Chapter 42: Depart and Detain
The notorious showers of April's end were violent on the leaves and the soil. Alongside the hammering of continuous rain came a bold wind that roused the woodland in spirals of dampened verdure. The vibration of the rain on the grass was akin to a melody; strumming the earth in an eloquent resonance - only to be swiftly shattered by the imposing breeze blowing in every direction.
There was a certain serenity to the rain and a sense of peaceful solitude held deep within the untouched forest. But now and then the rain would plummet harder and the wind would blow stronger - ripping through any sense of calmness as nature demonstrated its mighty power. It proved that, in truth, nothing was safe - not even if it was tucked deep within a fabled forest.
The bottom of the Seers patterned cloak grew heavy with each step on quenched soil, though her body remained completely dry thanks to a simple spell that acted as an unseen umbrella above her head.
The Seer almost tripped as her foot came in contact with something buried beneath the ground. Upon further inspection, she saw it was a wooden toy that had been lost to time - some kind of muggle contraption that had been left abandoned for years. She kicked it out of her way, unearthing it from where it had seemingly laid, peacefully, for who knows how many years.
The cottage ahead looked different in the rain. The gentle smoke that had billowed upwards from the chimney last time she was here was now rampant and uncontrolled. The windows and blinds had been tightly shut. The well-maintained flowers around the vicinity had sunk heavily - as though their spirits had spoiled - with some having been torn from their roots in the force of the wind.
The Seer's knocking on the wooden door was practically drowned out by the gale-driven rainfall that was hammering down around her. She waited a few moments but received no answer. However, the smoke from the chimney let her know that they were inside; no doubt seeking shelter and warmth from the unrelenting weather.
The Seer knocked again, this time more insistent. She pressed her face towards the door, her nose brushing the tip of the wood as she spoke. "I'm here to apologise," she shouted into the door, knowing that those on the other side would be able to hear her.
Silence echoed. Contemplation resounded. Then, eventually came a response from behind the timber.
"You're not welcome here," a voice rang out. And if the rainstorm outside was fierce, it was nothing compared to the vicious tinge that bound Glenda's words.
"I want to apologise for what I did. I bring you an offering of my forgiveness."
"We want no offerings," Glenda replied tonelessly. "We want nothing but peace and quiet. Now if you could-"
"Please, Glenda," the Seer pleaded, pressing a fist against the door-frame as she carefully laced her voice with an imploringly tender nature as the rain continued to pour. "I would not be able to live with myself if I didn't pay my regrets."
Then, Cassandra unexpectedly heard the wooden brace being thrown to the floor and the door swung open. At first, she suspected it would have been Glenda, but when the door fully opened she instead saw a lean, towering figure with inky-black hair and scar-specked skin. It took her a moment to process him again, despite this being the second time she'd laid eyes upon this beast of a man.
With his fists planted on his hips, Arawn stepped out. His eyes were locked on the Seer - his face grim and imposing. In a brief once-over, he appraised the woman presenting herself before him at his home and eased the door closed behind him. From afar, he was intimidating, but up close like this, he was magnetising.
Cassandra - a slight, seemingly unimposing woman with rune-patterned robes - stood, unsmiling, watching Arawn with the prudence of a falcon as he approached. Her long, dark hair fell in a single, beaded braid over her shoulder and she did not once back away as the man moved closer.
"What do you want?" Arawn demanded. His hands were balled into fists and the divots and muscles visible beneath his torn shirt hardened to rock. His voice, however - despite the brutal movements and attacks Cassandra had witnessed him perform, and the natural sternness of his rigour - was surprisingly mellow and delicate.
Carefully peering out through the cottage window, Glenda stole a moment to admire her son and the strength he projected. The gentleness and kindness to his heart that ruled his mind, despite the unfathomable power in his veins that could easily have ruled his actions a long, long time ago.
Glenda smiled. The pride she felt for this boy - this man - was immeasurable. And despite all the loss he had suffered, the restrictions and isolation he had been faced with his entire life, her heart swelled as she looked at the man before her with glazed eyes. More of a man than his father ever was and ever could have been.
Cassandra reached beneath her purple robes and retrieved a good-sized package neatly wrapped in tartan cloth. "All I ask is that you accept these as an apology for my actions."
