Chapter 41: An Act of War
The sun shone on her back as she walked, warm and bracing in its delicate touch. The Seer was unable to repress a grin as she stepped towards the man at the bottom of the clearing, the horses in the small pens to her left whinnying as she passed - stomping their front hooves in a tender warning. But were they warning her about the man with the axe at the bottom of the clearing? Or, perhaps, warning him of her?
She paid the horses no more attention as she continued, nor to the baby lambs who were hiding behind their mothers' tails, nor the chickens who had run back to their coop. Not used to strangers, she supposed. Not used to the world beyond the forest.
The sound of wood slicing in two thrummed in her ears, mixed with the sound of the birds' melodious afternoon harmony. The Seer's heart skipped as she came closer towards the man and noticed his gaze flicker briefly towards her as he worked. A mere split second's look. But enough for him to assess the stranger approaching. His movements, however, did not stop. He paid the Seer no further attention as he worked, despite how close she was getting to him now. The Seer wasn't sure of the last time her stomach had twisted in such a manner - probably the time she put her faith in a star.
She watched the man as he worked; her eyes stuck to him like glue. He had a natural sternness to him - from his expression to his movements - everything seemed strict and severe. He wore dark, form-fitting trousers that had been patched up in various places with mismatched material, and the Seer noticed a wrinkled shirt flung to the floor by his boots.
Droplets of sweat glistened on his shoulders under the sun and when he cast her another split-second look, the Seer noticed there was something almost melancholic stirring behind his visage that she just about caught a glimpse of. She was sure it would have been invisible to most people, but to her, it was there. Like the soft dwindle of a dying flame.
The dodder of hasty footsteps shuffled through the grass behind the Seer as Glenda caught up with her. Cassandra fought the urge to roll her eyes at the mother's approach, unable to leave her son alone in the presence of a stranger, no doubt; even though he was twice her size and ten times as imposing. Despite this, the Seer could practically feel Glenda's bear-like protectiveness surge through her skin as they got closer and closer towards the dark-haired man.
The Seer wondered what Glenda was afraid of. Was she afraid of Cassandra - a complete and utter stranger she'd only read about in newspapers and textbooks? Or her son? The boy she'd raised and nurtured. The boy she'd witnessed doing unimaginable things since his birth.
"This lady has come here to speak to you," Glenda called towards the man; her stout fingers fumbling with the apron tied around her waist. The words sounded foreign on Glenda's tongue; as though she'd never had to introduce a stranger to her son before. "She's not from the village. She's like you and me. She has magic."
Cassandra was surprised to see that the man didn't respond to his mother. He didn't even look her way. But she could tell it was forced. She could tell that he was maintaining an indifferent front in the presence of a stranger. And as he continued to work, the even thrum of metal piercing wood rebounding around the clearing, Cassandra shot Glenda a look that she immediately seemed to understand.
Glenda hesitated for a few seconds - looking from her son to the Seer - her thin lips twitching nervously. Then she greeted a forced smile and gestured back towards the cottage. "I'll just be back over there watering the flowers."
Cassandra shot the grey-haired woman a faint nod, though she felt the urge to physically push the woman away when she loitered again for a few seconds. But eventually, she walked back towards her home, unable to resist the urge to look back towards her son and the Seer every few seconds as though he might disappear.
And finally, it was just the two of them. The silence of strangers hung between them for a while as they both silently assessed one another. And whilst Cassandra made sure to use this brief moment of awkwardness to fully take in the man before her, he in turn did so without even taking his eyes off his work.
Cassandra waited for a few seconds to see whether he would pay her any attention. But he did not. She wasn't expecting much social skills from a man in his mid to late twenties who had been confined to a forest all his life, but she was slightly disappointed when he didn't so much as cast a glance in her direction. Was this man before her truly who she thought he was? The man she'd been theorising about and searching for for longer than she could remember?
The forest wall loomed around them as they stood. It was both a comfort and a grief. On the one hand, she could seek cover from the vast foliage should she need to. On the other hand, she was questioning why she felt the urge to seek shelter.
She cleared her throat. "My name is Cassandra Vablatsky," she attempted, lacing her voice with a gentle flair to try and match Glenda's dulcet tones. "Your mother said it would be ok if I asked you a few questions."
The man issued nothing but a low mumble in response as the Seer took the time to examine the mixture of white and scarlet divots and swirls that adorned his body in the form of scars; almost like the paint splatters of an abstract artist.
