The Pureblood Coup

Sheherazade and Lilith: Sorry I could not finish this dinner scene yesterday. But what I wanted was not coming up to par…Now it is, though! The following…little bit…for some reason I really enjoyed writing this …it’s written a little bit better than my usual, in my opinion. Maybe, because I took my time editing.



Continuation of…

Chapter Eight: Triumph of the Dark Lord

“Narcissa, look at me…Bella reports you donned a most...erotic attire underneath your robes. Is she correct?”

Narcissa forced her azure blue eyes away from her deadpan stare at the opposite wall, obeying Voldemort, and then answered, “Yes-My-lord.”

Bellatrix, lolled her head back, laughing loudly, her dark hair bouncing, with luxurious curls at the tips, that made her become almost youthful. The witch had let her hair down for the occasion, and it swept past her shoulders. And she had added to her ceremonial Death Eater robes, an ostentatious red cloak specially for the celebration. But Bellatrix had made a nervous laugh, as she was hiding a lot. Particularly here, she did not want Voldemort to know she had lied to Narcissa. Earlier today, she had told Narcissa, that Voldemort was forcing her to wear erotic dressrobes.

In a low, yet jarring tone that carried clearly, Voldemort continued, “Tell me, Narcissa…What’s a witch, like you to do now that Lucius has lost his wand?...You must be so sickened by the loss of physical inertia...”

The two of them present with dirty minds, sniggered under their breath, at the subtle, abstract implications. The witch, Alecto Carrow, revealed pointy, jagged teeth in a wide smirk. Severus Snape, clever as he is, only smiled slightly.

Lucius was confused, and he answered for his wife, a sour expression pasted on his waxy complexion, “I don’t know what you mean, My lord.”

Lucius was puzzled, as he did not understand what would make Voldemort imply that his penis was castrated. Yet, Voldemort was merely exaggerating to make a point, mixing lies with the truth, concerning Malfoy's actual, broken wand.

Voldemort elaborated, with pronounced explication, “I’m talking about your other wand, Lucius. The wand that bred Draco.”

Thumps hit the table, and catcalls rent the air in jubilation from the Death Eaters. Severus Snape had a pleasant, nostalgic sneer, as he silently recalled in his thoughts the sex he had with Andromeda last night. And the great snake reacted to the uproar, opening its mouth wide, hissing angrily. Meanwhile, Narcissa sputtered, dropping her fork, clattering on the silver plate. Hot burning tears loomed behind her eyes. She quailed, embarrassed at this joke towards herself, and her family. Reaching under the tabletop, she grabbed Lucius’s hand, tightly. Draco braced himself, straightening up at the sound of his name, fearing he would have to make eye contact if addressed next.

The cruel lipless mouth had stopped moving, yet a hair-raising, hollow echo hissed on. “….Shall we substitute, then for a new, more powerful wand?”

Suddenly there was a terrible, piercing scream issuing from their feet below. The scream followed with other cries of mournful, moaning tirades. Some of the witches and wizards at the table barely prevented lurching at the startling disturbance. Voldemort remained perfectly motionless, red-eyes unblinking.

The screams continued for several seconds, until Wormtail had done whatever was necessary to keep their prisoner, Ollivander quiet. During this, the great snake, Nagini crawled up Voldemort’s chair, it’s body the thickness of a man’s thigh. It rose, seemingly endlessly up Voldemort’s lap, and rested across his shoulder’s.

Once the screams had subsided, the mounting hilarity at the Malfoy’s harassment and, insult to their marriage continued to cresendo.

With one word the mood was broken by Voldemort, intoning sternly, "Enough.”

And the humor died at once.

Stroking the snout of the snake, Voldemort's face contorted eerily, looking towards Narcissa.

“Blood purity, as in the Malfoys’ marriage is the essential ideology to inculcate into the public. We must recapitulate old traditions, whilst removing all opposition.”

Bellatrix nodded, tears filling her eyes, but not of hurt like her sister's had been, rather tears of gratitude. “Yes, My lord. We shall proclaim your truth to the entire world for you.”

And, Bellatrix, the tears rolling down her cheeks, stared at the hundreds of crystal stoppers inside the glass cabinet. She had an urge to guzzle down a bottle of ancient, pure-blood. But instead she chugged down the last of her golden champagne, and then watched the crystal bottles, gleam in the luminescent light, as the crystal of the bottles, actually matched the crystal chandelier.

It had been like a chess game. His purpose at demeaning Narcissa, had primarily been means to pursue the subject of blood purity. Yet it was also a subconscious inferiority complex about sexuality, mixed in with the fact that the back of his mind was concentrating on the Elder Wand.

But now, Voldemort returned to his private thoughts, looking upon the corpse of Rufus Scrimgeour hanging directly opposite him.

Without warning, he raised his wand.

A tiny flick, and the corpse dropped with a resounding thud onto the clean white table-cloth. The Death Eaters did not jump back, nor did Draco fall off his chair. They remembered the similar procedure, with Charity Burbage, and so, anticipated what would come. Yet some still drew a breath in from nerves. Narcissa caused her silverware to knock off the surface, skidding over the edge at the fall of Scrimgeour's remains.

Voldemort hissed in parseltongue, “Dinner, Nagini.”

And at these words, the snake slithered down the table, eagerly reaching, it’s serpentine body inching forward for her treat. At the same time, as Voldemort, spoke, Severus Snape had risen from his chair at Voldemort’s right. He was the first to rise of the thirteen living souls seated at the table, meaning as Trelawney’s superstition goes he should be first to die. Snape did not even register this, and nor did the others.

House-elves hurried into the Drawing room, clearing off the eating utensils and plates and dishes, and food trying to ignore the snake, as it chowed down on it’s own feast. Nagini was walking her lower jaw over the body as her backward-curving teeth got a good grip on the minister.

Voldemort did not rise, like everyone else. But he pushed his chair back, and called ringingly, but with boredom, “WORMTAIL! Your assistance…Now!”

A short, balding man entered from the corridor several seconds later. It wheezed, “Yes, master?”

Voldemort did not reply, but grabbed Pettigrew’s arm. He lifted back the sleeve. With his wand, pointing at the Dark Mark, which was like a vivid red tattoo, it morphed into a burning black colour. He had summoned the rest of the Death Eaters.

“Go, and greet the others. They need you standing there, in order to enter the property without the trouble of conferring with the gate.”

Voldemort was referring to the fact that nobody could get into the mansion, without a Dark Mark branded on their skin, unless the talking gate allowed them.

And with that, Pettigrew had dashed away, his task to receive the hundreds of witches and wizards, who are not Death Eaters, but friends of them, as well as supporters of pure-blood ideology, and then there was some of the Snatchers. Meanwhile, Nagini expanded her jaw, mouth wide as she swallowed Scrimgeour whole, the corpse settling inside her.


Just to let you know...the next few scenes is the beginning of the really, really shocking, horrific stuff....but it's not too bad. I don't want to get you too worried....