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Good Intentions
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
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25,738
Reviews:
69
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Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
25,738
Reviews:
69
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter II: Curiosity
A/N: Reposted to fix inconsistencies.
Thanks go out to my Beta Bre, who takes the time to correct all my horrible grammatical mistakes! This story is readable thanks to her.
Text Formatting:
‘Character thoughts’
Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info
Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)
- Parseltongue -
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Good Intentions
By: SheWolfe7
Chapter II: Curiosity
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The Slytherin Common Room
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Friday the 13th of September 1974
9:50 PM
Anastas wearily strode into the Common Room, pleased that Nehebkau and the other snakes in the school had been so helpful in sharing the secrets they guarded. Thanks to the knowledge they had given him, he had shaved off ten minutes on his way back to the Dormitory. He was unhappy to find Professor Slughorn in the Common Room. His Head of House made a great deal of fuss over him, much to the amusement and sympathy of his fellow housemates. Being ill humored, Anastas made it as clear as possible, without being outright rude, that he was fine and did not want to talk about what had happened earlier in the day. Curtly apologizing for the worry he had caused with his disappearance, Anastas bid his Head of House a short farewell before stalking off to the doors that lead to the boys’ dorms.
Muttering under his breath, Anastas stomped down the stairs to the dorm he shared with his year-mates. Slipping into the room, he graced Wilkes and Bracken with an acknowledging nod before walking over to his armoire to retrieve a change of clothes and his toiletries. A hot shower would do him wonders at the moment, he had spent the past several hours building up his muscles and quickening his reflexes.
When he finished showering and brushing his teeth and hair, he returned to the dorm and nearly growled when he saw Lucius and Severus loitering on his bed no doubt wanting to talk. Sighing, Anastas calmly put his things away and then turned to face them.
“Yes?”
Lucius appraised him with admiring eyes for several seconds before speaking, “We wanted to know how you are feeling. You left class rather abruptly.”
“I’m fine now, I admit I was a bit taken aback earlier but I’ve come to terms with things so there’s nothing to worry about.” Anastas answered simply.
“I see,” Severus replied studying him with black eyes that seemed to see right through him.
Anastas raised his chin and met the dark eyed stare with a stormy look of his own. “I’ve little doubt the rest of the school is rife with gossip about what happened earlier but I’ll be the first to tell you both to mind your own business. As much as I appreciate having you both as friends, I’m not the sort that takes kindly to pestering about my past or my secrets.”
Lucius nodded, as though Anastas had confirmed something he had long suspected. “Very well, I can respect that. What are your plans tomorrow?”
“I’m thinking of trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team but I’m not entirely certain yet. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are expecting me at one and two o’clock respectively to discuss moving me up a year or giving me weekly supplemental lessons. Then at six o’clock my father is coming to escort me back to Oviedo for a soiree at the Palacio.”
“A soiree? This late in the year?”
Anastas smiled faintly, “I’m told it was arranged because Grandfather was tired of the deluge of inquires that kept arriving. Father said this was supposed to be a pre-emptive strike.”
“Ah, you won’t be fourteen until later in the year?” Lucius asked finally comprehending why they were having a soiree out of season.
“Oh no, I won’t be fourteen until next July! That’s why they’re having an unofficial gathering held in my name now; Grandfather doesn’t want to deal with ten, almost eleven months of inquires about Anterior Courtship Rituals.”
Lucius gaped, “You’re thirteen?!”
Anastas shrugged, “Age is nothing but a number. It can’t tell you how mature a person is in anything but the physical sense and considering how slowly we age, it’s not a barrier in most marriages.”
“So…apt.” murmured Severus, glancing at his two friends with a thoughtful frown.
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The soiree was a success and had given his adopted family some reprieve from the deluge of letters requesting the possibilities of accepting Anterior Courtship Ritual requests. Evaristo had already warned him that things would get more and more intense as his birthday neared. It would likely prove to be tediously annoying but considering it would also be yet another way to further his contacts Anastas would deal with it. His father had also divulged that his Grandmother Tiziana and Aunt Isabella had already begun the grand plans for his coming out soiree to be held on his birthday, the twenty-seventh of July.
Anastas had little doubt they were planning to make his soiree the largest and grandest of all the debuting soirees of that Courting Season. The Torres Family prided itself on its prestigious bloodline after all and considering the extra connections his tie as a Lund and a Focalor also brought, it was likely the guest list would span continents. Even Uncle Apolinar had admitted it was likely to be a feeding frenzy but, he had declared with a charming grin and shining eyes, it would be the soiree of the Season!
As Lucius had guessed, the next four days were a flurry of gossip and whispers. Anastas calmly ignored the attention focused on him, preferring not to waste his time answering pointless questions. By Wednesday, Grandfather had made his ill humor known and the speculation about Anastas’s Boggart lesson was abruptly dropped in public. This, Anastas decided, was a lovely benefit of being adopted into the Torres Family. Even though he would be watched, admired and gossiped by all, this time around he would have people willing to watch his back and suppress unpleasant speculation.
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Colchester Castle, Wales
Sunday the 15th of September 1974
7:42 PM
It was his favorite time of the day and after a long day of negotiations with the Vampires; he was unsurprised when he noticed Cassius joining him on the battlements. For a few minutes, the two were silent as they watched the splash of colors cast over a nearby lake. Colchester Castle was at the top of a bluff overlooking a stream fed lake to the east and forest to the north and west.
Cassius waited, knowing better than to speak until he was addressed. The Dark Lord had made it very clear that he was never to be disturbed at his residence unless one had urgent news to report. He was given more leeway than the others but he knew that could be changed should he overstep the fine line that had been drawn between the two.
Five minutes later, Voldemort stood up from his seat along the battlement wall. “What has Lucius written?”
Cassius simply handed an envelope to the older wizard and waited. Voldemort read through the two pages of information and the one page of speculation and observations made by the younger Malfoy. Frowning, he pondered the incident over and over as he handed the papers back to Cassius.
“My Lord?” Cassius prompted as fifteen minutes passed in silence.
“Tell Lucius to continue his observation of the Lund-Torres Heir, I will look into this matter in the mean time. I will summon you with further instructions on the matter at a later date,” Voldemort said before striding back to the Castle proper.
Parseltongue was a rare ability, at least to those born in Europe. As he recalled only three Families were known to still carry the ability and none of them were any that the Lund-Torres Heir would have blood ties to. A very intriguing situation…
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The Headmaster’s Office
Hogwarts, Scotland
Wednesday the 18th of September 1974
3:02 PM
Dumbledore studied the student sitting across from him speculatively. The Lund-Torres Heir merely glanced at him calmly before taking a sip of his tea, waiting.
There was something about him, Dumbledore mused. He had known some of the most powerful witches and wizards of the last two centuries and was no stranger to the innate confidence with which they carried themselves. Yet there was something more about Anastas Lund-Torres that drew the eye. Oh the boy had the looks and the bloodlines to earn a fair share of positive attention, plus he had charisma that would likely earn him a multitude of sycophants, but he was certain there was more to the boy than his looks and personality.
At times it both irritated and intrigued him, the fact that he could not quite figure out what was so…well, appealing about him! The more cautious side of him was wary of the boy; after all he had a great deal of influence and more than enough power to cause changes. And while Dumbledore did think the Wizarding World needed change, he was worried about how the Lund-Torres heir would bring about said changes.
Both the Focalors and the Torres Families were well known neutralists in that most shady thing called magical theory beliefs. While other pureblooded families might squabble about blood purity and the evils or virtues of Dark magic, neither the Focalors nor the Torres’ stooped so low as to quibble about such things.
In the case of the Torres’ their Family was one of great power and, of even more importance, ancient lineage. They dismissed such ideological squabbles as pointless. Corruption was possible no matter what type of magic was performed after all and even the most steadfast person could be consumed by their own magic.
The Focalors, with their mixed blood and illustrious familial connections, cared not a whit about what was classed as Light or Dark magic. In their eyes, magic was an intrinsic part of every magical being and however one chose to use the magic they were born with was their own business and no one else’s.