"What's your name?" she attempted. No response. Cassandra felt a fleeting urge to shake him or otherwise curse him to get him talking. She had no time for niceties. And she was beginning to doubt herself, too. Surely this couldn't be the one she'd been searching for. Could it?
She held her tongue and took a deep breath, forcing a gentle, girlish laugh to escape her lips. "You don't speak much, do you?"
The man took in a deep inhalation of air until it filled his lungs; his chest expanding and then collapsing as he loosed the breath. He took one last swing of the axe - swinging it up behind his head and back down upon the log by his feet with such force the Seer had to question whether the ground thundered. Once the wood had been sliced in two with one, precise swing, the man lowered the axe to his side, though was sure to keep a tight grip on it in the presence of the stranger.
With his free arm, he wiped the tendrils of sweat from his brow, the remnants of moisture dappling in his wild black hair. And eventually, he met her gaze.
To the Seer's surprise, the man had eyes that held a strange sort of innocence. They were the hue of the clear nights that would hang over this forest, with flecks of gold that were just about visible in the gleaming sun.
"May I ask why you don't use your magic for that?" the Seer asked, gesturing her fingers from the axe to the pile of logs.
He waited a few seconds before answering - and his gaze hadn't left hers for a second - as though he wasn't sure of the appropriate moment to break eye contact. When he eventually spoke, his voice was low and soft, laced with a strong, rhythmic accent, though the underlying sternness was unmistakable. "Prefer to use my hands."
The Seer forced another short laugh, but the man's face remained impassive as he stared her down. Cassandra had to take a moment to gauge the height difference between them. He had looked tall when she saw him from the cottage on the other side of the expanse, but standing next to him was something else. Cassandra herself was considered taller than average for a woman by most, but standing next to the man by her side made her feel almost like a child.
"I see," she replied, glancing down towards his hands - one of which was balled into a fist by his side, the other gripping onto the handle of the axe until his knuckles had whitened. "Yet from what I hear you're exceptionally skilled in the art of magic?" she pressed, surveying him from where she stood. "Did your parents teach you?"
He nodded once - fixedly - his eyes squinting slightly in mistrust. "Yes. My father trained me when I was young. And then my mother; every day."
The Seer was tempted to ask the man about his father, but she thought better of it. She wasn't quite sure what would happen if she did. She didn't want to suffer a fate similar to Mr Brereton from the village, that was for sure.
The Seer looked around the proximity. There wasn't a wand in sight. Every witch and wizard kept their wands close at all times. But not this man. Even Glenda had pointed a wand towards Cassandra when she first approached the cottage.
"I can't help but notice that you don't have a wand," she pointed out. "Why is that?"
The man hesitated, his arresting face utterly unreadable except for the obvious fact that he didn't trust Cassandra one bit. His gaze darted down towards the grass and he merely shrugged a shoulder in response.
"Perhaps," Cassandra attempted, "you are afraid of what you could do with a wand in your hand? Hm?"
His face snapped towards hers unexpectedly, and Cassandra hated herself for flinching somewhat. But despite the intensity of his surveyal, the man did not speak, and there was nothing but the silence and the smell of heated soil and tree sap hanging between them. Cassandra was forced to tense her body under his gaze, and the look in his dark eyes had the lure of a leopard before it was about to strip you of your flesh.
"Forgive me," Cassandra said, shaking her head in an act of candour. "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here asking you all of these questions."
"I know why you're here," he replied, his grip tightening around the axe. "You're here because of what happened twenty years ago."
He looked briefly towards his mother who seemed content as she pottered about with some flowers and soil near the cottage before she hobbled back into the house to fill her watering can.
Cassandra had to repress a smile from spreading across her plum lips. Now they were on the right track. She tilted her head, her sable hair cascading over her shoulder like a wave. "What happened twenty years ago?"
"Don't play me for a fool," the man's stern voice drummed out. "If you didn't know what happened you wouldn't be here."
The way the man's body had completely tensed up by now told Cassandra all she needed to know about the event with his father and Mr Brereton. His rigid form and the ghosts of emotion that swirled behind his dark eyes told the Seer that he thought he was being arrested or punished for what he'd done all those years ago.
The Seer simpered. "You think I'm here to arrest you? To take you away?"
The man furrowed his brow, his guarded stance not faltering for a second. "Why else would you turn up here? Why else would you want to speak to me? We haven't had visitors for almost two decades."