Arawn glanced down at the package in her hands, from which the distinct smell of cinnamon, brown sugar and apples was wafting. "Whatever you have, we do not want it. You should move on."
"I promise you, Arawn, you face no threat from me," Cassandra assured him when his expression hardened towards her. "All I wanted was to warn you - to talk to you - to help you in any way that I could."
Arawn said nothing and the Seer knew there would only be one way of convincing him. Though she was wary of what was to come for fear of awakening the threat within him.
"I'll leave now," she declared, bowing her head slightly as she placed her offering on the floor by Arawn's feet, her eyes falling to the dampened earth. "But, please, just know that I have warned you should anything happen to you. Or to your mother."
The Seer then turned on her heel and began to depart, her heart racing in the hopes that he would stop her. And when his voice rang out to her through the wind, she smiled, before she stopped and replaced her grin with a hood of deceit.
"Wait," he called - his tone uncertain and rigid. "Why would my mother be in danger?"
She had to fight back her satisfaction. It was just as she'd predicted - like a lamb to the slaughter.
***
They sat in variable shelter underneath an age-old oak, droplets of moisture dripping down from the leaves as they talked in cautious spirit, a substantial gaucherie draping between them as they conversed.
"Again," Cassandra began, looking sideways towards Arawn who had not fully met her gaze the entire time. "I'm sorry for what I did. I just wanted to see if you were truly who I thought you were."
Arawn did not immediately reply, as though taking care in preparing his question. "You say that people know me," he stated, shaking his head. "How?"
Cassandra smiled. But it wasn't happy nor sympathetic. Not amused nor impressed. It was a smile that held something much deeper.
She carefully considered her answer, not wanting to reveal too much, but intentionally trying to unveil just a tiny ember in the truth that burned inside the man beside her.
"It seems that people in the village beyond this forest know you very well. You're somewhat of a fable to those muggles. A real-life legend of flesh and bone. Stories of your being have made their way to the Wizarding World, too, you know?"
"Stories?" he repeated, furrowing his dark brows as he stared towards the terrain. "Stories of my mistakes, you mean."
"No," the Seer said softly, watching him with ease as the evident pain of his past took over his thoughts. "Stories of your might."
Another small stretch of time passed between them - the sounds of the birds venturing back out from their nests and the remnants of rain dripping from the cottage roof growing louder with each second - much like the Arawn's tangled thoughts.
They sat for a while longer, speaking somewhat freely for the first time. Though Arawn did not disclose much, nor did he ask too much, either. Cassandra was taken aback by how disinterested he was in the stories about himself. And she was somewhat annoyed that he had no curiosity nor infatuation in the fiction that she was baiting him with.
A few rhythmic taps on the steamed-up window behind them made them both turn. Glenda gestured them inside with a wave as she held up a steaming pie for them to see.
Cassandra lifted a pencilled brow. Despite what she'd done, the woman still couldn't resist entertaining a guest. She saw Arawn stir, so she was sure to make one final move before he completely lost interest.
"This will be my final offer," Cassandra said, sitting forward, eyeing him sideways through her charcoal-lined eyes. "Do you want my help?"
"No," he replied. And his response was immediate, his stance unyielding. And his pronouncement was absolutely definitive.
Cassandra nodded her head, her lips pursing together as she briefly looked eastwards towards the edge of the forest, before looking back at Arawn. He was soaked to the bone now. The earthy-smelling rain had drenched his unruly dark hair as droplets trickled from the ends of his strands, and his torn shirt clung to his combatant frame like a second skin.
Cassandra took a cautious, deep breath, aware that it was wise not to push the matter any further.
"Then that settles it," she said finally. "I shall bother you no longer."
The smell of fresh pastry carried down from the cottage as they continued observing the greyed clouds that were just visible between the gaps in the branches. A thick mist had formed above the earth as the water infused down into the parched soil. "Tell your mother that I'm grateful for her offer of food, but I will politely decline."
At that moment, all seemed tranquilly serene until the sound of rustling and excruciatingly loud blasts and crashes sounded in the cottage behind them. Before either of them could say anything, an unearthly scream shattered the dampened air.
Arawn was up and already striding up the sodden land towards his home - and by the look on his face, it seemed that the sound of the scream had torn through him like a fused blade.
Cassandra was quick to follow suit, lifting her robes to her ankles to catch up with him, and when they both rounded the edge of the cottage towards the entrance, Arawn came to a hasty stop in his tracks at the sight that met them.
