Chapter 34
The low-lit Naktern Ally bar hummed with anticipation, thick with the scent of stale ale and darker magic. Alexzander Avery leaned against the bar, swirling the remnants of his firewhisky. “Malfoy’s summons was cryptic enough to drag us all the way out here,” he muttered, glancing around at the assembled faces. Caleb Mulciber, Corban Yaxley, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, and Tariq Shafiq nodded in agreement, their expressions a mix of curiosity and suspicion.
“Naktern Ally,” Alecto sneered, her voice sharp like shattered glass. “As if we need to meet in some dingy watering hole. Why not just summon us to the Manor directly?”
“Perhaps Lucius enjoys the dramatic flair,” Mulciber chuckled, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “Or, perhaps,” he lowered his voice, “he prefers to test the loyalty of those he invites before unveiling his grand scheme.”
Shafiq, always the pragmatist, frowned. “It’s not just us. He said ‘circles’. Plural. Who else is expected?”
As if summoned by the question itself, the bar door creaked open, and Severus Snape glided in, his black robes billowing around him like a shadow. A ripple of acknowledgment went through the group.
“Well, looks like the Slytherin clique has gathered,” Avery drawled, a smirk playing on his lips.
Snape’s gaze swept over them, cool and assessing. “Snape. You too received a tea party invitation from Malfoy, did you?” Mulciber asked with a mocking tone.
Severus’s lip curled slightly. “Fortunately, Mulciber, my schedule freed itself. I confess, I am… intrigued to meet the famous Madame Lestrange.”
Alecto Carrow scoffed, her voice laced with disdain. “What’s so great about a Muggle anyway? Just because she tortured those brainless Gryffindors at her wedding, doesn't mean she's one of us.”
Avery countered, shaking his head. “I beg to differ, Carrow. I saw her myself. Even without the magic, she can wield chaos.”
Mulciber chuckled darkly. “And not to mention, she made our dear Headmaster, blood boil, couldn’t even stand. Someone chanting her damn name as if it’s an omen.” A ripple of uneasy laughter spread through the group.
Shafiq, ever the observant one, broke the tense amusement. “Don’t you think it’s… weird? This letter from Malfoy, it’s not a party invitation. It’s an emergency meeting, something that’s related to all of us, and Lucius can’t handle it alone.”
Severus nodded slowly, his gaze narrowed. “Indeed, Shafiq, you’re quite right. The Malfoys, Blacks, and Lestranges, gathering us together… there is something brewing. And they need us all to be a part of it.”
Yaxley’s voice rumbled with suspicion. “Well, not all of us. Some purebloods, not from the Sacred Twenty-Eight, weren't invited. Do you think we have blood traitors?”
Just then, Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, and Eamon Parkinson with his wife, Yahra Parkinson née Greengrass, arrived, their entrance further darkening the already shadowy bar. Yahra, a sharp glint in her emerald eyes, surveyed the group. "Looks like you all showed up," she chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Who's ready to meet the new Puppet Master?"
Confusion rippled through the gathered wizards. "Puppet Master?" Amycus Carrow blurted out, his thick brows furrowed.
Yahra’s chuckle deepened. “Don’t you know, my dear silver serpents? It’s our famous Muggle Madame Lestrange. It seems she’s the one pulling the strings.”
Amycus's eyes widened, a slow dawning of comprehension in their depths. “Wait a minute… you mean that Muggle is behind this meeting?”
Evan Rosier, ever the pragmatist, interjected. “Are we even sure she's a Muggle? We know nothing about her. And this, my friends, is our chance to get to know Madame Lestrange a bit more intimately.”
A small, pop sound echoed through the bar and a house-elf, wringing its oversized ears, appeared. “Masters and mistresses, please. Lady and Lord Malfoy are waiting for your presence.” With another pop, the elf gestured towards a tarnished, ornate mirror hanging on the back wall. One by one, the dark wizards stepped through the shimmering surface, disappearing into the swirling magic that led to Malfoy Manor.