The Seer laughed, and she felt her usual confidence return to her blood, and she let it swell within her as she saw the crack in this tower of a man - her way in - her path. This man thought he was a criminal. A murderer. A monster. And the Seer could see that the guilt of his actions had been eating away at him for all these years. Diminishing his spirit. Dampening his soul. And she could see as clear as day that he was ready and prepared to repent for what he had done. He could be easily manipulated.
"No..." Cassandra mused, her voice breaking all tones of innocence now as she began stepping around the man, circling him like a vulture. His eyes followed her as she moved around him, watching each and every step the Seer took with rigour. "No, I do not think you're a criminal."
When Cassandra saw the man's face recoil in confusion, she laughed, light and enchanting in its tone. And once she had circled back around to her starting point, she stopped before him for a few seconds and looked him up and down.
She studied his sun-brown skin that was trickled with sweat and his hair of spilled ink - messy and dark. Her focus lingered on the face that was complexly impassive, angular and strikingly handsome. And those eyes that were well veiled, though the Seer still picked up on the swaying song of melancholy simmering within them. The look of grief and sorrow.
She flashed a satisfied grin as though she could see something within him that only she could see. As though the very thing she'd spent a lifetime searching for was here - hidden within this man.
Her eyes snapped towards his, and this time, it was he who flinched slightly. "I think you have a power far greater than even I imagined, and you don't even know it yet."
The man remained silent, his heavy breaths visible within his chest as he glared down at the Seer. And now, it was Cassandra who felt like the leopard ready to pounce.
"Tell me," she said, the sound of her stacked rings clinking together as she rubbed her hands. "Can you show me some of that power you possess?"
In a motion quicker than Cassandra could have anticipated, the man swung his axe around and above his head and slammed it down into the pile of wood by his feet in a thunderous blow. "I am not going to perform for you like some animal," he said, his voice perilously low now.
"I thought you might say that," said the Seer, a smirk hanging on her mouth as the man suddenly turned his body to follow the sound of stirring that was now coming from the trees.
The dense overgrowth to their right rustled violently. A brief flicker of alarm swarmed across the man's features. Something monstrous was invading. Cassandra watched closely at the way he remained calm, though his stance was ready and braced for the worst.
And although the man had seen and sensed danger in a split second, what he hadn't seen was Cassandra motioning her fingers beneath her sleeves to devise and summon a beast.
They both ducked to the floor as a hulking hand slammed into the clearing through the trees. A Valcore. Four times the man's height and easily five times his girth lumbered into the clearing. The ground rumbled beneath their feet as the creature approached; the sound of trees snapping in two and falling with a crash meeting their ears.
"What is that?" the man called out.
"It's a Valcore!" Cassandra replied, masking her voice with fear and apprehension.
They could see the creature in its entirety now as it entered the clearing through the toppling trees. It had a large head covered in blunt horns, thin arms, and thick legs. And it had spotted them.
The man began to back himself and Cassandra away to safety when the Valcore lunged for them, slamming a massive fist towards the man's chest.
He pushed Cassandra to the floor, evading the blow with impressive speed. However, Cassandra was disappointed to see that he was reluctant to fight - suppressing his powers as he did nothing more than back them away from the imposing creature.
A distant wail met their ears as the man's mother appeared at the cottage door, a red ceramic tray in hand housing warm apple pie as an offering to her son and guest, no doubt. Her mouth was wide as she stared at the beast in her garden, and the baking tray fell out of her hands and onto the floor with a clash, its contents spilling into a slop of steaming mess at her feet.
Perfect, Cassandra thought. Under her sleeves, she motioned her fingers once more, and the Valcore's dark, soulless eyes landed on Glenda as it began moving forward.
The man stiffened. A muscle twitched near his jaw and she caught a glimmer of proper emotion for the first time as he looked towards his mother. He let out a deep grunt as he made towards the pile of logs and withdrew the axe from the timber and ran, his heavy gait pounding the forest floor as he paced, aimed, and then hurled the axe at the Valcore. The axe penetrated the beast's left arm and it let out a low wail as a trail of dark blood began to form at the cut.
The Seer huffed. Use your magic, she urged. She was not here to witness brute strength and force. She was here to witness a power that could flatten entire towns.
Opening his palm, the man summoned the axe back towards him, and the weapon responded, tearing its self out from the deep-set cut and bounding back through the air towards him.