The timber door of his home had been ripped off its hinges and cut in two. The top half of it lay in a bush about 100 metres from its usual perch, and the bottom half was floating steadily down a nearby stream.
Confusion overtook his senses as he studied the scene before him. But the sound of drawn-out clicks broke his contemplation and his eyes were immediately drawn towards a dark, hairy smudge in the distance that was scurrying its way through the forest, away from the cottage.
Arawn thought himself utterly mad for imagining it, but he blinked once, twice, three times, and yet the image remained the same: a spider the size of a shed was racing away from them.
Arawn whirled around towards the Seer who had positioned herself a cautious few feet away from the man as though she was unsure what his reaction may be. "More of your wretched magic tricks? Make it stop!"
But then, something caught Arawn's attention and made him stop in his furious pursuit of the Seer. He only just noticed the discernible outline of a silver-strewn figure tightly secured onto the thing's back. The giant spider was rushing away with Glenda tightly secured in a thick, shimmering web.
"No! Stop!" Arawn shouted through the expanse, reverting to his mother tongue in sheer panic. "Please!"
Then, the colour completely drained from Arawn's features as another loud shriek pierced through the foliage.
He just about caught glimpse of the beast's many ebony eyes the size of shovels and its fangs that ended in piercingly curved tips. It looked big enough to swallow him whole. Before the Seer could protest, Arawn bounded forward, his body bouncing wildly through the foliage.
"Don't!" Cassandra shouted, vaulting forwards to grab Arawn by the arm. "That's an acromantula! A bloodthirsty creature! They have a taste for human flesh."
Arawn looked horrified. "Even more reason to go after it, then."
"Fool!" Cassandra spat, stopping Arawn in his tracks yet again as they stared at each other. "Those things will eat anything they see. Under normal circumstances, it would have eaten your mother whole by now."
Arawn glanced back at the creature which had strayed closer towards the edge of the thick forest - impossibly far for him to reach in time. It was only a few seconds in reality, but the moment between seeing the final glimpse of his Mother and seeing her vanish between the foliage seemed to last an eternity.
Something deep and guarded twisted in his chest. Something he hadn't felt in years. He searched the edge of the forest, his eyes darting from left to right, but the spider was nowhere to be seen.
He continued to search in vain, hoping that they might re-appear - that they might flash into existence like one of Cassandra's magic tricks. Oh, how he hoped this was just a magic trick.
That was his mother he'd just witnessed being captured by a hellish creature. The woman who had protected him throughout his life. And now, when it was his turn to protect her, he had failed.
"We need to reach those trees," Arawn said, extending an arm in their direction.
Despite Cassandra knowing that Arawn could take the beast on with ease, it was imperative that he didn't.
Cassandra stepped towards him, being very, very careful not to arouse the vigour inside him. "She's gone, Arawn."
His eyes stung and his mind knew that the Seer was right, however much his heart tried to refute it.
"Is that meant to make me feel better?" he questioned, turning on her in one swift motion.
"Don't you see?" Cassandra asked, not fazed at the fact that she could physically feel something mighty awaken within the imposing man before her. "Someone sent that beast here to capture your mother. It's enchanted. If it wanted to do her any harm it would have done so by now."
He shot her a questioning glare. "You're the only enchantress that's ever come to this forest - to our home. You expect me to believe it wasn't you?"
Cassandra took a step closer towards Arawn, tilting her head upwards to look at him solemnly. "It's what I've been warning you about. They've taken her away from you."
A cold, sharp feeling cut through him and he hardened, surmounted by an uncontrollable searing sensation that was rising from his core.
"Who? Who has taken her?" he demanded, unable to look at the Seer.
"You really want to know?"
The devastated shadow that overtook his features was confirmation enough.
"Fine," Cassandra said, acting as though she was reluctant to indulge him. She gestured towards the cottage. "Then you're going to need to take a seat."
Shaking his head in a mixture of rage, disgust and grief, Arawn turned his back on the mayhem to return to his now broken home without uttering so much as a word. Cassandra followed.
He surveyed the damage inside the cottage. The main structure remained somewhat intact, but one corner of the roof had collapsed and was entirely shrouded in a dense, silvery substance.
