Maeglin Yedi and the Order of the Serpent

Chapter 2: A breakfast for champions

I know something is up the moment I wake up, because for one, there are no dogs jumping around on my bed, trying to get my attention. Other than that, the bed doesn´t feel familiar, the light that shines in my eyes is different, and this place certainly doesn´t smell like home.

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I sit up, and damn, I´m still in *that* room. Maybe it wasn´t a dream after all then. Maybe I´m in a coma. Who knows. Fact is, that I still appear to be here. So I might as well try to make the best of it. Which means as much as, trying not to get myself killed anytime soon.

I jump up from the bed, and look around the room again before I pull the curtains open to let more daylight in. Then I spot a door in the corner, and after carefully pushing it open – cause you never know what´s hiding behind it – I discover a small bathroom.

Shower it

Stripping, and letting my clothes fall to the floor, I step inside the bathroom and I´m very glad to notice that things seem normal enough. As in adapt to Muggles. I do not appear to need a wand to get hot water. I open the taps, and step under the warm spray, letting out a satisfied sigh as the water washes down on me.

The next challenge, however, is finding shampoo in this place. There are several vials on the soap dish, and none of them appear to be shampoo. But then again, do I really know what Wizarding shampoo looks like? I guess not, so I pick up one of the small bottles, filled with something that looks white and creamy, and smells soapy enough.

With a shrug, I dump the contents of the vial on my hair, and start washing it. Not much happens, however, and the stuff just kind of sticks to my head without getting bubbly or soapy. Well, this would explain then why Snape´s hair always looks greasy. This is some awful shampoo, let me tell you.

Then suddenly someone clears his throat behind me, and I turn around, half blinded by the shampoo dripping in my eyes, shriek, grab the shower curtain, and pull it down with me as I slip and fall on my behind quite ungracefully.

Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy.

Looking down at me with raised eyebrows and amused smiles.

Wrapping the shower curtain around me as well as I can, I try to make my fall to the floor look deliberate by bowing my head submissively. \"My Lord,\" I whisper, trying to figure out if it would be appropriate to tell him to get the fuck out of here because I´m showering and I really like my privacy.

\"It appears you made it through the night well enough,\" Voldemort drawls, letting his crimson gaze travel across my shower curtain clad body, which I´m now starting to realize, is a transparent shower curtain and thus not hiding a great deal.

\"I want you to join me for breakfast.\"

\"Of course, my Lord.\" Really, I don´t have much of a choice anyway, and I am feeling a bit famished, so breakfast doesn´t sound so bad at all.

With a nod of his head, Voldemort turns around, and steps out of the bathroom.

Leaving me alone with Lucius. Who is looking at me as if I´m the filth beneath his boots.

I give him a small smile, but get an ice-cold glare in return. What a prick.

\"Just so you know, Miss Maeglin, that if it were up to me, you would be chained to a wall right now, begging for your useless life. I do not have any patience for filthy, brainless Muggles such as yourself.\"

\"Hey, I might be just a silly Muggle, but I´m not brainless,\" I counter, rather pathetically, but I won´t let anyone insult me like that. Not even Lucius Malfoy.

\"Really?\" Lucius raises an eyebrow and smirks. \"I have my doubts that anyone with a brain would smear lubricant in their hair.\"

Oh, bugger. Is that what this is. No wonder it feels so weird. I feel myself blush, and I glare at Lucius while trying to come up with a witty comeback which isn´t working since I am an idiot for trying to wash my hair with lube and I know it.

Lucius gives a haughty little huff, sneers, and steps out as well.

Unwrapping the curtain, I step under the spray again, and wash the sticky stuff on my hair off as best as I can. I decide not to make another attempt to find shampoo, since I don´t want to end up with some creepy potion on my head, and I do have a Dark Lord waiting for me, and something tells me it would be best not to keep him waiting too long.

Using the necessary toiletries I find around the sink, I brush my teeth, comb my hair – which doesn´t feel that sticky anymore, thank god – and dry myself with one of the large towels. Keeping it wrapped around me, I step back in the bedroom, to find Voldemort sitting in one of the chairs near the fireplace, and Lucius standing by his side. They seem to be having a private conversation, so I soundlessly step up to my discarded clothes, and try not to blush at the idea that both Voldemort and Lucius have had plenty of time to notice my dirty knickers splayed out on the floor.

But just when I´m trying to worm my bra on without dropping the towel, I hear Lucius state: \"She is marked.\"

Blinking up at the two men, I follow their gaze down my body, and realize that they are talking about my tattoo. See, I have Saturn tattooed on my ankle, and apparently these Wizards don´t realize it´s just an innocent tattoo.

