Rebellious Children
In a manor on a hill in a town quite far from Hogwarts, the Dark Lord put down his mirror carefully so that the face of it was down, and the reflection on the other end of the connection would show only darkness. He paced, angry, his lips tight and soul burning. Lucius Malfoy, the fool, had been told to protect the mirror, now more than ever. Yet here they were, the mirror in the possession of some other Hogwarts students that, given the nervous whispers he had overheard, knew very well what the mirror was for. If only he'd insisted that they started the legilimency lessons now - rather than waiting for the summer break - he would have been able to tell exactly who the trespassers were, but no -- Severus Snape, the first year whose assistance he required for the purpose of learning the art of legilimency, had insisted it would be best to wait and learn face-to-face, rather than across the distance that parted them.
Voldemort's anger and eyes flashed, red hot in the night, his stress filling the room. He turned to the soft form form of his beloved pet, the snake Nagini, and ran his fingers over her cool scales as she slithered closer across the span of the table top. Nagini's thick coils were twisting and turning around the half eaten remains of the Dark Lord's dinner utensils. Her presence made him feel better and he released some of the tension through a long, low breath, letting her head slip beneath his palm.
Yesss, calm yourself, master, hissed Nagini, her flickering tongue tickling the underside of Voldemort's wrist.
Already feeling better from the snake's attentions, Voldemort felt his thinking clearing and he mused, "Perhaps it's the Black boy. Lucius had said he was one of the ones to see the bathroom mirror..." Voldemort looked at the snake and gently traced the pattern of her scales around the back of her head, trailing off down her body. "Yes," he whispered, "Of course. Of course, he and his little friends from that night..." Letting his palm fall from the snake's knobbly head, he withdrew his wand and walked swiftly out of the room, headed to speak to his hospitable hosts.
The home he was staying in was dark, lit by flickering torch lamps along the hallway, illuminating portrait after portrait of the pureblood line through the many centuries, each labeled with brass name plates, the eyes of their subjects following as he passed by, staring over their noses demurely. The Dark Lord smoothly descended the wide stairs of the manor to the parlor, where, seated by the fire, was the master of the house - Abraxus Malfoy.
"My Lord," Abraxus stammered, standing upon Voldemort's entry, immediately bowing low, nose toward the ornate carpeting.
"I require your arm, Abraxus," commanded Voldemort in his high, powerful voice. He held out his hand as Abraxus approached, left arm extended, the Dark Mark clear and bright upon it. Voldemort lowered his wand against Lucius's skin and the mark faded from black to brilliant red, scorching the skin painfully, causing Abraxus's arm to quiver as he lowered to his knees. Once the mark burned brilliantly enough, Voldemort released his loyal follower's arm and turned away without offering to help the man up from the floor as Abraxus struggled to regain his composure. "I require use of your owl as well," the Dark Lord said smoothly, his back turned as he stared out the window at the Death Eaters apparating just outside of the gates of the manor. "I need to reprimand your son."
Abraxus looked up at the Dark Lord's silhouette in the grey window. "Wouldn't it be faster, my Lord, to contact him with the mirror...?"
"The mirror," said Voldemort coldly, "Has been stolen. By several Gryffindor first years." He turned just as several of the new arrivals entered the room, their cloaks pulled high about their necks to protect against the icy cold weather outdoors. "Ah yes... speaking of the thieves... Orion, Walburga.... this will certainly interest you as well, my friends. Come... come... It seems your son has had a hand in... relieving... Lucius of my mirror."
A flicker of surprise echoed off Orion's irises, but he was otherwise able to maintain a stoic expression. "Sirius?"
"Seeing as Regulus is not yet at Hogwarts, I would say it must be Sirius, now wouldn't you?" snapped the Dark Lord angrily.
"Yes, of course, my Lord," stammered Orion. "I was merely - surprised - by the news of his involvement."
Voldemort laughed humorlessly. "Do you question my knowledge?"
"No, my Lord," Orion replied.
Voldemort turned to Walburga. "Does it seem shocking to you that your muggle-loving, Gryffindor spawn would interfere with my plans at Hogwarts?" he hissed.
Walburga shook her head ever so slightly. "No, my Lord, I am most ashamed to say... I have tried to talk to the boy of course, but I...."
But Voldemort wasn't listening to her simpering, and had turned back to Abraxus. "Your owl, Abraxus?"
"Yes, my Lord," Abraxus said, and he hurried from the room.
Voldemort looked back to Walburga and Orion. "I am most disappointed in the Black bloodline," he said regretfully, "I had such hope for your boys." The two Blacks hung their heads in shame. "Does Regulus share the same weaknesses as his brother?"
"No," Walburga said quickly, defensive of her youngest son. "Regulus is a good boy; he honors his mother and father and you - my Lord. He will not let us down as my other son has done." Her eyes flashed with passion and ferocity.