Large cracks ran through the entirety of the adjoining walls and dislodged cooking utensils and the ornaments that had adorned his home since childhood littered the floor in shattered pieces like a slovenly mosaic.
A quick survey revealed more destruction than Arawn had anticipated. He could only imagine the force it took to batter through the roof timbers. The force that had grasped his mother and strewn her onto its back.
Arawn gnarred, kicking an iron pot into the hearth of the now unlit fire, completely ignoring any accompanying pain.
"What do I do?" he urged, more to himself than to Cassandra. "How did they find us?"
The Seer knew she must be very careful now. Though Arawn had lived a secluded, sheltered life in the forest, he was not entirely stupid. She knew he could put two and two together. She knew he didn't trust her.
"Who did this?" He asked after the Seer did not respond to his previous question. His voice was soft. Too much so. A deathly kind of soft. Its brutal assurance sent a rare shiver creeping its way down the length of the Seer's back.
And so the Seer told him. She told him just enough information. Not too much - yet not too little. She told him about those who had sent him away to be forced into isolation and seclusion during the Conspiracy of 1923. That they were jealous and intimidated of his power and potential even as a newborn child. She told him about those who were plotting against him this very minute. About those who wanted him dead because they saw him as a threat. About the Sacred-Twenty-Eight and their motives. But more importantly, about a group of corrupted criminals who had taken his mother away from him out of malice.
It was carefully done - a few well-places lies and exaggerations - a few tendrils of the truth. A story that a naïve man with no social encounters would believe without question.
"I can take you to them," she announced. "To the sons and daughters of those who cast you and your family away all those years ago. They reside at Malfoy Manor. And my bet is that that's where you'll find your dear Mother."
***
The springtime sky was dark and vengeful as nightfall crept its way across the land. In the distance, the pitiable whine of a solitary fox resounded through the vault-still quiet of the trees. From atop the ridge, Arawn surveyed the battle-scarred cottage beneath him, just about visible through the clearing in the canopy.
He couldn't leave without tending to his animals - so Cassandra had allowed him a moment to do what he needed to do. He had set them free into the forest with the hope that they'd survive, though the sound of the fox that met his ears did not give him much hope for the chickens. Though in the distance, he was sure he heard the faint whinny of his horses, but he supposed it was just his mind seeking solace - seeking some form of assurance that he'd managed to save at least someone.
He rubbed a calloused hand along the worn leather of his horses' reins. He held them tightly within his grip - unable to fully leave them without some kind of memory to show that he cared. He wrapped the leather around his left wrist and tied it firmly.
He placed a hand on his bag to make sure that he felt the outline of a book within its contents. His heart calmed when he touched it beneath the fabric.
Gentle fingertips placed themselves on his forearm, just above the leather that was now wrapped around his skin. He recoiled at her touch, exhaling through his nose and eventually lowering his eyes to hers. In truth, it was the first time he had truly bothered to look at her. Cassandra's remarkable amethyst eyes gazed down towards where Arawn had just been focusing.
"There's no point looking back now, " Cassandra said, her darkened lips forming the words in soothing tones. "You must only look forward. Forward to saving your mother from those who stole her from you."
Cassandra stepped away, watching him closely, gifting him a few final seconds of silence to take in what he was leaving behind.
Looking down towards his shattered home, he vowed from that moment on that he would carry these items with him on his journey to wherever it was he was going - these reins that may seem so insignificant to some and the old book in his bag that secured a dried flower from his mother's garden.
He wondered whether the garden would survive while they were gone. He assured himself, then, that he was coming back - him and his mother, too. They would repair all the damage and would keep the garden growing. Steeling his resolve, Arawn turned his back on the life he once had and strode off to follow the Seer up the trail.
***
Vali planted his feet in a fighting stance upon the freshly trimmed lawn, his tall, brawny stature anchored on Alden. "You're mine, blondie."
Grier laughed, stepping up to join his cousin, the red crescent moon shaped insignia carved onto his cheek gleaming under the faint glow of the nearby manor.
"That's flattering, it really is," Alden uttered, grinning apprehensively. "But I'm afraid there's a long line of people who want me, fellas, and I hate to have to tell you that you're at the very end of the queue."
"Never been one for queuing," Vali said. "What about you, Grier?"
Grier shook his large head. "Not ever. Don't have the patience."
