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Revenge of the MHP	By : reddragon Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 51869 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters associated with said property. This is a work of fiction, and I do not intend or stand to make a profit. All resemblances are coincidental.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
Lucius felt...oddly calm as he sat at the right hand of the Dark Lord, directly across from Bellatrix. The fight two nights before had thinned some of the older blood from the ranks of the Death Eaters, but Lucius found it difficult to consider it a bad thing. Greyback was dead, and with him the Carrows and Walden MacNair. They had always been some of the least stable of Voldemort's followers, and Lucius was glad to see them gone. The remaining Death Eaters were more... Well, civilized wasn't the right term, not exactly. He preferred the word 'formal' in its place. More sane, certainly. While most of the survivors craved power, they understood that they were pieces in a larger game. Certainly not pawns, of course, but not nearly as important as the King or Queen. They would serve as the noble pieces. But while a Knight or Rook could swing the direction of a game, they were, ultimately, still just as expendable.
The one exception was sitting across the table from him, her chin perched on steepled fingers as she studied the man across from her. Lucius kept his expression bland as he stared back at Bellatrix. He was, honestly, surprised that she had survived the fight. He had expected her to join in carelessly, but instead she had sat back and watched with all the amusement of a dedicated Quidditch fan whose team had just made it to the World Cup. Since then the two of them had reached a sort of almost truce. Bellatrix had discovered that Malfoy truly did have the killing edge she had long suspected he had lost, while Malfoy had come to a new appreciation for her cunning and instincts. The two would hardly become friends, as there was always the matter of currying favor with Voldemort, but for the moment there were two Queens on the board, a state of affairs that Lucius was more than willing to maintain.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Voldemort hissed as their plates vanished from the table. “I am pleased to see so many of you have decided to join us for dinner this evening. Wonderful news. There are some new faces here tonight, are there not? Please, step forward, step forward!”
Lucius held Bellatrix's gaze just a moment longer, then turned to the far end of the table where chairs were scraping against the floor as the people sitting in them made to stand up. Speaking of pawns. Voldemort's decision to recruit new Death Eaters had surprised Lucius, but after thinking about it he had come to see the logic in it. With Dumbledore no longer in the picture, the Potter brat having vanished, and McGonagall's suicide, there was almost no resistance left in England. True, the Weasleys had disappeared shortly after their son's funeral, along with a few other more prominent members of the Order. But there was no longer a single leader to rally them, no center of power to lead. A distressed housewife was no threat to anyone, no matter what her crackpot husband had done to that...blender thing. Many of the smarter witches and wizards had seen which way the wind was blowing, and dozens had already made quiet appeals to Lucius to see if he might be able to ease their way into a silver mask. He knew others had been approached the same way, and a few braver souls had even contacted Voldemort directly. Those who had done so had already been inducted for their courage, while those who had approached lesser lieutenants were required to perform a sort of audition.
Voldemort quietly rose from his own seat, arms spread wide in false welcome to the cluster of nervousness waiting across the room. “My brothers and sisters, I welcome you into our little family. A new era awaits us, one in which a witch or wizard will have to struggle for the respect that should automatically be due to him or her. For too long mudbloods and half-breeds have pretended to be our equals, their outrageous audacity fueled by impertinent fools who found it in their best interest to foster such delusions of grandeur. Now those fools have been struck down and their works crumble to ashes, for nothing created from such falsehood can stand the true test of time. Still,we must be cautious as we reach out to seize our destiny. There are those who would resist us, and spread falsehood about the nobility of our cause.
“Thus we come to the truth of the evening. You are gathered here today in order to earn your rightful place among our hallowed ranks. But how? Why? What shall you due to guarantee your place in history?”
One of the women closest to Malfoy stepped closer to the table, separating her from the rest of the group. Malfoy leaned into get a better look at her. She was young, only a few years older than Draco would have been. Her shoulder length blonde hair had been pulled back into a simple braid, and her face was sort of attractive in its plainness. Her eyes, however, were a deep emerald color that would have been a perfect match for a Slytherin banner.
“Simple, my Lord,” the girl-woman answered. Lucius mentally subtracted a year from his estimate of her age, while adding quite heavily to her bravery column. He strongly doubted she had finished her seventh year, though it was just possible she might have started it. Was her being at their dinner a sign of her power, or Voldemort's desperation? He toyed with the idea as the young woman continued, “The Ministry has closed Hogwarts. This means there is no Master or Mistress to lay claim of authority over it. This means that, as it is written in Hogwarts, A History, the old wards will have reactivated. The castle itself will determine who its true lord will be, and will not submit quietly. It is no secret that you desire this position, my Lord. I would volunteer myself and those willing to follow me as a means of investigating those wards.”
