The Knights of Walpurgis
2nd of November, 1979
Theodore almost fell from the chair when his arm started to burn. Still feeling the torment of exhaustion, his mind worked hard to understand what was happening. Trying to look at his forearm while rubbing his eyes, he realised the pain was faint now. For a second he thought he had imagined it, that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. As exhausted as he was, it wouldn't be an unbelievable theory.
The pain started again, and Theodore gritted his teeth. It was real. His lord called for him. But how could it be? He was there to watch the man he knew since the two of them were at Hogwarts die by Peverell and Black's wands. Could the Dark Lord be immortal? It seemed almost as inconceivable as two young wizards defeating the most powerful Dark Lord in recorded history. It was hard to believe his lord was truly immortal. No one can foil Death, that was the law of existence.
Not willing to undergo a Cruciatus so early in the morning, however, Theodore put his concerns aside as summoned his cloak and started his nervous walk. His steps echoed around his manor, fighting against the sounds of rain outside. The coldness of the Notts' ancestral home had always been something akin to an embrace to him, but now he felt the atmosphere inside Stormheart was nothing other than oppressive — as if Death himself watched his every step.
Rain poured on him as he reached the Apparition point outside the stone walls of his home. He fought a shiver, not bothering to wonder if it came from apprehension or fear. Drenched from his long dark hair to the inside of his boots, he disappeared, leaving the cold early morning air behind.
His eyes instantly moved around when he felt the ground underneath him. Theodore did not know this place, that was for sure. The most unrecognisable part above all was the massive structure in front of him. Stone walls that could stop a giant stood against the green of the hill and mountains around it like an intimidating figure. Seeing a huge wooden door, possibly the only entrance to whatever was inside, he walked forward. He ignored the bothersome noises coming from his soaked boots and walked closer and closer to the door.
When the patterns on the wood became more noticeable to his tired eyes, a thundering sound made him jump back. The door suddenly divided vertically in the middle, all the while looking as if that was its natural state, and opened.
The sight before him made him lose control of his jaw. If his mind was not so muffled by lack of sleep and fear of punishment, perhaps he would have realised the expression on his face was most unbecoming of a lord of his status.
If someone told Theodore that there was a structure bigger than the Blacks' ancestral home in Britain he would have laughed, but the castle-like building in front of him was enough proof for him to believe.
A sudden sound made him drag his gaze away from the place in front of him and look down. An old house-elf stood there, looking at him with a bored expression. If he felt rested and calm, maybe he would have sneered or even cursed at the small creature, but his mind could not muster the need to do so.
“I is Ædda,” the wrinkly thing said. “Please, follow me.”
Too weak to argue, Theodore followed the elf inside the thick walls of the unknown place. Inside, the medieval influence was so strong he assumed the entire building came to be during the Middle Ages. It was odd enough to see such a massive structure, so to think the place was also new was a stretch.
The walls were all stone, resembling the old castles of Great Britain and Ireland, as well as Hogwarts. Though the decorations were shy in comparison to somewhere like Malfoy Manor, it was not just barren walls. He recognised many figures from history standing in beautiful-looking portraits. Huge tapestries depicting the most varied things also adorned the walls: knights fighting mighty dragons; beautiful fields of green filled with people dancing; lakes with all magical creatures imaginable, Merefolk, Sirens, Kelpies and many more he did not even know existed. It was an endless display of art and taste he rarely saw these days. Swords and-
“We is here,” the house-elf's voice brought him back to reality. In front of him, a door made of light brown wood stood, decorated with tree branches and small birds. With a snap of their finger, the creature opened the door, revealing many known faces inside. People looked at him when he stepped inside, but no one approached him. It seemed everyone else was in the same position as him, either nervous or too tired to care about the others around them.
The hall everyone was in was as big as the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Many portraits filled the walls, but he didn't recognise any of them. He could swear, however, that there was a resemblance to someone he had seen before. All the portraits were impassive, and staring at the Death Eaters in the room. To say Theodore felt uneasy in the room was an understatement.
“Theodore,” a voice whispered his name behind him. Turning around, he saw Abraxas and his son Lucius. The two did not look as bad as the others in the room, but that could be because the Malfoys had become used to being called by the Dark Lord. “What is this place? Where are we even? Did you know the Dark Lord owned this estate?”