Regardless of what sort of magic the members of their Family practiced, both the Focalors and the Torres’, stood rock firm in the convictions believed by their respective family. They worked together to achieve goals and were a deadly force to be reckoned with when someone made an enemy of one member. So perhaps it was little surprise that both Families were almost exclusively taught by tutors.
Schooling taught a training wizard or witch to control and focus their innate magic but only experience could allow them to master their magic fully. Once a wizard or witch mastered their innate magic, one of two things occurred: their journey of magical growth ended in the maturation of their power or they would attempt to unlock the secrets of drawing upon the magic of the world around them.
The latter was the downfall of many a good witch or wizard and it was during that journey that they were corrupted. It was a choice that for some was no choice at all. It was a well documented fact, after all, that power called to power and so, those with the greatest amounts of innate magic found themselves drawn to mastering control of the magic around them. Like a siren song, the impurities in the natural magic of the world would ensnare the newly aware and in the majority of cases, corrupt them beyond repair.
Dumbledore had seen what that corruption could do to those with power and so, he was wisely cautious. After his defeat of Grindlewald, he had realized that the best way to serve the Wizarding world at large was to help its youth discover what lay within themselves. He had offered guidance and truth to those who teetered on the balance of choice and while he could not stop all of them from being corrupted, he at least warned them of what possibilities lay within the sparkling miasma of magic that pulsed from the Earth itself.
“Professor Slughorn has told me that you suffered no lingering effects from your Boggart lesson last week.” Dumbledore said simply.
Anastas shrugged elegantly. “I would admit that I was…taken aback by what I saw but after thinking it over, I have accepted it for what it is. Everyone has a weakness after all, why should I be any different?”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore commented thoughtfully. “I think both of us are well aware of the reason why I have summoned you here and so I shall be frank, are you a Parselmouth or have you encountered one before?”
“I am what I am and who I speak to is no one’s business.” Anastas said simply. “You may believe what you will of me, everyone else does after all. It does not concern me what others might think of me.”
“I see, well you may be on your way then.” Dumbledore said dismissively.
Anastas nodded politely to him and then took his leave.
Dumbledore rose from his chair behind his desk and turned to face his familiar. “He bears watching my friend, as all Torres do. Evaristo is an accomplished diplomat and quite familiar with the political and social games played by the ancient Pureblooded Families, but I wonder what he was thinking when he sent his grandson here? Hogwarts is, without a doubt, one of the finest, general schools in Europe but a child with the bloodline of two very powerful Families such as he, should be schooled behind wards strong enough to withstand a Magical Maelstrom. The Founders were brilliant and Hogwarts has ancient wards but even I do not know if it can withstand a two pronged assault by both the other students and the Lund-Torres heir.”
Fawkes trilled soothingly and Dumbledore took heart. “You are right of course, there is the fail-safe. Although…I do not recall it ever having been activated, I suppose there is a first time for everything.”
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The weeks steadily passed by in a flurry of homework and essays. Pranks were pulled, couples came together and some broke up and Quidditch victories were celebrated in grand style. In short, things were progressing in a normal fashion at Hogwarts.
Anastas had quickly adjusted to the school and his peers. Though he had some acquaintances outside of Slytherin House, Lucius and Severus remained his closest friends. In fact, Anastas learned after some time that he actually enjoyed spending time with them. Severus’s dry, sarcastic sense of humor paired with Lucius’s drawling arrogance and witty conversation entertained him greatly. Perhaps it would be possible to reveal his plans but it was far too soon to fully trust them with his life’s goal so Anastas buried his future intentions and adapted to becoming the image he had formulated for himself months ago.
By the night of the Halloween Feast, Anastas was the very picture of a normal pureblooded teenage wizard. The Professors viewed him as an intelligent, well-mannered teenage boy born from a prestigious bloodline and adopted into an even more prestigious family. All were convinced, in one way or another, that Anastas Lund-Torres would be a force to reckon with by the time he graduated from Hogwarts. He was the top student in most of his classes, even in Transfiguration and Charms, which he was now taking with the Fifth Year students.
Among his peers, Anastas had earned the reputation as a smart, charming and talented wizard. Besides being the top student in all his classes, Anastas was also one of the best Seekers the Slytherin Quidditch Team had had in the last decade. Almost every witch at the school had hopes of dating him and even a handful of wizards had taken to gazing at him with speculative eyes. Lucius was less than pleased by the sudden amorous attention directed at his friend but held his tongue, seeing how the younger teen ignored it with polite disinterest.
Tonight the air was filled with anticipation as everyone was looking forward to the magnificent feast the house-elves had prepared. The Hall echoed with laughter and conversation as the students piled into the Hall and took their seats at their respective tables. Looking down at their charges, the Professors watched with kind tolerance the children they taught. Dumbledore shared a smile with his husband as they spoke softly.
Anastas walked between Severus and Lucius, talking animatedly about his Transfiguration lesson earlier that day. “…So then Caitlin starts shrieking when Audrey accidentally turns her Garden snake into half a dozen mice. They start skittering all over the room with the snakes chasing after them, the girls are screaming and McGonagall finally ordered the rest of the boys to try to capture the mice while she tried to get the others to quiet down. By the time we caught all the mice and turned it back into its normal form, there were five minutes left of class and McGonagall just let us all out early.”
Lucius chuckled, silver eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m sure it took all her control not to turn into her Animagus form and catch them all that way!”
“Probably,” Anastas admitted, repressing the urge to laugh. It had taken all his self control not to roll around on the floor laughing at the comments the snakes had been making.
Severus just shook his head at the two as they made their way to their seats at the table. He had barely sat down when Shannon Joyce shoved him over a spot and turned to smile prettily at Anastas. She was a pretty girl, with her dark blond hair and hazel eyes but her attitude left much to be desired. As Draco’s bane had been that pug Parkinson, it appeared that Anastas was doomed to be chased after by the ardent youngest Joyce.
“Sit next to me Anastas!”
Severus glared at the other girl. “Are you so blind you cannot take a hint, Joyce?”
Shannon graced Severus with a haughty look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Severus.”
“She’s persistent,” Lucius grumbled sulkily.
Anastas sat on the other side of Severus, Lucius quickly taking a seat on his left side preventing any other girls from sitting next to Anastas. “Shannon, how many times am I going to tell you that I’m not interested in you that way?”
“But we’d be perfect for each other!” Shannon protested staring imploringly at him.
“You don’t even know him, Joyce.”
“But I want to know him! I lo-“
Lucius shot her a venomous look that spoke of pain if she finished that sentence. Joyce blinked and then wisely beat a hasty retreat to the far end of the table.
“Utterly mad,” Anastas commented to his friends. “Doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone either!”
“All girls are like that,” Severus agreed, referring to his shrill, step-sister Ophelia.
Lucius filled his glass with Pumpkin juice. “These are the days I relish being the youngest child of two.”
Anastas smirked, “And being the only child is best in that regard, no overbearing older siblings and no pesky younger ones.”
“Perhaps but I find having siblings has its uses, if only so you alone don’t bear the full wrath of your parents’ fury.” Severus said with a slight shudder, his mother was rather terrifying in a rage.
Before either boy could comment, the Headmaster got to his feet and made a few announcements before signaling for the feast to begin. Everyone applauded the magnificent feast that appeared and quite happily filled their plates. In between eating, conversation flowed readily ranging from spell theory to the latest fashions. Anastas enjoyed the innocently happy atmosphere, knowing it would not last much longer.
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The Entrance Hall
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
9:07 AM
Anastas watched from his vantage, leaning against the wall opposite the Entrance Doors. “Remind me again, why we agreed to wait here while Lucius went to exchange his cloak?”
“Speaking from experience, even if we had gone with him we’d have only ended up being bored to tears while he preened in front of his mirror. Lucius is almost paranoid about his image, as though someone as handsome as he could look any worse wearing a wardrobe provided by one of the most popular Parisian designers.” Severus sniped, well on his way to being in a foul mood.
Persis Maddox, an olive skinned petite girl in their year, joined them. “Are you still waiting for Lucius?”
“Twenty-four minutes and counting,” Anastas answered after checking his pocket watch.
