CHAPTER 12
13 August 1993 - The Roost - Yaxley Manor, 12:22PM
Albert Yaxley glared at his bedroom window, sneering at the sight that greeted him.
It'd been raining for almost two weeks.
Granted, it was the end-tail of a standard English summer and thus was bound to rain.
But this wasn't the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops falling from the sky to whet the welcoming ground.
This rain was strangely amplified, marked by clapping thunder, crashing lightning, and wailing gales of furious winds.
There were brief reprieves here and there, a deceptive lull in the stormy weather that left many residents in the quaint village of Corfe Castle equal parts perplexed and concerned. A few of the more perceptive elders knowledgeable in the stories of the olde noticed the intensity of the volatile weather concentrated near the namesake castle that towered over the village proper.
Legend claimed that the ghost of the rightful King Edward the Martyr - slain by the witch-queen Ælfthryth - haunted the ruins of the ancient manse, seeking vengeance against those who'd conspired to murder him
In this particular case, the muggles would be equal parts right and wrong.
While the overly loquacious ghost of Edward the Martyr did haunt the ruins of Corfe Castle (much to the annoyance of the house elves tasked to care for the edifice), the actual castle wasn't really the remains of an old English fortress. Rather, the ruins were the result of ancient warding magicks utilized to conceal Yaxley Manor from the overly curious eyes of the surrounding muggles. Bequeathed to Ulysses Yaxley by Adramelech Lord Selwyn some centuries prior, the passing of the ancient manse marked the ascension of Adramalech's First Cadet, he-who-served (and would always serve) at the left hand of House Selwyn.
What the muggles were wrong about, was the true cause of the uncommonly tumultuous weather.
That was due to the mercurial mood and magic of Lady Vasilka, caught in the throes of a particularly violent temper tantrum.
The Storm Queen had been seething in anger for weeks, a quiet storm churning in ever-growing discontent. While everyone was at their wits end with the witch, all were content to give her a wide berth. The very nature of her magic lent to an over-dramatic reaction, as was the case with most in House Perun. It was fabled that the elemental configuration of a Storm King or Queen's magical soul was aligned with the weather itself, making their power significantly more…dangerous.
In fact, many believed that those Chosen as Storm Kings or Queens could trace their ancestry to the namesake god of their House. Rumors abound that House Krum could trace their lineage all the way back to a secret dalliance between Perun and the witch Bogdana Krum, resulting in the birth of Natanail - The Infallible Archmage and founding Kanasubigi of House Krum.
It was seemingly fitting, considering that generations of the mainline Krum family - with a few Boyar and Bogatyr exceptions - were Chosen for House Perun.
A deafening clap of thunder sounded, causing Albert Yaxley to groan in frustration. He'd warded his suite - affectionately nicknamed The Roost by his brother Giles due to its proximity to the owlery - with several sound-dampening charms to help maintain his peace and sanity. They seemed to have worn off, and the younger Yaxley was really in no mood to have his sanctuary disturbed by his mother's admitted churlishness.
Unholstering his wand - 14 ½ hawthorn with Caladrius feather - Albert calmly incanted the spell for Heru-pa-khered he'd borrowed from Giles' notes, pleased to feel and hear the gentle lull of complete silence wash over his entire room.
He turned back to study the sheets of parchment spread across his desk. They contained several zagоvors he was required to memorize if he were to pass the first of thirteen Initiation Rites to become a Zhrets - a mage priest skilled in Ascended Divination, Sacrificial Offerings, and the basics of Wild Astrology.
He'd considered the Healer's track that was standard for a Rising Red Star Fourth Year, but Albert had always been an overachiever.
Snorting in spite of himself, the younger Yaxley diligently continued his task, charming his Velesian harp to better focus his "sound-shaping" whilst chanting.
POP!
Albert jumped at the of his and Giles' personal elf suddenly appearing.
"Blimey Cotter, you gave me a bloody heart attack!" He noted the tense wringing of the elf's bony hands. "Is…is everything alright?"
"Ehm…you have been summoned downstairs young sir, your father requested I fetch you and your brother personally."
"For what particular reason?"
Cotter visibly winced. "The…the Seneschal Selwyn has come for a visit."
Albert felt his heart drop to this stomach as his throat tightened. Taking a few Occludic breaths, Albert nodded once before Banishing his reading materials into his blood-locked trunk.
He gently placed his hand into Cotter's own, faintly registering that it'd finally stopped raining.
The Grand Parlor - 1:31PM
"You'll have to invite me in dear, of your own free will of course."
