CHAPTER 24
20 November 1993, 2:46AM
The sound of soft humming was all that could be heard echoing through the hallway leading to the Grand Staircase, the same path which led to the Slytherin dungeons whence the humming girl had come.
It was Luna, dressed in her favorite footie pajamas with animated prancing unicorns. Her flowing blonde locks were braided and fastened with silver hair clips depicting the different phases of the lunar cycle, gifted to her by Eurus for her recent birthday. They were also charmed to emit silver moonlight, very helpful if Luna were to be caught in the dark without the aid of her wand.
Granted, she had no need of either now, bathed by the golden glow of the hallway's many lamps. In fact, she hadn't much need of anything, since this was all happening in her head.
The Slytherin witch was currently lucid dreaming, an attempt to expand the breadth of her heliopathic abilities. She and Eurus had discovered a book on the subject in the Kolumbiko library in their Hampstead estate. Said library contained many obscure books of the mystic and psychic arts that were similarly housed in Hogwarts' Restricted Section, and as such (according to Eurus), would potentially have the knowledge they sought to help maximize Luna's preternatural skill.
Their efforts had been rewarded with the discovery of Ascension to the Psukhē, written by a scholar who simply went by the Ancient Greek equivalent of 'Disciple'.
Neither was aware that the book had been purposefully placed in that conveniently-out-of-the-way-alcove by Lady Seraphina when she'd…overheard the two girls whispering about it in the comfort of Eurus' bedroom.
That she'd used her house elf Vex to bypass the privacy charms on her daughter's room went without saying.
A sudden soft gale of air brushed against Luna, causing her to freeze.
It was Nearly Headless Nick. Or rather, the blonde's mental interpretation of the infamous Hogwarts ghost based on her memories of him. He bowed elegantly to the girl, his nearly severed head perfectly balanced. Since she'd only ever had one innocuous conversation with the man, his representation didn't bother speaking.
Smiling sweetly, the Slytherin curtseyed back to him as she stared upwards at his sepia-toned nargles above his head that swayed to and fro like a gentle wave. All the Hogwarts ghosts had the same colored nargles, though the specific creatures and configurations were unique to each specter, much like their living human counterparts.
With a wiggle of her fingers Nick floated off to do…whatever ghosts did that she didn't know about. The primary benefit of lucid dreaming was that she could control her environment at will.
Resuming her humming, Luna boarded the Grand Staircase downward, pleased to see them move towards her intended destination.
Disembarking, she waved merrily to the portraits in the Entrance Hall before walking straight through the entryway doors to be greeted by the beautiful night sky. The smell of pine, freshly mowed grass, and dirigible plum jam filled the air. Though the ground was covered with a thin sheet of snow (for Luna did so love the snow), the air was pleasantly cool with nary a frigid chill. The stars twinkled very brightly above, enough to bathe her dreamscape in warm white light. Better yet, they were configured into all of the blonde's favorite constellations.
As with these things, Gemini, Sagittarius, Pisces, and Leo were the brightest of them all.
She made her way over to her favorite 'thinking spot' - a small hill with a smattering of pine trees that granted the perfect view of the Black Lake. As always the giant squid waved one of his massive appendages at her in greeting, seemingly pleased when she waved back.
Taking deep centering breaths, Luna allowed herself to relax. The subconscious veil she placed over her mind lifted, allowing all of the astral creatures only she could see to fill her purview. Her own nargles floated into view - polychromed six-winged dragonfly-like creatures that flew in relaxed concentric patterns. Her Blibbering Humdinger also manifested, not unlike a winged marshmallowy mooncalf.
The lake glowed with the luminescence of multiple Gulping Plimpies and Dabberblimps, swirling about in mesmerizing non-Euclidean patterns.
The spiky hot-pink wrackspurts caused by the Ultimate Sanction appeared as well, though their irritating static was comfortably muted.
Luna maintained her stillness, pleased for a bout of relative serenity. With a deep breath, she went through the process of bringing forth all her important memories, manifesting them around her as iridescent soap bubbles. They were mostly memories of her friends, her classes, teachers, and other such innocuous things. Some were larger than others, though that was no indication of their importance relative to each other.
For example, her memory of yesterday's breakfast was contained in a bubble twice as large as her head, though the bulk of the details consisted of her making pancake and mash towers with her food. If the witchling so wished to relive those memories - in a manner not unlike a Pensieve - all she'd have to do would be to 'pop' one with her finger and be pulled right in. To disburse them, she'd only need to 'pop' them with a thought and they'd all dissipate at the same time.
Resuming her humming, Luna contentedly watched her memory bubbles float all around her. Harry had suggested that a routine nightly review would expand her heliopathy, granting her full access to study and further understand the astral configurations unique to her schoolmates.
And, time permitting, the Professors too.
Just as she was about to pop into the memory of her conversation with the decidedly curious Caretaker, she froze.
A small cluster of bubbles floated into her view. They were rather odd; clumped together and rather misshapen, bearing a disturbing oily sheen that was the complete opposite to the lustrous iridescence of the others. Not only that, a keen sense of…something unnatural…crawled its way up Luna's spine.
The witchling willed them to come closer and wearily peeked in, expression wrinkling at the faces that greeted her.
It was the Carrow Twins.
And their identical, perfectly synchronized nargles.
That same sense of unease shivered up Luna's body once more.
No two people had identical nargles, not even identical twins. Not the Potters, the Patils, not even the Weasleys with their relentless twin-speak.
"There's something very wrong with those two."
They'd all heeded Miranda Bonnevie's warning earlier, telling to keep clear of the two due to their would-be sadistic tendencies. She had stressed that something was wrong with the two girls despite her inability to articulate just why they were off. Luna had shared the older girl's sentiments during her waking moments when she caught sight of the Carrows or they were mentioned, she just couldn't remember exactly why they made her so uneasy save the unnatural configuration of their nargles. In the moments she'd come close to telling any of her friends about their astral beings, she'd become distracted and end up forgetting about it altogether. In seeming response to her confusion a cluster of gelatinous wrackspurts sprung around her head, eliciting a frown. With an annoyed huff, she shooed them into nonexistence.
The memory bubble of her conversation with Frump hovered by, patiently waiting for her entrance.
But something deep inside her - instinct perhaps - demanded that she reacquaint herself with all her subconscious recollections of the Carrow Twins, no matter how …eerie she found them.
"Well…no time like the present."
And like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, so did Luna allow herself to fall topsy-turvy into her own mad Wonderland.
Office of Lord Gaunt - Ministry of Magic, 6:51AM
"Well…this isn't the worst disaster we've ever faced. Holyhead was pretty bad…though not nearly as bad as Sarajervo. The Ministry had to get involved with that, during my first month as Minister no less!"
Tom snorted out a laugh at Nobby's portrait, the two best friends debriefing and strategizing with each other for the past hour. Though the day had technically just begun it felt like it'd been hours, marked by Tom's completion of his nearly 12-hour shift as Number 18 within the DoM.
"I'll give you that." He sighed as he sipped his chamomile tea, ever grateful for Mab's attentiveness. A small serving tray of Molly's Magical Morsels sat to his right, more crumbs than naught of the heaping serving of lemon, raspberry, and butter tea biscuits he'd torn through. A jealous Nobby had lamented his inability to consume corporeal food, a fact Tom had teasingly rubbed in his face.
