nose led downwards to a gnarled mouth, currently upturned in a gentle smirk as his unblinking gaze continued its measured stare.

On anyone else, his expression would've been deemed as kindly paternal amusement.

But he was Lord Selwyn.

The nostrils of his aquiline nose flared imperceptibly, gently breathing in the waves of fear, shock, and dread emanating from the visibly shivering woman in front of him.

"Have you eaten dear?" His voice was surprisingly soft and melodic, rather odd considering that the sound of his speech sounded like a chorus of voices melded into one deceptively gentle lull. Brows rising at the non-sequitur, Juliana responded that she had eaten, and that the meal had been an exceptionally curated cuisine. "I am glad to hear that dear." He didn't speak for a few more moments, content to still stare at her with that unnerving heterochromic gaze.

A sudden sharp wave of his hand saw a shocked Juliana levitating parallel to the floor beneath her, simultaneously Silenced and Stunned as her body was rendered frozen by unseen tendrils of powerful magic.

Grandfather loomed over her.

She was trapped.

His nostrils flickered as he breathed her in, delighting in the surprisingly briny aroma of fear emanating off her increasingly sweat-soaked flesh.

"It has been…so long since I have met with my younger kin. It seems...that my absence has caused a lapse in certain...decorum. I am told your foolish scion demanded to see me. To…plead his case before me." He chuckled condescendingly as he continued to breathe in the woman's fear, delighting in shades of sweetness that colored her scent at mention of the idiotic little spawn. "Foolish juvenile haste is one thing; it is an affliction we've all experienced in the flush of our youths. But this…" he trailed off suggestively, chuckling once more as her fear ratcheted in frequency. With a deep breath he dialed back his magiolfactory senses from his standard 59% to a duller 26%.

It would be impolite to start drooling before he could properly savor his meal.

"Gomez!"

An almost inaudible pop sounded in the room as his impeccably well-dressed valet elf popped in, adorned in a sleek midnight black three-piece suit. He bore a most peculiar pencil mustache, its ink-black color a perfect match for his sleekly slicked hair. He offered a steaming cup of coppery-scented tea to his master, before quietly popping away.

Gomez never once looked in the direction of Juliana's levitating form.

Grandfather quietly sipped from his cup as he soundlessly circled his entrée. "I always prefer tea prior to consuming any repast. I find indulging in anything else makes me…lose sight of the truly rich delicacy a satisfying meal presents. Don't you agree?" Juliana could only blink through tear-soaked lashes, before startling as Grandfather laid a surprisingly gentle and warm hand across her right cheek.

"I truly worry about your family dear. I worry so much about your son. A pampered child who was granted the immense privilege to be Sorted into Salazar Slytherin's noble house, his only goal to proliferate the greatness of House Selwyn's influence in the heart of the Serpents Nest."

He tutted in passable disappointment as he released his teacup - which floated alongside him as he used his other free hand to reach over her body and grasp her arm. Without nary a sound or a hint of strain he hoisted his body over hers, until he too was floating directly parallel above her. Juliana's eyes comically widened as she stared into his contrasting own as he hovered less than a few inches above her.

She faintly noted the man was not breathing.

His hand resumed that maddening stroking of her cheek. "I have watched your dimwitted descendant disappointingly trudge his way through every year of his matriculation, earning insignificant marks, making insignificant allies, and imparting insignificant influence over the lessers he should already be ruling." He tutted once more. "Then, the addition of a certain Harry Potter to Slytherin Houses poses a unique two-fold opportunity for your spawn to finally prove himself by simply following my instructions. But alas, your brood decides to deliberately disobey me. Instead of ingratiating himself with Potter so he may properly smite the filthy little halfblood, he…decides to court The-Boy-Who-Lived over to our noble cause, based on him being a mere Parselmouth!" Juliana whimpered at his enraged hiss, flinching at the feeling of his elongated nails now scratching at her skin.

"He fails spectacularly at spinning that ill-planned web, because your persistently puerile progeny failed to see that a bigger deadlier spider had spun a better web, ensnaring your senseless spawn. Harry Potter. Brother to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Oath-sworn godson to Sirius Lord Black. And the grand arbiter of your son's deserved demise within Salazar's noble house." He grabbed at her face with hand, his frightfully sharp nails sinking into her flesh as his eyes flashed in fury.

"And as if that did not bring enough shame upon our great House, you and your utterly useless husband willfully failed in your duties to inform your offspring of the true nature of our family. Of our true heritage. Of my true power!"

His last words crescendoed into a vicious hiss as he grabbed her right arm in a furious and unyielding grip. Releasing her face he raised that hand flat up and incanted a strange and warped spell that sounded as though he was speaking backwards. A deep and bloodless gash appeared in the flesh of his palm, which he then turned to point at the dais.

An offering was long overdue.

He was the perfect conduit.

His lips parted, revealing three rows of long glistening fangs that stunk of sulfur. His mismatched irises had completely disappeared, leaving enlarged and depthless black pupils. Any semblance of passable humanity disappeared as his true form emerged from his stolen sac of flesh, like a monstrous flower unfurling.

With slow deliberation he raised Juliana's gripped arm to his garishly stretched lips before his teeth. Tears streamed down Juliana's terror-stricken face as her mouth opened in a silent and endless scream, the strength of Grandfather's magic preventing the distressed sound from escaping.

"Oh don't cry for me dear. This is NOT Argentina!"

AN 1: And that marks the end of Book 2! I enjoyed writing this macabre bit of drama. I tried to capture that Addams Family comedic effect, but not too sure if it translated as well from my head to paper since there is a considerable amount of creepy here. We will see more of this sinisterly spooky family later on, along with la Famille Bonnevie.

AN 2: Casting-wise, Alice Eve is already Cassilda Selwyn. Charles Dance as Adramelech/Grandfather (Dracula Untold & Underworld: Blood Wars, essentially mixing these two characters together). For Merihem I'm thinking John Noble (Morland Holmes in Elementary), and for Camilla, I'm thinking Estelle Harris. For Cassius I'm thinking a young Fionn Whitehead, undecided about his parents.

AN 3: A very special thank you to anyone and everyone who has read & commented on my work, and an extra special thank you to 'BlueWater5' who has consistently provided commentary on almost every chapter on FFN. Very much appreciated!

AN 4: Book III - Ghosts of Wizarding Past (GoWP) will be posted relatively shortly. As the wise Doctor and Reg Lockhart once said, GERONIMOOOOO!