The Ritual
He set the cauldron on top of the flame in the middle of the ritual circle, taking a breath to centre himself.
“Are you sure?” Abraxas murmured.
He nodded. He’d waited long enough, none of the women offered had been good enough. He didn't want the cold insanity of one of the Blacks, he didn't want the detachment Abraxas had with his own wife, he didn't want Lestrange's trophy or Avery's harridan. He wanted the best. His perfect match. They all might tease him for it but he was the last of his line. He had no parents trying to push him towards a girl of acceptable breeding who bored him to tears. He would trust magic. Magic would provide.
“Then let's get it over with.” Gavin Avery muttered.
Sending him a glare, he stepped up to the cauldron, slicing his palm with the ceremonial athame as they all took up the chant.
Nothing happened for what felt like hours, and he began to wonder if marriage was not for him before a harsh gust of wind blew out the flame from underneath the cauldron before the candles snuffed out one by one.
“Sweet Merlin.” Rene Lestrange muttered seconds before, in a blinding bust of light, a body hit the ground at his feet.
He registered several voices shouting “Lumos” alongside his own, his eyes falling on the deathly still body of a woman.
“Is she dead?” Abraxas asked sounding horrified.
“No,” he murmured, seeing the shallow movement that indicated she was breathing. But Merlin it looked like a near thing. She was battered, twitching as if she’d been crucioed, skeletally thin, dirty and bleeding.
“Are you sure?” Abraxas' voice rose several octaves.
“I think we need to call the Healer,” he voiced finally instead of answering.
“Mother of Merlin,” Gavin muttered, finding his voice “I didn't think it would do that.”
“I don't think it was the ritual,” he replied softly, his eyes scanning the face of his perfect match. She was not what he had been expecting, alongside her nightmare inducing appearance, her clothing was strange. Nothing like he’d seen the ladies of his acquaintance wear. Nothing like he’d seen the muggleborns wear either now he thought of it.
“Do you…do you think she looks strange?” he asked hesitantly to no one in particular.
Abraxas moved to his side. “Her clothing,” he mumbled, a contemplative look on his face. “The parameters were….flexible.”
“Parameters?” he asked stupidly.
“You wanted your perfect match,” ABrasxas pointed out, “You put no limiters on where or when she came from.”
“When” he repeated stupidly as his rapidly dawning horror began to overwhelm him. “Mother of Merlin. You think….”
“I think that it is not a style I am familiar with so perhaps somewhere….forward," Abraxas offered, turning to look at him properly. "It's rare but it has happened before."
His eyes widened as the possibilities that presented filtered through his head. “Let's get her well first,” he commanded decisively, “And then we’ll discuss…particulars.”
Abraxas hummed, “I wonder what happened to make her look like that.” he mused, “She almost looks like a black…that hair.”
“Perhaps,” he nodded, “Or a Fawely. They have those curls, they're lighter than the Blacks traditionally are.”
“The Healer will be here in ten minutes,” Rene announced, “So get your story straight.”
He shrugged “I intend to tell the truth, assuming it's McCallum, he's under oath.”
“I have a terrible feeling about this,” Rene muttered.
“Moxie?” he called instead of responding, pointing at the woman “Take her to the green room.”
The elf blinked, frightened eyes taking in the scene in front of her. “Oh,” she whispered, before grasping the woman's arm and disappearing.
“What was that?” Gavin demanded.
“No idea,” he admitted, “Once I’ve spoken to the Healer I’ll ask.”
“McCallum!” he greeted jovially the moment the man stepped out of the floo.
The man's eyes took in the people in front of him and he slowly arched a brow.
“We have a slight issue,” Abraxas cut in smoothly. “We performed the matching ritual this evening and the results were…unexpected.”
“Unexpected how?” the Healer demanded.
“Well…it brought a woman however she is…unwell. We require you to tell us how unwell. There is also a concern that she was,” he paused searching for the words, “brought from a place where she will be surprised by our youth.”
The healer blinked, “Mother of Morganna,” he muttered. “Right, Take me to her and we’ll start there.”
Angus McCallum ran his eyes over the pitiful form on the bed, it was worse than even he’d expected. Steeling his spine, he began casting the necessary spells to determine her status. Malnourished, dehydrated, cursed. None of the readings were good.