"But seriously, the werewolf attack has changed the stakes considerably." The ex-Minister's expression was grave. "We knew breaking out the Inner Circle would have some…unintended consequences, but this is far beyond that. Fenrir is the most dangerous werewolf in Wizarding Britain, perhaps in all of Western Wizarding Europe. He's been wreaking violent havoc for almost 30 years since he was infected, and he can single-handedly be credited with almost every lycanthrope infection on record. Him and his ilk being in Hogsmeade was absolutely no coincidence."
Lord Gaunt could only sigh. "Trust me, I'm in complete agreement. While Fenrir lives for carnage he would never be so bold as to attack in such a manner, knowing full well that he and his pack risked Auror capture. It was entirely too coordinated to be a random spur of inspiration, given the Dark Mark and their tactics." His expression wrinkled guiltily. "If I hadn't been so foolish as to further encourage SPAAM and PAC work together perhaps this entire disaster-"
"Enough of that." The Hufflepuff's tone was unyielding, that which only came about when his best friend tumbled down the dark tunnel of his never-ending Savior's Complex. "You are not in control of the actions of a rampaging werewolf pack in league with murderous Death Eaters. We won't have that."
It took a few moments, but a chastened Tom finally nodded in acquiescence before continuing on:
"According to all my intel, two of his pack members attempted to kidnap Amy Wilkes, extremely odd considering the girl and her guardians were already having supper with Tiberius Nott." He sneered then, expression twisting in disgust.
Nobby wasn't too far behind. "How in the hell is that even legal?! Circe's sake she's only 12!"
"As reprehensible as it all is, unfortunately it is perfectly legal within established Wizengamot law. He'd have to endure general public distaste and even outrage for the foreseeable future, but I imagine it will, like all such things, be weathered until eventually dying down. I checked with my source in the Office of Administrative Services and the petition for a formal marriage contract has been filed to go into effect at the start of her Third Year. They will be…betrothed to start (he expertly swallowed back his bile), before they're formally wed in the Yule. The expectation would be for her to birth a male Heir almost immediately, granting Nott status as Regent and sole proprietor of Wilkes' estate. In exchange, he's offered to pay Goyle a generous dowry in addition to paying off House Goyle's debts to House Malfoy and supporting them as an independent Vassal, so long as they could exchange alliance oaths. Apparently it's a sweetheart deal that encompasses Houses Crabbe, Flint, Urquhart, and Vaisey, all of whom would become oath-sworn Vassals to House Nott."
"...And what's Lucius saying about this? As far as I can remember a Vassal Lord cannot create and approve contracts without his liege's prior consent. Breach of prior contract, fraud charges, and potential loss of magic on behalf of the vassal and all that."
Lord Gaunt's expression turned crafty, enough to make the portrait bark out a laugh.
"Lucius is very well aware, all thanks to his Heir's machinations. Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott truly believe Malfoy's been bankrupted by Narcissa; little do they know that her divorce settlement constituted about a fifth of his personal coffers." Leach looked suitably impressed. "He's already setting the stage to properly yank on his vassals' chains, enough to put the fear of Merlin, Circe, Hecate, and all other such deities into the two dolts. Parkinson is the only one who's stayed the course, though I think that has more to do with actual mutual camaraderie than any personal greed on Parkinson's behalf."
'Nine heads-worth I'd imagine.' Tom snickered internally.
"What's he planning to do about his ex-wife? The assassination attempts on the Potter boys were terrible enough, but this time, she directly threatened the life of his Heir. Twice."
RIddle blinked. "That's currently a… group project." Lily's visage flashed in his mind's eye as Nobby chortled in delight.
Conversation drifted to more mundane topics (for them anyway), before eventually landing on a topic Riddle would have preferred to avoid altogether.
"How's the Diggory boy?" The Hufflepuff's tone was soft and gentle.
Tom rubbed his face tiredly. "That's been handled in the best manner possible. Neither his parents nor friends will suspect a thing, and…Dumbledore agreed and even collaborated. It's the best present solution for the boy, with all things considered."
"...Does that mean Amos is on board?"
Crystalline blue eyes glowed vindictively. "He had no choice."
"Good."
POP!
"Mab? Is everything alright?" The elf looked keenly worried as she nervously rubbed her spindly fingers together.
"Um…it's the Lady sire."
Panic and horror bloomed in Tom's chest as he momentarily forgot to breathe. "Is she alright?! The baby-"
"Both fine sir!" Her Lord sagged in relief. "It's just that…well…we've just run out of the boysenberry, date, and apricot jams and the Mistress is very upset. She's warded herself in the pantry and is refusing to come out in between bouts of bawling."
Tom deflated, deftly ignoring Nobby's snickers at the bouts of mercurial emotion of his very hormonal pregnant wife. He extended his arm to the elf.
"Take me to her."
Summerisles, 8:22AM
The clanking of cutlery was all that could be heard as Lords Malfoy and Parkinson enjoyed their breakfast. While Summerisles was famous for its luncheon and supper menus, their equally exclusive breakfast menu was just as exquisite. As Lucius was a VIP client and held the privilege of being genuinely well-regarded by chef de cuisine Gaston Legard, his table was served the very best the famous wizarding restaurant offered.
Helping himself to another generous serving of chaussons aux pommes, Andrew continued his covert assessment of the man he genuinely considered to be a dear friend.
They'd known each other since childhood, their respective families being close due to House Parkinson's status as House Malfoy's vassal since 1469. Then Acting Lady Danica Malfoy (Princeps Emeritus,1449 - 1451) and Acting Lord Cyril Parkinson had forged an agreement to establish the liege-vassal relationship. At that time, House Parkinson possessed all controlling interests in The Daily Declaration (the predecessor to the Prophet) and its muggle counterpart The Trumpeting Bugle - a favorite among the ruling nobles and their upper class counterparts. Though both papers were generally successful and yielded comfortable enough revenue, Cyril had a keen gambling addiction that saw him constantly over leverage the Declaration and Bugle, resulting in massive debt that Cyril had no feasible means of paying without relinquishing what remained of his familial wealth (and with it, their Noble Seat).
Seeing a perfect advantage, Lady Danica had acquired both publications and all of Cyril's debts, further agreeing to pay his House dues so long as House Parkinson swore fealty to hers.
Naturally, it hadn't been out of the goodness of her heart.
She'd intended to use both papers as effective tools of propaganda to utterly crush the reputation of then Theron Lord Nott as the man and his cohorts (rumored acolytes of the Order of the Unbroken Chain) schemed to fracture the Wizengamot to reestablish the Wizards' Council of olde, granting them near unchecked authority to rule all the muggles. It wasn't enough that the purebloods enjoyed equal and unfettered privilege as muggle nobles that held tangible influence in their politics and other such matters; Theron and his allies wanted to establish themselves as wizard-gods with absolute dominion over the muggles, subjugating the ruling class in order to achieve their goals.
It didn't help that Theron - a proudly Lancaster-aligned wizard - was in direct opposition to the York-aligned interests of Danica and her allies.
