Another Party Ruined
“Bring her to the study,” Pamela Selwyn suggested as she and Quinn Bulstrode staggered into the hallway ahead of Zacharias Nott, carrying the unconscious Willow Avery.
“Why is it bloody dark in here?” muttered Bulstrode as she wiped her mouth for the umpteeth time since vomiting.
“Because there’s no light,” snapped Pamela and she pulled out her wand to cast a quick Lumos. “Go clean yourself up, Quinn. I’ll find the Averys. Zack, do you-”
“Yeah, I know where the study is,” he muttered, already heading in that direction. Quinn followed, her destination the nearest lavatory.
“Right,” mumbled Pamela, and she took off at a near sprint towards the door to the party. She let out a yelp as she neared, stumbling over what looked like a portrait frame lying face down on the floor. Glancing up at the wall it would have hung on, then back down at the fallen frame, she shook her head in bewilderment and stepped over it. It wasn’t her problem.
When she entered the party room, the atmosphere was as they had left it. Stuffy, loud, and fragrant with Ebulliosus. She spotted Duncan and Terese Avery speaking with Tiberius Malfoy, her boss, as well as Duncan’s sister, Fabienne, and her husband, Rabastan Lestrange. The group clustered near the piano where Melania Malfoy still played soft Christmas carols.
Pamela took a deep breath, trying to calm her frayed nerves so as to not attract too much attention. The night had started off so fun. . . . She knew she couldn’t make too much of a scene, else it would ruin the party. She kept her head down as she picked her way through the room, ducking to avoid any attention and speeding up when she heard someone call her name.
She finally shuffled to a halt in front of the group of the Averys, the Lestranges, and the Minister of Magic, almost out of breath from not breathing as she crossed the room.
“Ah, Pamela,” the Minister greeted her with a warm smile before a crease crossed his brow, reading the expression she’d been struggling to hide. “Everything alright, dear?”
“Er, not exactly,” she winced, wishing Zack had come along with her. “There’s been, uh, an accident.” She looked over at Duncan and Terese Avery and mumbled, “Willow got hurt -- we were all outside, fooling around really, and the storm got bad and there was magic involved-”
Duncan Avery cut her off with a wave of his hand, focusing on her first three words. Concern cut through the glaze that was in all their eyes. “Where’s my daughter?”
“Zack took her to the study-”
“Nott?” demanded Duncan, and he dropped his glass onto a tray held by a house-elf. All traces of merriment vanishing. Terese Avery grew pale, clutching a hand to her heart.
“Is my baby alright? What happened?”
“Er, we don’t know Mrs. Avery but I’m sure she’ll be alright -- and yes, Zack Nott-”
Tiberius Malfoy stepped into action with the smooth display of power she admired so much. The wizard knew how to take charge of any situation.
“Pamela, take the Averys to her. Fabienne, you ought to go as well, you’re a Healer. Rabastan. . . I’ve a feeling we should keep this quiet.”
Pamela nodded her understanding, beckoning the Averys and Fabienne Lestrange after her and leaving the other wizards by themselves.
“Everything alright, father?” Abraxas Malfoy popped up beside Tiberius and Rabastan, as the head of The Daily Prophet muttered his agreement on keeping whatever had occurred quiet. Antonin Dolohov stood behind Abraxas, a curious look on his sharp face.
“There’s likely been an incident, and I’ve a feeling your cousin is involved in some manner,” Tiberius explained in a low voice. He glanced around the room, noting the status of the party-goers, then met the eyes of his son and assistant. “If you two would like to help, consider making sure nobody needs to leave this room until we sort out whatever’s happened.”
The pair nodded their understanding, knowing it was an order rather than a suggestion, turning tail and moving off into the room like two vigilant guard dogs.
Tiberius and Rabastan locked eyes and the two friends exchanged a grim smile before following the Averys out of the room.
“I’ve a feeling my son is also involved in this,” said Rabastan once they stepped out into the hall.
“I’ve a feeling the lot of them are involved-” began Tiberius, pausing once he noticed what was off about the hallway. It was pitch black; all the decorative candles Melania had spent so much time crafting were extinguished. “What in Merlin’s name -- Lumos!” he cast the spell and flicked his wand, sending a sphere of light hovering near the high ceiling of the hallway, illuminating the length of it.
“What in Merlin’s name happened?” he repeated upon seeing the portrait frame facedown on the floor. Stepping forward, he knew immediately it was his sister’s portrait.
“Is that Theia?” inquired Rabastan, solemnly following Tiberius to stand before the frame. The Minister reached down to pick it up, brushing it off and propping it up against the wall to observe the front side.