Albert faintly registered his mother's subtle flinch at the dulcet-toned request, before she graciously invited Seneschal Selwyn into the luxuriously decorated room. By his mother stood his wooden father, who'd shown no expression beyond blinking rapidly and audibly gulping. His brother was equally stone-faced, though he seemed to be doing a significantly better job of hiding his nerves.
Albert wondered if his emotions were so plainly obvious on his face.
With uncommon grace, Cassilda elegantly lowered herself into the largest chaise in the room, allowing her sumptuous white fox fur robes to elegantly settle around her. A matching stole, muff, and hat bearing garishly stuffed fox heads complimented the outfit beautifully. Albert would have likened the witch's visage to an angel, were it not for the deep-red rose accents artfully adorning her cloak.
Like remnants of blood from her unwitting prey.
Once everyone was properly settled, Gib popped in with a full tea set, taking care to have a full pot of Cassilda's 'special tea' fully prepared for the witch's enjoyment.
The coppery scent was particularly strong today.
Tittering in delight, Cassilda poured herself a full cup, savoring the wonderful aroma of her favorite repast. She would have preferred it with thrice-baked tarte à la peau licorne, but a mini cream tart would have to do.
A few moments of tense silence passed as the Yaxleys and their unwanted guest stiffly enjoyed their beverages with absolutely no attempt at mundane conversation.
"It smells rather strongly of ozone, no? Quite the weather you seem to be having." Seneschal Selwyn turned and blinked exactly once at Vasilka. Lady Yaxley stiffened, but succeeded in not rising to the provocation. Her hemlock wand was not so amenable, releasing a sharp (and unseen) spark at Cassilda's audacity.
"Indeed. August rains are a touch more…tempestuous than naught." Vasilka sighed and took an elegant sip of her lavender and mint tea, delicately nibbling on a watercress sandwich. "It is almost as if the summer is mourning its departure from the world." Cassilda tilted her head at that overly suggestive comment, before turning to smile at the Lord of the manor.
"Speaking of departures from our world…how are things going at the Ministry, Corby?" The man stiffened at the snide use of his most hated nickname, before haltingly launching into a passable explanation.
The investigation into Lord Yaxley's potential involvement in the Azkaban breakout had been officially marked as 'inconclusive' some weeks prior, due to the man's inability to produce a viable alibi. While Portkey records indicated that the man was out of the country during the breakout, his refusal to provide corresponding memory verification made the situation…stickier.
Lord Yaxley had also refused to submit to Veritaserum, both he and his solicitor citing grave encroachment on his civil liberties as both a wizard and a Noble Lord of the Wizengamot. Because the DMLE hadn't formally accused Corban of any crime, he could neither be held in Auror custody nor compelled to take Veritaserum under threat of a warrant. As it stood, Auror Yaxley was on indefinite suspension, not even allowed on the premises of the DMLE offices.
It went without saying that House Yaxley's current standing with The Family was considerably lower than it'd been mere months prior.
"Oh dear," tutted Cassilda in a false babyish manner, "it seems things have taken a turn for the less than optimum." She took a small sip of her tea. "Have you had any contact with Lord Potter?"
"Uh…yes. A few written correspondences here and there, nothing too…suggestive or incriminating should they be intercepted."
The Seneschal hummed noncommittally. "And you are absolutely certain that you weren't truly implicated in the Azkaban Breakout?" Corban audibly gulped.
"Absolutely certain. I was out of the country on…personal business, and had no idea that little scheme was occurring. I had no idea that someone, possibly foreign Metamorph agents, had their sights set on me to use as a ruse to break into Azkaban and free…the five who were freed."
Cassilda looked amused. "You were out of the country on foreign soil dallying with all manner of foreign harlots and you're…surprised that you were potentially compromised in a scheme by potential foreign agents?! Quelle horreur!" Her expression of affected shock would have done little to fool those who were lucky enough to not know her.
"Cousin I swear I-" He choked back his words as the Seneschal raised her left hand and dismissively waved in his direction, forcing him to silence. Unbeknownst to her, another fiery spark emitted from Vasilka's wand, accompanied by the faintest scent of ozone. Cassilda's nose twitched, before blinking twice at a blank-faced Lady Yaxley as she poured herself another cup of tea.
"I am certain you are telling the truth Corby, as I've already confirmed during our last tea session." Lord Yaxley swallowed back his horror at the memories that arose of the most terrifying meeting he had ever had with Seneschal Selwyn behind the locked confines of her Ministry office. He'd spent the following four days in a drunken stupor, hiding in the sanctuary of his private study.