“So that you may claim the castle for yourself?” Bellatrix's laugh was in no way pleasant. “Do you think the Dark Lord so foolish, girl?”
“I would make no such claim, my Lady,” the girl replied, bowing her head in Bellatrix's direction. “Would not the Dark Lord then strike me dead and take the title for himself anyway? A pawn's place is to be sacrificed, but a clever pawn may place itself to survive until the next game. I would make no illusion about my place in this hallowed circle.”
“What is your name, girl?” Lucius asked.
“Sarah Roberts, sir.”
“I'm not familiar with that name,” Lucius admitted.
“I was in Ravenclaw, sir.” Sarah smiled prettily. “I know Slytherin is the more traditional source of your recruits, but I decided that it would be better to get in on it now, rather than wait to be lined up like the rest of the sheep when the flock gets sold.”
“And who are your parents, Sarah?” Lucius pressed. “Why are they not here?”
“Dead, sir.” Sarah's smile faltered for just a moment with remembered pain. “When I was little sir. Mum was a witch from Scotland, and Da a wizard from the States. They'd met during a World Cup. Lived in the States after they got married, until my Mum came back to take care of her father. They got to doing some cursebreaking for Gringotts in Ireland, when a banshee triggered a curse they were trying to take apart. Backlash killed them before they knew what happened.”
“Gringott's would have a record of this, of course.”
“Of course, sir. It was how I found out. I got taken in as a ward of Hogwarts, and when we went to make a withdrawal it turned out the goblin they'd been working for was the one to take us to the vault. Fucking munter got a promotion out of it, and couldn't wait to tell me about all the good my parents had done for him.”
Lucius nodded, then sat back in his chair. The fact that she was a Ravenclaw was a bit odd, but could be easily verified once they had Hogwarts under their control. As for her blood, that could be checked through the bank easily enough. Employee records were supposed to be confidential, but a few gold coins in the right claws would turn them up timely enough. He looked to Voldemort.
“I believe Ms. Roberts's idea has some merit to it, my Lord. I suggest we let her take her expedition in.”
“Do you, Lucius?” Voldemort's head twisted just a little too far to the side as he turned to look at Bellatrix. “And what do you have to say about the little bird's plan?” Bellatrix just shrugged and went to picking at her fingernails. “Well then, I suppose we have a reached a consensus. Your trial is approved, Ms. Roberts. And...good luck?”
*
Cold rain pelted the castle grounds as ten would-be Death Eaters stared at the towering doors of the main entrance. Thunder and lightning clashed in the distance, neither willing to let the other have the final word, and the surface of the Great Lake smashed against its shores with an endless march of crashing waves.
“Do we knock?” one of the men asked. Thomas Rowan was an older man, with thinning brown hair that he spent each morning desperately spreading across his balding head. Sarah would have been more than happy to have not included him in their quest, but hadn't been left with much choice. While she was nominally in charge of the attempt to break into the castle, it had been Lucius who had picked who she would take in with her.
“No, we do not knock,” Sarah sneered as she pushed at the heavy timbers. “We come to claim what is rightfully ours as the witches and wizards of Great Britain, not to ask permission of dead stone and lingering spirits!”
The words sounded braver than she felt, but Sarah's mind was occupied by other matters. 'Rowan is nothing special. Why would Malfoy choose to send him along? What does he really want to achieve with this mission?'
Despite her little speech at the dinner, Sarah didn't actually consider herself expendable. She fully intended to survive Voldemort's little test, and would have had no problem sacrificing the rest of her group in pursuit of that. The problem was, she was fairly sure the rest of the group felt almost the exact same way about her. She was easily the youngest witch there; the rest of the group were middle aged or older. Yet she had been the one to speak up, so she had been the one placed in charge. She could feel them glancing at her, plotting, waiting for the right time to plant their daggers in her back. Her only chance would be to strike first; fortunately, the Castle would provide the perfect cover story for any rivals she might eliminate.
'Or is that what Malfoy really wants? For us to pick each other off, one by one, until only the strongest remains?'
She shrugged off her concerns as the doors ponderously swung open. The main hall was darker than she remembered, but then there was no longer any Filch or house elves to make sure the candles and lamps stayed lit. Filch had been retired off to some farm way out in the middle of nowhere, and the house elves had all been put up to auction, or at least that was she had heard. She had tried to find one to use as a guide, but no one had been able to provide her with an answer for exactly where they had all gone. The best anyone knew, they'd been sold off to some of the wealthier families and that was that.