Voldemort nodded, "Good... Good... I am quite tired of these rebellious children," he said, eyes flickering to Druella and Cygnus Black, the parents of Andromeda, the Hufflepuff, who both bowed their heads as well. He turned and went back to the window, staring out over the snow-covered landscape, his long fingers clutching the stone frame. "So many young wizards are being turned to this progressive thinking that Dumbledore is peddling about the country... believing in muggle rights and friends of mudbloods..." He shook his head.
"Not all of our children are rebelling against you, my Lord," squeaked Eileen Prince, leaning around some of the taller Death Eaters that stood between herself and the Dark Lord.
His eyes flicked to her. "Yes..." he said, "Your son is not a disappointment to me, that is true." She trembled beneath his gaze until he turned back around to face the window, staring north, toward Hogwarts. "This is thrice, however, that my plans for Hogwarts have been thwarted," Voldemort mused. "I shall need a new way to communicate with my servants at Hogwarts now... a way that cannot be thwarted by your son," he added to Walburga and Orion with a sneer.
Lucius Malfoy was eating his dinner when the Dark Mark burned hot and angry across his flesh. He dropped his fork against his plate with a clatter and clutched a hold on his forearm as the pain of the branding shot through his nerves, the anger of the Dark Lord flooding his body. He knocked over his goblet of pumpkin juice, sending the amber liquid oozing along the Slytherin table, spilling over the edges and into the laps of several students around him, including Narcissa Black, who squealed loudly. Severus was knocked backwards off the bench and onto the flagstone floor by the motion of Narcissa leaping to her feet. "What was the purpose of that?" she demanded as she swept her palms over the beading liquid across the front of her robes.
His eyes flashed to hers, deep with meaning, then, flicking to find Moody staring over at the disruption at the Slytherin table with interest, he hissed, "I don't feel well."
Narcissa's eyes widened. "What is it?" she breathed. "Is it the mark?" Lucius nodded. She looked down at Severus, scrambling to collect himself at her feet, and instinctively held out a hand to offer him help up. Severus let her pull him to his feet. "Is everything alright?"
"He's mad, he's really mad," Lucius said stiffly, trying his best not to move his mouth. He looked down at his lap, half rolling his sleeve up to look at it, "It's burning. I need to go back to the common room... to the mirror," he added. He let his sleeve drop quickly and stood up.
"I'll come with you," Narcissa suggested, following him down the length of the table.
"No," Malfoy hissed, "Stay here. It's suspicious if we both leave and that Moody bloke is looking this way. Stay here. I need to go." He turned and walked swiftly from the Great Hall, his arm burning as he crossed into the entrance hall.
Bilius Weasley was standing with Derek Bell and several other Gryffindor Quidditch team members, waiting by the stairs for the rest of the team to head down to the pitch for a bit of evening practice. Bilius looked up as Malfoy stormed across the hall and called out, "What's the matter, Lucius?"
Malfoy ignored him, his robes swishing about his ankles as he headed for the doorway to the dungeons.
"Oh you're angry, I see... It's going to be alright, mate," he chided, grinning, humor sparkling in his green eyes as Derek Bell chortled behind him, egging him on, "Maybe the Dark Lord will coddle you if you go cry to him, you ickle widdle Death Eater." He turned away, facing his friends, and didn't see as Lucius withdrew his wand...
The spell fell from Lucius's lips like a blast of cold air, the magic spouting forth from his wand, hitting Bilius Weasley square between the shoulder blades, even as Derek Bell and several other of the Quidditch team members shouted warnings. Bilius was thrown clear across the entrance hall, smashing into the bank of hour glasses containing the jewels that counted house points throughout the term. Rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and topaz flooded the floor around Bilius's prone form.
Derek turned on Lucius, withdrawing his wand and dropping his broomstick to the floor, slashing his wand through the air at Lucius Malfoy, who was trying to rush down the stairs to the dungeons, "Colloshoe!" he shouted, and Malfoy froze in place, his shoes fastened to the floor amidst the cacophony that filled the hall. "You're not going anywhere!"
The other Quidditch team members had rushed to Bilius's side and were aiding him in extracting himself from the flood of gems and broken glass that surrounded him on the floor. He'd woken up, but was dizzy and clutching their arms as they led him toward the stairs, intent on getting him up to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing.
There was a rush of students and faculty pouring forth from the Great Hall, led by Dumbledore and Professor Moody, whose one good eye took in the scene quickly before turning to see the panicked look on Lucius Malfoy's face. Moody came to a stop beside Dumbledore as the crowd formed a semi-circle around Malfoy and Derek Bell and the spilled mess of house points. "Reparo!" said Professor McGonagall, pointing her wand at the broken hour glasses, sending the shards and gems back to their rightful places against the wall.
"Well, well, well," grumbled Moody's low voice, "What do we have here?"