The barrage of questions was hardly comprehended by Theodore's mind. He shook his head, trying to concentrate more on Abraxas. “I don't know,” he said. “I have never been here and I didn't know our lord had any estate at all. And I just go here, Abraxas, so calm down.”
“I think we are in Wales,” young Lucius said. Abraxas looked at his son questioningly, and Theodore just stared. “I did learn things about our country, Father. It's not hard to recognise the mountains of Wales, once you know what to look for.”
“I see...” said Abraxas. The blonde then turned to Theodore, he had to suppress a groan. “Have you seen him, Theodore? I have to say, I did not believe he had achieved immortality, but now there is no questioning it. Do you know how he did it? It must have been incredibly dark magic.”
Theodore rolled his eyes and wondered if there was a place for him to sit instead of undergoing Abraxas' never-ending questions while standing.
“I do not know how our lord did it, Abraxas. And do calm down, will you? Your unashamed curiosity is unbecoming of a lord.”
Abraxas sneered at him, but he just waved it off. He looked away from his childhood friend, unwilling to feed Abraxas' need for attention. In the corner of his eyes, he saw Lucius smirking, enjoying his father's humiliation.
“I'm sure the Dark Lord will reveal how he returned, Father. We just have to be patient,” Theodore nodded to Lucius, agreeing with the young man. Abraxas sneered again but said nothing more.
“I do wonder who the people in the portraits are,” began Lucius. “I'm certain they are purebloods by their features. But, oddly, I have never seen anyone that resembles them. Some of the portraits outside of this room do look familiar to me, but these do not. Do you happen to know any of them, Lord Nott?”
Theodore scrutinized some of the portraits before answering. The brown hair and dark eyes said nothing to him and neither did the soft facial features. He then turned to Lucius Malfoy and shook his head. The Malfoy Heir seemed disappointed by that, but there was nothing Theodore could do.
More people arrived as Theodore and Lucius discussed the possibility of the keep belonging to a foreign wixen, while ignoring Abraxas' interruptions about Irish warlocks and wealthy English sorceresses.
The Averys and Gamp arrived and joined their group. Gamp seemed anxious about being called after thinking his lord was dead, while the Averys seemed confused with the whole situation. Theodore ignored all of them.
A 'pop' echoed in the room, silencing everyone. The house-elf that led him to the room was standing at the far end of the room, underneath two massive portraits of a witch and a wizard.
“Ædda is told you to kneel before Masters,” eyebrows rose on the faces of the Death Easters, as well as sneers appeared on some faces. The shock and immediate disagreement are thrown away, however, when a Death Eater closer to the elf kneeled. All others soon followed. Theodore, though kneeling as well, did not ignore the elf's words. The ‘Masters’ instead of the title in singular made him, for some reason, dread what was to come. “Masters Regulus Arcturus Black and Hedwyn Aelius Peverell welcome his servants.”
As soon as the words came out of the house-elf's mouth, the two figures of Peverell and Black appeared as an Invisibility Cloak unveiled the men; and all the Death Eaters got to their feet, wands pointing to the two men and cursing at them. Theodore watched as some of his colleagues cast curses against Black and Peverell, but all the spells hit a shield in front of the two men.
He saw Alecto Carrow stand in front of all Death Eaters and cast the Killing Curse at Regulus Black. All the sounds died in the room as the green light went towards the Black Heir.
In a quick motion, surprising everyone, Hedwyn Peverell got in front of Black, allowing the curse to hit him on his chest.
Peverell smirked.
Nothing happened.
Theodore felt as if the floor was taken from underneath him, his eyes became unfocused. His first action was to question reality, becoming sure he was dreaming. Merlin, I have truly gone insane. Who knew lack of sleep could do this? He shook his head, eyes focusing on Peverell. The man was still there, in all his glory. Alive. How?
After his first moment of shock, Theodore saw no other choice than to bend the knee. “Do not ever fight against a more powerful wizard than you, Theodore. The continuation of our clan is more important than your ego,” his father's words from when he was a teenager came to mind. Lord Cantankerous Nott was many things, Theodore knew, but a fool was not one of them.
As he kneeled on the stone floor, he heard Abraxas let out an indignant noise. He once more ignored the man. This was not the time for indulging Abraxas' need for feeling superior. Now I just have to survive, he thought grimly. He was almost surprised when he saw Lucius Malfoy kneeling beside him, but his mind was too occupied to really pay attention to the young man.