Pulley - his personal valet elf - had been forced to spell Sobering and other Healing Potions directly into his Lord's stomach to prevent him dying from alcohol poisoning.
"As I am sure you are aware, Grandfather isn't entirely too pleased with this latest development." A wave of tangible fear spread through the room like plumes of poisonous gas. "He's undecided on whether an Accounting is needed." Corban turned white, icy gray eyes widening in fright. "What say you to that?"
Lord Yaxley simply stared unblinkingly at the woman, his mouth open and quivering for a few moments as Juliana Warrington's bloodless and near lifeless visage flittered behind his mind's eyes. He took a deep shuddering breath before speaking. "If it is Grandfather's demand, I will, without any question, be honored to do so."
Cassilda merely stared, tilting her head back and forth as her unblinking heterochromic gaze took its time absorbing the visage of each member of House Yaxley.
When Albert was a child and still believed in childish things, he'd been particularly taken with the unique beauty of her eyes, the innocence of his youth never once realizing that the witch hardly ever blinked. When his Diviner's Intuition had manifested at the tender age of eight, his Baba Bisera (Vasilka's mother) had gifted him a full set of beautiful hand-painted and self-animated tarot cards.
With the arresting image of those mismatched blue and green eyes in his mind, Albert had pulled four cards from the scrambled deck to get a glimpse of the witch's true nature.
The Emperor - Upright.
The Magician - Reversed.
The Devil - Reversed.
The Tower - Upright.
Startled, the young boy had tried thrice more, getting the same order of the four major Arcana cards.
He'd then banished those mismatched eyes from his mind, never bringing them forth again.
A soft sigh escaped Cassilda's lips, doing little to break the tension. "Grandfather is…undecided at the moment. Your goal for now will be to get back into the DMLE - active duty preferred, but desk duty will suffice. While we do have a source within the agency, we'd prefer for you to be our foremost lead on the so-called Death Eater Menace. That…and the true purpose of having Dementors running amuck at Hogwarts. Not that Hestia and Flora would ever run the risk of being Kissed." She tittered at her seemingly private joke, blood red lips stretched almost garishly from cheek to cheek. "As I was saying, do what you must to be allowed back into the fray. You are a somewhat decent Occlumens, so be wise to use that to your advantage. I expect your task to be complete within a week. Understood?"
The Yaxleys' relief was palpable. "Crystal," Corban tightly replied.
Cassilda blinked exactly once, before finishing her tea in one fluid motion. A few beats passed uncomfortably before she gracefully rose, dusting off specks of invisible dust from her plush robes.
"Well, I'm off. My dear friends Elizabeth, Miriam, Claudia, and I are off to Sighisoara for a lovely girls' weekend. It's been so long since we've all…hunted together. Can't let those skills wane can we?" She gave a girlish titter, frightful enough to raise every Yaxley's hackles. "Before I leave…come say goodbye to your dear Cousin."
And with that Cassilda turned and raised her left hand, eyes going sharp when Corban woodenly approached, bowed, and kissed the onyx signet ring adorning her pinky. Vasilka stiffly approached and curtseyed low, before rising to give Cassilda air kisses.
It looked as though the Seneschal was sniffing Lady Yaxley's pulse points, though not so obviously as to alert her.
It was Giles' turn, and he bowed low before dusting a soft kiss against her ring. Cassilda giggled delightedly. "You were always my favorite mon cheren vŭlk." Heir Yaxley blinked twice, before bowing once more and resuming his position at his father's right side.
Keeping his expression perfectly blank Albert approached and repeated Giles' action, momentarily freezing when he registered the witch's stiffening.
"Hawthorn?"
The younger wizard blinked at the non-sequitur. "Beg your pardon madam?"
"Hawthorn? Your wand? Is it on your person?"
"...Yes madam, I was working on homework assignments that required use of my wand." The moment stretched taut, before the witch stiffly nodded.
"I'm off now, we shall reconvene within a week's time. Au revoir!" Cassilda soundlessly sauntered out of the room, bearing the appearance of having floated out. As the tightly strained cord of unease loosened around their collective necks, Albert belatedly wondered what he and his family could have done to deserve a most unwelcome guest.
'Oh,' he mentally sighed as the dots connected. 'That's right. Friday the 13th.'
