I'm running late, I'm aware. I've been immersed in writing the final battle, and I must admit it's been quite an effort. However, I'm looking forward to sharing the outcome with you all and hope you'll enjoy it when you have the chance to read.
(...)
The days that followed were laden with anguish. She endeavored to establish contact with the other members of the Order, but only managed to connect with Minerva, Tonks, and Andromeda.
Tonks, surprisingly, was engaged to Lupin. That's what had been haunting the metamorphmagus lately. Lupin was grappling with uncertainties, tormented by doubts about his suitability for her - too old, meager means, an outcast in wizarding society. While the fears were legitimate, the issue of age made Cassiopeia roll her eyes, nearly reaching the point of dizziness.
However, the prospect of attending her friends' wedding was uncertain. It would be an intimate affair, much like her parents'. She sent gifts and notes through the faithful messenger, Kreacher, extending her well-wishes.
Minerva entrusted Seraphina and Morgus to Cassie, along with their belongings, using Kreacher's services as the loyal intermediary between her and the others.
She also dedicated extensive hours to training, both with Draco and the influx of new Death Eaters. Bellatrix assumed the role of mentor, guiding them with her expertise.
Despite Cassi's efforts to dismiss it, her irresistible attraction to the woman grew each day. She could no longer deny that the connection extended just as strongly to the other two Black sisters.
(...)
As days unfolded, a mysterious wave of deaths struck some Death Eaters. Strangely, they would lose their ability to speak before collapsing, inert, onto the ground, seized by inexplicable convulsions. The cause of this mortality remained an unsolvable enigma. Clues pointed to something unrelated to magic, leaving a trail of bewilderment and fear. This dark phenomenon came to be named as the "Devastating Shadow."
Paradoxically, Voldemort's ranks of followers swelled each day, in sync with the mysterious fatalities. The Dark Lord, as ruthless as ever, employed torture as a method of coercion, forcing individuals to join his ranks. He inflicted pain upon people, a threat that demanded their allegiance. Those who dared to refuse would meet their demise.
Cassiopeia rarely managed to slip away. The vigilant eyes of the Death Eaters seemed perpetually upon her. However, she found brief, furtive moments to rendezvous with Tonks. By then, the young woman carried the secret of a few months' pregnancy. The mere idea filled Cassi with euphoria, prompting a compulsion to shower the unborn child with gifts. She secretly dispatched enough decorations to fill an entire room.
Narcissa, too, shared in the excitement, despite her silent distaste for Lupin due to his lycanthropy. She quickly immersed herself in crafting baby clothes and shoes. Observing her dedication to something so simple yet profoundly meaningful was truly heartwarming. The shoes she fashioned were sheer perfection, a reflection of the excellence that pervaded all of Narcissa's endeavors. They were delicate, silver, and green, almost as if a fairy had woven them.
Upon discovering that her niece was involved with a werewolf, Bellatrix was consumed by anger. In contrast, Andromeda celebrated the prospect of becoming a grandmother and found joy in the future grandson who awaited. Though begrudgingly, Bellatrix found herself compelled to remain silent in the face of her sister's happiness.
(...)
A atmosphere at the next meeting was thick with terror, an unconscious figure sprawled across the table in the expansive room of Gaunt Manor. It was Professor Charity Burbage, a Muggle Studies teacher. Despite their disagreements, both Draco and Cassiopeia regarded her with concern.
Seated around the table were the Death Eaters, except for the two who focused their attention on the unconscious woman. Cassi sat between Noctua and Bellatrix, flanked by Narcissus, Lucius, and Draco. Seraphina, the serpent, wound around her neck like a symbol of comfort and protection.
An agonizing silence hung over the room, broken only when Snape and Yaxley entered to join the meeting. Voldemort commented on their lateness, and Snape was led to sit beside the Dark Lord, in a position of prominence. Yaxley and Dolohov took their designated seats, and all eyes were fixed on Snape.
The conversation turned to the plan of the Order of the Phoenix to transfer Harry Potter.
"And then?"
"My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to transfer Harry Potter from his safe location on Saturday evening."
Interest around the table noticeably heightened. Some stiffened, others shifted.
Oh no. Cassiopeia thought in panic. She would have to warn Tonks that they would be attacked during the transport.
Everyone was attentive to Snape and Voldemort.
"Saturday evening," Voldemort repeated, his red eyes locking onto Snape's black eyes with such intensity that some of the onlookers averted their gaze. Fearful of being caught in the fierceness of that fixation. Snape, however, calmly held that gaze, and after a moment, Voldemort's thin lips curved into an apparent smile. "Good. Very good. And this information came from..."
"From the source we discussed," said Snape.
"My Lord," Yaxley had leaned forward, trying to see Voldemort and Snape. All faces turned toward him.
"My Lord, I heard something different." Yaxley paused, but Voldemort did not object, so he continued. "Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter won't be moved until the thirtieth night, on the eve of his seventeenth birthday."
Snape smiled.