“You’ll be waiting for a full hour!” Elizabeth Cole warned as she walked past them, arm in arm with Theodore Derricks, who was in the year above theirs.
Rabastan Lestrange emerged from the steps leading down into the dungeons. His girlfriend, Seventh Year Ravenclaw Nadia Summers, walked over and took the arm he offered. He glanced at the waiting fourth years and spoke, “Lucius is on his way, I saw him coming out of the Fourth Year dorms when I left.”
“Finally,” Severus grumbled, idly smoothing creases from the folds of his heavy black velvet robes.
Anastas stepped away from the wall, his azure blue robes settling around his slim frame. “The way he acts, it’s as though he’s always preparing for his Coming of Age soiree, which he’s already had!”
Persis laughed, “Maybe he’s practicing for his Engagement soiree?”
“Or maybe,” Lucius said coldly as he joined them, “I care more for my appearance than you do of yours, Persis.”
“Are you implying I’m some la-“
Anastas quickly broke up the heating argument. “That’s enough, honestly. We’ve wasted enough time, shall we go before the Hogsmeade Visit is completely over with?”
Persis huffed and stormed away, joining a pair of third year Slytherins. Severus just sighed as he headed to the Entrance Doors, Lucius and Anastas falling into step alongside him.
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The Wind Temple
Focalor Aerie Grounds, France
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
9:42 AM
It was late in the morning when Alauda made her usual offerings at the Wind Temple. Both the Wind Temple and Focalor Aerie had been constructed at the same time. The Aerie was made of gray stone, allowing it to blend into the surrounding terrain while the Temple was constructed of glistening white stone. Previous Focalors had designed both buildings to be tall, beautiful and intimidating. Built on a Graben fault block of a range of fault-block mountains, the buildings mimicked the steady upward incline of the jagged, pristine mountains in the backdrop (1).
The Wind Temple was a massive octagonal building that rose six stories in the air. Each level was equipped with four balconies for a swift entrance for those who expressed their Veela or Harpy inheritance. Unlike most Wizarding Families, the Focalors did not bury their dead and instead cremated them. The ashes of their ancestors were stored here in the Wind Temple where they would be safe from the unscrupulous and honored by their descendants. Light was provided by the glass doors of the balconies and the huge dome on the rooftop.
Alauda, like all the previous Focalor Matriarchs, lit the ceremonial incense at the central altar on the first floor. Once the incense was lit, she opened the small leather satchel she brought with her and took out the beeswax candles. Setting them on the metal trays built onto the altar, she lit them one by one, murmuring the traditional venerations to the Matriarchs that had come before her. Finished with her ceremonial duties, Alauda set a single yellow rose on the altar and began her morning exercise.
Every morning after breakfast she would place the offerings at the Wind Temple’s altar and then spend an hour walking along the halls of the Temple. It was the duty of every Matriarch to open the Wind Temple and place the offerings at the altar. The walk was a tradition that her grandmother had added to Temple tradition.
Cinnyris Focalor had been a tall blond woman, more Harpy than Witch and had been the terror of the Family. None of the Focalors had dared to disobey Cinnyris and with her formidable attitude, she had brought the Focalor Family into the greatest heights of power. One of the most undeniably beautiful women in France, Cinnyris was also one of the most cunning. Using her marriage to Quillon Frontenac as a stepping stone, she had introduced the rest of the Focalor Family to the Wizarding Haute Monde (high society). Prior to Cinnyris’s daring move, the Focalors had been feted in western Europe for centuries but introduction into the Haute Monde was often difficult, even for old Pureblooded families like theirs.
Even though several European Families could boast of their two or three thousand year or older pure blood, many could not hope to compete with their Middle-Eastern, Asian or even African counterparts. At least half a dozen Middle-Eastern Pureblood Families could claim four thousand year old blood, four African Pureblood Families claimed six and a half thousand year old blood and in Asia there were nearly three or more dozen Families that claimed to have blood just as old or even older in some cases. Entry into the Haute Monde was beyond difficult to those not already apart of it but Cinnyris had not been the least bit afraid and had brought the Focalors with her.
Nearly a hundred and forty years later, the Focalors were firmly entrenched in the Haute Monde. While they may not have the purest blood, due to their intermarriage with the Veela and Harpies, they did have the advantage of diverse magical blood and their looks. Cinnyris had known from the very beginning that the Focalors would be in demand. The infusion of strong magic donated by Focalor witches was often used to combat the weakening blood of even the oldest Pureblood Families. Now it was little surprise that each Focalor debutante had received at least a dozen offers of marriage before they accepted a proposal. This train of thought, however, brought Alauda back to her source of turmoil. It was true that the Focalor witches were fought over in the Haute Monde but the only Focalor Hellion to be introduced at the Haute Monde had, to put it lightly, caused a sensation.
Harpagus Focalor, Alauda’s only uncle, was the current Focalor Hellion. He was a Veela and in his youth he had been capable of ensnaring the attention of an entire room, regardless of sexual orientation. It had taken him eleven years before he had found a compatible mate and each and every soiree hosted by the Haute Monde had resulted in at least one brawl and numerous heated arguments. It seemed that the Focalor Hellions were even more powerful than the average Veela or Harpy and the courtship of each was memorable.
Even if the Focalors never acknowledged him, as the grandson of Estavan Torres, Anastas Lund-Torres would have a gold embossed invitation waiting to be opened on his fourteenth birthday. If he was truly the next Focalor Hellion, the Haute Monde was in for a rude awakening.
Tradition dictated that once a Focalor was disowned, they and their descendants would never be acknowledged by the Family again. Yet, this was a very unusual situation. It would be lunacy to allow an untaught Focalor Hellion to run loose in the Wizarding World. And then there was the Sovereign Prince. If the Focalors slighted his grandson there would be bad blood between their Families for a great number of years. In addition to that, the Spanish Families would not dare to interact with the Focalors, for fear of angering the Sovereign Prince.
The choice was obvious to Alauda and had been even without analyzing the possible social repercussions. Columbe may have been little better than a Squib at wizardry but he had been her baby brother. Taking his great-grandson under her wing was the least she could do for him.
Having finished her morning exercise Alauda stopped at the altar to light another candle, the first for her brother since he had been disowned by their mother. She watched it burn for a few minutes, contemplating how things would have turned out if their mother hadn’t been temporarily in charge of the Family when her grandmother had been away visiting Aunt Athene. As she turned around fully intending to return to the Aerie, the doors to the Temple were thrown open and a frantic Evaristo Torres burst in.
“You have to come with me right now! Anastas will need you!” Evaristo said as he ran over to her.
Alauda tensed up, “What is wrong?”
“The Change…it’s going to happen today in exactly eighteen minutes and it is going to be the result of an attack on my son! We have to hurry; he’s in Hogsmeade right now!” Evaristo said as he grabbed Alauda’s arm and started pulling her towards the Temple doors.
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Hogsmeade, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
9:57 AM
Anastas was the first to notice that they were being followed.
Having spent a number of years playing life and death games with Death Eaters, he had a natural instinct for knowing when he was being followed or being watched. At the moment, he was certain of two things, the first, that there were at least three following them and secondly, that there were more observing. The question to ask now of course, was why he was being followed.
Glancing at his companions, he noted that both were oblivious to the situation they were now in. Not entirely unexpected, this was a time of peace after all and he knew that it was quite irregular for anyone to be attacked, especially in broad daylight. What to do?
Anastas stopped in his tracks, “I can’t believe I forgot! I’m supposed to meet Father in fifteen minutes! I’ll see you both later.”
Before his friends could even turn around to ask why he was meeting his father, Anastas had already taken off moving at a brisk trot. Having gotten away from his friends, he left Hogsmeade behind and was almost to the wall that circled around the grounds of Hogwarts when his stalkers revealed themselves. Dodging the Stunner, Anastas reached into his robes, drawing both a throwing dagger and his wand.
“Well it’s good to know my instincts are as fine as ever,” Anastas commented, coolly looking over the six scruffy looking wizards facing him. “What pray tell, do you want with me?”
“Ransom,” One of the men answered as they drew closer to him. “You’re worth millions!”