Dungeon 3 - Longbottom Manor, 2:49PM
Frowning, Lord Malfoy elegantly brandished his wrist to check the time on his new favorite gold watch - a masterful muggle creation by watchmaker Patek Philippe.
Severus and Riddle were currently in the mind of Bellatrix Lestrange, and there had already been three minor disasters.
The first was seemingly a psychic attack by a gang of tolls, if the manifesting fist-shaped bruises on the men's faces and exposed bits of skin was any indication. The second was seemingly a horde of banshees (Lord Malfoy didn't even think that was possible), and the third was apparently an all out battle between the two Slytherins and multiple doppelgangers of Miss Demeanor at peak fighting form.
At least that was Lucius' assumption, considering the additional spell damage of burns, buts, and broken bones the two had incurred. It was the first time Tom had verbalized any kind of spell (a series of furious and sinister hisses), and due to the increasing crescendo of Parseltongue, the battle was far from over.
Still, nothing the two Master Legilimens had incurred was comparable to the madness they'd incurred diving into the mind of Augustus-bloody-Rookwood. A gobsmacked Lucius couldn't believe the madman had manifested Inferi as part of his psychic protection, but he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised. That Severus and Riddle had survived was a miracle in-and-of-itself, even moreso considering their minds were still seemingly intact.
Lucius would have to find the means to cajole Severus in sharing the details of The Sieve of Thoth ritual with him.
In case of an emergency.
Another hour passed in relative silence before Riddle and Snape screamed as their probe ended, just as the sharp scent of ozone filled the already stale dungeon air and little arcs of electricity danced across their skin.
"BLOODY HELL!"
Lucius jumped out of his chair in alarm, rushing over to assist Cassie and Regulus with healing the men as best as they could, casting spells and shoving potions down their gullets.
"What the hell is going on here?!"
"J-just a standard foray into a Death Eater's mind," replied Tom with a mild stutter. "With a little Fulminata to...spice things up, nothing more." Lucius leveled an incredulous look at the unconscious form of Bellatrix Lestrange as Lily hissed a strange spell at her.
Together with Regulus, the two wizards hoisted the two Legilimens upward before summoning Dobby to deposit them in the adjoining ritual room for yet another cleansing.
Lord Malfoy did not miss the significant looks the two Slytherin men exchanged with each other, almost as if they were speaking in each other's mind, though about what Lucius hadn't a clue.
He would find out the following day, and he would spend the rest of his life wishing he'd never discovered that most unfortunate truth.
AN 1: Corfe Castle is a real place, situated in Dorset surrounded by a village of the same name. The little known about the castle is that it served as the residence of Ælfthryth, wife of King Edgar and slayer of his son Edward, which led to her being rumored as a witch and thus ushing the evil stepmother trope used to describe her through several texts. The name Corfe derives from the Old English ceorfan, meaning 'a cutting', referring to the gap in the Purbeck Hills upon which the castle proper is situated. I chose it as a subtle homage to Corban Yaxley's DE name 'Misericorde', a dagger used to deliver the cutting/killing blow.
AN 2: I hope you liked this peek into House Krum's history, more will be revealed later.
AN 3: I have a few draft scenes of a confrontation between Vasilka and Cassilda, but I am undecided. Vasilka's shit list is growing, and Cassilda is slowly inching her way upwards. We'll see.
AN 4: Elizabeth, Miriam, and Claudia are a reference to Elizabeth Bathory, Miriam Blaylock, and Claudia (de Lioncourt) - three famous vampire women. The town they will be hunting in - Sighisoara - is a town in Romania and the home of Vlad Dracul.
AN 5: In Slavic mythology, Hawthorn is believed to be especially dangerous for vampires, so much so that immediate contact would ensure death. A single thorn of the hawthorn's branches is placed in the deceased's bellybutton during burial preparation, to prevent him or her from coming back as a vampire.
AN 6: Heru-pa-khered means 'Horus the Child', later Hellenized to the Greek god Harpocrates, the god of silence, secrets, confidentiality, etc. His inclusion into the Hellenistic pantheon is a consequence of Horus represented as a naked boy with his finger to his mouth - the representation of the hieroglyph for child. The Greco-Romans misinterpreted this gesture as one for secrecy and silence, which was later adapted into magical practices for spells meant to invoke secrecy, the need for silence, etc.
AN 7: For more details regarding Durmstrang House Sortings, please refer to TSM's "Supplemental Reading" chapter that explains it all in-depth. Bear in mind that AD is a spin-off, and thus my interpretation of Durmstrang, its Houses, etc., are not canonical.