"My source indicated they plan to release a false trail, it must be this. No doubt, they've cast a Confundus Charm on Dawlish. It wouldn't be the first time, everyone knows his susceptibility to spells... I can assure you, My Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain of what he was saying."
He paused, looking around.
"The Auror division will not be participating in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes we have infiltrated the Ministry."
"Well, at least in that, the Order got it right, huh?" Dolohov commented, chuckling sibilantly, the sound echoing across the table.
Voldemort didn't laugh, his gaze shifted upward, to the body slowly revolving, and he seemed to detach himself momentarily.
"My Lord," Yaxley continued, "Dawlish believes they will deploy an entire detachment of Aurors for the boy's transfer..."
Voldemort raised his large, pale hand, and Yaxley immediately fell silent, watching resentfully as the Lord turned once more to Snape.
"And then, where will they hide the boy?"
"In the house of one of the Order's members," Snape replied. "The location, according to my source, has received all the protection the Order and the Ministry combined could provide. I believe there's a minimal chance of us laying hands on him once he reaches the destination, My Lord, unless, of course, the Ministry falls before Saturday, which might give us the opportunity to uncover and undo a sufficient number of spells, and proceed through the rest."
And then, Yaxley interjected Voldemort, the flames' light strangely reflecting in his red eyes. "Will the Ministry have fallen by Saturday?"
Once again, all heads turned, Yaxley stood more erect. "My Lord, in this regard, I have good news. I managed, with difficulty and after great effort, to place an Imperius Curse on Pius Thicknesse."
Many of those near Yaxley seemed impressed, his neighbor, Dolohov, gave him a pat on the back.
"It's a start," said Voldemort. "But Thicknesse is just one man. Scrimgeour needs to be surrounded by our people for me to act. A failed attempt on the minister's life will cause me a significant delay."
"That's true, My Lord, but you know that, in his role as the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Thicknesse has frequent contact not only with the minister himself but also with the heads of other Ministry departments. I think it will be easy to control the others now that we have a high-ranking official under our influence, and then everyone can work together to bring down Scrimgeour. That is, if our friend Thicknesse isn't discovered before he has converted the rest," Voldemort affirmed.
"In any case, it's unlikely the Ministry will be mine before Saturday. If we can't get our hands on the boy at the destination, then we'll have to do so during the transfer. In that regard, we're in an advantageous position."
"My Lord," Yaxley said, seeming determined to garner some approval, "we've already planted several individuals in the Department of Magical Transportation. If Potter apparates or uses the Floo Network, we'll know immediately."
"He won't do either," Snape said.
"The Order is avoiding any form of transportation controlled or regulated by the Ministry. They're suspicious of anything connected to that place."
"Even better," Voldemort said. "He'll have to move in open terrain. It will be much easier to catch him."
Once again, Voldemort raised his gaze to the slowly revolving body, then continued, "I will take care of the boy personally. Too many mistakes have been made regarding Harry Potter. Some of them were mine. That Potter is still alive is more due to my errors than his successes."
The people around the table looked at Voldemort apprehensively, each of them revealing their fear of being held responsible for Harry Potter's continued existence. However, Voldemort seemed to be speaking more to himself than to the others, still focused on the unconscious body above.
"Because of carelessness, thwarted by luck and circumstance, those ruiners of plans, except for the most well-conceived ones. But I understand now, thanks to my dear goddaughter." He glanced at Cassi, his look supposed to be affectionate but coming across as utterly fake. Some audible sighs were heard.
"Now I understand things I didn't understand before. I am the one who must kill Harry Potter, and so I shall."
Damn it, Fuck, shit.
Cassi had to alert them. She had to help Harry.
Seraphina hissed in her ear, and Voldemort turned his gaze towards her to hear the snake as well.
"Ah yes... Nagini," he said with a smile as the snake slithered up the table and crawled over to Cassiopeia.
It wrapped itself around her chair, inviting her touch.
Cassi complied willingly. She liked the creature, unlike her feelings towards its owner.
"Hello, Nagini," she whispered in Parseltongue as the snake leaned closer to Seraphina.
Against all odds, they had become friends.
Voldemort chuckled, and everyone around the table stared at the scene wide-eyed.
When the serpent finally moved away, it returned to its master.
"As I was saying," Voldemort continued, looking once more at the tense faces, "I understand better now. I will need, for instance, to borrow one of your wands before I go out to kill Potter."
The faces around him expressed nothing but disbelief, as if he had announced that he wanted one of them as a sacrifice.
"No volunteers?" Voldemort inquired. "Let's see... Lucius, I see no reason for you to keep a wand any longer."
Lucius lifted his head. His skin appeared yellow and waxy in the firelight, and his eyes were sunken and shadowed. He looked terrified, his stubbled face trembling. When he spoke, his voice came out hoarse.
"My Lord," he squeaked in fear.
"Milod," Voldemort mocked in a childish voice, and the other Death Eaters laughed.
"Your wand, Lucius. I need your wand."
Lucius glanced sideways at Narcissa. She stared straight ahead, as pale as he was, her two-toned hair elegantly pinned up, the lighter strands cascading down.