They each let out a gasp. Jagged black lines spiraled out from the center of the oil painting, reaching each corner of the frame -- it was burnt to a crisp, as though someone had cast a violent curse at it, leaving the magical painting of Theia Malfoy completely destroyed.
“Natalie,” Tiberius uttered his niece’s name with an emotion somewhere between worry and anger. He realized he had not seen her -- or any of her friend group -- at the party for some time now.
“You think she did this?” Rabastan asked in astonishment. He stared at the ruined portrait with something like melancholy. He had been in Theia’s year at Hogwarts and the two had even been Potions partners their fifth year, the year he had fancied her immensely. “Her own mother?”
“Who else would have any reason to?” Tiberius sighed, shaking his head. “But nevermind that, let’s find the Averys and their daughter.”
The two continued down the hall, past the staircase and to the study used by the family to conduct business affairs. They stepped in, and Tiberius made sure to close the door behind them. He surveyed the scene with a keen gaze. The rattling window panes caught his eye first; they trembled as the wind pounded away outside, a white blur all that could be seen of the storm. A drastic change from the soft snowfall that had fallen at the start of the party. Finally looking at the occupants of the room, Tiberius noted those present. An unconscious Willow Avery was laid out on the couch nearest the fireplace (he was pleased someone had the decency to start a fire). Terese Avery was kneeling on the floor holding her daughter’s hand and sobbing. Duncan Avery stood behind the couch, anxiously watching Fabienne Lestrange poke and prod at a bloody wound marring the girl’s forehead. Pamela Selwyn and Zacharias Nott stood to the side, shifting uncomfortably as they watched the scene.
Tiberius approached these last two and addressed Nott. “What happened?”
“She got hit by a piece of ice,” Nott looked relieved to finally explain, clearly not having told the Averys this story yet. “We were all outside-”
“Who are ‘we all’?” interjected Rabastan, pointing between Selwyn and Nott. “Your usual group? My son and Seamus Dawson’s son?”
Zack nodded, “and Evan Rosier, Quinn Bulstrode, Savanna Rowle-”
“And my niece and her boyfriend, no doubt,” said Tiberius, and Nott nodded his head in affirmation again.
“Lloyd Avery and Eugene Dent were there too-”
“Dent too? That’s interesting. But how did Willow end up like this?” Tiberius cut to the point, gesturing over at the unconscious Willow Avery.
“She got hit by a piece of ice,” repeated Nott with a wince. “A few of us were, er, fooling around with the snow and enchanting it. Um, Adolphus and Eric had conjured up dragons and had them fight. It was bloody impressive, to be honest. But things, er, got out of hand and they lost control-”
Tiberius made a humming sound, keeping his expression blank. He had a funny feeling, one that sliced through the charm of the Ebulliosus he had consumed, like an itch in the back of his throat that he needed to take care of before anything else. “I’m assuming things ‘got out of hand’ shortly after my niece showed up?”
“Um,” Nott blinked, clearly not having made that connection. “Well, the storm grew much worse around when she came out-”
He paused as the study door creaked open. Evan Rosier and Savanna Rowle cautiously stepped in. They glanced around the room, observing those present. Savanna covered her mouth with a hand upon sighting Willow on the couch.
“It’s merely blood loss and head trauma,” announced Fabienne before anyone could mention the new arrivals. She muttered another spell to finish stitching up the wound on Willow’s head. “Looks worse than it is. Tiberius, she could use a blood replenishing potion after I wake her up, if you’ve got one on hand.”
“Of course,” Tiberius turned back to Nott and Selwyn. “You two run and find my son. Tell him we need a blood-replenishing potion. Avoid attracting unnecessary attention.”
“Yes, sir,” Nott ducked his head and he and Pamela darted out of the room.
“We’ll, er, go help,” offered Rosier, and he and Rowle followed them out.
Seconds after they departed, the door burst open again and in rushed Lloyd Avery. He flew over to the couch where his sister lay and sank to his knees beside his mother.
“Will she be alright?” he demanded.
“Yes, she’ll be fine,” Duncan Avery assured his son, though giving him a suspicious look. “Where have you been?”
“I, er, had to get them back for it.”
“Get who back?”
“Adolphus and Eric,” Lloyd grunted. “They bloody lost control of their magic and that’s what caused this.”
“My son caused this?” snapped Fabienne, in the middle of murmuring a spell to awaken Willow. “Adolphus caused this?”
“Fabi, finish the spell,” urged Rabastan, though he turned to Lloyd. “Adolphus was involved?”