Anastas snorted, “I see. Well, I can’t say I’m going to go along with your plot to steal my millions so let’s get to it shall we?”
“Stupid boy,” one of the wizards commented before sending a Cutting Hex at him.
Anastas grinned as he dodged the hex, his dagger burying itself in the throat of one of the six wizards. “Don’t underestimate me gentlemen, you’ll regret it. Then again, maybe you already do.”
“You’ll be sorry you killed Langdon!”
“Too much talk and not enough action,” Anastas commented as he made a mad dash through the opened gates and raced to the Forbidden Forest. Behind him his would-be kidnappers gave chase, cursing as they dodged a charge made by the gate’s stone guardians. Shedding his all too bright and identifiable robe, Anastas dodged around the trees transfiguring a few rotten logs into some panthers. When the kidnappers caught up, two died instantly as the big cats jumped down from the trees, tearing out their throats with little effort. He was barely aware of the remaining kidnappers destroying his transfigured panthers.
Adrenaline was pumping through his system and his body along with his mind had fallen into purely combat instincts. The world had completely narrowed down to his attackers and himself. Nothing else existed and nothing else mattered.
Joy coursed through his body. Initially he had hated fighting but over time he had learned to enjoy it, to thrill in the life and death struggle. Of course, that too had happened after he had found the damned book. It had done far more than enhance his powers, it had woken dormant powers and abilities that had lay sleeping inside of him. The Wizarding world had begun calling him the Diablo soon after and had feared what he had become.
Idly, Anastas wondered what he looked like now. Before when his powers had just begun to blossom he had been a terror to behold, surrounded in a Demonic aura as some had called it. To him, it did not matter what he had looked like, all that mattered was the power at his disposal. Using the full power available to him made his reactions even more swift and decisive, on top of nearly tripling his regular output of magic.
As the Diablo Anastas had been unstoppable and the Death Eaters had died in droves but every power had a price.
The more Anastas used his power, the more the power needed to be unleashed. Every battle had escalated farther and farther until the surroundings became pure devastation while ally and foe were obliterated indiscriminately by simple accident. Using his powers Anastas was unstoppable but the power he had was too much to control and while it would never harm him, it had not cared a whit for anyone else in the surrounding battlefield. Unfortunately once his power was unleashed he could do nothing but wait until he had exhausted his reserve of magic and towards the end of the War, that could take anywhere from eight to twelve hours.
It was little wonder they had called him the Diablo, he demolished everything in his path with a savage joy that had seemed inhuman. In his desperation to become more powerful than his enemy, he had fallen into a trap he could never escape. He had unearthed power that had awed even his enemy but instead of mastering it, he had become nothing more than an unwitting instrument. The power was linked to sheer animal instinct and to his dismay, it was near impossible to consciously control.
Every time he tapped into it, he was overwhelmed and swept away. Nothing could bring him back until he had expended his powers and until the animal within him was content.
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Hogsmeade, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
10:04 AM
When Evaristo, Alauda and a small army of Focalors arrived at the edge of Hogsmeade, they learned very quickly that they were too late. Power seared the air, making it unseasonably hot and humid. No one had any doubts what was making that power and without speaking, they began running to the Forbidden Forest.
Halfway through the forest, they encountered a group of Professors, led by the Headmaster himself. Evaristo quickly explained the situation while they continued on their way, far more cautious now. It was not unheard of for those with magical creature blood to suddenly come into their Inheritance during harrowing life or death experiences. What made this situation so terrifying was the sheer amount of power Anastas was producing. While his Wizarding bloodline was known to a few and speculated by all, it was very clear that his manifesting Inheritance made matters of his blood purity moot.
Things were going to get very complicated very quickly once the Wizarding media learned of this.
Alauda was beyond worried at this point. When they were within fifty feet of the shining pillar of magic produced by the newest Focalor Hellion, (for now, there could be no doubt that was what he was), she quickly gave instructions to the others. Anastas was in the second stage of Inheritance, that of the Change itself. The magic he was manifesting in a physical form would be used to fuel the Change but until it was properly harnessed, would simply run rampant destroying everything its path. In addition to the widespread destruction, his mind was clouded with instincts and thoughts not entirely his own. Pairing everyone into groups of three, they split up forming a large pentagram around Anastas.
Blue sparks shot in the air, letting her know every group was in place. Drawing in a deep breath, Alauda shot up gold sparks alerting everyone to begin a Containment Charm. Once they started, she steeled her nerves and cautiously made her approach. When she was twenty feet away the forest gave way to pure ash, no doubt destroyed by Anastas’s power. She could see him clearly now. He was standing utterly still, surrounded by crimson waves of pure magic. He was stripped to the waist, his trousers ragged and torn but his body was flawless. To the right, she could see the form of three trembling Wizards, alert and utterly terrified. She sent them a dark look but serenely continued on her way, walking directly to Anastas.
Fifteen feet away from him, she felt the resistance of his magic. It took pure force of will to force her feet to continue, one step in front of the other. The Containment Charm was working but compressing so much magic nearly gave it physical form. When she was five feet away from him, she began casting the Awakening Spell. Focusing all her magic on Anastas, she bit her right index finger and began drawing on his bare chest. It was important that she not only speak the words of the Spell but that she anchor it directly to him. With so much magic in the air, if she didn’t it could be disastrous to anyone within a half mile of him. Finished with the runes, she repeated the words to the Spell once again, reinforcing it as she backed away to a safe distance. When she finished the Spell a second time, she spoke the final word and was blinded by light.
As the pillar of magic converged back into Anastas, the disruption of air sent everything flying back. The air, which had been filled with power earlier now was filled with shrieking as Anastas voiced the pain of his Change. Getting back to her feet, Alauda cleaned the ash off her robes with a muttered spell as she watched. It was impossible to see what was happening as Anastas was surrounded by his magic but she knew that the moment it was finished she would see him for the first time. While she waited, the others had crept forward, the Focalors surrounding her while the others watched clustered in another group.
Minutes passed and when an hour went by the magic surrounding Anastas suddenly dispersed. All they could see was dark red then he moved and they realized those were his wings. Alauda marveled at the color, he was the first she had ever seen to have such a coloring. His wings appeared to be well formed and were more than large enough to shield his entire body. He looked unchanged for the most part, aside from his face and body appearing a little more mature, losing that childhood softness. And then he opened his eyes. The orbs were avian in appearance, larger and rounder but still the color of a storm.
“Anastas?” Evaristo asked, concerned at the vacant look on his son’s face.
Anastas blinked, once twice and then replied. “Finally…complete.”
Evaristo frowned for a moment before realizing what Anastas was referring to. “How do you feel?”
“Better than ever,” Anastas replied as he lazily stretched, moving his body with awe.
Alauda smiled slightly. “I am happy to hear it. I am Madame Alauda Focalor, Matriarch of the Focalor Family and your many times great-grandaunt.”
Anastas studied her for a minute before nearly stumbling over as he attempted to give her a proper bow in greeting. Evaristo caught him carefully and tugged him into a standing position.
“Be careful young tiercel, it will take you some months to become adjusted to your new form.” Alauda chastised with amusement.
“I’m beginning to understand that.” Anastas commented wryly. “Despite my mishap, I would offer you my greetings, Madame. And my thanks; I feared what would happen once it began.”
Alauda nodded simply, “It is something that all Focalors endure at one point or another, it was fortunate your father alerted me to the situation. Had I not delayed to bring the others, we could not have done anything for you until it occurred again.”
Anastas nodded and attempted to cover his mouth as he yawned. “Suddenly, I feel so tired!”
“You will need to rest soon, the Change is very taxing. We will take you to the Aerie so that we may help you adjust to your form and so our Healers may check your health.” Alauda explained as she took hold of his arm and withdrew a Port-key from a pocket in her robe.
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Notes:
(1)- Wikipedia describes a graben as ‘the result of a block of land being downthrown producing a valley with a distinct scarp on each side. Grabens often occur side-by-side with horsts.’ You can find a link to the article on my bio, if you’re curious to see what I’m talking about.
(2)- Tiercel- a falconry term, it’s what a male hawk is called.
Read and Review!