Sarah raised her wand and muttered, “Lumos.” The tip of her wand immediately began glowing a brilliant white, but the light died off after only half a dozen yards, not even enough to make it to the staircase she knew was supposed to be in front of them. Nine other voices echoed her spell, but even with their combined powers it was barely enough to illuminate the Hogwarts crest that decorated the stonework under their feet.
“So what now?” a shrewish voice asked. Lorraine Graves was not old enough to be Sarah's grandmother, but was an overweight blob that only managed to get around through repeated castings of strengthening and lightening charms. She could, however, trace her bloodline through seven different generations of witches and wizards and would happily curse anyone who thought to question some of the more spectacular claims about her lineage. The ambulatory shit factory was the last person Sarah would have expected Voldemort to accept as a Death Eater, but then she'd been another one of Malfoy's choices as well.
“We need to find the Headmaster's office,” Sarah replied calmly. “That's where most of the artifacts and wards are controlled from. Without anyone in residence, it should be standing open.”
“All right, so where is it?” Lorraine's eyes gleamed as she leaned in closer than Sarah ever could have wanted. The older woman's breath stank of rotten tobacco, and it took all of Sarah's willpower not to vomit in her face.
“I don't know!” Sarah blurted out. The others all immediately started talking at once, some demanding information, others criticizing her lack of knowledge. She let them go for a good minute, then whistled sharply. “Don't you all act the fool! We've all been students here, we all know how the castle behaves! The Headmaster's chambers won't have been tied to one specific place, they'll be wherever McGonagall had them last. Knowing her, that was probably near the Gryffindor tower. Does anyone know where that was?” There was some grumbling between the others, but in the end none of them knew where the Gryffindors had made their home. Not surprising, as Sarah was confident that she was the only one who hadn't been a Slytherin while attending the school. “All right then. We have no choice but to split up. Use a whisper charm if you think you've found it if you've run into trouble.”
“You want us to split up?” Rowan demanded incredulously. “Do you realize how dangerous that is? What if something tries to kill us?”
“You have a wand, yes?” Sarah snapped back. “Then act like a wizard and use it! And if it still manages to kill you, then you probably weren't a very good wizard in the first place!”
“I-”
Whatever Rowan might have claimed was drowned out by a loud whir as something raced through the dark hall. It came and went in a matter of moments, vanishing just as quickly as it had come. The ten spellcasters had barely started to form a defensive circle before it was gone.
“Is everyone all right?” Sarah whispered.
“I'm fine,” Rowan whispered.
“Yes.”
“I'm okay.”
“Fine.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
“What was that?”
“I think I'm fine”
Sarah silently counted the answers and frowned when she realized she was one short. “Lorraine?”
“Does anyone smell that?” The answering voice wasn't Lorraine's, and Sarah quickly shushed the speaker. “Lorraine?”
Not receiving any answer, Sarah turned around to visually check on the older woman.
Lorraine lay in a pool of her own blood, the center of her chest completely gone. Just...gone. Greyish white shards of her ribs stabbed out from the slowly collapsing pile of gore that used to be her internal organs. Whatever the noise had been had punched right through her, taking her heart and the upper part of her lungs. It had also ripped open her bowels, filling the air with the stink of shit and half-digested food to mix with the coppery stench of congealing blood.
Hogwarts had claimed its first victim.
*
“Well, it looks like we know that spell still works!” Harry laughed. He sat on a massive wooden throne that the Room of Requirement had been holding on to, with his legs partially spread, giving Hermione just enough access to his cock while simultaneously supporting her weight as she rocked back and forth. His left hand was cupping her breast, his fingers gently rolling her nipple back and forth between them. Standing in front of them was a full-length mirror that was apparently bespelled to allow the Master of the Castle to watch anything going on inside of it.
“Mmmm,” Hermione moaned. Her focus wasn't on the mirror, but on trying to get his cock to hit just the right place inside of her. She'd had it a moment ago, then lost it.
“The blonde who seems to be in charge looks sort of familiar,” Harry mused. “Did she go to school with us?”
“Mmmm?” Hermione repeated. Her spine started to tingle she got closer to getting him properly lined up again.
“I wonder what she looks like naked?”
“Mmmm?” Why was Harry still talking. The Death Eaters were going to get massacred. Her hand closed over his and forced him to squeeze harder.
“I bet I could find out with the right spells...”
“MMMM?!” Hermione grabbed his other hand and forced it between her legs, shoving his fingers up against her clit.
“Oh fine!” Harry laughed a little more softly. He pressed down hard on the sensitive little button, stirring it in short circles. He pushed up with his hips at the same time, catching her from both directions at once. He stole one last glance at the mirror, then turned his full attention on his partner in crime. The Castle would handle the rest for them.
- 7
- 8
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Revenge of the MHP