Meanwhile, within the opulent, yet chilling, walls of Malfoy Manor, Petunia Lestrange, the Muggle Madame Lestrange, stared out at the imposing gates. Through the wrought iron, she could faintly see figures approaching, their forms cloaked and masked. Dark wizards, gathered at her enigmatic summons. She, a Muggle, had stumbled upon a secret, a silent, insidious threat that was slowly poisoning the very lifeblood of these dark families, the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Arsenic. Seeping into their ancient homes, into their very beings. And she, Petunia Evens, now Petunia Lestrange, was the one who had unsheathed the truth.
A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Narcissa Malfoy stood beside her, her usually composed face etched with a rare vulnerability. “Are you alright, Petunia?”
Petunia sighed, a heavy, world-weary sound. “Which part do you mean ‘alright’, Narcissa? The part where we have to tell your… lot… that they’ve been poisoned by arsenic seeping into their homes? And a Muggle revealed it?” She turned to face Narcissa, her eyes reflecting a lifetime of fear and resentment. “You know, ever since I knew about the existence of witches and wizards, I kept my distance. I was afraid. Afraid of what… what kind of power you could wield just by… a stick.”
Narcissa’s eyebrow arched, a flicker of amusement in her usually glacial blue eyes. “Really, Petunia? ‘A stick’? Is that what you call our wands, the instruments of magic that we take so much pride in?” A soft chuckle escaped her lips. “But I understand your fear. I confess, I too felt fear as a child. My parents always told us Muggles were dangerous, savages. And I… I believed them.”
Petunia, her usual bitterness momentarily forgotten, was genuinely surprised. “You mean… you never went anywhere near Muggles your whole life?”
Narcissa shook her head, her elegant silver-blonde hair swaying gently. “No. Never. But I must say,” she tilted her head, a thoughtful expression on her face, “I think Lucius and I need to give it a try. Perhaps… a Muggle teashop in London. Just to experience it.”
Petunia let out a genuine laugh, the tension easing slightly from her shoulders. “Well, good luck with that. Just don’t expect us to serve you unicorn horn tea.”
Rabastan Lestrange appeared, his presence suddenly filling the room, his dark eyes warm with an unsettling possessiveness as they rested on Petunia. “Darling, our… dark circles… are here.”
Bellatrix Lestrange, a whirlwind of manic energy, bounced into the room behind Rabastan, her cackle echoing off the cold stone walls. “Oh, I would love to see the looks on their faces when you insert that needle into their veins to remove the arsenic poison from their blood! It’s going to be epic!”
Petunia sighed again, a deeper, more profound weariness settling over her. She turned to Narcissa, a flicker of accusation in her gaze. “Narcissa be honest, is this really why Lucius wanted to be my ‘best friend’? To get rid of your sister and pawn her off on me?”
Narcissa didn’t quite meet her gaze, a blush rising faintly on her cheeks. It was, in essence, true. Bellatrix, oblivious or uncaring, just laughed louder. “Oh, my Lucius, that clever weasel! Gotten on your good side so he could get rid of me! And to be frank, dear Muggle sister-in-law,” she sauntered closer to Petunia, her eyes appraising, “I find you a lot more interesting than dear Cissy. Much more… unpredictable.”
Rabastan gently took Petunia's hand, his touch strangely tender amidst the chaos. “Come along, wife. I can’t wait to introduce you to my friends. They’re going to love you, I'm sure, especially Yahra. She missed your… performance at our wedding, you know, with Black and Potter.”
Petunia felt a cold dread clench in her stomach. 'Performance.' That's what they called it. “How exactly did I end up marrying a freak and surrounded by even bigger freaks?” she muttered under her breath, her face pale.
Rabastan, completely unfazed by her insult – their insults were far worse – simply patted her hand. “Come, come.”
Abarax Malfoy, Cygnus Black, Druella Black, and Reinhard Lestrange, the elder statesmen of their circles, were already gathered in the grand meeting room. The house-elf led the newcomers in, and the masked figures filled the room, their presence heavy and unsettling.
As Petunia entered, Rabastan proudly pushed her slightly forward. She braced herself, trying to ignore the nervous tremor in her hands. Abarax Malfoy cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over the assembled company.
"I am pleased that you have all come," he announced, his voice resonant and commanding. He looked at each masked face in turn, a silent acknowledgment of their positions and power. Then, his gaze fell on Petunia.