-SheWolfe7
First Posted: Nov 26, 2006
First Revised: Dec 15, 2008
Second Post: Dec 31, 2008
Thanks go out to my Beta Bre, who takes the time to correct all my horrible grammatical mistakes! This story is readable thanks to her.
Text Formatting:
‘Character thoughts’
Emphasis, Article Heading, setting info
Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)
- Parseltongue -
Good Intentions
By: SheWolfe7
Chapter II: Curiosity
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The Slytherin Common Room
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Friday the 13th of September 1974
9:50 PM
Anastas wearily strode into the Common Room, pleased that Nehebkau and the other snakes in the school had been so helpful in sharing the secrets they guarded. Thanks to the knowledge they had given him, he had shaved off ten minutes on his way back to the Dormitory. He was unhappy to find Professor Slughorn in the Common Room. His Head of House made a great deal of fuss over him, much to the amusement and sympathy of his fellow housemates. Being ill humored, Anastas made it as clear as possible, without being outright rude, that he was fine and did not want to talk about what had happened earlier in the day. Curtly apologizing for the worry he had caused with his disappearance, Anastas bid his Head of House a short farewell before stalking off to the doors that lead to the boys’ dorms.
Muttering under his breath, Anastas stomped down the stairs to the dorm he shared with his year-mates. Slipping into the room, he graced Wilkes and Bracken with an acknowledging nod before walking over to his armoire to retrieve a change of clothes and his toiletries. A hot shower would do him wonders at the moment, he had spent the past several hours building up his muscles and quickening his reflexes.
When he finished showering and brushing his teeth and hair, he returned to the dorm and nearly growled when he saw Lucius and Severus loitering on his bed no doubt wanting to talk. Sighing, Anastas calmly put his things away and then turned to face them.
“Yes?”
Lucius appraised him with admiring eyes for several seconds before speaking, “We wanted to know how you are feeling. You left class rather abruptly.”
“I’m fine now, I admit I was a bit taken aback earlier but I’ve come to terms with things so there’s nothing to worry about.” Anastas answered simply.
“I see,” Severus replied studying him with black eyes that seemed to see right through him.
Anastas raised his chin and met the dark eyed stare with a stormy look of his own. “I’ve little doubt the rest of the school is rife with gossip about what happened earlier but I’ll be the first to tell you both to mind your own business. As much as I appreciate having you both as friends, I’m not the sort that takes kindly to pestering about my past or my secrets.”
Lucius nodded, as though Anastas had confirmed something he had long suspected. “Very well, I can respect that. What are your plans tomorrow?”
“I’m thinking of trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch Team but I’m not entirely certain yet. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall are expecting me at one and two o’clock respectively to discuss moving me up a year or giving me weekly supplemental lessons. Then at six o’clock my father is coming to escort me back to Oviedo for a soiree at the Palacio.”
“A soiree? This late in the year?”
Anastas smiled faintly, “I’m told it was arranged because Grandfather was tired of the deluge of inquires that kept arriving. Father said this was supposed to be a pre-emptive strike.”
“Ah, you won’t be fourteen until later in the year?” Lucius asked finally comprehending why they were having a soiree out of season.
“Oh no, I won’t be fourteen until next July! That’s why they’re having an unofficial gathering held in my name now; Grandfather doesn’t want to deal with ten, almost eleven months of inquires about Anterior Courtship Rituals.”
Lucius gaped, “You’re thirteen?!”
Anastas shrugged, “Age is nothing but a number. It can’t tell you how mature a person is in anything but the physical sense and considering how slowly we age, it’s not a barrier in most marriages.”
“So…apt.” murmured Severus, glancing at his two friends with a thoughtful frown.
The soiree was a success and had given his adopted family some reprieve from the deluge of letters requesting the possibilities of accepting Anterior Courtship Ritual requests. Evaristo had already warned him that things would get more and more intense as his birthday neared. It would likely prove to be tediously annoying but considering it would also be yet another way to further his contacts Anastas would deal with it. His father had also divulged that his Grandmother Tiziana and Aunt Isabella had already begun the grand plans for his coming out soiree to be held on his birthday, the twenty-seventh of July.
Anastas had little doubt they were planning to make his soiree the largest and grandest of all the debuting soirees of that Courting Season. The Torres Family prided itself on its prestigious bloodline after all and considering the extra connections his tie as a Lund and a Focalor also brought, it was likely the guest list would span continents. Even Uncle Apolinar had admitted it was likely to be a feeding frenzy but, he had declared with a charming grin and shining eyes, it would be the soiree of the Season!
As Lucius had guessed, the next four days were a flurry of gossip and whispers. Anastas calmly ignored the attention focused on him, preferring not to waste his time answering pointless questions. By Wednesday, Grandfather had made his ill humor known and the speculation about Anastas’s Boggart lesson was abruptly dropped in public. This, Anastas decided, was a lovely benefit of being adopted into the Torres Family. Even though he would be watched, admired and gossiped by all, this time around he would have people willing to watch his back and suppress unpleasant speculation.
Colchester Castle, Wales
Sunday the 15th of September 1974
7:42 PM
It was his favorite time of the day and after a long day of negotiations with the Vampires; he was unsurprised when he noticed Cassius joining him on the battlements. For a few minutes, the two were silent as they watched the splash of colors cast over a nearby lake. Colchester Castle was at the top of a bluff overlooking a stream fed lake to the east and forest to the north and west.
Cassius waited, knowing better than to speak until he was addressed. The Dark Lord had made it very clear that he was never to be disturbed at his residence unless one had urgent news to report. He was given more leeway than the others but he knew that could be changed should he overstep the fine line that had been drawn between the two.
Five minutes later, Voldemort stood up from his seat along the battlement wall. “What has Lucius written?”
Cassius simply handed an envelope to the older wizard and waited. Voldemort read through the two pages of information and the one page of speculation and observations made by the younger Malfoy. Frowning, he pondered the incident over and over as he handed the papers back to Cassius.
“My Lord?” Cassius prompted as fifteen minutes passed in silence.
“Tell Lucius to continue his observation of the Lund-Torres Heir, I will look into this matter in the mean time. I will summon you with further instructions on the matter at a later date,” Voldemort said before striding back to the Castle proper.
Parseltongue was a rare ability, at least to those born in Europe. As he recalled only three Families were known to still carry the ability and none of them were any that the Lund-Torres Heir would have blood ties to. A very intriguing situation…
The Headmaster’s Office
Hogwarts, Scotland
Wednesday the 18th of September 1974
3:02 PM
Dumbledore studied the student sitting across from him speculatively. The Lund-Torres Heir merely glanced at him calmly before taking a sip of his tea, waiting.
There was something about him, Dumbledore mused. He had known some of the most powerful witches and wizards of the last two centuries and was no stranger to the innate confidence with which they carried themselves. Yet there was something more about Anastas Lund-Torres that drew the eye. Oh the boy had the looks and the bloodlines to earn a fair share of positive attention, plus he had charisma that would likely earn him a multitude of sycophants, but he was certain there was more to the boy than his looks and personality.
At times it both irritated and intrigued him, the fact that he could not quite figure out what was so…well, appealing about him! The more cautious side of him was wary of the boy; after all he had a great deal of influence and more than enough power to cause changes. And while Dumbledore did think the Wizarding World needed change, he was worried about how the Lund-Torres heir would bring about said changes.
Both the Focalors and the Torres Families were well known neutralists in that most shady thing called magical theory beliefs. While other pureblooded families might squabble about blood purity and the evils or virtues of Dark magic, neither the Focalors nor the Torres’ stooped so low as to quibble about such things.
In the case of the Torres’ their Family was one of great power and, of even more importance, ancient lineage. They dismissed such ideological squabbles as pointless. Corruption was possible no matter what type of magic was performed after all and even the most steadfast person could be consumed by their own magic.
The Focalors, with their mixed blood and illustrious familial connections, cared not a whit about what was classed as Light or Dark magic. In their eyes, magic was an intrinsic part of every magical being and however one chose to use the magic they were born with was their own business and no one else’s.