“Right.” he turned to the gathered crowd. “She’ll need nutrition potions, a heavy-duty pain potion, weighted blankets and warming charms for the cruciatus aftershocks, the wound on her neck is cursed, it’ll have to heal on its own. Once she's awake, warm baths, food little and often, and make sure she's drinking and not overdoing things. Contact me immediately once she's aware of her surroundings”
At that, he levitated the necessary potions from his bag and sent them into the woman's stomach. “Next dose in four hours. I’ll let you sort the charms. Perhaps have your elf bathe her?” Stalking out the door he left resounding silence in his wake.
“I wonder what she did to be crucioed that badly,” Abraxas murmured, a look of pity on his face.
Instead of answering he called for Moxie. He wasn't sure how he felt about any of this. Magic might have provided but he had a feeling it had also made things more complicated than anticipated.
“Master called for Moxie?” the elf bowed.
“Why did you hesitate before taking her upstairs?” he demanded, trying to marshall his thoughts.
“Her magic…Moxie can see the bond but…it is not stable. Master called for her but she should not be here. Moxie thinks she not be liking being summoned.”
He blinked, “I see. Well, we shall deal with that when it occurs. For now, can you bathe her and dress her in something suitable? Inform me if she wakes.”
“Yes master,” Moxie bowed, flicking her wrist to begin the bath but waiting until the men had left to strip the girl and levitate her in. “Oh Moxies poor Mistress,” she muttered, banishing the dirt from the water more times than she cared for.
Two days later, he woke with a start, Moxie standing anxiously beside his bed. “The mistress is awake.”
With a sharp nod, not even pausing to consider her phrasing, he shoved his feet into slippers and headed for her room. Her eyes were wild as she spun, clearly looking for a way out.
“Where is my wand?” she demanded the moment she spotted him.
“You didn't arrive with a wand.”
If possible her eyes widened further. “Who are you?”
He held up his hands. “Will you sit down so I can explain? Moxie, get the others and the Healer.”
“Who are you!” she repeated, continuously scanning the room.
“I will answer once we are behaving like civilised people.”
She swayed on her feet at the sight of a half-asleep Abraxas at the door, “Malfoy,” she hissed.
Abraxas blinked, before putting on his most charming smile “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, my dear.”
“What?” she demanded, Is this a joke? Oh gods…oh gods what if she…maybe she….”
“Breathe!” Rene commanded looking distinctly uncomfortable as he stopped beside Abraxas.
“Lestrange!” she exclaimed seconds before her knees buckled.
Rene and Abraxas exchanged a look, “Miss…forgive me, I do not know your name?”
“You don't know my name,” she mocked, “I understand it must be hard to keep up with the people your wife tortures but my face is on rather a lot of wanted posters. I’d have thought even you could remember me. Or has Azkaban done that much damage?”
He had to admire her gall given that she was still on her knees. Rene blinked, “I’ll have you know I’ve never been in Azkaban in my life!”
That seemed to surprise her, “Pardon?”
“I have never been to Azkaban and I certainly do not ever intend to visit!”
“But…but…I dont….you have to…"
“Furthermore, he cut her off sounding offended, “My wife would no more dirty her own hands with torture than she would don a pillowcase and pretend to be a house elf!”
And she was back to hyperventilating, he noted with a sigh. “Breathe,” he barked, loudly enough that it startled her out of her spiral. “Perhaps if you introduce yourself we’ll do the same?”
“You really don't know me?” she checked eye landing on each of them in turn. All of them shook their heads.
“I’ll start,” Abraxas began integratingly. “Abraxas Malfoy.”
“Abraxas?” she screeched, making them all flinch. “No…no that's not possible.”
“You're familiar with my descendants?” he hedged.
At that, she gave a mirthless, slightly hysterical laugh. “Familiar. You could say that seeing as the last time I was conscious I was bleeding on your drawing room floor while your son, daughter-in-law and grandson watched."
“Why?” Abrazas demanded looking horrified.
“Oh you know, several reasons," she waved a hand carelessly, "I dared to take issue with your mad half-blood master attempting to murder my best friend on a yearly basis. I beat your grandson continuously at school. I dared have magic but non-magical parents. Take your pick. Going to finish what they started?”
“You're a mudblood?” Gavin frowned.
The girl rolled her eyes, “According to your lot, yes.”
Abraxas blinked, “Well. That took an unexpected turn.” he muttered.
“Why was our…what did you call him? Our master, trying to murder your best friend?” Rene interjected.
“Because he's insane?” was all she offered with a shrug.