\"What does that mark stand for?\" Voldemort asks, folding his hands in his lap. He looks a bit less intimidating in daylight, but his red eyes are still pretty intense to look at.

\"Um...it´s a...mark...that has to do with astronomy,\" I mumble. \"It´s...Astronomers Anonymous...a Muggle society for people who look at stars.\" I bite my lip, and hope that he will buy it.

Voldemort leans towards Lucius, who has a thoughtful look on his face. They whisper to each other, and I catch something that sounds like ´It´s expected for a seer to wear such a mark´.

I use their distraction to quickly pull my clothes on, and by the time they look at me again, I´m just finishing lacing up my boots.

Voldemort gets up, and waits for Lucius to open the door for him, before stepping through it. Lucius casts me a cold glare, but nods for me to follow them anyway. Keeping a safe distance, I walk behind the both of them through the corridors, taking in my surroundings a bit more consciously than last night.

The place doesn´t look that scary at all during the day, just ancient and antique. What has me worried more, is that I´m following two Wizards who can kill me with just a flick of their wand and a mumbled curse. It´s something that makes you very aware of your mortality, so I tell myself to just obey them without asking questions. Thus far that seems to have worked.

They lead me into a classically furnished dining room, with a large table centered in the middle of it, and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. There are a couple of men seated at the table already, and they turn around to look at me in both curiosity and disgust.

Voldemort takes a seat at the head of the table, and gestures for me to sit down next to him. But as I pull the chair back, one of the men gets up, and looks from me to the Dark Lord and back.

\"I´m not eating with a Muggle!\"

I give Voldemort an uncertain look, but he ignores me, and slowly rises from his chair.

\"Then you shall not eat at all. Get out. All of you.\"

I take that as my cue to leave, and scramble back, but Voldemort raises his hand, and points at the chair next to him.

\"Sit down.\"

So while everyone else gets up and leaves, I shuffle towards the chair, and sit down obediently, trying to make myself as inconspicuous as possible. Voldemort sinks back in his chair, and Lucius sits down on his other side, opposite of me. And then plates appear in front of us, filled with all sorts of very tasty looking things; scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, sausages and fried tomatoes.

I look up at Voldemort, and he gives me a curt nod.

\"Eat.\"

He doesn´t have to tell me twice, and I attack my breakfast as if I haven´t seen food in a week, momentarily forgetting where I am and who I´m having breakfast with, and just enjoying the fine food.

But just as I try to swallow a piece of bacon, someone flops down in the chair next to me, scaring me out of my wits, and I choke, ending up in a coughing fit.

\"Morning, my Lord. Sorry I´m late.\" Macnair picks up his knife and fork, and starts eating, not even giving the poor choking Muggle next to him a second glance.

Much to my surprise, Voldemort reaches over, and pats me on my back. It´s a strange thought, to have the most powerful Wizard in the world attend to you in such a common way, but it does help, and I manage to catch my breath again. Voldemort waves his hand, and a glass of water appears, which he hands to me.

\"All better now?\" he inquires politely, and I give him a small nod, taking a grateful sip from the glass.

\"Yes, thank you, my Lord.\"

Taking another sip, I can feel Lucius´ glare on me, and I know he would have loved to see me choking to death on my breakfast. Well, tough luck, Malfoy. For some reason, which still isn´t quite clear to me, your Master wants me alive. For now.

We all continue to eat our food silently, and when all our plates are clean, and I discreetly pop the top button of my jeans open, Voldemort summons four cups of tea, and leans back in his chair, looking at me with searching eyes.

\"Tell me what you know about the prophecy.\"

I quickly put my cup of tea down, lest I spill it all over myself, because my hands are suddenly shaking. I fold them in my lap to hide it. I go through everything I can remember about the prophecy, and also try to remember what Voldemort knows, and what information is safe to give to him without endangering Harry and his comrades.

Dammit, where is the HP lexicon when you need it.

\"Well,\" I start, looking down at my cup of tea, trying not to appear too lost. \"As I´m sure you know, you only heard part of the prophecy.\" I glance up at Voldemort, and he leans forward, suddenly only an inch or two between our faces. He stares into my eyes, and I know he´s doing his thing to see if I´m not lying, because I can almost feel him inside my mind, and oddly enough, that doesn´t feel as horrible as it probably should.