Along with her Consilierii Emeriti Arrius Weasley, Valdis Gaunt, Jericho Kolumbiko, and Nicodemus Crouch, Danica executed a three-year campaign of expert maneuver warfare (with an occasional frontal assault) that saw Theron's character and influence in complete tatters. Along with persisting rumors of alcoholism and a disturbingly keen appetite for teenage muggle girls (with picture proof courtesy of Jules Scarabee), accusations of contract fraud with other Wizengamot Houses came to the fore, along with more serious allegations of practicing redacted spells whilst muggle-baiting. Nott, with his propensity to brag about his superior hunting abilities, had made that insinuation all too easy to levy. The emergence of that particular accusation carried serious legal ramifications in the form of massive fines, formal censure, and, in very extreme cases, expulsion from the Wizengamot.
With the defeat of the Lancastrian heir Edward of Westminster and his muggle and wizarding forces in the Battle of Tewkesbury in 1471, Theron finally had to admit defeat and retreat from the public sphere altogether, though not without a formal apology to the Wizengamot and a sworn statement to never again interfere with House of York's interests. Lord Nott had initially postured and blustered with threats of Enmity Oaths and lawsuits against his enemies, but the historic siege of Castle Black (led by Valdis Gaunt and Thibault Longbottom) which resulted in the execution of his ally Sagittarius Lord Black had quickly remedied any such intentions.
Needless to say, House Malfoy and House Nott's tumultuous grievances had been generations in the making.
As for Lucius and Andrew, the two agemates had both found themselves in the Restricted Section in their Second Years, both seeking a spell that would allow them to use the many serpent portraits, carvings, engravings, etc. to spy on their respective Housemates. Andrew's desire had been rather innocuous and selfish; he wanted to eavesdrop on the Slytherin Quidditch team to gain any tactical advantage in his pursuit to be Keeper ahead of Eustace Burke.
Lucius, on the other hand, had intended to establish a network of reliable and nigh undetectable spies to gather intel on his Housemates, establishing a personal black book of blackmail that would (unbeknownst to him) rival Cassie Black's efforts during her tenure as Tom's Consiliarius.
That it would give the younger Malfoy great advantage of his odious brother Claudius went without saying.
Successful in his task, Lucius had further succeeded in solidifying his camaraderie with Andrew, grooming him to maximize his natural propensity towards boyish charm and disarming flirtatiousness - the complete opposite to Lucius' own dignified stoicism. It'd very effective for both parties, especially when Malfoy had ascended to the Hydra Throne in his Fifth Year and took on Parkinson as his Consiliarius. The latter frequently clashed with Clotilde Goyle, but both soon realized that their bickering was just a mask for their mutual attraction that neither was willing - and or able - to act on. Andrew was already betrothed to Tauria Dagworth-Granger, and Clotilde was fighting off a betrothal to the notoriously disgusting Tyrell Gibbon, who'd ultimately perished as a Death Eater (aka Mr. Warden) in the destruction of Castle Strange in 1979.
He and Lucius had maintained their friendship post-Hogwarts, even after the latter defied Abraxas and eloped to France with Christina Fenwick. When Claudius had foolishly gotten himself killed and thus dragged Lucius back to fulfill his duties as Heir and future Lord, the two had grown closer, both succumbing to the demands of their fathers and forced in league with the Dark Lord.
"So, how is your family doing Andrew?" asked Lucius in between elegant bites of his croque madame.
"They're well enough." He paused to take a sip of his café au lait. "Nolan and Aidan are doing well at Durmstrang. It's a pity…they would have been very excited to host young Draco."
Lucius sighed. "As would I, but my heir insisted on remaining at Hogwarts." A small and proud smile lifted his lips. "And I have to say, I am very pleased that he did."
Andrew nodded along, secretly amazed at the tangible change in the other man's demeanor. While Pansy's correspondence often spoke of (or rather churlishly bemoaned) the dramatic change in Draco's attitude and persona, it seemed that it was impressive enough a change to inspire pride in his father. While Lucius had never said it out loud, his previous disappointment with his son's impulsiveness and decidedly not-Slytherin sensibilities was obvious to those perceptive enough to realize.
"And how are the ladies?"
Andrew blinked. "Pansy's alright, though the poor girl is going to need more sessions with our mind healer. She's been having some fairly intense nightmares about the werewolf attack and Dreamless Sleep can only do so much." HIs friend's expression wrinkled sympathetically. "Tauria is doing well, busying herself with the social calendar as she typically does. She and Belphobe will be taking in the opera in Bregenz this weekend, and hope to do so in Paris at Yule." His tone turned casual. "Both are lamenting the lack of a Malfoy Christmas Ball this year, given the…separation from the former Lady Malfoy."
Lucius continued chewing his dish, though Andrew registered the ever so increased tightening of his jaw at the mention of his hated ex-wife. The two had never gotten along during their Hogwarts years, given her relations with Claudius and propensity to uncommon cruelty against the muggleborns.
"Hm…a pity indeed." A pause to sip his coffee. "Though I will say I won't miss the hubbub of planning such an event. Not to mention the cost of it all." He blinked as he helped himself to a cruller.
'...Huh.'
That was decidedly odd. As business-oriented as he was, Lucius very rarely, if ever, spoke of money. Like any posh gentleman, the Prince Emeritus found the subject rather crass for mundane discussion, especially amongst peers. That he would so casually reference it in conversation with his friend - a Noble peer and vassal no less - lent some credence to the claim that House Malfoy had fallen from the vestiges of its former glory. Unbidden, the image of the unanswered invitation parchment from Tiberius Nott popped into his mind, requesting Parkinson's presence at The Whistling Gnome (a posh wizards-only bar) alongside Crabbe, Goyle, Urquhart, and Vaisey to discuss "pertinent House matters between peers".
Andrew was clever enough to gauge that it was a ruse to attempt to buy off their loyalties, pledging fealty to Nott in exchange for having their house dues covered. Francis and Gregory were easily swayed, and he didn't doubt that parvenus such as Urquhart and Vaisey were already on board.
Weighing all of those options, things seemed very fairly obvious regarding House Malfoy's fate.
Unless…
'This is a test.'
To evaluate the true loyalties of the men and their families whose debts and upkeep he'd fielded for years, to the tune of millions of galleons. If he were truly impoverished, he'd be reliant on the genuine allegiance of his vassals to continue to support him in the Wizengamot. If he wasn't impoverished (and Andrew knew Lucius to be far more crafty with his money than most would expect), this would be an assessment of the true depths of his vassals' characters. Especially when facing temptation from Lucius' most-hated enemy; a man whom, Andrew believed, Malfoy would have personally enjoyed gruesomely torturing to death for his murder of his beloved Christina.
Those who failed, Andrew imagined, would suffer grave consequences.
Another beat passed before the younger wizard frowned, not knowing whether to be upset or not at the subtle insinuation that he too, like Crabbe and Goyle, only cared about Lucius for his wealth and the privilege and protection it afforded. Their Hogwarts years and forced conscription into the Dark Lord's service should have been testament enough.
'I guess even great men need the occasional reassurance.'
"Tell me about it, Tauria's shopping during regular months is bad enough; my head is practically spinning on its axis during the holiday season!"