“Yes,” answered Lloyd with a duck of his head. “He’s fine though-”
Understanding immediately what was meant, Rabastan fired off the question. “Did you duel?”
“For a few minutes,” Lloyd admitted, his usual mellow demeanor coming back as his sister’s eyes started to flutter open from Fabienne’s spells. “Er, Tom Riddle stopped us before things, er, got out of hand.”
At this, Tiberius glanced around the room and noticed what was missing. Or who. “Where are they?”
“Outside still, I reckon,” said Lloyd, and as if to criticize his words, a sharp gust of wind made the windows of the study shudder and creak. The Manor itself seemed to shake from the storm’s rage with an underworldly groan. It made them all pause, even the fireplace flickered wildly for a moment as a whooshing sensation seemed to rush from one side of the room to the other.
Tiberius shared a glance with Rabastan before the latter snorted, turning back to Lloyd. “You decided to go outside in weather like this?”
“It wasn’t this bad earlier,” Lloyd meekly said, looking from Rabastan to Tiberius and back again. “I swear. We wouldn’t have gone out if it was as bad as it is now.”
“And the lot of them are probably all drunk out of their minds too,” Duncan Avery jumped into the conversation, finally tearing his eyes away from his daughter for the first time since stepping foot in the room.
Tiberius’s face hardened, recalling the glazes about the entire friend group when he had gone upstairs to see what was taking Natalie so long. The Minister of Magic was quite certain a number of wizarding laws had been broken concerning the amount of Ebulliosus consumed by the group alone. Merlin, he had even had to skirt around some statutes himself just to have his elves purchase more for the party.
“Unfortunately, I believe you are right, Duncan,” said Rabastan with a sigh.
At this, Fabienne glanced up from attending Willow, a concerned look on her face. “Did Willow drink any Ebulliosus tonight?”
Lloyd hesitated, making his mother snap her head over at him. “Lloyd-”
“She did,” he said hastily. “I told her not to but she asked Alphard Black to sneak her some-”
“That boy!” exclaimed Terese Avery, now incensed. “He’s going to bring shame upon the Black family, mark my words!”
Fabienne groaned, “that’s going to complicate the healing process for her. Might make her head injury more tricky to deal with.” She shot a look at Tiberius, “which is part of the reason why Ebulliosus is so regulated. . . .”
Tiberius held up a hand to calm everyone. “I cannot imagine Willow drank very much of it. And I know Fabienne here will do everything she can to ensure her niece’s safety.”
Fabienne Lestrange muttered under her breath before turning her attention back to Willow Avery.
“I’m going to have a word with Irma Black,” announced Terese Avery, still upset about the situation. “She needs to get her children in line! Cygnus made a respectable marriage to Druella Rosier but Alphard’s becoming a menace, and Cassiopeia is seeing that Lament boy-”
“The Laments are a respectable family,” said Tiberius, still trying to sooth the situation. “They weren’t included in the Pure-blood Directory because of a small oversight by Cantankerus Nott, surely you’re aware-”
The door opening interrupted him. Adolphus Lestrange and Eric Dawson entered the room, looking rather guilty. The blood on their faces and the ruffled condition of their robes and hair did not go unnoticed.
“Adolphus!” shrieked Fabienne Lestrange. Her calm Healer’s demeanor vanished upon seeing the blood of her own son. She jumped to her feet beside Willow Avery, who had just opened her eyes. The girl flinched from the sudden noise and movement, covering her face with her hands and curling into a ball.
“Good God, Fabi, calm yourself!” snapped her brother, Duncan, as Terese Avery let out a cry and practically threw herself over her daughter. Lloyd jumped to his feet upon seeing the two, adopting a defensive posture over his sister and mother.
Adolphus and Eric raised their hands in a pleading gesture.
“Everyone relax,” said Adolphus, revealing a small glass bottle in his hand. “Abraxas told us to bring this. It’s the blood-replenishing potion.”
“Why are you bleeding?” demanded his mother, while Rabastan moved to take the potion from his son, giving him a sharp look before handing the potion over to Lloyd.
“Give this to your sister,” Rabastan told his youngest employee, preferring to avoid another duel between the recent Hogwarts graduates. Rabastan, Tiberius Malfoy, Seamus Dawson, and Duncan Avery all knew their sons and their particular group of friends were not unskilled at the art of dueling.
Lloyd removed the stopper of the glass bottle and knelt beside the couch while his father attempted to peel his mother away from Willow. Fabienne Lestrange marched across the room and grabbed her son by the neck of his robes, pulling him close and inspecting the blood. Breathing a sigh of relief upon realizing he and Eric only had minor cuts and scrapes, she turned her wand on the two best friends next, quickly healing them.