Regardless of what sort of magic the members of their Family practiced, both the Focalors and the Torres’, stood rock firm in the convictions believed by their respective family. They worked together to achieve goals and were a deadly force to be reckoned with when someone made an enemy of one member. So perhaps it was little surprise that both Families were almost exclusively taught by tutors.
Schooling taught a training wizard or witch to control and focus their innate magic but only experience could allow them to master their magic fully. Once a wizard or witch mastered their innate magic, one of two things occurred: their journey of magical growth ended in the maturation of their power or they would attempt to unlock the secrets of drawing upon the magic of the world around them.
The latter was the downfall of many a good witch or wizard and it was during that journey that they were corrupted. It was a choice that for some was no choice at all. It was a well documented fact, after all, that power called to power and so, those with the greatest amounts of innate magic found themselves drawn to mastering control of the magic around them. Like a siren song, the impurities in the natural magic of the world would ensnare the newly aware and in the majority of cases, corrupt them beyond repair.
Dumbledore had seen what that corruption could do to those with power and so, he was wisely cautious. After his defeat of Grindlewald, he had realized that the best way to serve the Wizarding world at large was to help its youth discover what lay within themselves. He had offered guidance and truth to those who teetered on the balance of choice and while he could not stop all of them from being corrupted, he at least warned them of what possibilities lay within the sparkling miasma of magic that pulsed from the Earth itself.
“Professor Slughorn has told me that you suffered no lingering effects from your Boggart lesson last week.” Dumbledore said simply.
Anastas shrugged elegantly. “I would admit that I was…taken aback by what I saw but after thinking it over, I have accepted it for what it is. Everyone has a weakness after all, why should I be any different?”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore commented thoughtfully. “I think both of us are well aware of the reason why I have summoned you here and so I shall be frank, are you a Parselmouth or have you encountered one before?”
“I am what I am and who I speak to is no one’s business.” Anastas said simply. “You may believe what you will of me, everyone else does after all. It does not concern me what others might think of me.”
“I see, well you may be on your way then.” Dumbledore said dismissively.
Anastas nodded politely to him and then took his leave.
Dumbledore rose from his chair behind his desk and turned to face his familiar. “He bears watching my friend, as all Torres do. Evaristo is an accomplished diplomat and quite familiar with the political and social games played by the ancient Pureblooded Families, but I wonder what he was thinking when he sent his grandson here? Hogwarts is, without a doubt, one of the finest, general schools in Europe but a child with the bloodline of two very powerful Families such as he, should be schooled behind wards strong enough to withstand a Magical Maelstrom. The Founders were brilliant and Hogwarts has ancient wards but even I do not know if it can withstand a two pronged assault by both the other students and the Lund-Torres heir.”
Fawkes trilled soothingly and Dumbledore took heart. “You are right of course, there is the fail-safe. Although…I do not recall it ever having been activated, I suppose there is a first time for everything.”
The weeks steadily passed by in a flurry of homework and essays. Pranks were pulled, couples came together and some broke up and Quidditch victories were celebrated in grand style. In short, things were progressing in a normal fashion at Hogwarts.
Anastas had quickly adjusted to the school and his peers. Though he had some acquaintances outside of Slytherin House, Lucius and Severus remained his closest friends. In fact, Anastas learned after some time that he actually enjoyed spending time with them. Severus’s dry, sarcastic sense of humor paired with Lucius’s drawling arrogance and witty conversation entertained him greatly. Perhaps it would be possible to reveal his plans but it was far too soon to fully trust them with his life’s goal so Anastas buried his future intentions and adapted to becoming the image he had formulated for himself months ago.
By the night of the Halloween Feast, Anastas was the very picture of a normal pureblooded teenage wizard. The Professors viewed him as an intelligent, well-mannered teenage boy born from a prestigious bloodline and adopted into an even more prestigious family. All were convinced, in one way or another, that Anastas Lund-Torres would be a force to reckon with by the time he graduated from Hogwarts. He was the top student in most of his classes, even in Transfiguration and Charms, which he was now taking with the Fifth Year students.
Among his peers, Anastas had earned the reputation as a smart, charming and talented wizard. Besides being the top student in all his classes, Anastas was also one of the best Seekers the Slytherin Quidditch Team had had in the last decade. Almost every witch at the school had hopes of dating him and even a handful of wizards had taken to gazing at him with speculative eyes. Lucius was less than pleased by the sudden amorous attention directed at his friend but held his tongue, seeing how the younger teen ignored it with polite disinterest.
Tonight the air was filled with anticipation as everyone was looking forward to the magnificent feast the house-elves had prepared. The Hall echoed with laughter and conversation as the students piled into the Hall and took their seats at their respective tables. Looking down at their charges, the Professors watched with kind tolerance the children they taught. Dumbledore shared a smile with his husband as they spoke softly.
Anastas walked between Severus and Lucius, talking animatedly about his Transfiguration lesson earlier that day. “…So then Caitlin starts shrieking when Audrey accidentally turns her Garden snake into half a dozen mice. They start skittering all over the room with the snakes chasing after them, the girls are screaming and McGonagall finally ordered the rest of the boys to try to capture the mice while she tried to get the others to quiet down. By the time we caught all the mice and turned it back into its normal form, there were five minutes left of class and McGonagall just let us all out early.”
Lucius chuckled, silver eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m sure it took all her control not to turn into her Animagus form and catch them all that way!”
“Probably,” Anastas admitted, repressing the urge to laugh. It had taken all his self control not to roll around on the floor laughing at the comments the snakes had been making.
Severus just shook his head at the two as they made their way to their seats at the table. He had barely sat down when Shannon Joyce shoved him over a spot and turned to smile prettily at Anastas. She was a pretty girl, with her dark blond hair and hazel eyes but her attitude left much to be desired. As Draco’s bane had been that pug Parkinson, it appeared that Anastas was doomed to be chased after by the ardent youngest Joyce.
“Sit next to me Anastas!”
Severus glared at the other girl. “Are you so blind you cannot take a hint, Joyce?”
Shannon graced Severus with a haughty look. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Severus.”
“She’s persistent,” Lucius grumbled sulkily.
Anastas sat on the other side of Severus, Lucius quickly taking a seat on his left side preventing any other girls from sitting next to Anastas. “Shannon, how many times am I going to tell you that I’m not interested in you that way?”
“But we’d be perfect for each other!” Shannon protested staring imploringly at him.
“You don’t even know him, Joyce.”
“But I want to know him! I lo-“
Lucius shot her a venomous look that spoke of pain if she finished that sentence. Joyce blinked and then wisely beat a hasty retreat to the far end of the table.
“Utterly mad,” Anastas commented to his friends. “Doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone either!”
“All girls are like that,” Severus agreed, referring to his shrill, step-sister Ophelia.
Lucius filled his glass with Pumpkin juice. “These are the days I relish being the youngest child of two.”
Anastas smirked, “And being the only child is best in that regard, no overbearing older siblings and no pesky younger ones.”
“Perhaps but I find having siblings has its uses, if only so you alone don’t bear the full wrath of your parents’ fury.” Severus said with a slight shudder, his mother was rather terrifying in a rage.
Before either boy could comment, the Headmaster got to his feet and made a few announcements before signaling for the feast to begin. Everyone applauded the magnificent feast that appeared and quite happily filled their plates. In between eating, conversation flowed readily ranging from spell theory to the latest fashions. Anastas enjoyed the innocently happy atmosphere, knowing it would not last much longer.
The Entrance Hall
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
9:07 AM
Anastas watched from his vantage, leaning against the wall opposite the Entrance Doors. “Remind me again, why we agreed to wait here while Lucius went to exchange his cloak?”
“Speaking from experience, even if we had gone with him we’d have only ended up being bored to tears while he preened in front of his mirror. Lucius is almost paranoid about his image, as though someone as handsome as he could look any worse wearing a wardrobe provided by one of the most popular Parisian designers.” Severus sniped, well on his way to being in a foul mood.
Persis Maddox, an olive skinned petite girl in their year, joined them. “Are you still waiting for Lucius?”
“Twenty-four minutes and counting,” Anastas answered after checking his pocket watch.
“You’ll be waiting for a full hour!” Elizabeth Cole warned as she walked past them, arm in arm with Theodore Derricks, who was in the year above theirs.