Lucius blinked…before peals of soft laughter erupted from his mouth and caused his friend to begin laughing as well.
Though he had no other means of confirmation, Andrew was certain he'd passed.
Quidditch Pitch - Hogwarts, 12:42PM
Snow, Draco had decided, was definitely one of the worst conditions to play Quidditch in.
While his gear and uniform were charmed to be impervious to the weather, it still posed an unwanted difficulty to an already hard game, having to work twice as hard amidst the visual impairment of the neverending flurries.
Though, admittedly, it had very little impact on his team's performance. Slytherin was well ahead with a whopping 180 points, with Gryffindor trailing behind with a measly 70. The well-oiled Slytherin Chaser Machine kept the Beater Twins on their toes, especially Potter and Weasley. Though he would never admit it out loud (least of all to Weasley who'd teased him mercilessly about auditioning for his Seeker position), Draco marveled at how smoothly they moved on their brooms. The two constantly looked to be flawlessly gliding with their brooms, as if seamlessly made one with the object.
The-Sparrow-Sails-Forward combined with The-Gliding-Eel tended to have that effect.
On the other hand, the Lion Chaser trio of Spinnet, Johnson, and Demelza Robins were noticeably struggling and hadn't yet developed the right chemistry to be an effective team. Demelza was the newest addition, a replacement for Katie Bell.
The witch had not survived the werewolf attack in Hogsmeade.
Thoughts of that made the Malfoy Heir shudder violently, the horrifying memory of nearly being mauled to death by Janos Skorzeny flashing in his mind's eye. He was grateful for his Occlumency, else he imagined his mind would have been torn to shreds by the impact of the Wolf Fear from both the creatures and the Dark Mark.
Fourteen dead.
It was the exact same number that had perished when the Express had imploded, the irony of which wasn't lost on Draco.
'Like Fate playing a horribly cruel trick.' He snorted in spite of himself, hoping against hope that there wouldn't be any more bloodshed.
A thunderous roar from the Slytherin faction jerked Draco from his thoughts, signaling another 10 point goal for the Serpents courtesy of Harry Potter. Lee Jordan's magically amplified voice, while not as enthusiastic, still acknowledged the impressive Porskoff Ploy between him and Weasley that resulted in the goal.
The sound of whirring and a flash of gold caught Draco's eye. It was the Snitch, racing up past the faculty section of the pews into the sky above.
'Bugger.' It seemed the Git-Who-Lived had spotted it too, shaking off his melancholy thoughts to veer sharply towards his prize. Draco had performed his usual 'Pompous Pureblood Ponce' routine to distract the boy, relying on Jim's predictable short fuse. Unfortunately, the Git had been rather taciturn and more or less ignored the blonde.
With a determined grunt, Draco raced off in hot pursuit.
Twenty-Six Minutes Later…
Just as Marcus volleyed the Quaffle through a decently guarded-but-not-well-enough Gryffindor goal post, he jerked forward on his broom as the thunderous voice of a drunken Aries Flint - screaming all manner of vitriol - echoed in his mind.
"Da?!"
In response his father's angry voice sounded; this time in a memory of being furiously kicked by the man as punishment for intervening as the elder wizard (once more inebriated) struck his mother repeatedly.
"What the hell?!"
The onslaught of his worst memories increased as the visage of his monstrous crone granny filled his mind, enough to make Marcus clutch at his head in his despair. He faintly registered Oliver Wood screaming bloody murder in his periphery, along with the sudden drop in temperature completely unrelated to the snow. Webbed patterns of frost formed over his broom's shaft and spread across his uniform, accompanied by a wave of crushing anguish.
Only one thing could cause such a visceral reaction.
Dementors.
An entire horde swarmed the Quidditch Pitch, bombarding the players and spectators equally and eliciting screams of terror.
A particularly eager pair rushed Marcus' position, who jolted at the thrum of mental energy emitted from his cuff. It provided enough of a spark to unholster his wand and exclaim "EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
Ironside erupted from his wand and bumrushed the pair, eliciting pained screeches as they were rebuffed. The Slytherin Captain maintained his onslaught, redirecting his boar protector in Oliver's direction to rebuff the wraith attacking him. The poor Lion was slumped over his broom, completely blacked out from the exposure.
Further bright flashes of light signaled more Patronus Charms pouring in from the faculty and a few handful of students. The Headmaster's phoenix protector shined brightest of them all, successfully rebounding a group of five. Dumbledore looked absolutely furious, indicating the sheer strength of his wrath that could not be contained by his considerable Occlumency.
This continued on for what felt like endless moments, before the Dementors slowly but surely began peeling off.
Just as things started to take a turn for the better, the blackened clouds above parted as two figures tumbled down to their respective deaths.
It was Draco and Jim, both unconscious with their brooms nowhere in sight. Trailing uncomfortably close behind them were four Dementors, two of whom's mouths hovered dangerously close to that of the Boy-Who-Lived.
Seven Minutes Earlier…
Ratcheting up his Nimbus' speed, Draco soon caught up with the Git. Verdant eyes glowed with resolve behind his round spectacles, focused solely on the Snitch zip-zapping rapidly ahead.
"OI! SCARHEAD!" Jim shot a glare at the blonde. "I'm surprised you can see anything ahead of you four-eyes. Not to mention that rats' nest on your head blowing about every which way! I can't even see!" Draco added a customary Slytherin sneer to really drive the point home.
Though a loud snarl erupted from Jim's lips, the Gryffindor ignored the Slytherin in favor of increasing his broom's speed to catch up with the Snitch, which still raced upward well past 4000 feet in its standard erratic manner.
'Drat. Looks like I'll have to use Plan B.'
Draco had spent hours of his summer running this particular move with Justin, but a practice trick in leisurely flying didn't really compare to the real thing.
With a deep breath Malfoy slipped into a Sloth Grip Roll, pulling his broom to be perfectly level under Potter's whilst racing at breakneck speed.
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" Jim's eyes goggled at the sight of an upside down Draco sandwiching him from below, wondering how the hell he was even keeping his broom level!
"Trying a little something new!" Draco replied with considerably more bravado than he felt as he mentally prayed to every deity he knew not to fall to his death. He turned his head slightly past the broom's shaft to glare at his enemy. "What, scared Potter?" He leveled a standard Malfoy sneer at the boy, this version much more refined than its Slytherin counterpart.
Jim growled. "You. Wish."
The fight was on.
The two Seekers swirled around each other in a hypnotizing battle of aerial acrobatics aimed at distracting and overcoming the other. The two came close to crashing at one point, forcing a swearing Jim to momentarily peel off and thus giving Draco an inch of an advantage he would not let go to waste.
Pushing upward past 6000 feet, Draco adjusted his Nimbus to maximum speed while tightening his form as much as he could, assuming a crouching position with arms stretched straight out in front of him as he prepared to execute the D'Orazio Dive.