As they murmured their thanks to Fabienne, Tiberius approached, a question burning in his mind.
“Why didn’t Abraxas bring the potion himself?”
Adolphus grimaced, as if he knew Tiberius was not going to be pleased. “Er, he started dismissing the guests. He has Antonin, Evan, and Zack helping too-”
“And why is he dismissing the guests?” Tiberius’s voice quickly turned cold. Things were continuing to get out of hand. Hadn’t he told his son to make sure nobody left the room? “And where is my niece?”
Eric Dawson dropped his eyes to the floor, letting Adolphus handle the questions. Adolphus scratched the back of his neck and winced.
“Well, er, her and Lor- uh, Tom, ended up getting into a bit of an. . . argument. . . and you know how she gets with all-” Adolphus paused to make several dramatic hand gestures. “I guess all the house-elves started going bloody insane. And a lot of glass broke in the party-”
“Bloody fuck,” Tiberius let loose a rare swear before moving past the two. He’d heard enough. He needed to see the damage for himself. He barely made it out of the study before he nearly walked right into an annoyed Seamus Dawson.
“Have you seen my son?” snapped Seamus, “I know he and his friends have been causing shenanigans all night-”
“That would be correct,” replied Tiberius, “have you seen my son?”
“Yes, he just politely asked a very inebriated Horace Slughorn to leave,” snorted Seamus, mood switching in an instant. “Almost as funny as when Horace’s glass exploded in his hands.”
“Lovely,” remarked Tiberius before he stepped past the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and hurried down the hall. Ignoring the burned portrait of his sister, he stepped into the main party room to find it already nearly empty. Only his mother, along with Abraxas and Melania, and Antonin Dolohov, remained in what had been a full room moments ago. He just caught a glimpse of Evan Rosier and Zacharias Nott disapparating with Pamela Selwyn and Quinn Bulstrode.
He understood why it had been so easy to clear out the room. Broken glass was everywhere. It covered the floor like glittery snow, the remains of Ebulliosus or whatever else someone had been drinking sprinkled over it all like a sticky dew. The room had a feeling as though a storm had just blown through. It looked no better. Tables were overturned, a few of the decorative Christmas trees had fallen over, there were pieces of the shrimp and various dipping sauces that had been another staple of the night everywhere. The house-elves were nowhere to be found.
“Abraxas!” he called out, hurrying over to his son. Melania had his hands in hers, running her wand over the bloody cuts that sliced through his palms and murmuring healing spells. “What happened?”
“Your sister married a Muggle is what happened!” Domitia barked at her son, making Tiberius freeze, the image of the blackened portrait of Theia floating back to the front of his mind. He knew his mother would not be too pleased about it. “None of us would be standing in glass if Theia had decided she liked Rabastan Lestrange enough to marry him. Instead she ran off and spawned a witch with that Muggle’s temper!”
Domitia had nothing else to say. She whipped out her wand and cleared away the glass and debris in a neat path from where she stood to the door. And she marched on out, leaving the others alone.
Tiberius looked back at his son. Abraxas sighed, nodding his head at the destroyed room.
“This just. . . happened. Everyone started panicking and disapparating immediately.”
“Anyone who didn’t leave then, we helped to do so as soon as possible,” added Dolohov, looking grave. “Which was a lot -- everyone was insanely drunk-”
“Which means this hopefully won’t be remembered by most,” announced Abraxas, as Melania finished healing his hands. He gently took her by the shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead, making her giggle in spite of the situation.
“Yes, hopefully,” sighed Tiberius, running a hand across his forehead. “But where the bloody hell is your cousin?”
The entrance hall to the mansion deep in the Irish countryside would need dire repairs by tomorrow. The front doors had long been blown off their hinges. The hardwood floor was splintered and blackened as if by fire. The other doors off the hallway had copied the example of the front doors. They lay scattered throughout the hall, in various pieces. The elegant chandelier lay in glass shards all over the floor, joining the sharp wooden splinters, and the glass of the windows that had been the first things to blow out. The sweeping staircase leading upstairs had collapsed inwards, blocking entry to the upper floors. Its coiling bannister was now a minefield of wooden spikes.
Natalie Malfoy stood at the center of it all, raging at an equally furious looking Lord Voldemort, who stood mere paces from her.
“ARE YOU. . . ARE YOU SERIOUS? YOU FLIRT WITH WITCHES FOR YOUR STUPID LITTLE JOB ALL THE TIME BUT I KISS MY CAPTAIN TO GET AWAY FROM HIM AND YOU GET ALL WHINY? YOU WERE THE ONE WHO LEFT ME THERE WITH HIM!”