He looked to her for guidance, for support. Narcissa was the head of the family, his closest friend. She briefly squeezed his wrist. At her touch, Lucius reached into his robes and withdrew a wand, passing it to Voldemort, who held it up before his red eyes and examined it closely.
"What wood is it made from?"
"Elder, My Lord."
"And the core?"
"Dragon heartstring."
"Elder," Voldemort approved. Then, drawing his own wand, he compared their lengths.
Lucius made an involuntary movement, for a fraction of a second it seemed he expected to receive Voldemort's wand in exchange for his own. The gesture did not go unnoticed by the Dark Lord, whose eyes widened maliciously.
"Give you my wand, Lucius? My wand?" Some of those present chuckled.
"I gave you your freedom, Lucius. Isn't that enough? But I've noticed that you and your family lately seem less than happy... Is something troubling your minds?"
"Nothing... nothing, My Lord," Lucius responded, trembling.
"Such lies, Lucius." The soft voice seemed to hiss, even when the cruel mouth ceased moving.
Nagini slithered over to her master, and Voldemort absentmindedly stroked her.
"Why do the Malfoys seem so unhappy with their lot? Isn't my return, my rise to power, exactly what they claimed to desire for so many years?"
"Undoubtedly, My Lord," Lucius quickly replied. His hand trembled as he wiped sweat from his upper lip.
"It's what I desired. - we desire," Narcissa quickly corrected, her expression impassive, her voice cold.
"Imagine if it were you receiving us into your home," Voldemort jeered. More Death Eaters laughed.
"My Lord," Cassiopeia spoke, desperately trying to divert his focus away from Narcissa.
"It's an honor to have you here, in our family's house. Our family, where many of our ancestors lived."
Noctua nodded, feigning a smile. "Indeed, My Lord," she nodded briefly. Voldemort smiled, looking quite pleased, as he walked over to Cassiopeia and patted her head as if she were some kind of pet.
"That's good to hear, even compared to the happy event I've heard about." He turned to Bellatrix. "Your niece and yours too, Lucius and Narcissa." He grinned devilishly. "She's just married the werewolf Remus Lupin. The family must be so proud."
Indeed they are, you noseless idiot.
Mocking laughter erupted around the table. Many leaned in to exchange amused glances, some pounded the table with their fists. Nagini, annoyed by the noise, opened her mouth wide and hissed irritably, but the Death Eaters didn't even hear her over their jubilation at their "triumph."
Seraphina was also displeased, hissing in Cassiopeia's ear.
Bellatrix looked livid.
"And you, my goddaughter, what do you say?" Voldemort asked, and though he spoke softly, his voice cut through the jeers and taunts. "Are you going to be the babysitter for the little pups?" Laughter spread across the room.
Bellatrix clamped her hands tightly on Cassiopeia's, preventing her from saying something imprudent. Her magic wafted alongside, trying to soothe her.
"That's enough," Voldemort said, stroking the angry snake. "Enough." The laughter stopped immediately.
"Many of our oldest family trees have, over time, become diseased," he said softly. "You need to prune yours to keep them healthy, don't you? Cut away the parts that threaten the health of the rest."
"But don't worry, soon we will root out the cancer that infects us, leaving only those with truly pure blood."
Does that include you? Cassiopeia thought bitterly.
Narcissa shot her a fearful glance, probably hearing her thoughts and fearing Voldemort might have too. But he didn't seem to pick up on her mental curses. That was an ability only Narcissa could accomplish.
Voldemort merely raised Lucius's wand, pointing it directly at the slowly spinning figure suspended above the table, and made a nearly imperceptible gesture. The figure regained movement with a groan, struggling against invisible bonds.
"Are you recognizing our guest, Severus?" Voldemort inquired.
From below, Snape raised his eyes to the hanging face. All the Death Eaters now turned to look at the prisoner, as if they'd been given permission to express their curiosity.
As she turned towards the fireplace, the woman pleaded, her voice trembling with terror, "Severus, help me!"
In her turn, Charity Burbage faced Snape. "Severus... please... please..."
Poor professor. Cassie turned her face away, no longer wishing to witness such brutality.
"Silence," Voldemort ordered, with another slight movement of Lucius's wand, and Charity went mute as if she had been gagged.
"Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote a passionate defense of Muggle-borns in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she said, should welcome these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dilution of purebloods is, according to Burbage, an extremely desirable circumstance... She advocates that we all marry Muggles or, no doubt, werewolves."
This time, no one laughed. It was impossible to miss the anger and contempt in Voldemort's voice.
For the third time, Charity Burbage looked at Snape. Tears streamed from her eyes to her hair. Snape returned her gaze, completely impassive, as she turned her face away from him.
"Avada Kedavra." The flash of green light illuminated every corner of the room. Charity crashed heavily onto the table, which trembled and creaked. Several Death Eaters jumped back, still seated.
Draco fell from his chair to the floor.
"Dinner, Nagini," Voldemort said softly, and the large snake slid smoothly from his shoulders onto the polished wooden table to devour the now lifeless woman.