Normally reserved for Chasers, this tactic was used to steal the Quaffle from opposing Chasers. A Chaser would fly just behind an opponent Chaser, jump off of their broom and high into the air whilst doing a double somersault to steal the Quaffle from the opponent's hands. The momentum of the aerial flip would allow the player to evade the opponent Chaser's body and re-land safely on their broom. It was a move oft utilized by Kurt Todt of Die Lodernden Feuervögel - the German National Quidditch Team. It required great athleticism, exceptional hand-eye coordination, and (unbeknownst to most who tried and failed to execute the move with disastrous results) one full heartbeat of dilated perception.
So focused was he on his task that he failed to register the very unnatural drop in temperature as the white skies turned black as though the night itself bled through the heavens. A faint scream echoed in his periphery, but the young Malfoy paid it no heed. Though filigree-like frost patterns quickly spread on his broom's shaft and that of his reinforced Quidditch uniform, Draco only had eyes for the Snitch as he leapt from his broom.
THUMP.
Belatedly amazed as everything sped to a crawl, Draco's right hand closed the Snitch as he began turning in the somersault maneuver. He was halfway complete, only to be met with a faceful of leering Dementor.
As he was in the tailend of his Dilation, the screaming and horrified Seeker endured a longer-than-necessary exposure to the foul beast. Scabbed and rotted gray flesh comprised its skin, bearing empty eye sockets covered with a thin flap of decayed slimy tissue. A fathomless vacuum served as its mouth, which emitted an ominous rattling noise. It was altogether wrapped in a massive and looming body that resembled more dark ether than any solid matter, emitting a foul mist that reeked of the dead.
Its putrefied skeletal fingers grasped for its would be victim, but Draco had mercifully passed out from the limited exposure as the downward momentum of his somersault sent him careening to the ground below.
Current Time…
Shaking off his brief horror Marcus zoomed towards the falling Seekers, firing off a volley Arresto Momentum spells that succeeded in slowing down their impending bloody splat trajectories. The massive corporeal forms of a Komodo dragon and a lion Patronus charged headfirst at the Dementors trailing after the two boys, buffeting them away. That provided ample opportunity for Ginny and Harry to race to catch their forms, slowly lowering them to the ground.
Upon landing, the Slytherin Captain was treated to the sight of his two Chasers casting Rennervates on their respective Seekers, with Ginny (amusedly) slapping Draco's face whilst commanding him to "Wake up!"
Jim was the first to recover some of his wits, owlishly blinking his eyes open as he garbled about "a screaming woman". Rolling his eyes, Harry left his brother in the capable hands of his newly arrived Gryffindor teammates before scrambling over to Ginny and Draco's side.
He mumbled incoherently, before sputtering to semi-consciousness as Ginny gave him a few tapping slaps on each cheek.
"B-Blimey Weasley…calm down… 'm not d-dead… 'lmost d-died…b-b-but I g-got it…"
"Got what?!" yelled Weasley.
A dazed smile lifted Malfoy's face. "W-whatelse?" And with that, the Slytherin star-Seeker slowly raised his right arm into the sky, revealing the captured and dormant snitch.
Despite the amazed exclamations from Lee Jordan and the thunderous cheers from the somewhat recovered Slytherin faction, Draco once more blacked out.
Second Year Slytherin Girls Dorms, 3:57PM
'What an utter waste of my time.'
That was the primary thought rattling through Ginny Weasley's mind, wondering why in Merlin's name she'd allowed Luna to convince her to do this. None in the room were speaking as a bout of uncomfortable silence stretched taut.
Well, it was uncomfortable for most of the room's occupants, save the aforementioned irritated witch and Druscilla Crabbe, who sat fuming on her bed. A few feet to her right was her roommate Astoria Greengrass, who had the bloody audacity to look concerned for her! When this was all her fault!
Yurika Haneda stood guard at the room's door, wand at the ready with the obvious intention of preventing Druscilla from leaving. Luna and Eurus stood in the opposite direction of Yurika, staring at the irate witchling with decidedly opposite expressions. The blonde bore her standard dreamy expression whilst her best friend looked patently bored.
Ginny occupied the room's center, arms tightly folded and face pinched in irritation as she fought to not sneer back at her fellow PAC member. Crabbe had been intolerable all year round, and Ginny wasn't all too convinced that grief was the sole cause of the girl rapidly sinking into increasingly nasty pureblood bigotry. She'd caught her and Marietta ranting about Hermione behind her back a few weeks past, with "know-it-all mudblood" the tamest of their arsenal.
The girl was quickly approaching the very limits of Ginny's rather limited largesse.
"I told you all to leave me alone!"
"And I'd love nothing better than to do that Druscilla, but Luna here convinced me that Tori insisted you needed help so she kindly asked us to stage this little… intervention, as the muggles would call it."
"If you think I give one bloody hoot what a bunch of filthy mudbl-"
"Don't. You. Dare. Finish. That Word. In My. Presence." Ginny's harsh tone washed over Druscilla, who froze at the sound as the redhead's oak brown eyes flared dangerously. Chastened and very intimidated, she quickly averted her gaze.
"Well," Tori said as magnanimously as the mood would allow. "I did invite you all in here for this…intervention as Ginny so eloquently put it. So there's no time like the present." She turned to kneel beside Druscilla, cerulean blue eyes warm with sympathy. "I've been worried about you Dru, very worried." The witchling-of-concern flinched. "I…I can't pretend to know what it's been like since Vincent-"
"You haven't a buggering clue what that's been like!" she snarled coldly.
A strange look overtook Astoria's face before disappearing in the blink of an eye. From her vantage, Luna cocked her head curiously.
"You're right Dru, and like I said, I won't pretend to know what it's like. What I do know is that it's been eating at you, literally from the inside out. You haven't been eating enough, you've barely been sleeping, and you've not been paying any attention in your classes. Not even Charms, and you actually like Charms." Greengrass covered one of the girl's balled up fists with her own hand. She was shaking and looked to be on the verge of bursting into tears.
"It's alright Dru, really." Tori's voice was soft as silk. "Just…just tell us what's wrong, we're all here for you." Ginny made to rudely interject before pausing at the hand Eurus laid on her arm, slightly shaking her head no and momentarily calming the redhead's ire.
"You don't have to suffer any more dear…we're here. Vincent…Vincent would want you to be alright. He was your brother, I can't imagine he'd be happy to see you like this."
"I…I…" And just like that, the dam burst as the poor girl started wailing in earnest, clutching Greengrass as a lifeline whilst the girl gently rocked her and made cooing noises of comfort. The others bore varying expressions of sympathy, though Ginny erred more towards irritation.
"It's…it's just…things have been sooooo hard you know?" Dru's voice was garbled with snotty tears. "It's been such an awful year! First the Express explodes, then…then Vince…then Romeo and Juliet ended up slaughtered-"
"Romeo and Juliet?" interjected Weasley confusedly.
"Her pet toads," Eurus replied. "I believe they were a bonded pair, correct?" Druscilla nodded piteously. "They were found in the Common Room some weeks ago, hidden in a corner." A shadow of concern fell over her face. "It looked like they'd been…mauled to death. As if they'd been chewed up and then spit out."
That inspired a fresh wave of tears of the youngest Crabbe, causing Ginny to subtly roll her eyes.
"...Sounds like what happened to Hannah's pet gecko Gordon." Yurika's brows wrinkled. "She said she'd found it smushed in the bottom of her rucksack, with all its skin peeled off." The witch turned a touch green. "There's been at least three other incidents, I think there's some kind of feral cat on the loose."