Rene blew out a frustrated breath. “You're ages with Brax’s grandson, so you're from…what? The eighties? Nineties? Presumably, your best friend is your age and you can't be more than twenty. What could he have possibly done?”
A shadow passed over their faces as they all considered that. Thirty to forty years of a gap and he was sanctioning the torture of those barely out of school. None of them were necessarily surprised but all of them were more bothered by it than they'd expected to be. Torturing people to the state she was in was not political power. Myrtle Warren was meant to be a mistake after all. And while none of them took issue with some intimidation, the look of her indicated this went beyond that.
The woman scoffed, “I’m eighteen. And he first hunted him as a baby.” she paused. “He lost, in case you were curious.”
“He lost to a baby?” Gavin asked incredulously.
“Yes. Disappeared for a decade before possessing the Defense professor to make him drink Unicorn blood," she replied as if she wasn't discussing the unbelievable.
“Sweet Salazar.” Abraxas muttered, “The only positive I'm hearing is that I have a son.”
She laughed that same mirthless one that made them all grimace. “A son who looks like he’d welcome death as your master takes over his home. He was wandless, you know. No idea where it was mind you or how it happened. Maybe he couldn't take it when he escaped Azkaban," she mused conversationally, "Your grandson was tasked with murdering Dumbledore. They assumed it was as a punishment. He couldn't do it though, Snape had to step in. I gather He planned to murder Draco if he failed. The end of the Malfoy line. Isn't he wonderful? I'm sure it's well worth becoming his lackeys.”
Abraxas sat down abruptly on the end of the bed. “I don't believe you.”
“Your face says otherwise.” she scoffed. “No McKinnons, one Bones, no Rosiers, no male Blacks, no Fawleys, no male Prewetts.”
“The Lestranges?” Rene whispered.
“Will be dead soon, I imagine.” she shrugged, “No Heirs, nearly fifteen years in Azkaban; they're hardly sane. Might I suggest a different daughter-in-law this time around? Your last one was defective.”
“Fuck.” Rene hissed.
“The Averys?” Gavin asked.
“One I know of,” she admitted, “again though, not my generation and no heirs. I wanted to know who was trying to murder me at fifteen you see so I started researching the old family trees. Fascinating things. So intertwined. And of course, most of them ended up as adults hunting school children. Such honour, you all must be so proud!”
“And the Notts,” he coughed, hating the scathing tone she was usuing.
Her eyebrow arched, “One. My age. Probably yours actually, Ezra I presume?” With a slightly startled look, he nodded. “Well then, congratulations, you have a bouncing baby boy in 1979.”
“Nineteen seventy-nine,” he wheezed. “Sweet Salazar. What took so long?”
“Your unfortunate habit of murdering your wives,” she returned dryly.
“What?” he demanded.
“What was unclear?” she asked politely as Abraxas give a startled, disbelieving laugh.
“How many wives?”
“Oh, I believe three, including Theo's mother. Never proven, of course, just speculation.”
“Why?” he asked sounding bewildered even to his own ears.
“You'd like me to understand what goes through your head?” she asked incredulously. Pointing at herself, enunciating slowly, “Mudblood.”
Ezra grimaced, “And your name?”
“Does it matter?” she asked pointedly.
“Yes!” he hissed.
“Is this some strange politeness or do you tally up the mudbloods you murder and need my name for the scoresheet?” she mused like she wasn't discussing the possibility of them killing her.
“No one's murdering anyone!” he howled.
“Huh.” she tilted her head, “I should warn you that I lied to Bellatrix Lestrange under torture and she was considered your lord's most vicious. I won't be telling you much of anything but do go ahead. Perhaps if you do it well enough I’ll be insane enough not to care when you murder me.”
“I’m not planning on torturing you either!” he growled.
The girl blinked, “Then why am I here?”
“Because I performed a ritual to show me my best match,” Ezra informed her stiffly.
The woman froze before she broke into unrestrained laughter, “Well either I truly have gone insane,” she muttered once she was calm enough to speak, “Or fate truly fucked you over.”
“On the contrary,” Abraxas muttered, “I’m beginning to think you're a gift.”
She sighed, arching a brow, “Did you miss me saying I wouldn't tell you anything important?”
“Not even to defeat Tom?”
She narrowed her eyes, “As if Id believe that's what you want!”