"How about this," Vali smiled, and the vicious stare he planted on Alden was all-consuming. "Surrender, and I'll think about going easy on you."
Alden shrugged, raising his wand towards the larger of the men who seemed to have locked on him like a sniper. "Never been one for choosing the easy way out."
Tightening his grip on his wand and widening his stance, Alden braced himself to take on both of the men himself. He knew the power that Cassandra Vablatsky could impose on her servants, but he had yet to determine just how powerful these two would be under her control.
"This fight is mine alone," Alden uttered, turning to look at Travers. "Go."
Travers met his gaze with a half-hearted smile. "Never really been one to abandon a friend."
Alden smiled back at him, issuing him a firm nod of assurance. And not a moment later, Vali pounced, extruding his wand in Alden's direction as a burst of red light came soaring towards him.
Alden juggled the duel between the two intruders, alternating spells back and forth to keep both of them at bay, whilst deflecting any oncoming curses with his free hand.
Vali focused most of his attacks on Alden, however Grier was intent on badgering Travers who was showering hastily-aimed curses his way whilst also sending defensive spells in Alden's direction as a precaution.
"Come 'ere, lank! You're done holding your boyfriend's hand now," Grier teased, forcing a spell towards him that nicked the edge of his shoulder.
Travers paused to see that a scorching hole had singed its way through his shetland wool jumper, the stitchings of the cut blackened and smoking from the spell's impact.
"If that would have hit ya," Grier said, urging closer towards him. "You'd be sausage meat by now. Lovely, smoking hot sausage meat."
Alden grimaced, working his way to fight Grier off, but Cassandra's minion - who was stronger than he had anticipated - clutched his wand with both hands as he delivered a flurry of well-placed vicious defences which were, unfortunately, effective in Alden's advance. Vali followed his cousin's defence with quickly timed hexes that were fierce in their nature to keep Alden away. Each time Alden had to focus his attention on Vali, Grier renewed his attack on Travers.
"You're flimsier than a piece of gauze," Grier laughed, bearing down on Travers, waving his wand about menacingly. "Those skinny arms of yours can barely lift your wand!"
"Why do you need to take one of us?" Alden gasped out between his attacks, beads of sweat dappling his brow as he wielded his wand back and forth, returning his fight to Vali.
"Don't know," Vali replied nonchalantly, shooting a shattering curse that hit the grovel at Alden's feet. He hastily shielded his eyes with his arm as a flurry of tiny pebbles erupted into his face in several tiny blows. "Don't really care, either."
"Hey, maggot!" Grier called towards Travers. "We've mentioned your twat of a father, but I haven't spoken about your mother. Care to tell me a bit about her? She must be some harlot to sprawl with the likes of your dad," Grier jabbed.
A foreign feeling of anxiety, resentment and despair clashed in an eruption of turmoil in Travers' stomach. The feeling fizzled and ignited within him like a fuse. Without thinking, his blinding thoughts took control as he charged towards Grier - wand raised - sending curse after curse in his direction.
"Travers!" Alden shouted over at him.
Travers' unexpectedly foolish charge captured Vali's attention, but only for a moment. And in that unguarded moment, Alden caught the intruder with the force of his spell.
Vali half turned, almost frozen in place as though the shock of being struck had overwhelmed him. But Grier ran over to him at once, shaking him out of his daze and back into battle mode.
"You'll pay for that you little snipe," Vali warned.
Alden matched his warning with a wink. "I hope you accept sarcastic comments and dashing good looks as a form of currency. Because other than that I'm skint."
Alden seemed disheartened that his comment hadn't gained a reaction from them - but it was only then that he noticed that neither Grier nor Vali's attention was on him anymore. Instead, their gaze had landed a few feet behind him.
Alden turned to see what they were looking at, and something in his chest lifted as he saw Abraxas, Lestrange and Rosier make their way towards them, strategically placing themselves behind Alden and Travers just as they'd done over and over during their training sessions.
"Well well well," Grier said between pants, dropping his attacking stance as he gazed out at the group of death eaters. "Come to enjoy the show, eh?"
Behind Grier, Vali started laughing - his eyes set on Malfoy. Following his gaze, Grier issued a spiteful chuckle, too.
Alden's pine eyes narrowed, looking from the two imposters back towards Abraxas who maintained his proud stance despite their laughs.
