Violet Potter and the Basilisk Plague (Year Two)

Chapter Twelve: Rogue Bludger And Tiny Elf

Walden MacNair was not a noble, decent or kind wizard. Walden MacNair had to live alone in a dingy and gloomy old cottage in Salazar's Fen, the hidden Wiltshire village which was said to be the birthplace of Salazar Slytherin himself. Even the Malfoys, who lived in the most hard-to-miss mansion he had ever set eyes on, were never quite so infamous.

This village too, was home to the Maynard Family for centuries, but Maynard Hall was for the time being, completely vacant and shuttered up. Ever since Lord Voldemort had disappeared, for the past eleven or so years, MacNair had to return to his job at the Ministry, disposing of magical creatures that were deemed too dangerous to be kept alive.

He had been instructed by his old friend and comrade in wands in service to the Dark Lord, that is, Pyrus Maynard, that should anything unexpected ever happen to befall him, Walden was the man who needed to make sure that no one else from the outside world, let alone any foolish and insignificant muggles ever dared approach it. Not until the day either Pyrus returned to Salazar's Fen or their master returned to full power, whichever came first. But on this day, MacNair had something else on his mind.

Ever since he had acquired three house-elves from Master Maynard, MacNair had been getting nothing but trouble in one way or another from the smallest one, who was apparently named Tiny. It wasn't so much her daily chores that she fell short on. If she had proven incapable even of that, McNair would have disposed of her on day one. But every time he saw the little house elf, every time he commanded her to do something for him, she always had a way of looking at him with those bulbous eyes of hers. Looked at him with so much of a certain defiance, which would have been bad enough by itself. But ever since the night Tiny disappeared to the filthy hovel the Weasleys called home and found Victoria, no doubt, the elf also seemed to carry a glimmer of hope, even in spite of the punishment when Tiny returned. Hope that somehow, things would only get better for her lot.

He had to stomp it out of the wretched creature, and quickly. There was only one place for house-elves, one purpose, to serve their masters. Their superiors. The desire, or the dream of anything more was false hope. And false hope was just one thing among others that Lord Voldemort had actually once stood in the Slytherin common room and warned Pyrus and other Slytherins aspiring to be Death Eaters against when he and Pyrus Maynard were in their fifth year at Hogwarts.

The very first thing MacNair needed as he arrived home on that evening was a hearty supper and something warming to drink. Tomorrow would be a day off and away from the Ministry to turn his mind to other, more important matters.

The coiled black snake that branded his right arm used to burn so much whenever the Dark Lord would summon him to his side in the glorious days before the Potter children's destiny came to be prophesied and his master was nearly, but not quite, destroyed. Just one moment of that pain and MacNair would be disapparated to his side, for that pain would have been nothing compared to what punishment would await the fool who so much as hesitated.

MacNair opened his front door and walked inside to find his fireplace already lit and a tray of supper waiting, covered for him at the dining table. "Topsy! Trinket! Tell your daughter to come hither at once!" MacNair commanded, "There are some important topics that must be discussed, and lessons that are to be learned here this night." This he commanded as he lifted the elegant cover off his plate of supper, which on this evening was salmon baked in a flaky pastry with a creamy dill sauce and a colourful medley of vegetables on the side.

"Yes Sir!" They squeaked in unison. "Topsy and Trinket shall bring Tiny to you at once Sir!" And they both scurried down into the dingy and often cold house-elf quarters where MacNair expected them to stay put during the nights when their hard days' work had been finished and MacNair had gone off to bed. Tiny herself had been resting at the time as much as she could, for as long as she could avoid being around such a frightening and cruel master, though Master Maynard could often be a hundred times worse. It was still not a happy life to live, or any life to live at all. Tiny had to get out of there somehow...