Other Worlds

The door to the Reading Room slammed into the wall as Dumbledore strode into the hall in what was clearly a monumental rage. That Mudblood bitch! After all he had done for her! Years of work, grooming the Potters and other Pureblood light families of status to the point where they would accept mudblood breeders into their ranks! First the Black girl had been disowned, not that she'd have been much use, throwing out a girl rather than a boy, and now this! Leaving him with only the Longbottom brat to work with, who was by all accounts not much better than a bloody squib!

 

He paused in the brightly cold November sunlight on the steps of Gringotts, ignoring the bemused glances of passers by. No, he was going to get the Potter brat. Three Houses worth of guardians? If he wanted to, he would kick down each one of the bloody Ancient and Noble inbred warrens to get his own way. However, there were easier ways. He doubted very much that those ingrate fools knew of their precious bond mate's dirty past, but even if they'd all worn the Dark Mark - and who was to say they hadn't, now they were buried past the Daily Prophet's ability to check? - there was no way the Wizarding public, most of whose he'd taught, would allow a confirmed and convicted criminal to raise a child, much less the Lord of a renowned Dark House - the cousin of Bellatrix Nameless, at that - and his werewolf lover. There was no way Mycroft Holmes would trouble himself with a dirty, noisy brat, and the Longbottoms were as good as dead, with Augusta looking to offload the squib already, according to dear Algie. Three Houses? Not enough, Potter. Not nearly enough against him.

 

His mind made up, he strode down the steps. First things first, a concerned citizen's report to dear Millicent regarding the unfortunate Mark marring Snape's left forearm, followed in no short order by a custody request on behalf of Hogwarts and a word dropped in Oliver Trumpton's ear at the Prophet about the shocking Death Eater associations of the Potters...

 

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Severus had pulled himself, and Harry, together, and now he, Sirius and Remus followed Griphook to the Director's office to wait for Narcissa. They had not long been waiting before Ragnok re entered the room, followed by two goblins, their arms laden. Heavy books, some clearly centuries old, were placed in front of Severus, whose eyes widened almost comically at the sight. 

 

"Calm down", Sirius murmured. "No one expects you to pick up estate management in a day. If you just let the Head Elf know that you wish to keep the estate in the same way as their Lord James did for now, maintaining their budgets and so on at the status quo, then we can go through everything together once we've settled in. We have three Houses to manage between us, so this is something we can all do." 

 

Remus tapped the pile nearest to him. "These all appear to be House Prince records. Not as many as the Potters, but still, they look like they go back a fair bit."

 

"Just don't open any," Severus warned. "Family Magics can be fairly lethal, even in predominantly Light Houses, and the books will undoubtedly be warded to the Blood. As the House of Prince is a fairly dark Neutral House, the curses might be somewhat grisly."

 

Ragnok leaned back in his chair. "You are all bonded to the penultimate stage, of course, and in the case of the Lupin bloodline, you are all finally attuned since you received your claiming marks." He paused, looking at their shocked faces. "Gentlemen, please. We are in a Goblin institution. We have records pertaining to everything." The shock on their faces widened to horror, until the goblin roared with laughter. "I shall enjoy sharing this memory over mead with you some day. Detection wards in the Main Hall, remember? If they can pick up compulsion charms on a baby, think how fresh mating marks and new bonds must make them dance."

 

The triad looked at each other, a touch sheepishly. Ragnok smile grew so wide, it nearly touched his ears. "I do do enjoy teasing you humans. The colours your faces go! So unlike my people." He leant forward, confidingly. "There you have to watch their earlobes twitch. So now you know a secret about my people; we know you are bonded by Creature mating; we are balanced, hmm? Now. You will have to share blood to cement the final stage of the Prince and Black blood bonds. Not as much fun as a mating bite, but alas, none of you are vampire or veela, so we make do with the athame. As blood-father to Harry, Potter blood flows in Lord Prince's veins, so in exchanging blood with him you will gain blood protection from the House of Potter also. There is an athame and bowl behind you on the little altar, if you wish to have this formally witnessed."

 

The words for the little ritual were simple and brief, and as at Harry's adoption, Magic sealed the bond with a bright flare over the triad and the mingled blood in the bowl, followed by a familiar surge through each of the bondmates' bodies, all of whom were suddenly thankful that they had worn traditional dress robes for the reading as a golden ribbon of light flashed to pure white light and wrapped itself around them, weaving in and out of their bodies and binding them tightly together before sinking into their skin. Ragnok, or 'that bloody Goblin', as Severus mentally dubbed him, snorted with laughter again, but mercifully refrained from making any comment at the slight muskiness easily detected by goblin noses.

 

"You will be pleased to know that your accounts have been updated with your new status and names", began Ragnok. "Wards on each of the properties will accept each of you with the customary blood check, but will need to be changed by one of you to allow those not of shared blood in. The ledgers and other books in the libraries across your properties will now be accessible to each of you, and you will be able to summon house elves tied to the three Houses, although it is only polite to accept the bonding oaths of elves not previously tied to you as a formality. As you will have heard from Lord James Potter, a change of uniform is often offered to the House Elf staff upon the accession of a new Head of House. It is customary for the Lady or Lord Consort of the House to decide this in concert with the Head Elf, but I am sure you will be able to decide this amongst yourselves."

 

"Sirius." replied Severus and Remus simultaneously. "No leather" added Severus after barely a beat. Even Ragnok shuddered at that.

 

"Your individual bequests, vaults and access cards, keys etc are in front of you. Your individual account managers are available to you, day or night, but I would recommend you retain an overall manager to run shared concerns and investments. I would be honoured if you would consider me for this role, if only because I will greatly enjoy making us all rich and impoverishing our enemies before crushing their bones before us like dust."