Welberga Black, Cygnus’s sister in law, visibly stiffened, her voice cutting through the tense silence with icy disdain. "Honestly, Malfoy," she scoffed, her eyes narrowed, glaring at Petunia, "you summon us here for a supposed emergency, and why is that Muggle sitting among us?"
Before Abarax could respond, Bellatrix, ever unpredictable, stepped forward, draping an arm dramatically around Petunia’s shoulders (and nearly sending Petunia sprawling). "Auntie Welberga," Bellatrix purred, a dangerous glint in her eye, "maybe if you would shut your herpe-infested mouth for once, you'd know the reason why my dear Muggle sister-in-law is here." Bellatrix squeezed Petunia a little too tightly in a bizarre gesture of affection.
Petunia could feel the cold sweat breaking out on her back. "Help me," she mouthed silently to Narcissa, who offered a strained, apologetic smile.
Reinhard Lestrange coughed, a harsh, rattling sound that drew attention back to him. "Back to the matter at hand," he said, his voice gruff. "We brought you here because my daughter-in-law, Petunia, has discovered something that will be of… considerable interest to you all."
A murmur rippled through the room. Someone mumbled to their neighbor, "Daughter-in-law? He actually called her his daughter-in-law. What has happened to the notorious Lestrange clan?"
Reinhard continued, his voice rising above the whispers. "You are all brought here because my daughter-in-law has discovered a poison that has been accumulating within our estates – the Lestranges, the Malfoys, and the Blacks." He turned his steely gaze upon Petunia. "Petunia, would you be so kind as to explain to these… lots… of your discoveries?"
Petunia nodded, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Yes," she managed, her voice surprisingly steady despite the tremor in her hands.
Meanwhile, outside the imposing walls of Malfoy Manor, a different kind of gathering was taking place in the shadows of the surrounding woods. The ‘annoying merardas’, as Petunia might have called them if she knew of their existence, were indeed present. James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans, and even the perpetually cautious Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, along with Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Frank and Alice Longbottom, huddled in the gloom.
James paced impatiently. "This 'tea party'… it's got to be more than just polite conversation. Ex-Death Eaters all gathering at Malfoy Manor… and under the influence of this ‘Madam Lestrange’…" His voice dripped with venom. "Sirius, you and I know what that Lestrange clan is capable of. And this Muggle… manipulating them? It stinks of trouble."
Sirius snarled, his handsome face contorted with rage. "Revenge. That’s what we need. Revenge against Madam Lestrange for what she did to us!"
Lily, her fiery red hair barely contained, bit her lip in frustration. "It's infuriating! A pathetic Muggle, climbing the ranks of pure-blood society? Especially the Lestranges! It's preposterous!" She had no idea, of course, that the ‘pathetic Muggle’ was her own estranged sister.
James pounded his fist into his palm. "She’s going to pay. A heavy price. I’ll personally send her straight to Azkaban the moment I get my hands on her!"
Peter, ever practical but timid, squeaked, "Uh, guys… how exactly are we going to get into Malfoy Manor? It’s not exactly inviting us in for tea."
Lupin nodded, his brow furrowed. "Wormtail’s right. The wards here are strong. Incredibly strong. How do we get in?"
Suddenly, two sharp pops echoed through the trees. Frank Longbottom and Alice, his fiancée, materialized beside them. Frank’s jaw was set, his eyes burning with a cold anger. "I haven't forgotten what Madam Lestrange did to me. Twisting my arm, threatening my life… she will regret it."
Moody, his magical eye whirring, nodded grimly. "Aye. A pain in the neck, she is. And she’s got the Death Eaters wrapped around her Muggle fingers." He swivelled his good eye around, taking in their small group. "Any plans? Aside from righteous indignation, I mean. How do we breach Malfoy Manor?"
Sirius sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. "Narcissa must have upgraded the wards. They're practically impenetrable. Blood wards, powerful ones. We can’t brute force our way in. We have to wait. Wait until they weaken, or drop them, which they won’t. Not willingly."
Lily’s green eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint in them. "Then we wait. We wait until the wards falter, and when they do… I’m going to strangle that Muggle with my bare hands and send her straight to Azkaban." A chorus of grim agreements followed, none of them aware of the complex web of danger and deceit brewing inside Malfoy Manor, and the tangled familial connections that were about to be revealed.