“You didn’t have to kiss him. You had a thousand alternative ways to get away from him. And you chose that one. You know he desires you. And you played to that weakness, to deliberately upset me-”
“IF THIS IS GOING TO BE ABOUT YOU LET’S MAKE IT ABOUT YOU! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO LEFT ME THERE! I WAS PERFECTLY CAPABLE OF COMING ALONG BUT NO, NO, YOU WANTED TO DO EVERYTHING BY YOURSELF-”
“You’re acting ridiculous-”
“I’M ACTING RIDICULOUS? I’M THE ONE ACTING RIDICULOUS-”
“You were already upset about your mother-”
“AND YOU’RE THE ONE JEALOUS OF A QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN! SERIOUSLY, TOM?”
“I am not jealous of that fool!”
“Yes, you are. I can tell. I can fucking tell. You can’t fucking lie-”
“This does not change the fact that you deliberately kissed him to anger me-”
“NO I DIDN’T!”
“I SAW YOU-”
“Yes, I KISSED him, but not to ANGER YOU -- YOU- YOU JUST CAN’T ADMIT TO YOURSELF YOU’RE JEALOUS OF HIM SO YOU THINK I DID IT TO ANGER YOU -- I WAS TRYING TO GET AWAY FROM HIM!”
“Then curse him. Punch him, even, as you’re fond of doing. Did no other alternative sit well with you? So you went straight for the one to offend me the most?”
Natalie had to pause to take a breath and stomp her foot with rage. When her heel impacted the floor, the wood turned black and crispy. She barely noticed. Their argument was absurd. She could hardly follow it over her raging anger, and she had the feeling Tom couldn’t either. All she knew was that she was furious. And she was drunk. And she was furious. And she was drunk. But she was furious.
“Again,” she growled, “you flirt with witches for your job all the time. I don’t see why you’re so upset about my manipulating his feelings for me to my own benefit. That’s what you do to people, isn’t it, Lord Voldemort.”
“My reasons are logical. Yours are absurd. All you had to do was stay there, but yet you had to indulge in his fantasies for you-”
“His fantasies for me,” Natalie scoffed, crossing her arms and trying to control how much she was shaking. The waves of Ebulliosus had turned into a whirlpool that seemed to be sucking her and everything around her down into its depths. “Now you’re really acting ridiculous-”
“I’ve seen them!” snapped Lord Voldemort. He glowered at her with a ferocity that made her drop her arms and sneer back at him. He watched her quiver for a few moments, himself broiling in the energy radiating off her. He was wildly aflame with it. Everything around them seemed to be shades of black, gray, and purple. He inhaled thunder and spit out brimstone. “Did you really think I wouldn’t use the opportunity of meeting him to not delve into his mind?”
“Glad to know you respect his privacy.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“I’m not defending him, I’m attacking you!”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t done the same to him.”
“So what if I have?”
“Are you on the team to play Quidditch or toy with the captain?”
“Don’t!” hissed Natalie, taking a step towards him. The floor continued to blacken and crack under her feet, shooting out like fault lines cutting through the earth. “Don’t fucking make this about Quidditch.”
“You make everything about Quidditch. I can’t?”
“That -- really? That's the same logic I used about you flirting with witches for your job! Maybe you should pick a method of arguing!”
“Maybe you should focus on playing Quidditch instead of Dent’s fantasies about you-”
“Shut up!” yelled Natalie, she was only a few hand-lengths away from him by now. She could read every boiling emotion within his eyes; they were black, never ending, and spiraling just as intensely as herself. She could not see anything else in the room. “You’ve just never liked me playing Quidditch!”
His glare hardened. “That’s correct. Because you always do something stupid-”
“Stupid? Stupid? Do you know how much money I make? Do you know how much money I’m worth?”
“Quidditch has repeatedly gotten you into sticky situations and it will continue to do so-”
“So, what, should I quit? In the middle of a Cup run-”
“It wouldn’t be the worst idea you’ve had-”
She couldn’t stand it. The tempest in her roared upwards and she reached out in sync with it. A rumbling seemed to swell within her, rising and rising until it leapt out of her -- no, wait, the rumbling wasn’t within her. It was outside of her. But that didn’t make any sense-
Lord Voldemort watched her lunge towards him. He watched her pause and glance upward. He followed her gaze and his anger dropped onto a completely different conduit. And then her lunge became not one of expressed furor, but one of fearful desperation. He felt himself jump forward to meet her -- but his grasp met dust and plaster as the ceiling collapsed on top of Natalie, sending her crashing downwards.