“He tried to murder my grandson!” Abraxas hissed a look of utter fury on his face, clearly startling her. Beside him, Rene was nodding.
“I don't like mudbloods,” he said bluntly. “But I’m willing to work with you.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Because I do not want to see the end of my line.”
“Oh no,” she waved him off, “I gathered that. Your oh so pure bloodlines are so vitally important after all. Never mind that you're all so inbred that half of the so-called sacred 28 are insane or can't work out which way to hold their wand. I was asking specifically why you dislike mudbloods?”
Rene blinked, “Well they're beneath us.”
“Why?”
“Because they have no magical blood.”
She rolled her eyes, “But they have magic. Try again.”
“They threaten the statute.”
“So inform parents before eleven and put safety measures in place. Next.”
“Well….I….Tom says they're evil. And they kill in large numbers.”
“He is evil and between him and his followers' people were killed in large numbers. They wiped out families and murdered children. He tortured followers and murdered them for the slightest infraction, but do tell me how you're better?”
“Right well…” Rene looked lost.
“They burnt us at the stake for having magic.” Gavin offered.
“Years ago, yes. In my time, you lot put children in Azkaban and murdered entire families for being different.”
“Children”? Abraxas checked.
“Oh yes. Eleven-year-olds sentenced to Azkaban for stealing magic," she replied scathingly. "It's always amazed me how many people buy into that. Mudbloods. Too stupid to be allowed in your world but clever enough to steal magic from real witches and wizards. It's almost like it's utter bullshit.”
Abraxas spluttered out a laugh, “Merlin you might be the death of us all.”
She shrugged, “Or Tom will be.”
Ezra sighed, running a tired hand over his face, “It is three in the morning, perhaps you will consent to continue this conversation at a more civilised time?”
“What year is it?” she asked instead of answering.
“1949.”
“Huh. Fucking wonderful. Questionable rights and the Cold War. Lucky me.”
“I have no idea what a cold war is…” Ezra began “but, for the love of Merlin please go back to bed.”
“You intend for me to stay here?” she asked incredulously.
“Yes! You're my best match! Where else would you go!”
“Somewhere where I wouldn't infect your oh-so-perfect pureblood line with my muddy blood?” she taunted.
“My. perfect. match.” he enunciated clearly.
“Your wives have a nasty habit of dying.” she countered.
“I assume they were fucking awful.” he replied succinctly, “Do you wish an unbreakable vow as assurance that I won't murder you?”
“Yes.” she shot back, “You can't arrange for me to be murdered either.”
“Fine.” Ezra sighed, “Now?”
She froze, having not expected his agreement. “Yes.”
“Very well, Abraxas if you will.” With a look of unrestrained amusement, Abraxas acted as bonder. “Now can we go to bed?”
“How forward of you. I’ll have you know I've never gone to bed with a man who doesn't know my name in my life.”
Gavin choked as Abraxas howled. “You cant…ladies dont…”Ezra spluttered.
“Mudblood,” she enunciated slowly.
“Stop calling yourself that!” he demanded.
“Why?”
“Because it is unseemly.”
“Ah, I do apologise for offending your delicate sensibilities. I was under the impression that all your lot thought it was my name.”
Ezra gave a tired sigh, “Go to bed, for Merlin's sake.”
She hummed, eyeing the bed contemplatively before clearly coming to a decision. Clambering unsteadily to her feet, she got in, letting out an involuntary sigh of pleasure.
“We shall see you in the morning. Call Moxie if you require anything. Goodnight.”
Goodnight.” she mumbled, her eyes already drooping. “My name's Hermione by the way.”
Outside the door, Abraxas turned to look at him. “A mudblood?”
“So it would seem,” he mused.
“You're going to do it then?”
Ezra snorted, “I'm not sure if she’ll be convinced.”
“But you liked her.”
“So did you!!”
“Yes,” Abraxas admitted reluctantly, “She's nothing like we were taught to believe. Do you think she was telling the truth about Tom?”
“Yes.” Ezra sighed reluctantly.
“He's going to have to be stopped then,” Rene cut in briskly, Gavin nodding, albeit more reluctantly at his side. “Do you think she'll help?”
“If we can convince her to trust us,” Ezra mused.
“Merlin 1979 is looking like a reasonable timescale for your first son,” Abraxas laughed.
Ezra shrugged, a small smile on his face, as he contemplated the woman he'd been sent. “I’ll just have to trust that magic knows what it's doing.”