\"The thing is,\" I whisper, unable to tear my gaze away from the scarlet irises and black slitted pupils, \"That you had to mark someone as your opponent. Which you did. You picked Harry the moment you went after him, and thus you made him your equal.\"

I bite my lip, and Voldemort nods his head once.

\"There´s another part to the prophecy that you didn´t hear the first time around.\" I take a deep breath, knowing I probably shouldn´t be telling him this, but well, what can one do when one has a Dark Lord staring into one´s eyes. \"It says: either must die at the handthe the other for neither can live while the other survives.\"

Voldemort stays silent, and just keeps staring into my eyes, which is beginning to get a bit annoying.

\"So, yeah. But I bet that isn´t a big surprise, eh?\"

Finally, Voldemort leans back, and reaches for his cup of tea, a slight frown tugging on his brown.

\"My Lord,\" Lucius says, \"Surely you aren´t going to believe this useless Muggle? For all we know that old fool sent her to tell you nothing but lies.\"

I want to protest, but before I can, Voldemort says quietly: \"She´s not lying.\" He takes a sip from his cup, his eyes fixed on something in the distance.

\"But still, my Lord. She´s just a Muggle. How can she know anything accurate about you or Potter or our situation or our future? Muggles know nothing. They have no power. They are incapable of ever achieving the great things you have done in your life, my Lord.\"

I snort, and Lucius snaps his gaze towards me. Next to me, I hear Macnair turn in his seat to have a better look at me.

\"We might just be Muggles, Malfoy,\" I say, uncaring that I am challenging a very powerful Wizard. \"But we have our own kind of power. And we might not have leaders as powerful as you have, but we´ve had our share of megalomaniacs trying to take over the world.\"

I quickly look at Voldemort. \"No offense, my Lord.\"

Waving his hand, Voldemort gives me a tight smile. \"None taken.\"

\"Oh, please,\" Lucius drawls. \"As if Muggles could ever do any real damage.\"

\"Believe me, they can.\" I lean forward, crossing my arms on top of the table. \"Adolf Hitler killed six million Muggles only because they were Jewish. Not to mention millions of others for being gypsies, mentally challenged or homosexual. He was as evil and as powerful as any Dark Wizarding Lord I know. And he didn´t have magic. Well, for as far as I know.\"

Lucius stays silent, but next to me I hear a gasp, and I turn to face Macnair.

\"He killed people for being homosexual?\"

I nod, a bit surprised by Macnair´s small outburst.

\"That´s just wrong.\"

\"Says the man who kills things for a living,\" I blurt out, and immediately clasp my hand over my mouth. But no Killing Curses follow my inappropriate comment, and instead I hear Voldemort chuckle while Macnair gives me an offended glare.

\"I don´t kill people for being homosexual.\"

\"No, but you kill them for being a Muggle.\"

\"Um...\"

\"I rest my case.\"

\"Can we please stop with this nonsense,\" Lucius snarls, throwing his napkin on his plate. \"I refuse to listen to this Muggle dribble about things she clearly doesn´t understand.\"

Taking a last sip of his cup, Voldemort puts it down on the table, completely ignoring Lucius, and looks at me intently. \"I´d like to continue this conversation this evening over tea.\"

I nod stupidly.

\"Very well. Walden, why don´t you show her around the mansion today. And do make sure none of her body parts are severed, hmm?\"

\"Yes, my Lord,\" Macnair says dutifully, and Voldemort gets up, nodding once at Lucius, who also gets up, and they both leave the dining room quietly.

The moment they are gone, I let out a deep breath, and run my hands across my face. \"Damn, I´d kill for a fag.\"

Macnair perks up, and gives me a wide grin. \"Really? There´s plenty of prisoners in the dungeons you can have a shot at. I´m sure our Lord won´t mind if I start the grand tour there.\"

\"Um...\" I gave Macnair a blank look, making a mental note to be very specific about how I formulate things around this man. \"I just meant that I would like to smoke a cigarette.\"

Macnair deflates, and sags in his chair.

\"But a tour through the dungeons sounds good,\" I say, trying to cheer him up a bit. \"Just no killing stuff, okay?\"

Nodding, Macnair shoves his chair back and gets up. \"We´ll have to go outside to have a smoke, though. Our Lord doesn´t want people smoking in his house.\"

That statement suddenly makes Voldemort seem far too human for my liking. It is after all a lot easier to think of him as an inhumane psycho, instead as a man who doesn´t appreciate the smell of cigarette smoke. But I try to ignore that thought, and give Macnair a polite smile as I follow him out of the room.