There we go, the Seer crooned. Something within Cassandra sizzled with delight at seeing him use just the tiniest amount of his powers. A simple wandless, wordless summoning spell without having spent a single day in formal education. And it was enough to make her stomach flutter in anticipation of what else he could do.
Before the man could muster another attack, the Valcore's fist slammed its full weight into him, sending him toppling into the bushes that lined the clearing. The beast released a low, gargling laugh at his feeble efforts.
"Come on," Cassandra hissed under her breath. She knew the man was holding back. She knew he didn't want to fight. She made a motion with her hands once more and the best continued in its path towards Glenda who only seemed to have eyes for her son who was already back up on his feet, despite the massive creature having given him a direct blow.
The man remained rock steady as he held his stance. He reminded himself of the promise he'd made to himself all those years ago. He forced his hands to remain at his sides, clenching them into fists to quell his power, though all his muscles yearned to set free the force within him.
Cassandra looked towards the dark-haired man to see that the axe was back in his hands, his body holding the blade defensively, and as Glenda let out a shrill scream as the Valcore's hand reached towards her, her son sent the axe hurtling towards the beast with more might than a man could muster. The force of the blow sent the beast toppling backwards a few feet as its eyes darted towards the man that was now approaching it. The Valcore had underestimated his strength.
As the beast turned its attention once more towards Glenda, something about the man's countenance shifted entirely as he raised his hands before him and slammed a devastating force of magical power into the beast's neck, forcing it rearward as it clutched at its throat with its grey hands to breathe.
He used his magic to summon the axe back towards him again, before rearing it in full force into the beast's shoulder.
An agonised wail shattered the forest stillness as the Valcore clutched a hand towards the spurting wound and droplets of blood spurted over the man who stood, very still, chest heaving, blood covering his sun-drenched skin, right in the centre of the beast's wake.
The Valcore swung another arm towards his opponent in a blind attempt at knocking him from his feet. But the man dodged, emitting a low growl as the beast's hand sliced through the air, and when he noticed that his mother had been knocked down sideways in the beast's blind blow, he snarled, bringing the weapon upwards above his head, he threw it - a pulse of blinding red light emitting from his hands as he launched - and cleaved the beast's grotesque head.
Cassandra watched through her fingers, having to shield her eyes from the intensity of the light that managed to push her body backwards despite her trying to push forwards against the force with all her might to steady herself. She let out a small breath of air as the Valcore wailed and stumbled on its feet, its massive body flinging backwards towards the trees into which it narrowly dodged, groping wildly at the blade in an attempt to extract it. But not a moment later, the beast toppled face-first into the dirt before with a ground-shaking thud at the opposite end of the clearing.
The man turned away from the sight rather than gaze at the suffering beast and Cassandra immediately saw the struggle on his face. His expression was very much akin to his mother's now. Compassionate. Caring. Soulful. Not what she'd been expecting.
The clearing fell silent for a long moment as the Valcore's weight toppled onto the ground, the sound of its final, rasping breath echoing around the expanse as the horses whinnied from their pens.
The hairs on the back of Cassandra's neck rose and her skin prickled as though she could feel the remnants of his power radiating towards her.
The man's magic slowly died down, and the Seer had to blink a few times to regain her vision from the blinding light. Nothing moved for a while as the Seer watched the man's chest rise and fall heavily, his skin covered in the beast's dark blood, his eyes darting and wild, though they instantly calmed once his gaze fell on his mother who unsteadily pushed herself up onto her knees, idly wiping down her dirt-stained dress.
Cassandra noticed the brief flicker of fear across the man's face. And then it clicked. That's what he was so afraid of. That's why he would not utilise his powers. That's why he used his hands instead of his magic. For fear of who he'd hurt this time should he lose control.
Glenda released a jarring cough, struggling to catch her breaths from when she'd been knocked backwards by the Valcore, as her son slung an arm around her shoulders and lifted her onto her feet.
Glenda smiled up weakly at her son, but he offered his mother no smile, no heartfelt words to console, no embrace. Instead, his dark eyes landed on the Seer who was still standing on the edge of the clearing. He stared for a long moment, evaluating the Seer in a way that even Cassandra failed to comprehend.