"Do you see why I've been struggling so much?!" Druscilla exclaimed despairingly as Tori wiped her tears with her monogrammed handkerchief. "It's been a right awful year! Just one bloody calamity after another, there's no end in sight! Not to mention all of the awful nightmares I've been having." A violent shudder went through the girl as she loudly blew her nose.
"Nightmares?" interjected Luna, penetrating eyes staring directly above Crabbe's head. "Can you describe them to me?"
Several rude retorts made their way to the witchling's tongue, but the combined looks from Ginny and Eurus made the younger Crabbe answer:
"I dunno…they've been coming much more frequently than I thought. I can get to sleep just fine…but then…it's like I'm being watched by something…lurking in the shadows that I can't see." She trembled, causing Greengrass to rub her arms comfortingly.
As she spoke Luna had slowly approached Druscilla, unblinking gray orbs affixed just above the girl's head. From the heliopath's perspective, her nargles - which resembled double-shelled Firetrail Snails - had been steadily growing listless and blue since the start of the school year, indicative of her growing depression. Luna had mentioned it to the girl and recommended that she see a Mind Healer, but the witchling had rudely sneered at her whilst snarling that she "mind her Looney business and leave well enough alone!"
But now…her nargles looked so exhausted, almost as if they'd collapse at any given moment. Coming closer to Druscilla - enough to make her eyes widen as Luna practically stood on top of her - the blonde noticed something decidedly more…strange.
On the necks of each of the astral beings were curious little marks, not unlike pinpricks. In fact, if Luna were being honest, they resembled bite marks from very long and very narrow fangs.
"How does your head feel when you wake up from these nightmares?"
Druscilla stuttered at the non-sequitur. "W-w-what?!"
Luna repeated the question, not once taking her eyes off the spot just above Dru's head. The would-be patient exchanged a strange look with Tori, who merely shrugged whilst nodding for her to answer the odd question.
"Um…I have really bad headaches. Like I'm being, I dunno, stabbed all over my head with small little pins. It gets a bit better during the day, but it's much worse at night. All my headache relief potions don't seem to be working and I've given up on Dreamless Sleep."
To her shock, Lovegood nodded with complete seriousness, before diverting her penetrating gaze to the wall next to Druscilla's bed. "Who occupies the room next to yours?"
Tori blinked at the sudden change in topic. "Huh? What does that have to do with anything?"
"I said, who occupies the room next to yours?" Lovegood was practically glaring a hole through the wall.
"Not too sure, but I think it's the Carrow Twins."
And to the bewilderment of all the room's occupants, Luna staggered backwards in horror as all the blood drained from her face. The blonde grasped Eurus whilst urgently whispering in the ear, causing her eyes to widen in matching horror.
"Are you sure?!"
Luna nodded in complete seriousness. Before Tori or Ginny could ask just what the hell was going on, Eurus unholstered her wand and cast Petrificus Totalus and Somnus spells in quick succession, startling the others as Druscilla froze before keeling over.
"BLOODY HELL!" exclaimed an aghast Tori as Yurika and Ginny gaped in shock.
"Go get Professor Snape, now!" Ginny ogled for a moment before quickly nodding and grabbing Haneda on her way out.
Regaining her wits Greengrass had unholstered her wand, body tense and ready to strike as she stood protectively in front of the downed girl. "Either one of you care to explain the meaning of all this?" she hissed. "Because I am very inclined to hex you both silly."
The two girls exchanged a heavy glance before Luna addressed the fuming Second Year: "Tori, please heed me when I say that I am not intending to be dramatic but…" She struggled to get the words out.
"Circe's sake, spit it out Lovegood!"
Luna drew a deep breath: "Druscilla is dying."
Professor Scrimgeour's Office, 8:00PM
"Right on time Mr. Potter. Please, come in."
Harry nodded politely at the Professor, entering the room and taking in his surroundings. A complete contrast to Reg Lockhart's setup of the previous year, the entire room was perfectly austere. The only paintings that hung on the walls were the castle's originals, the only bit of adornment in the spartan settings.
The largest image hung on the easternmost wall, a portrait depicting the stately figure of Magnilda Rowle (Slytherin, Class of 1586) - a former DADA Professor and Slytherin Head of House. Her most striking feature was the medieval style armor that covered her chest and arms, all of which bore sinuous carvings of kraits surrounding the crest of House Rowle.
Taking a seat in front of the Professor, Harry immediately noticed the black dossier folder on the man's desk, no doubt containing the details pertaining to the trial of the non-existent Berith Selwyn.
Well, Harry currently didn't know that Berith Selwyn was non-existent, because this was not Harry.
It was his Reserve Personality, created specifically for this particular event. He possessed almost all the knowledge and memories Harry did, with the major exception of any and all details pertaining to the truth of Berith Selwyn and the Azkaban Breakout.
And one or two…provocative details that would appeal to Rufus' ravenous and nigh prodigious Abductive Legilimens genius all while providing a solid enough distraction to Azkabal's benefit.
"Tea?"
Harry nodded politely, watching with keen eyes as the older man prepared two cups of the fragrant Darjeeling. A tray full of apple pasties and raspberry jam biscuits accompanied the beverage, keeping the two reasonably occupied as they exchanged banal pleasantries.
Some minutes later, Scrimgeour passed the dossier over to Harry for his review.
The first few pages were copies of the arrest record and subsequent testimony from Shacklebolt and Varens, detailing the raid on Berith's hideout in Knockturn Alley on 6 November 1981. The eight-man Auror squadron had been met with rather violent retaliation, resulting in one dead and four others seriously maimed.
As far as the trial transcript was concerned, there were six sworn affidavits introduced from Witnesses 1-6. All six confirmed - with corroborating Veritaserum and Pensieve memory proof -
that they had witnessed Berith unmasked as a Death Eater during several key raids with enough specific detail to be deemed reasonably compelling. As such, it was deemed sufficient to issue an arrest warrant for the erstwhile Selwyn heir, resulting in his capture and secret tribunal.
Under the effects of Veritaserum, Berith had confessed to being a proud Death Eater for almost three years, officially taking the Dark Mark around the time You-Know-Who debuted the Ghosts of Silesia. Taking full advantage of his position as the Heir of a prominent Ancient and Noble House, Selwyn admitted to systematically placing several prominent Lords, Ladies, and their respective Heirs under the Imperius Curse. Such included Lucius Malfoy, Tiberius Nott, Andrew Parkinson, Gregory Goyle Sr., Francis Crabbe and dozens of other equally respectable wizards.
His testimony also went into lurid detail about all the crimes he'd compelled those respectable wizards to perform, crimes including felony Muggle-baiting, murder, arson, and rape. Berith had stated that his sole motivation was "to see pureblood-kind once more rise to its rightful prominence under the greatness and glory of the Dark Lord, in a world utterly void of filthy mudbloods and blood traitors who would betray their own kind." When asked why he'd enslaved the will of his fellow purebloods, Heir Selwyn had plainly stated that he was "ensuring his fellow brethren did their duty to the letter, no exceptions."