Rabastan Lestrange emerged from the steps leading down into the dungeons. His girlfriend, Seventh Year Ravenclaw Nadia Summers, walked over and took the arm he offered. He glanced at the waiting fourth years and spoke, “Lucius is on his way, I saw him coming out of the Fourth Year dorms when I left.”
“Finally,” Severus grumbled, idly smoothing creases from the folds of his heavy black velvet robes.
Anastas stepped away from the wall, his azure blue robes settling around his slim frame. “The way he acts, it’s as though he’s always preparing for his Coming of Age soiree, which he’s already had!”
Persis laughed, “Maybe he’s practicing for his Engagement soiree?”
“Or maybe,” Lucius said coldly as he joined them, “I care more for my appearance than you do of yours, Persis.”
“Are you implying I’m some la-“
Anastas quickly broke up the heating argument. “That’s enough, honestly. We’ve wasted enough time, shall we go before the Hogsmeade Visit is completely over with?”
Persis huffed and stormed away, joining a pair of third year Slytherins. Severus just sighed as he headed to the Entrance Doors, Lucius and Anastas falling into step alongside him.
The Wind Temple
Focalor Aerie Grounds, France
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
9:42 AM
It was late in the morning when Alauda made her usual offerings at the Wind Temple. Both the Wind Temple and Focalor Aerie had been constructed at the same time. The Aerie was made of gray stone, allowing it to blend into the surrounding terrain while the Temple was constructed of glistening white stone. Previous Focalors had designed both buildings to be tall, beautiful and intimidating. Built on a Graben fault block of a range of fault-block mountains, the buildings mimicked the steady upward incline of the jagged, pristine mountains in the backdrop (1).
The Wind Temple was a massive octagonal building that rose six stories in the air. Each level was equipped with four balconies for a swift entrance for those who expressed their Veela or Harpy inheritance. Unlike most Wizarding Families, the Focalors did not bury their dead and instead cremated them. The ashes of their ancestors were stored here in the Wind Temple where they would be safe from the unscrupulous and honored by their descendants. Light was provided by the glass doors of the balconies and the huge dome on the rooftop.
Alauda, like all the previous Focalor Matriarchs, lit the ceremonial incense at the central altar on the first floor. Once the incense was lit, she opened the small leather satchel she brought with her and took out the beeswax candles. Setting them on the metal trays built onto the altar, she lit them one by one, murmuring the traditional venerations to the Matriarchs that had come before her. Finished with her ceremonial duties, Alauda set a single yellow rose on the altar and began her morning exercise.
Every morning after breakfast she would place the offerings at the Wind Temple’s altar and then spend an hour walking along the halls of the Temple. It was the duty of every Matriarch to open the Wind Temple and place the offerings at the altar. The walk was a tradition that her grandmother had added to Temple tradition.
Cinnyris Focalor had been a tall blond woman, more Harpy than Witch and had been the terror of the Family. None of the Focalors had dared to disobey Cinnyris and with her formidable attitude, she had brought the Focalor Family into the greatest heights of power. One of the most undeniably beautiful women in France, Cinnyris was also one of the most cunning. Using her marriage to Quillon Frontenac as a stepping stone, she had introduced the rest of the Focalor Family to the Wizarding Haute Monde (high society). Prior to Cinnyris’s daring move, the Focalors had been feted in western Europe for centuries but introduction into the Haute Monde was often difficult, even for old Pureblooded families like theirs.
Even though several European Families could boast of their two or three thousand year or older pure blood, many could not hope to compete with their Middle-Eastern, Asian or even African counterparts. At least half a dozen Middle-Eastern Pureblood Families could claim four thousand year old blood, four African Pureblood Families claimed six and a half thousand year old blood and in Asia there were nearly three or more dozen Families that claimed to have blood just as old or even older in some cases. Entry into the Haute Monde was beyond difficult to those not already apart of it but Cinnyris had not been the least bit afraid and had brought the Focalors with her.
Nearly a hundred and forty years later, the Focalors were firmly entrenched in the Haute Monde. While they may not have the purest blood, due to their intermarriage with the Veela and Harpies, they did have the advantage of diverse magical blood and their looks. Cinnyris had known from the very beginning that the Focalors would be in demand. The infusion of strong magic donated by Focalor witches was often used to combat the weakening blood of even the oldest Pureblood Families. Now it was little surprise that each Focalor debutante had received at least a dozen offers of marriage before they accepted a proposal. This train of thought, however, brought Alauda back to her source of turmoil. It was true that the Focalor witches were fought over in the Haute Monde but the only Focalor Hellion to be introduced at the Haute Monde had, to put it lightly, caused a sensation.
Harpagus Focalor, Alauda’s only uncle, was the current Focalor Hellion. He was a Veela and in his youth he had been capable of ensnaring the attention of an entire room, regardless of sexual orientation. It had taken him eleven years before he had found a compatible mate and each and every soiree hosted by the Haute Monde had resulted in at least one brawl and numerous heated arguments. It seemed that the Focalor Hellions were even more powerful than the average Veela or Harpy and the courtship of each was memorable.
Even if the Focalors never acknowledged him, as the grandson of Estavan Torres, Anastas Lund-Torres would have a gold embossed invitation waiting to be opened on his fourteenth birthday. If he was truly the next Focalor Hellion, the Haute Monde was in for a rude awakening.
Tradition dictated that once a Focalor was disowned, they and their descendants would never be acknowledged by the Family again. Yet, this was a very unusual situation. It would be lunacy to allow an untaught Focalor Hellion to run loose in the Wizarding World. And then there was the Sovereign Prince. If the Focalors slighted his grandson there would be bad blood between their Families for a great number of years. In addition to that, the Spanish Families would not dare to interact with the Focalors, for fear of angering the Sovereign Prince.
The choice was obvious to Alauda and had been even without analyzing the possible social repercussions. Columbe may have been little better than a Squib at wizardry but he had been her baby brother. Taking his great-grandson under her wing was the least she could do for him.
Having finished her morning exercise Alauda stopped at the altar to light another candle, the first for her brother since he had been disowned by their mother. She watched it burn for a few minutes, contemplating how things would have turned out if their mother hadn’t been temporarily in charge of the Family when her grandmother had been away visiting Aunt Athene. As she turned around fully intending to return to the Aerie, the doors to the Temple were thrown open and a frantic Evaristo Torres burst in.
“You have to come with me right now! Anastas will need you!” Evaristo said as he ran over to her.
Alauda tensed up, “What is wrong?”
“The Change…it’s going to happen today in exactly eighteen minutes and it is going to be the result of an attack on my son! We have to hurry; he’s in Hogsmeade right now!” Evaristo said as he grabbed Alauda’s arm and started pulling her towards the Temple doors.
Hogsmeade, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
9:57 AM
Anastas was the first to notice that they were being followed.
Having spent a number of years playing life and death games with Death Eaters, he had a natural instinct for knowing when he was being followed or being watched. At the moment, he was certain of two things, the first, that there were at least three following them and secondly, that there were more observing. The question to ask now of course, was why he was being followed.
Glancing at his companions, he noted that both were oblivious to the situation they were now in. Not entirely unexpected, this was a time of peace after all and he knew that it was quite irregular for anyone to be attacked, especially in broad daylight. What to do?
Anastas stopped in his tracks, “I can’t believe I forgot! I’m supposed to meet Father in fifteen minutes! I’ll see you both later.”
Before his friends could even turn around to ask why he was meeting his father, Anastas had already taken off moving at a brisk trot. Having gotten away from his friends, he left Hogsmeade behind and was almost to the wall that circled around the grounds of Hogwarts when his stalkers revealed themselves. Dodging the Stunner, Anastas reached into his robes, drawing both a throwing dagger and his wand.
“Well it’s good to know my instincts are as fine as ever,” Anastas commented, coolly looking over the six scruffy looking wizards facing him. “What pray tell, do you want with me?”
“Ransom,” One of the men answered as they drew closer to him. “You’re worth millions!”
Anastas snorted, “I see. Well, I can’t say I’m going to go along with your plot to steal my millions so let’s get to it shall we?”