"Well now this does make things interesting," Vali jided, looking each of them in the eye. "What a selection we have to choose from!"
"Feels like Christmas," Grier added, weighing up his opponents. "Which one are we gonna pick, eh?"
Vali lifted a stubby finger to his cracked lips, the traces of dirt visible beneath his nail as he contemplated his choice.
He stepped closer, his clouded eyes gleaming under everyone's wandlight, yet the Death Eaters did not budge. "Well," he began, wiggling his finger around as though choosing which chocolate he'd eat first. "We could go for the tapeworm. Son of Torquil Travers himself," he jested in a put-on voice.
"Boss would be pleased with him," Grier added.
"Boss would be, indeed," Vali agreed. But then his stout finger landed on Alden. "Or what about pretty-boy over here? What did you say your name was?"
"Me? Why I'm none other than Yaxley," he declared proudly. "Alden Yaxley. Some people call me the smartest man alive. Some call me the sexiest."
"Nobody has ever called you either of those," Abraxas said matter-of-factly.
Alden scowled over his shoulder. "I have, so I'd say that counts as some people."
"Shut up," Vali spat. "What about you?" he asked then, stepping towards Rosier whose honey-green eyes were fixed on the man before him like glue. "Judging by your clothes and that handsome earring you're wearing, I'd say you've got some recognition, don't you?"
"A Rosier," Grier concluded, flicking Rosier's dangling earring with the tip of his finger after careful examination. "Very influential."
Rosier didn't shift an inch, despite the men being so close to him that he could smell their foul breath. He remained steady - his hand stiffening its grasp on the handle of his wand.
"Or how about this one?" Grier asked, squaring up to Lestrange. "This one hasn't wiped that crude smile off his face since he got here. Been locked in that manor a while, have ya? Bit too eager to be let out to play?"
"Oh, you have no idea," Lestrange murmured, his jaw twitching in excitement, his eyes alight with a crazed longing for violence.
Grier grimaced. "Keep an eye on this one, Vali," he announced, looking Lestrange up and down. "He's smiling at me like a rabid dog. Creepy."
"Well if you're not a Malfoy I'll call myself a mule," Vali said as he approached Abraxas, a strange leer hanging on his crooked lips. "Know all about you, Mister Malfoy."
"How's the other half?" Grier asked from behind his accomplice. Beneath his sleeves, Abraxas' spread his long fingers in unrest. "Seen her much lately?"
Black spots began shrouding Malfoy's vision and he noticed that he hadn't breathed in what seemed like minutes on end. He was shaking now, too, utterly fermenting with fury.
"If you dare-" Abraxas seethed.
"How's about we make it a pair, Grier?" Vali suggested. "We could start our own collection."
"What are they talking about?" Lestrange asked.
Alden continued looking from Cassandra's minions to Abraxas and that's when it fully clicked. Of course. They had Cressida. Cassandra and her minions had taken Cressida.
It all made sense now - the lack of letters from Cress, Abraxas' constant focus on the skies in the search of an owl bearing news, his recently melancholy. Alden suspected that she'd been captured for at least the past few days and Abraxas hadn't even known about it. But then he remembered another person within the Manor who hadn't been receiving any letters lately -
Did that also mean-
"Abraxas -" Alden started, wanting to explain, but Malfoy cut him off with a raised hand. He'd figured it out already.
Vali examined Abraxas with perverse interest - as if excited by his evident torment that his other half was their captive. Abraxas' skin prickled beneath the examination. He made a point of not lowering his cold gaze in the slightest, despite the repulsion that coursed through his veins as he took in these imposters. He couldn't hold back his look of disgust as he gazed from Vali's strangely white eyes to his stained teeth.
Abraxas stepped towards the two men who were grinning at him like hounds. "Cressida," he said quietly, though the bitter disdain for these two men before him held onto his tongue like liquid malice. "What have you done with her?"
Vali and Grier eyed each other and Vali flung his head to the side to take in Abraxas in his entirety. "I'll be honest," he said. "We haven't been kind to her, but if you wish to put an end to her misery and bring her back to safety, I can offer you a deal."
Grier chuckled excitedly from his cousin's side, the fabric of his runic robes flapping around erratically. Silence lingered across the grounds as they waited for Vali to continue.
"Give us what we want and we won't kill the idiot girl," Vali said slowly, savouring the words as he whispered them near Abraxas' ear.