Next came an expert report submitted by an anonymous Unspeakable establishing the purpose and parameters of exactly how the Imperius was cast and how it could be maintained by its caster in such a vast network.
The entire transcript ended with the thirteen-member tribunal adjudicating the case, ultimately resulting in a guilty conviction of Heir Selwyn in the form of a lifetime sentence in Azkaban's maximum security North Tower.
"So," Scrimgeour asked. "What do you think about Selwyn's confession? Seems rather thorough, does it not?"
Harry took a languid sip of tea as he chewed on his answer. "Thorough, yes. But isn't it unusual for someone to be sent to Azkaban just for their own testimony under Veritaserum? What about, say, memory alterations?"
The ex-Chief Auror blinked. "The witness's chair in the Wizengamot courtroom has the same properties as a Remembrall. It will instantly reveal whether the witness has been subjected to any memory-altering spells. All six witnesses would have been asked to handle a Remembrall prior to signing a magical affidavit."
"True. But still…" Harry's tone became curious enough to pique the older wizard's interest.
Scrimgeour leaned forward. "Tell me, Slytherin Potter. You obviously have doubts about Berith's conviction. Why?"
The boy's expression turned pensive as he ruminated on the question. As this was his Reserve Personality and not truly him, he didn't have any cause to think (much less believe) that Berith Selwyn was merely a figment of imagination made real by forbidden anathemagic. Unbidden, he prepared himself another cup of tea, feeling oddly thirsty despite the rather filling two cups he'd already consumed.
"Have you been briefed on the details surrounding the events of Professor Quirrell and the Mirror of Erised in my first year?"
The DADA Professor quirked a brow at the non-sequitur, in a manner not unlike Professor Snape.
"I am aware of the basics. Quirrell, functioning as a secret agent of You-Know-Who, was arranged by Albus to come to Hogwarts as DADA professor in order to lure the Dark Lord into a trap of some kind. Which ultimately resulted in four Gryffindor firsties - including the Boy-Who-Lived - getting kidnapped by the madman and having to be rescued by three other Slytherin firsties. By some great miracle, You-Know-Who was…banished once more. "
Harry didn't miss the suggestiveness of the man's tone.
"Fair enough. Anyway, You-Know-Who currently exists in some kind of spirit form, and he was physically possessing Professor Quirrell. On the last night he was here … I sort of got into a conversation with him. I was stalling for time to keep him from killing me and some of my friends, and decided to…um… distract him by means of antagonization. He was already bloody erratic, so I figured I could anger him into making a critical error that could allow all of us to escape."
Both Scrimgeour's brows quirked.
"Anywho, I insinuated that the old families didn't really believe in his so-called 'noble cause' and that's why he had to use Berith Selwyn to cast Imperiuses on them to sway them to his will. Sir," Harry allowed his expression to grow grave. "He sounded as if he'd never heard of Berith Selwyn." While Harry had initially planned to leave that bit out, he was well aware that Dumbledore possessed Jim's memory of that night, and, had shared it with the DADA Professor if his previous answer was any indication.
Reserve Personality or not, he had to be selective about exactly what lies of omission he told.
"My word, Slytherin Potter. You do lead an interesting life. And from that brief exchange, you conclude that this official document of the Wizengamot, signed by six esteemed if anonymous judges and countersigned by the official Scribe of the Wizengamot, is fake?"
Harry opened his mouth to respond but then got sidetracked. "How can the judges be esteemed if they're also anonymous?"
Scrimgeour smirked. "The Death Eater Laws. The Wizengamot got tired of its judges being assassinated every time they publicly ruled against Death Eaters. So, it established the Blind Panel, a group of twelve highly-esteemed wizards and witches who would agree to serve as judges in all Death Eater-related trials. The Wizengamot picked them in a closed session with every Lord and Lady in attendance swearing a rather stringent secrecy oath to never reveal who served on the panel. Until You-Know-Who's defeat was confirmed, every single trial involving an accused Death Eater was heard by six of those judges, randomly chosen, in a closed courtroom with Dementors serving as unofficial bailiffs. Witnesses for and against the defendant would be subject to perception-filtering spells that prevented them from recognizing any of the judges."
Scrimgeour paused. "Mind you, that didn't stop some of them from getting murdered anyway. Everyone in the Wizengamot who wasn't a collaborator or worse was treated as a target by the Death Eaters."
"And even after all these years, no one knows the names of any of the judges?!" Harry asked.
"Well, we know one of them was Albus Dumbledore. He publicly revealed himself as one of the judges and also vouched for the other eleven despite his own personal misgivings about the Death Eater Laws. Doing so helped reassure the public that the Blind Panel would be neither a rubber stamp for Barty Crouch nor a corrupted body that would let Death Eaters escape justice." He gestured at the top of the front page of the transcript. "These seven sigils here are actually the occluded names of the six judges who heard Selwyn's case along with the official seal of the Scribe testifying that the transcript is a true-and-accurate copy of what was actually said."
Subtly fidgeting with his glasses under the pretense of getting a closer look at the sigils, Harry activated its rune detector feature. While it didn't decrypt the mysterious symbols into the actual names of the judges it hid, it did reveal their runic makeup.
Seven normal depictions of Mannaz each mounted on top of normal Algiz, each affixed with Tiewaz turned sunward. Merkstave Kenaz framed the top of each Tiewaz, providing an additional v-shape frame shielding Tiewaz's arrow-like form.
Together, they represented a council of strong protectors (who also required protection) aimed at preserving justice, seeking and illuminating the truth that would otherwise remain hidden.
'Powerful and effective,' thought Harry.
Professor Scrimgeour cleared his throat. "So, I ask you once more – do you have any reason to doubt the authenticity of this document?"
Harry tiredly sighed whilst sipping at his tea, wondering why the beverage was seemingly unable to whet his ever-growing thirst. "Honestly sir… I'd chance it up to a very strong gut feeling."
"Oh? Rather un-Slytherin of you, don't you think?"
The younger Potter snorted. "On the contrary; if I've learned anything useful as a Serpent, it is that there's no right linear approach in combating a problem. I have also learned that there is no such thing as a coincidence, least of all when it involves a homicidal Dark Lord who has tried and failed to kill my brother and I. Thrice if you count his failed attempt at murdering us as babies. His self-professed Inner Circle has somehow escaped from Azkaban in what I can only describe as an unprecedented breach in national security, and since then, our world has been plagued by all manner of violent chaos!" Harry's tone had gotten rather spirited as the corners of his DADA professor's lips lifted in passable amusement.
"I mean Merlin's beard; first the Express gets blown to bits and fourteen students die, and now, Hogsmeade gets attacked by werewolves of all things during what was essentially a joint school club celebration resulting in fourteen more dead!" He took an eager sip of tea. "If you ask me, I think the Death Eaters are setting the stage to reanimate their damned Lord so he can succeed in killing us all."
"Reanimate him, you say?" Scrimgeour leaned forward as Harry sipped at his tea. "And how do you propose they'll do that?"
Harry snorted. "Probably another one of those damned horcruxes being kept by the Death Eaters that escaped and-"
The younger Slytherin stopped suddenly in mid-sentence and looked directly into the DADA Professor's eyes. Then, he looked down at the cup of Darjeeling still in his hand, his third of the evening that somehow never quenched his thirst.