He no longer could see Peverell or Black as the people standing were obstructing his view. Theodore could now only hope no mass killing would happen. Maybe that's the plan? To kill us all while we are trapped here.
Screams caught his attention. People were falling. His heart was beating fast, its pace so quick the sound muffled all other sounds around him but the screams. Theodore knew he was shaking, he could feel it in his hands.
They are touching their Marks, he realised. Hope gleamed in his chest. Maybe he would not die today. He watched as the other Death Eaters kneeled and grabbed their forearms. How is he using the Mark? Is the Dark Lord alive? Has everything been a plot? What even is real at this point?
“Let that be your first lesson,” Peverell's tone sent a shiver down his spine. It was so cold and uncaring that even the Dark Lord would have been intimidated. “If you try to harm Regulus or me again I won't be so kind. Now, we would like to show you something,” the smile on Peverell's face made Theodore want to run away from that place and never come back. He saw Regulus Black take his wand out of its holster and mouth something.
The sight in front of Theodore almost made him pass out. It was his lord. The great Lord Voldemort. The body was levitating above Black and Peverell, most of his dark robes were done, looking like it burnt away. The flesh on his chest was blackened and rotting. The Dark Lord's eyes were wide as if he was seeing Death himself in front of him. Theodore forced himself to not vomit at the sight. Many of his colleagues were not so strong.
“This is what happened to your lord. Voldemort is gone now. Nothing but a shell of the wizard he once was,” said Regulus Black. A grin adorned the young man's face. He is loving this. “Voldemort tried to go against us, and for that reason, we ended him. We took his immortality from him and took his power as ours,” Peverell touched a dagger on a holster as Black spoke. An odd feeling came to his Mark. He gulped. “You are no longer the followers of Lord Voldemort. Now, from this day onwards, you will follow Hedwyn Peverell and Regulus Black.”
“I will never follow you animals! My lord is the only one I will ever follow,” the shouting came from Macnair. Theodore suppressed the urge to rub his forehead. Always the idiot. “You can both die! Avada Kedavra!”
People gasped as the curse left Walden's wand and went towards Peverell. Once again, the Killing Curse hit the man and nothing happened. He saw people cowering away from Peverell.
Peverell looked amused.
He saw as Regulus Black walked to Peverell and put his hand on the dagger. Macnair let out a pained noise, his body stiffened as if petrified.
A thud echoed in the room as Walden fell to the floor, eyes and mouth opened.
Dead.
The man was clearly dead.
Someone started to cry loudly, and Theodore had to check if it was not him. He then saw Regulus Black taking the holster with the dagger from Peverell and putting it around his own waist.
“As I said...” said Peverell with an innocent smile. “I will no longer treat your attacks kindly. You will accept your new roles as our followers and nothing bad will happen to you. Do remember that we were responsible for letting you go free by not letting the Ministry know you were Death Eaters. Show us some gratefulness, yes? It's not as if we will treat you like slaves. All you will need to do is support our changes in the Wizarding World, be they in the Wizengamot or otherwise. It isn't difficult, is it? We are all dark, after all. All the changes we want to do align with your wishes for our world. Of course, some things will have to change. First, you will no longer be known as Death Eaters.”
Black touched the dagger, and everyone stiffened. Theodore could feel that oddness return to his Mark before it stopped. “Lift your sleeves,” commanded Black. When Theodore did as Black told them to, a gasp left his lips.
The skull and the snake were gone. Now, in black and white ink, a crow made of white feathers with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows in black in the middle of its chest marked his skin.
“That is the Mark you will follow. The Black-Peverell Mark now shows your new allegiance. Be thankful for our kindness in ridding Voldemort's ugly Dark Mark from you. You are no longer branded by a half-blood madman, but by the two most powerful wizards in Britain.”
“Half-blood?” the words coming from Bellatrix Lestrange were followed by Rodolphus partially shielding her from her cousin's view.