Abraxas said nothing.
"Shall I take your silence as agreement?" Vali suggested with an awful smile. "Good. Then you can do the honours of deciding which one of your friends we take."
"Take me," Abraxas said calmly. Beside him, his friends convulsed with anger. "Bring Cressida home. Let me take her place."
"What's this?" Grier gargled. "You'd willingly hand yourself over to us and take the girl's place as our prisoner?"
"Anything," Malfoy gnarled. "Anything for Cress."
"What a fortuitous event!" Vali shouted into the night with an exaggerated clap.
"If you touch him, you'll have to go through all of us first-" Lestrange said.
Alden gestured around to his friends. "Look at us - it's five against two - and just look how menacing and cool we all look under the moonlight."
Vali let out a savage laugh. "We won't be doing anything to any of the rest of you," he said, his eyes darting towards Malfoy's piercing glare. "Because Mister Malfoy here knows that if any of you get in the way, his beloved Cressida will suffer a fate I'm sure none of you would find pleasant."
Reluctantly, Malfoy pocketed his wand and placed his hands by his sides to show that he would fight no longer. To show that he would surrender, beg, anything to ensure that Cressida remained unharmed.
And without casting so much as a glance in the direction of his fellow Death Eaters, Abraxas walked out into open grounds, right into the arms of the enemy.
***
"What's he doing?" Estela whispered, ducking below the trailing honeysuckles that were emitting their watered aroma into the crisp evening air.
She was impressed at how flexible the material of her new uniform was - expertly crafted and well thought through - allowing her to crouch and crawl with ease.
"He's facing them alone," Tom replied, from where he too crouched beside Estela, a gentle hand placed on her lower back to steady her as she started to get worked up as she watched the scene unfold.
Estela frowned. It was unlike Abraxas to surrender himself to danger. Unlike him to sacrifice himself for the greater good. But what she was seeing was unmistakable - Abraxas Malfoy was allowing these two strangers in his garden to seize him.
"Aren't we going to do something?" Estela asked Tom. "What about the others, why aren't they doing anything?"
"It's evident that something has been disclosed," Tom said. "These two men obviously have some kind of leverage."
"Should we step in?"
"There will be no need," Tom said, casting her a sideways glance. "Abraxas is more than capable of handling himself against these two clowns."
Estela's only fear was that it didn't look like he was going to handle himself in any way. His wand was tucked away in his pocket and his defences were non-existent.
Even from the distance Tom and Estela were observing, they could discern that the glowing light of the crescent moons upon the intruders' cheeks had begun to glow bright red.
"What is that?" Estela asked, squinting to try and see the emblem more clearly. She thought about the mark she had seen branded on the arms of the Death Eaters and wondered if it was some similar type of magic. "Blood magic? Mind control?"
Riddle hardened. "It seems as though these two idiots are under another's control, yes."
Cassandra, Estela immediately thought.
They watched in silence as Abraxas willingly went and stood alongside the two strangers, his head held high despite their vengeful grins.
They watched as each of the men placed an arm on Malfoy's shoulder and a moment later a sudden roar of upwind gusted through the expanse, fluttering the lawn and flickering everyone's clothes. They appeared to be departing.
"He's going with them!" Estela said, and to her right, Tom looked calm as the sea on a balmy night. "He's not even putting up a fight! Neither are the others!"
As the two men seemed just about ready to launch off into the clear night sky, something happened within a split second that caught everyone off guard. In nothing more than a blink of the eye, some kind of switching spell had been cast. A single blink later, Estela saw a different figure standing between the two robed men, silhouetted against the dark.
Instead of witnessing Abraxas Malfoy soaring into the skies with the two men draped in runes, they took with them none other than a sandy-blond haired man with curls that matched the low-strung clouds.
Alden Viridian had taken Malfoy's place.
"Alden," Estela breathed as she watched them disappear into the night. He'd switched places with Abraxas at the last second - probably even before the two brutes could notice what had happened.
When Tom and Estela caught up with the other Death Eaters, their faces were pale; their eyes sullen. Rosier crouched to the ground, pressing his hands to his lips in deep contemplation of what just happened.
Lestrange was traversing around the lawn, thrashing and flailing his wand about in vehement motions as curse after curse tore through the sky in every which way direction, his mop of dark hair falling from its well-perched style with each violent thrash of his arm.