"This is Veritaserum."
He looked back up into Scrimgeour's eyes, noticing the glow of satisfaction burning within them.
Unfortunately for the older wizard, he would almost immediately learn that all deviously-gained victories were ultimately short-lived.
Clap…clap…clap..clap…
Both Slytherins jerked at the sound of slow golf-claps that emanated throughout the room. Focusing on the sound, both realized that it was coming directly in from the easternmost wall. The same wall that housed the portrait of Magnilda Rowle, which was now oddly covered in shadow.
The clapping stopped as the shadows melted away …
To reveal Marcellus Frump!
"What the hell are you doing here?!" exclaimed Harry, shocked at the sudden sight of the idiosyncratic Caretaker, who snorted at the boy's question as his lips curled into a sneer.
Scrimgeour had eschewed a question and instinctively unholstered his wand, only to find that his arm was glued to his chair arm. In fact, his entire body was completely stuck to his chair, rendering him completely immobile. That should have been impossible, since he'd been able to move just fine some moments before and had specifically charmed the chair to be impervious to any hexing or jinxing magicks.
"How the hell are you doing this Frump?!" The ex-Chief Auror's tone was barely above a furious snarl.
"It's fairly elementary you see." The sneer had transformed into a magnanimous smile. "If you've bothered to pay any proper attention, you'd have noticed that the elves of this castle are rather underestimated and underappreciated." He slowly approached the duo. "They're usually well regarded for their exquisite culinary skills, but like any beings that have dwelt in this castle for centuries, they are exceptionally well-versed with all the special nooks and crannies Hogwarts possesses. For instance," he turned to the portrait, "did you know that behind this stately painting of the late Knight-Dame Rowle is a secret passage impervious to added wards that leads straight to an unguarded broom closet that is directly across the storage quarters for all the various knick-knacks confiscated by the Caretaker?"
Twin sets of eyes goggled.
"Indeed, admittedly my predecessor had a bit of a hoarding obsession. I mean honestly, just how many bloody collections of gobstones can one man sequester under the guise of 'rule-breaking'?" He looked genuinely perplexed. "Anywho, the elves were oh-so-kind as to show me the path and the means of remaining hidden until the right time, so I can comfortably say you owe my presence here to their persisting and sadly underappreciated genius."
Snickt.
"LEVICORPUS!"
Harry had regained enough of his wits to unholster his wand and cast an offensive spell, but unfortunately, Frump was much faster as his wand flicked the jinx away with an annoyed roll of his eyes. He followed that with a Petrificus Totalus and Silencio Totalum at each wizard, rendering them silent, bound, and utterly at his mercy.
"I won't bother stating just how rude that was." He sneered more before venturing over and helping himself to the raspberry biscuits. "Though I imagine drugging the minor-aged scion of an Ancient and Noble House with Veritaserum without neither due cause nor the presence of his parent, guardian, and/or solicitor is considered significantly more rude." He leveled a cheeky smile at a fuming Scrimgeour, who was in truth, more upset at being caught so completely off-guard by a deranged oddball Caretaker than the prospect of facing the very real consequences for his entrapment of Harry.
"The punishment, if convicted, is at least a mandatory two-year stay in Azkaban. Lord Black is also the boy's godfather, so I imagine that sentence would be doubled. Well…probably tripled, given the man's tendency towards all manner of dramatics." He rolled his eyes for added effect.
"On top of that, I have it on good authority that you, Rufus, have never been shy about your disdain for Potter Elder." He tutted in a passably pitiable manner. "I can only imagine he'd advocate you be fed directly to the Dementors for the attack against his son, even if he and the boy are estranged." The man snickered as though laughing at a private joke.
A wave of his wand - 14 ⅓ inch mahogany with dragon heartstring - saw a plush and chintzy throne-like chair appear, which Frump elegantly flopped into. His position allowed him a perfectly unfettered view of the two Slytherins and provided a blockade to the room's main exit. A lazy swish-and-flick levitated the tray of remaining pastries over to him, which he attacked with gusto.
"I would have tea with these, but the whole pot has been tainted with truth serum. Such a pity, Darjeeling is one of my favorites." He eagerly leaned forward. "Did you know that the first successfully cultivated plants in India came from hybridized seeds of Camellia sinensis and magical Valeriana officinalis? The roots of the latter were better suited to withstanding the environmental makeup of the Assam wilderness and thus ensured the plant's survival and a higher leaf yield. Rather fascinating!" Had they not been bound and paralyzed, both Scrimgeour and Potter would have gawked at the sheer audacity of the man giving a pontificating lecture whilst holding them hostage!
"As a matter of fact, I will have to make it my top favorite tea, considering it exposed a most fascinating and delightfully sinister cabal that perfectly ties in the Azkaban breakout, the series of mad disasters that have befallen the Hogwarts students, and, even more suggestively, the would-be revival of the Dark Lord! Fascinating!" The mocking in his tone was clear despite his comically amazed expression as he nibbled on an apple pasty.
"You know," he said after a few moments. "I can hardly handle such titillating news all on my own. I feel inclined to…spread the word." Both Harry and Scrimgeour - who'd been struggling in earnest to free themselves from the joint bondage - let out inaudible chokes as the man smiled in an impossibly devious manner.
"But first, more refreshments! TWEAK!"
Almost Two Hours Later…
At almost 11:00PM, Harry Potter would find himself in his dorm room, peacefully nestled within the comfort of his downy sheets. His beloved Selma would be curled within his thick wavy locks, content to be resting beside her favorite master.
He would have no recollection of his bizarre confrontation with Marcellus Frump. While he would be able to recall his conversation with Professor Scrimgeour regarding the trial transcript of Berith Selwyn, he would have absolutely no memory pertaining to the man's Veritaserum interrogation and the proceeding conversation borne from that act.
Most importantly, Harry Potter would have absolutely no idea that he was willingly under the influence of a Timestamped Memory Lock, set to expire on 22 June 1994 at exactly 6:00AM.
AN 1: This was much longer than anticipated, but definitely needed to set the stage going into the (sort of) latter half of the Book. The title is a reference to the POVs of our mainline Slytherins, i.e. Luna, Tom, Lucius, Draco, Marcus, Ginny, and Harry.
AN 2: I did say I intended to have fun with Marcellus Frump. As previously mentioned, he is played by the brilliant Jonny Lee Miller during his stint at Sherlock Holmes (ELEMENTARY)
AN 3: There will be a face-off between Luna and the Carrow Twins, so stay tuned!
AN 4: As opposed to PoS, in AD, Andrew was a member of Lucius' Prince Administration, in a Cassie Black-like role. He will be played by Rupert Friend in his portrayal as Prince Albert in The Young Victoria.
AN 5: In AD, House Malfoy is not patrilineal. It's just that whatever curse is plaguing the family (a consequence of whatever would be REDACTED spell they allegedly used against House Weasley detailed in Book 2), has made female descendants obsolete. Per their House Charter, the legitimate first-born magical descendant of the Acting Lord or Lady is the Presumptive Heir.
AN 6: The Diggory Affair will be revealed towards the end of Book 3.