He surveyed the battle-scarred land before them, the grass and foliage dampened with the Valcore's dark blood, but then, before their eyes, the looming body of the beast dissolved - disappearing into thin air in the forest clearing. Cassandra watched as all traces of the battle vanished - the spurts of blood that had stained the trees and the grass had gone, the man's skin cleared of blood and the Valcore's body was now completely gone.
Glenda and her son both looked around the clearing, Glenda's head shaking from side to side in confusion as she held onto her son for support, but his gaze landed directly on the Seer.
"What is this?" he demanded from across the expanse.
The Seer smiled, looking down briefly towards her fingers beneath her sleeve. It had been nothing but a physical apparition. A mirage, if you will. Conjured by the Seer to fool the man into demonstrating his magic.
The Seer clapped slowly, dragging out each clap as she grinned at him. "There's a glimpse of the power I wanted to see."
So he truly had just been living quietly with this power - this might - this magnificence.
"You," he snarled. "You summoned that thing."
"It was under my control. I would have stopped it if it was to inflict any real damage. It was the only way to test you."
His expression darkened and he summoned his shirt towards him with a wave of his hand as though he was suddenly feeling exposed. He grabbed the material and threw his shirt over his head. He crossed his arms, his well-muscled limbs pressing against the wrinkled fabric.
"And why are you so interested in my powers?" he demanded, the latter word of his question pricking his tongue like a blade as he spoke it.
The Seer made towards him, slowly stepping across the swaying grass. "Because I want to help you," she hummed, her voice as void of emotion as a seasoned hunter's. "There are people out there who want to harm you."
The man stood taller as Cassandra approached, his body braced and prepared - as imposing as ever as his lengthy black hair stirred in the gentle breeze.
"Leave," he said, and there was a harsh finality to his tone that sparked irritation within the Seer.
Cassandra shook her head. "I am not your enemy. You can trust me."
"Leave," he repeated. "Now."
The Seer let out a long sigh. His body had hardened to stone as the silence filling the expanse between them practically choked everyone present.
"You have no idea-" the Seer began, but when the man took a single step forwards, her words fell short in mid-air.
Fire bloomed gold in his eyes. He felt the uncontrollable power rise, the rage he swore to himself he would never let free. He exhaled deeply, his body shaking, forcing himself to relax.
"Arawn," his mother said softly from his side, a strong arm still placed around her shoulders to keep her steady. "Easy."
Something within the Seer ignited in a flame of excited hunger at that name. There truly was power in a name.
"Arawn..." the Seer repeated, drawing the name out on her tongue like a song. "So that's your name."
"I'm not telling you again," he said. "Leave. You are not welcome here."
Cassandra hesitated before reluctantly bowing her head. "As you wish. Though I do hope you'll eventually change your mind. This won't be the last time you see me."
And with one last glance towards Glenda and Arawn, she turned on her heel and vanished from the forest clearing. And though her visit may not have been as much of a success as she had hoped, and although the conversation did not yield as much information as Cassandra would have liked, Arawn's scars, muscles and movements told her enough. He could cut through thick, solid wood with a single swing. Could take a blow from a Valcore and immediately get back up. His hands were strong, his emotions were raw, his body was powerful and his magic pulsed within him.
His anger, guilt and compassion could be a weapon. And whether controlled or uncontrolled, it could be used to her advantage.
***
"That's it! You've almost got it now!"
Alden looked up towards the darkening sky that was slowly overpowering the light pinks and blues of dusk as specks of stars began to peek out behind the silver-lined clouds. He squinted as he watched Evander Travers soar through the moonlit skies. He was getting there now, he thought to himself. He just didn't learn as quickly as the rest of Death Eaters, which was fine, everybody learns at various paces. It was just that nobody but Alden ever had the patience to help him out once everyone else had mastered something.
"Careful now," Alden called up to the plume of black smoke that was soaring in a smooth line across the Manor's rooftop. "You don't want to hit the chimneys."
But then the cloud of black smoke began to circle one of the chimneys near the left-wing - round and round - accurately avoiding the brickwork and chimney pots.
Alden chuckled to himself. "Now now, who are you trying to impress?"
The cloud of black suddenly vanished, and a tall, slender figure appeared out of the remnants of the dark smoke, leaning casually against the chimney stack with crossed arms. He had a juvenile grin plastered on his mouth that caused a faint dimple to emerge on his left cheek; just about visible beneath the specks of freckles.
"I'm just learning from the biggest show-off I know," Evander called down to the ground. "And surely even you have to admit that that was a rather brilliant move."