“Yes, Bella. The man you followed was a half-blood by the name of Tom Marvolo Riddle, which becomes the anagram for I Am Lord Voldemort. A ridiculous choice if you happen to have real taste, but what can be expected from an orphan boy living in a rundown orphanage? He should have used his Slytherin or Gaunt surnames, but Riddle was always too fearful of people finding out about his real blood status if they looked at the Gaunt family tree. Not that there weren't people who did know. My father, as well as Lords Malfoy, Nott and Lestrange all knew the truth, as they studied with Voldemort at Hogwarts.”
Several pairs of eyes glared at Theodore, Abraxas, and Lestrange. “Yes, yes. I believe they will have a lot to tell you, later,” said Black. “Returning to what matters. You will now be called Knights of Walpurgis. This name has been used by many dark wixen in the past for their covens. Voldemort even used it as well, before deciding to change it to Death Eaters.”
More people stared at the former year mates of the Dark Lord and Theodore openly sneered at them. For a man who despised attention, all the looks he was given were more than annoying.
“Of course, there are many other things we wish to discuss, but it would be best for those talks to happen on another day. For the last of your tasks, Hedwyn and I decided the number of dark pureblood children is unsatisfactory. I believe you understand what I'm trying to say?”
“You want us to have children,” Ansel Gamp's quiet tone resounded in the silent room.
“Indeed, Ansel,” Black answered. “All of you followed Voldemort because you wished to uphold pureblood ideals, yes? But how can you do that if you die childless? What will happen if all of you die without an heir or heiress? Our houses that have existed for centuries will vanish and only those of Muggle upbringing will remain. We are lucky, however, that we have not lost many of the ancient families. And do not believe this duty to our world will be ignored by Hedwyn and me. We will make sure our houses continue and prosper, and we want the same for yours.”
“The fact that muggle-borns are actually descendants of squibs will also be used to our advantage,” said Peverell with a smirk on his face. “We will save those children from a life of ignorance towards their ancestries and raise them to bring those lost ancient houses back.”
Murmur started after Black and Peverell's words. It was clear to Theodore that, even if their former lord's body was levitating in front of them, people were optimistic. Perhaps it was lack of sleep, the fear of going to Azkaban or simply being too willing to trust powerful wizards, but the witches and wizards around the room were anything but unwilling to follow Peverell and Black.
Peverell started to open the way for himself to pass. When his new lord stopped in front of Macnair's body, Theodore's eyebrows shot up and got hidden by his hair. Peverell crouched beside the body and put his right hand above the body's chest. The man was murmuring something but Theodore was not close enough to distinguish any words.
The gasping sound made everyone in the room back away from the scene. “Dear Merlin!” someone shouted and that was followed by many ‘impossible’s and ‘unbelievable’s. Theodore himself could not believe his own eyes.
The bastard is back.
Walden Macnair, dead for minutes after dying by an unseen source of magic was now back from the dead.
“You will all learn,” began Peverell, rising and leaving a disoriented Macnair on the floor. “that Regulus and I have many gifts for those who are loyal to us. Of course, that was not our dear Macnair's case, but he is to be an example of what we can give those who are trustworthy. Be by our side, my Knights of Walpurgis, and not even Death will be able to touch you if we can stop him.”
Theodore was salivating. All that power, all the possibilities. He licked his lips and sighed. How unfortunate it was that Black had got to Peverell before him. Not that he believed a young man like Peverell would want an older man like Theodore Nott, but he would have liked to have tried.
“Go now, my dear Knights. Soon I will expect a display of your loyalty before the Wizengamot, but now go to your homes and rest,” Peverell saw some people eyeing Macnair and stopped. “Oh, don't worry about our good old Walden. The House of Macnair will have to be on a leash for a few years, but I do hope they will show their undying loyalty once again one day. Focus on the task we've given you and plant the seeds of a new world. Today will be blessed in that regard, for those that worship magic above all else. Do not waste this opportunity.”
His lord's words were all Theodore could think of as he went home. His tiredness was forgotten as he called for his wife and bedded her. The magic that coursed through his body was so powerful and present that he lasted only a few minutes before spilling his noble seed inside his beloved Sigríður. Theodore felt it when Lord Peverell's blessing gifted his wife and him with a new life. “A new age for the Notts and Britain as a whole is already here,” he whispered to his wife as they relaxed next to each other.
All for my lords, he thought, his mind filled with thoughts of devotion and worshipping. My lords Hedwyn Aelius Peverell, The Conqueror of Death and his Noble Hand, Regulus Arcturus Black.