“Stupid boy,” one of the wizards commented before sending a Cutting Hex at him.
Anastas grinned as he dodged the hex, his dagger burying itself in the throat of one of the six wizards. “Don’t underestimate me gentlemen, you’ll regret it. Then again, maybe you already do.”
“You’ll be sorry you killed Langdon!”
“Too much talk and not enough action,” Anastas commented as he made a mad dash through the opened gates and raced to the Forbidden Forest. Behind him his would-be kidnappers gave chase, cursing as they dodged a charge made by the gate’s stone guardians. Shedding his all too bright and identifiable robe, Anastas dodged around the trees transfiguring a few rotten logs into some panthers. When the kidnappers caught up, two died instantly as the big cats jumped down from the trees, tearing out their throats with little effort. He was barely aware of the remaining kidnappers destroying his transfigured panthers.
Adrenaline was pumping through his system and his body along with his mind had fallen into purely combat instincts. The world had completely narrowed down to his attackers and himself. Nothing else existed and nothing else mattered.
Joy coursed through his body. Initially he had hated fighting but over time he had learned to enjoy it, to thrill in the life and death struggle. Of course, that too had happened after he had found the damned book. It had done far more than enhance his powers, it had woken dormant powers and abilities that had lay sleeping inside of him. The Wizarding world had begun calling him the Diablo soon after and had feared what he had become.
Idly, Anastas wondered what he looked like now. Before when his powers had just begun to blossom he had been a terror to behold, surrounded in a Demonic aura as some had called it. To him, it did not matter what he had looked like, all that mattered was the power at his disposal. Using the full power available to him made his reactions even more swift and decisive, on top of nearly tripling his regular output of magic.
As the Diablo Anastas had been unstoppable and the Death Eaters had died in droves but every power had a price.
The more Anastas used his power, the more the power needed to be unleashed. Every battle had escalated farther and farther until the surroundings became pure devastation while ally and foe were obliterated indiscriminately by simple accident. Using his powers Anastas was unstoppable but the power he had was too much to control and while it would never harm him, it had not cared a whit for anyone else in the surrounding battlefield. Unfortunately once his power was unleashed he could do nothing but wait until he had exhausted his reserve of magic and towards the end of the War, that could take anywhere from eight to twelve hours.
It was little wonder they had called him the Diablo, he demolished everything in his path with a savage joy that had seemed inhuman. In his desperation to become more powerful than his enemy, he had fallen into a trap he could never escape. He had unearthed power that had awed even his enemy but instead of mastering it, he had become nothing more than an unwitting instrument. The power was linked to sheer animal instinct and to his dismay, it was near impossible to consciously control.
Every time he tapped into it, he was overwhelmed and swept away. Nothing could bring him back until he had expended his powers and until the animal within him was content.
Hogsmeade, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
10:04 AM
When Evaristo, Alauda and a small army of Focalors arrived at the edge of Hogsmeade, they learned very quickly that they were too late. Power seared the air, making it unseasonably hot and humid. No one had any doubts what was making that power and without speaking, they began running to the Forbidden Forest.
Halfway through the forest, they encountered a group of Professors, led by the Headmaster himself. Evaristo quickly explained the situation while they continued on their way, far more cautious now. It was not unheard of for those with magical creature blood to suddenly come into their Inheritance during harrowing life or death experiences. What made this situation so terrifying was the sheer amount of power Anastas was producing. While his Wizarding bloodline was known to a few and speculated by all, it was very clear that his manifesting Inheritance made matters of his blood purity moot.
Things were going to get very complicated very quickly once the Wizarding media learned of this.
Alauda was beyond worried at this point. When they were within fifty feet of the shining pillar of magic produced by the newest Focalor Hellion, (for now, there could be no doubt that was what he was), she quickly gave instructions to the others. Anastas was in the second stage of Inheritance, that of the Change itself. The magic he was manifesting in a physical form would be used to fuel the Change but until it was properly harnessed, would simply run rampant destroying everything its path. In addition to the widespread destruction, his mind was clouded with instincts and thoughts not entirely his own. Pairing everyone into groups of three, they split up forming a large pentagram around Anastas.
Blue sparks shot in the air, letting her know every group was in place. Drawing in a deep breath, Alauda shot up gold sparks alerting everyone to begin a Containment Charm. Once they started, she steeled her nerves and cautiously made her approach. When she was twenty feet away the forest gave way to pure ash, no doubt destroyed by Anastas’s power. She could see him clearly now. He was standing utterly still, surrounded by crimson waves of pure magic. He was stripped to the waist, his trousers ragged and torn but his body was flawless. To the right, she could see the form of three trembling Wizards, alert and utterly terrified. She sent them a dark look but serenely continued on her way, walking directly to Anastas.
Fifteen feet away from him, she felt the resistance of his magic. It took pure force of will to force her feet to continue, one step in front of the other. The Containment Charm was working but compressing so much magic nearly gave it physical form. When she was five feet away from him, she began casting the Awakening Spell. Focusing all her magic on Anastas, she bit her right index finger and began drawing on his bare chest. It was important that she not only speak the words of the Spell but that she anchor it directly to him. With so much magic in the air, if she didn’t it could be disastrous to anyone within a half mile of him. Finished with the runes, she repeated the words to the Spell once again, reinforcing it as she backed away to a safe distance. When she finished the Spell a second time, she spoke the final word and was blinded by light.
As the pillar of magic converged back into Anastas, the disruption of air sent everything flying back. The air, which had been filled with power earlier now was filled with shrieking as Anastas voiced the pain of his Change. Getting back to her feet, Alauda cleaned the ash off her robes with a muttered spell as she watched. It was impossible to see what was happening as Anastas was surrounded by his magic but she knew that the moment it was finished she would see him for the first time. While she waited, the others had crept forward, the Focalors surrounding her while the others watched clustered in another group.
Minutes passed and when an hour went by the magic surrounding Anastas suddenly dispersed. All they could see was dark red then he moved and they realized those were his wings. Alauda marveled at the color, he was the first she had ever seen to have such a coloring. His wings appeared to be well formed and were more than large enough to shield his entire body. He looked unchanged for the most part, aside from his face and body appearing a little more mature, losing that childhood softness. And then he opened his eyes. The orbs were avian in appearance, larger and rounder but still the color of a storm.
“Anastas?” Evaristo asked, concerned at the vacant look on his son’s face.
Anastas blinked, once twice and then replied. “Finally…complete.”
Evaristo frowned for a moment before realizing what Anastas was referring to. “How do you feel?”
“Better than ever,” Anastas replied as he lazily stretched, moving his body with awe.
Alauda smiled slightly. “I am happy to hear it. I am Madame Alauda Focalor, Matriarch of the Focalor Family and your many times great-grandaunt.”
Anastas studied her for a minute before nearly stumbling over as he attempted to give her a proper bow in greeting. Evaristo caught him carefully and tugged him into a standing position.
“Be careful young tiercel, it will take you some months to become adjusted to your new form.” Alauda chastised with amusement.
“I’m beginning to understand that.” Anastas commented wryly. “Despite my mishap, I would offer you my greetings, Madame. And my thanks; I feared what would happen once it began.”
Alauda nodded simply, “It is something that all Focalors endure at one point or another, it was fortunate your father alerted me to the situation. Had I not delayed to bring the others, we could not have done anything for you until it occurred again.”
Anastas nodded and attempted to cover his mouth as he yawned. “Suddenly, I feel so tired!”
“You will need to rest soon, the Change is very taxing. We will take you to the Aerie so that we may help you adjust to your form and so our Healers may check your health.” Alauda explained as she took hold of his arm and withdrew a Port-key from a pocket in her robe.
Notes:
(1)- Wikipedia describes a graben as ‘the result of a block of land being downthrown producing a valley with a distinct scarp on each side. Grabens often occur side-by-side with horsts.’ You can find a link to the article on my bio, if you’re curious to see what I’m talking about.
(2)- Tiercel- a falconry term, it’s what a male hawk is called.
Read and Review!
-SheWolfe7
First Posted: Nov 26, 2006
First Revised: Dec 15, 2008
Second Post: Dec 31, 2008