"You've done well," Alden shouted up towards the roof in agreement. "But you'd better come down now, that's Riddle's room you're directly above."
This notion hit Travers like a brick, and he prepared his stance so he could fall into a cloud of blackness and make his way back towards the ground safely before Riddle could hear him stomping on his roof.
Alden waved him down as he was ready to collapse into the smoke, but had to squint back up at him when he noticed that Travers had hesitated for some reason.
"What are you doing?" Alden called up when he saw that Travers had ducked down behind the chimney, but his mouth immediately closed when Travers pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. And that's when Alden realised that he was hiding.
"Shit," Alden said under his breath as he watched Travers point towards the far end of the garden, just beyond the trickling fountains. Alden started forwards in a quiet jog to seek shelter behind some bushes near the patio, motioning for Travers to come down by his side for safety.
Travers obliged, landing with perfect precision beside Alden in a wisp of black smoke after about four hours of extra training.
They both seemed to freeze as they heard voices coming from the bottom of the lawn and just about discerned two cloaked figures between the gaps in the foliage.
Travers risked a glance towards Alden whose gaze never left the two men at the bottom of the lawn.
"Get behind me," was all that Alden said.
Travers complied, jutting his wand out in front of him to protect both of them should anything happen.
"I fucking hate the Malfoys," a gruff voice echoed from across the grounds. "You're sure this is the right place?"
"I'm sure of it," another voice replied, the taller and more well-built of the two men. Both of them had full, rubiginous beards and were wielding their wands.
"And which one are we after again?"
"Any of them," the second man said, inhaling deeply, filling his lungs to their capacity with the cool night air. "So long as they're important."
Alden held Evander by the shoulder as they both sat, perfectly still, behind the bushes. The dampened smells of roses and ivy invading their nostrils in a bittersweet blend.
"They're after one of us?" Travers asked in whispered tones, looking up at Alden through alarmed hazel eyes.
"Stay quiet," Alden warned. "Though they look like nothing but two bearded brutes, they're much more powerful than they look. And they're desperate to please their leader."
"Leader? You know them?" Travers asked, his brow crumpling in confusion.
Alden quietened before he shot Travers a small smile. "Being as popular as me, young Travers, knowing many people comes as quite an easy feat."
Alden had seen these two men in the past. Being a double-agent meant that he knew both sides of the war very well indeed. He knew that these were two of Cassandra Vablatsky's minions. Vali and Grier - two cousins bound to Cassandra to do her bidding. The Seer's mark on them was evident - from their rune patterned robes to the blood-red crescent moon carved upon both of the mens' right cheekbones. A form of blood magic. Alden couldn't help but notice that their eyes seemed vacant and hazy, too. A sure-fire sign of some kind of Manipulation Technique or Sorcery, no doubt. Another one of Cassandra's little tricks.
"When we find them, can I choose which one we take? I never get to choose," the shorter man, Grier, said, his face lighting up at the very thought of the potential havoc.
Their voices trailed off as they seemingly progressed away from Alden and Travers, who both remained perfectly still. The last thing they wanted right now was a fight. Alden's mind flashed back to when the swarm of dementors had attacked the Manor and Alden had needed to defend Evander at every moment.
He had come along well since then, he thought, casting him a brief look of pride. Though he wondered whether he had come along well enough to face the two men who were now wandering the Manor's grounds, seemingly searching for someone - anyone - within the Death Eater's ranks.
By now, Travers could block even Abraxas' and Lestrange's ruthless curses and attacks. He could attack and defend himself in a duel against some of the most skilled fighters Alden had ever seen. And he'd survived in a Manor full of Death Eaters for months and months now. He was no longer the timid boy that came to the Manor without a choice. And Alden needed to learn to stop the feeling of brotherly protectiveness that swept over him whenever danger presented itself around Evander Travers.
They got up slowly from their hiding spot once they felt certain the danger had passed as they leapt over the hedge.
"I'll run and tell everyone," Travers suggested. "I'll fly up to Riddle's chambers."
"Will you now?" asked the humoured voice of one of the two men who were standing less than fifty paces upwind, barely visible behind the intricately shaped bushes until they made themselves known. Alden and Travers had mistakenly concluded that the two men had wandered away. But they hadn't. They had merely gone silent.
Brandishing his wand, the taller and more muscular of the two men, Vali, swaggered towards them, flourishing a wolfish smirk.