 

Narcissa's cool voice came from the doorway. "I would very much like for you to include my House in that overall engagement, for if there is one thing Malfoys and Blacks all delight in, it is in crushing the bones of our enemies, particularly if there is profit to be made. And it appears we have so many enemies to crush."

 

Ragnok rose and walked towards her, bowing a bow offered in his culture between equals, making Severus' eyebrows raise. "Lady Malfoy-Black, it will be an honour to do battle beside such a worthy ally. We will wade through rivers of blood and gold until our dues have been paid." 

 

Returning the bow, not curtsying, Narcissa acknowledged her acceptance of the formal war pledge.

 

She turned to the bond mates. "Gentlemen, I came to inform you that Draco and I have accepted Lord Holmes offer, as discussed with you. As Protector of House Malfoy, Lord Black, I grant you in front of this Scribe and my Peers full authority to handle the necessary financial transactions. Draco is still with Cursebreaker Gracklewrat, who found much he had to deal with affecting us both, so I will floo back to the House in a few hours once all the spells and charms have been lifted from him."

 

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Narcissa stalked, there was no other word for it, back through the granite corridors towards the Cursebreaker ward she had already spent three painful hours in. As if Obliviating her every few hours hadn't satisfied Lucius, he and, it turned out, his father Abraxas, had placed numerous Compulsions on her. From a Virginity ward guaranteed to ensure a painful first experience of intercourse, the sadistic bastards, that had been placed on her at the age of seven when the betrothal contracts were exchanged, to the fidelity Compulsion that would have ensured her inability to consummate any other relationship for life, they had draped her magical core with so many locks that it was a miracle she could manage a simple Lumos! She was still feeling a slight rush of adrenaline caused by the slow but steady expansion of her Core to what it should have been since her magical Inheritance. 

 

A hex causing fatigue after using any 'Light' spell. Another that limited sexual satisfaction during self-pleasure. Another that caused headaches after a certain percentage - a low percentage at that - of spells had been cast. A slow hex draining her immune system's ability to fight of illness had been present since Draco's birth, matching another that lowered her body's ability to produce red blood cells or clot wounds. Every time that bastard complimented her pale beauty, he was complimenting himself on slowly killing her. Thankfully Severus would be able to provide her with the regime of potions she would need to take for six months to reverse nearly all the damage. Six months! When magic and potions could heal nearly everything save beheading or the Killing Curse inside three weeks at the absolute most, six months indicated that she had been at death's door until the potions she had taken this morning had come into effect. If those were on her Draco she was going to storm into Azkaban and claw his entrails out with her bare hands. If Ragnok was very lucky she might let him hold her cloak. Abraxas' portraits were going to be tracked down and either burnt or sent to the bottom of the sea.

 

She looked through the crystal observation window at the room in which Draco lay, spelled asleep on Breaker Gracklewrat's cushioned table. The pediatric healer he had brought in, a Healer McGonagall, was waiting for her in the adjoining office, but she wanted to look at her boy as the goblin worked ceaselessly pulling the curses from his tiny frame. For the first time she was grateful that Lucius had been spared either the undeath of the Dementors' Kiss or the cold embrace of the Veil. A long life - well, as long as could be attained in Azkaban - spent at the guards tender mercies under the watchful, ever present torment from the Dementors, bereft of company, luxuries or grooming products was not enough torture for him, but it would be a start. Maybe she could wall his cell with unbreakable mirrors, and pay for a full time Dementor presence outside his cell door. 

 

She already knew he had cursed her boy with a spell to slowly erode his love for all women, including her, while another constrained his psyche to only find the female form attractive. The attempts to control his own child's sexuality horrified her. They lived in a world of magic, not like the muggles with their hysterical homophobia, burning down gay nightclubs and beating up same sex couples on the street. Potions, surrogates, blood adoptions, bearers: all were ways of securing a Blood Line's Family Magics, and had been available for centuries, which in turn meant the curse had been illegal for so long it had been forgotten. Most of the pure blood Families boasted of their Creature inheritances! 

 

Sexuality was not and never had been an issue or hindrance in the Wizarding world, a fact that often surprised Muggleborns who attempted to bring their own beliefs and prejudices into their new world. Lucius had had numerous pretty boys straddled across his lap over the years, and Abraxas' stables were renowned for their high turnover of stable hands and jockeys, so the joined curses baffled Narcissa as much as it enraged her. Such a curse combination would have led to a life of sex based not in affection or love, but in disdain and hatred. Should his true gender preference be for his own sex, the self loathing would have been crippling. Any sexual touch would have disgusted him.

 

What troubled her most was the compulsion to obey Lucius and Voldemort laid down at the same time. Breaker Gracklewrat had already advised her that the compulsion was difficult to eradicate, being deeply rooted in Draco's mind and, most disturbingly, hooked into the pleasure centre of the boy's brain. It explained Draco's craving for his emotionally and often physically absent father's approval, and, like an addict, Draco would have come to the point where he would have done anything to keep either man's attentions, followed any order. By adulthood, all trace of his own personality would have been obliterated. Her beautiful, giggling child. She had never thought, other than the curses, o she would have been so grateful for Lucius' lack of interest in their son as anything other than a prop until now.

 

Breaker Gracklewrat stood up straight, and turned to the observation window, bowing. He gestured toward the small office joining the little ward to the corridor Narcissa stood in. She schooled her face back to the calm pureblood mask before turning to meet Healer McGonagall.

Time to find out what else the monster she had married had done to her child.