Abraxas looked wholly perplexed and as pale as a candle as he blinked into oblivion as though he was utterly confused about his whereabouts. It was as though the floor was about to swallow him whole and he was ready to fall into the belly of whatever beast lay beneath him.
Travers was slumped on the lawn, digging his fingers into the shards of grass as though he was trying to grasp at something - anything at all - that could steady him.
Travers had always naively thought that Alden Viridian was so effortlessly untouchable in a way - so strangely separated from the other witches and wizards he had known. But this just proved he was human after all. And he could be captured and hurt just like anyone else could. And despite the other Death Eaters hanging around him in solemn silence, Travers had never felt truly alone at Malfoy Manor until now.
Estela watched Abraxas closely. His accustomed show of self-satisfaction was gone. Guilt seemed to be holding him by the neck - unable to speak, almost unable to breathe at the thought that Cressida had been a prisoner for Merlin knows how many days now without him even knowing.
"Did you find out who they were?" Riddle asked them.
Nobody answered, they each just shook their heads or glared at their feet.
"Did you find out anything about them?" Estela asked. "Anything at all?"
A slow deflation of air flew from Travers' lips. "Their names are Vali and Grier. All I know is that they have a boss and Alden mentioned something about being under control."
"They have Cressida," Rosier announced, lowering his voice in regard of Abraxas who still hadn't moved a muscle. "And now they have Alden, too," he added, his words a low rumble of rich depletion.
The feeling of anguish spiralled up into the night - past the clouds where the two men and Alden had vanished - up into the fickle spread of diminutive stars.
"Anything else?" Estela asked the Death Eaters almost hopelessly.
"We know they wear rune patterned robes and have a glowing crescent moon carved onto their skin," Rosier said.
Lestrange huffed in annoyance. "What does it matter what they were wearing? I'm wearing boxers today. Hardly anything to take note of."
Rosier glared at him. "Today?" Please, for the love of Merlin tell me that you wear boxers every day."
"This isn't over," Abraxas growled, snapping Lestrange and Rosier from their trail of thought. "I'm going to get Cressida back somehow. I don't care if I don't know where she is or who's holding her. I will find her."
"And Alden, too," said Travers. "Our number one priority should be finding out who their 'boss' is and where they're hiding."
"Then we'll go to Dumbledore's headquarters again. If it's a war he wants, it's a war he'll get," Lestrange said.
"I don't think it's Dumbledore," Riddle announced.
He stepped forwards after letting everyone mull over their thoughts, after having apparently taken the time to mull over his own, too. A number of angered eyes stared hopelessly in his direction, awaiting their leader's direction.
"I don't know why you're all looking so sour," he proclaimed, eyeing his followers with ardent zeal. Malfoy looked as though he wanted to punch him in the face and Travers was gaping at him as one would gaze at a monster.
"Alden and Cressida are prisoners of war now. And prisoners of war have great strategic importance," he said, flashing his followers a sly grin. "It gives us reason to attack."
"Lestrange, Abraxas," he declared and the boys immediately straightened. Even Abraxas, who was clearly feigning his apt attention. "You will fly with me and Estela in the direction they travelled. I'm sure a simple tracking spell will help us on our way to finding out where they're headed."
"Rosier," he said, turning to Rosier who had stood up by now to take in the orders being issued. "You will depart to Hoy. Inform Mulciber, Nott and the others that our main base has been compromised. We may need to re-locate there so see that it's ready."
"Travers," Riddle said, turning on his heel to face him. "You will stay here with Avery. Research, read, enquire. Find out anything you can about those men and the magic they were utilising."
"Use your anger as a source of power, gentlemen," Riddle proclaimed, pulling on his gloves from his coat pocket. "And our enemies shall taste our divine fury and weep."
A/N: hello, everyone! hope you're all well!
Sorry for yet another long period of time between this update and the last, but thank you all so much for your patience and understanding as always.
As some of you in the Discord server will know, I really struggled writing this chapter but it's finally finished now after blood, sweat, tears and some questionable asmr sessions...
a big thank you to geeta for proofreading a section of this chapter and for providing me with great feedback.
i hope you all enjoy this chapter, and as ever, please let me know what you think! your opinions, as always, are invaluable!
lots of love and until next time,
nox.