"Well well well," Vali warbled. "If it isn't the son of Torquil Travers himself. Would you class him as an important one, Grier?"
The shorter of the two, Grier, caught up to join his cousin, hoisting some plant pots out of the way to clear his path.
"Which one is he?" Grier asked. "Prince charming or the tyke?"
"This one," Vali sneered, pointing a sausage-like finger towards Evander. "You've got your father's features, boy. What would dear daddy think of you joining forces with a group of murderers?"
"Oh, aye," Grier said, looking Travers up and down as though he was a shiny bit of loot. "He'd definitely gain us some praise. Must be shit to have such a fucker of a father, eh? His father's always been a questionable figure within the Ministry - I'm sure daddy's the one who funds this little murder club."
"The boss would be very pleased if we brought you," Vali announced, surveying Travers with a greedy glint. "Perhaps this will be easier than we thought, eh, Grier? Might even be home in time for tea."
Alden stepped between them. "You have no business with him. Whether it's a fight or a captive that you two minions want, you will have me," he said, tightening his grip on his wand as he widened his stance. "And consider this a privilege, I don't point my wand or give myself away to just anyone."
"And who are you, blondie?" Vali asked, gawking towards Alden. "I'm sure I've threatened you before..."
Alden blinked once as though Vali's words were incomprehensible to him. "Who am-? Now that's just insulting."
"Someone important, are you?" Grier intervened. "Are we supposed to be impressed?"
Alden surveyed himself. "I mean look at me - how could you not be impressed?"
"Alden," Travers cut across - throwing him a pleadingly serious glare. Vali and Grier cast each other wary glances.
"You go," Alden ordered, ignoring the men and turning briefly to face Travers.
"I'm not leaving you," Travers insisted, raising his wand. "If I stay, it's two against two. It's even. We'll stand a chance."
"Travers," Alden pleaded through tight teeth. "Please, go."
Travers seemed to catch on, then - he wanted him to go and inform the others - so he nodded once, despite how much he hated the thought of leaving Alden alone with these two brutes. Travers attempted to flee, but before he could advance even three strides, Grier shifted his stance, charging to cut him off. There would be no escape. Even if they were to take to the skies they could curse or hex him, especially seeing as he'd only just come to terms with the unsupported flight technique not an hour ago.
"And where do you think you're going, you overgrown worm?" Grier sneer through a vicious gap-toothed smile. "What're you going to do now that you can't hold onto Prince Charming's hand, eh?"
"Prince charming-" Alden exclaimed, considering the notion as though he was unsure whether he was insulted or flattered. "Well, that's a new one." Then
Alden clapped his hands together, smiling widely at the two men. "Listen, fellas, there needn't be a fight here. Just tell us why you're here and maybe we can settle this over a nice glass of brandy? Merlin knows there's plenty of that stocked up in there."
"Hear that, Grier? He wants to know why we're here," the taller man chuckled snidely. "Thinks he can bribe us with his pathetic alcohol, too."
"Well, there are two choices," Grier explained, feigning a sense of courtesy to explain their intentions. "Either one of Riddle's men agrees to come with us, or we blast this place to smithereens and take one of you by force. Quite simple."
While Grier kept going on about why they were here for a few minutes, evidently overjoyed at his chance to seem important for once, Alden had already pressed a finger to the mark on his arm underneath his shirt; pretending that he was fumbling with his sleeves in apprehension. Neither of the brutes questioned it, and so it wouldn't take long for the rest of the Death Eaters to arrive.
Now, it was just a case of keeping these two idiots talking for long enough until someone came to see what was going on.
***
"I'm trying to see this from your point of view, Lestrange, I really am. But all I can conclude is that you're a horny bastard," said Rosier who was lounging on the sofa, looking towards Rodolphus Lestrange in utter distaste.
"All I'm saying is that if my watch was a person, I'd fuck it," Lestrange replied bluntly, as though the notion was a simple one to comprehend.
"You're like a dog, Lestrange, you'd fuck anything that moves," Abraxas chided, closing his book with a snap.
"Well if that were true I'd definitely have f-" Lestrange began, but his words were cut short as Abraxas, Avery, Lestrange and Rosier all jumped upwards in unison, reaching for their forearms suddenly.
They eyed each other across the room as they lifted their sleeves to see that the intricate mark of ink on their inner forearms was glowing red - burning their skin in a calling signal.
"Riddle?" Avery asked, looking around at the boys.
"No," Abraxas answered, shaking his head as he rose from his chair. "He's upstairs with Estela."
Lestrange smirked. "Well, they might have railed each other so hard that he needs our assistance. Or better yet, he's calling us to join."
Rosier and Avery both slapped Lestrange on the arm in unison while Abraxas rolled his eyes with utter abhorrence.
"What was that for!" he protested, jabbing at them both in return.
"For failing to think of anything other than sex at any given moment - even when we've been summoned by someone," Avery replied.
"What about Alden?" Rosier suggested. "He was with Travers outside finishing off his training."
Abraxas made towards the front windows in a few agile strides and peered outside, maintaining enough cover behind the closed curtains. "Shit."
"What?"
"What is it?"
The boys all ran to Abraxas' side and peered behind the curtain out onto the grounds. And there, barely discernable in the darkening hours of the evening, were Alden and Travers. But they were being imposed upon by two large men in uniquely patterned robes.
Throughout the year, the possibility of being attacked by the Order had hung over them like a blade. Now that threat was imminent and right on their doorstep, and they weren't sure how they felt about that.
"The Order?" Lestrange asked.
"Looks like it," replied Rosier.
"Riddle said they could arrive at any moment," Abraxas reflected. "I just didn't think it would be tonight."
The more Malfoy considered this notion, the faster his despair convulsed into anger.
Avery placed a hand onto Abraxas' shoulder, taking note of the way Malfoy's jaw had hardened and his form had become unyielding as he stared towards the two strangers on his property.
"It's alright," Avery said. "As you said, this Manor won't fall in your name. We'll all make sure of that."
Malfoy met his friend's gaze and nodded firmly. "Avery, go and inform Riddle and Estela. The rest of you, come with me. We need to be strategic in our approach until Riddle arrives."
With a single nod, Avery headed off out the doors, and Abraxas looked towards the rest of his fellow Death Eaters. "Riddle said they'd try to take one of us. He said it was imperative that they do not take him nor Estela, so we will make sure that doesn't happen. Understood?"
Lestrange and Rosier nodded in understanding as Lestrange rubbed his hands together and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey from the coffee table, taking a massive gulp of the fiery liquid and then wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
He shook his head and a wildness fell over his features as the hint of a crazed smile tugged at his mouth. "Oh, it's been so long since I got my hands dirty."
Abraxas took an imposing step towards Lestrange and he briefly stalled in his vicious excitement. "Do not act like a fool, Rodolphus. I'm warning you. This isn't just your temporary holiday lodge that's in danger - it's my family home. And this is an act of war, not the time to act like a bloodthirsty clown."
Lestrange huffed in annoyance but eventually responded with a fixed nod as Abraxas gestured for them to follow him as they exited the living room and made their way towards the front door.
"Wait," Avery's voice called out behind them as he ran to catch up with them. "This could be a ploy. They might want us all to go out there to get a chance to attack the Manor from the inside. It could be a diversion."
They all turned to face Avery as he jogged down the marble hallway towards them. "Does Riddle know?" Abraxas asked.
"He and Estela are on their way," Avery confirmed.
"Then a few of us need to remain inside the Manor just in case. Riddle will undoubtedly want to confront our attackers and I'm sure Estela will, too," Abraxas concluded.
Behind them, the sound of footsteps caught their attention as two shaded figures moved in fluid unison towards them.
Riddle and Estela were quickly making their way over to join the group, only their silhouettes visible as they strode down the corridor towards them.
"They're outside?" Estela asked, a look of fierce determination falling across her face.
"They're at the bottom of the lawn with Alden and Travers," said Rosier.
"Just as I predicted, they have come to disassemble our group," Riddle said as he stepped into the light before them, his tailored features harsh and severe under the glow of the lamps. "Now listen very carefully to what I say. Do not join in on the fight unless I tell you to. Do not send a single curse or hex in their direction unless I command you to do so."
Riddle nodded towards his followers, his expression at complete ease despite what was waiting for him on the other side of those doors. "Now... Let us take the first step towards the ever-looming war that is finally at our doorstep."
A/N: hello, everyone!
this chapter was really hard for me to write for some reason, but I got there eventually! please let me know what you think, as you know your opinions are always so greatly appreciated!
what do you think will happen in the next chapter? let me know!
as always, thank you so much for all your patience and support.
and until next time,
nox.