Good Intentions

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 III: Celebration I

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The Tapestry Room
St. Nestor’s Archive of Magic, Athens, Greece
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
12:22 PM


Voldemort had spent over a month researching and so far he had nothing to show for his efforts, a fact which only increased his curiosity about the Lund-Torres heir. The Tapestry Room at St. Nestor’s Archive was considered to have the most accurate and extensive collection of Family Tapestries. Of course, because it housed such potentially dangerous information, only certain people were allowed within the room and each of them were only given access to specific tapestries. It was fortunate he had a contact that worked at the Archive and even more convenient that said contact was a night guard.

As Voldemort himself was the last Slytherin descendant, it narrowed down his search to the Batsuro and Simon Families. It had taken him two weeks to check the Batsuro tapestry and nine days to check the Simon tapestry and both had ended with no Lund, Torres or Focalor connections. Another week was spent duplicating both tapestries and then reversing the charm that prevented the descendants of Squibs from appearing on the tapestry. More time was then spent pouring over the tapestries and again, he had found no blood connections between any of the Families. Irritated, he made a copy of the Slytherin tapestry and traced all the Squib descendants which had led to a few interesting discoveries but no connections to the Lund-Torres heir.

Frustrated beyond belief, he had returned to the Tapestry Room again, this time during normal hours of operation. Disguised as a scholar, he had been given a pass to browse the tapestries of all the defunct Pureblooded Families. He had noted a few interesting connections to deceased Families and at this point, he had little to lose. Just as he sat down at a work table, alarms began blaring throughout the building.

What in the world was going on?

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The Infirmary
Focalor Aerie, France
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
11:03 AM


Evaristo calmly sipped his tea while the Focalor Healers sped in and out of the examination room. When they had arrived forty minutes ago, Anastas had been guided to an examination room to undergo tests to determine his magical creature heritage and to determine how well the Change itself had gone. Alauda had briskly ordered the small army of Focalors to begin the tests while she ushered him to a small sitting area in the corner of the Infirmary. A tea service had been sent for along with a stack of reading material and then she had vanished into the examination room.

He had not been idle. The minute the doors had closed, he had taken out his pocket watch and twisted the face off, revealing a small enchanted mirror. After he finished explaining what had happened Estavan and Apolinar had abruptly ended the communication, no doubt on their way to begin damage control. Evaristo didn’t envy them that. With the amount of power his son had displayed, there would be no way to stifle what had occurred today. The best either could do now was put a stop to the rumors that would be sure to spread and insure that the would-be kidnappers were dealt with appropriately.

Frowning slightly, Evaristo set his teacup down. While it was true that ransoming Anastas would have gained the ruffians several million Galleons, what had possessed them to make the attempted kidnapping? It simply did not make sense! Was the money worth earning the wrath of not only the Torres Family but the added fury of Wizarding Asturias and possibly Wizarding Spain? And since the Focalors had decided to acknowledge Anastas, the survivors would now face the righteous vengeance of not only the French Family but also the Veela and Harpy communities as well.

Evaristo highly doubted that Voldemort was behind this plot. Considering the way the Dark Lord was keeping a low profile, it was not a mission he would have assigned his minions. Admittedly, it could be a plot from a political or social rival but it would have been too extreme. Had the kidnapping been successful, it would almost certainly upset the political and social circles of Spain, as well as the political and economic circles in Sweden.

When the news of the failed kidnapping spread, Evaristo was certain that he would personally receive a visit from several Swedish Ministry Officials and several upstanding Swedish businessmen. It wasn’t a widely known fact outside of Sweden but two of the Lund properties had large deposits of Adamantine and one property located along the Sweden-Norway border was a known breeding ground for Norwegian Ridgeback Dragons. Negotiations had been postponed until Christmas holiday so that Anastas could meet his future business partners but several businessmen and the Swedish Ministry stood to make a fortune if the negotiations went well. So the likelihood of any Swede being behind this plot was slim to none.

Despite their royal pedigree and princely mannerisms, no Family was as vengeful or as ruthless as the Torres Family could be when provoked. Regardless of who was the mastermind behind the attempted kidnapping, the Torres Family would not rest until they found and annihilated that audacious fool.

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While his father brooded outside his room, Anastas was being poked, prodded and studied by a dozen strangers, all of whom were asking him questions or talking at the same exact time.

“Which eye chart is easier for you to read, the chart on the wall here or the chart on the far wall over there?”

“…look at the shape of these primary feathers! I’ve never seen anyone with feathers like these!”

“I’m going to put this breathing mask on you and have you breathe in a mist. This will help us determine how much your oxygen capacity has changed.”

“…think this wing shape falls in between the elliptical-high speed shape or the high speed-soaring shape?”

He wasn’t sure how long they had been examining him but he was extremely tired. Was it too much to hope they would let him rest soon? Unfortunately it seemed that he would not be allowed any peace until they determined whether he had manifested Veela or Harpy traits. Sighing slightly, he resigned himself to being examined.

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It was a little after noon when Apolinar was shown into the Infirmary by a house elf. Evaristo met his brother halfway, curious to see how things had gone.

“Everything has been taken care of,” Apolinar replied before Evaristo could ask any questions. “How is your son?”

“Still being examined with great interest, I would venture to say.” Evaristo commented with vague amusement.

Apolinar nodded. “Father should be here within the hour. Just as we were leaving the Palacio, the Head of the Swedish Department of Trade appeared, looking very worried. Father sent me ahead and will join us after he has assured Mr. Ingesson of Anastas’s health.”

“The news has spread that fast already?”

“His Change was classified as a level three Maelstrom before a surveillance team was sent and saw that it wasn’t a Maelstrom at all! Until the matter was clarified, half of northern Europe was on alert for a Magical Maelstrom! Can you believe it?” Apolinar exclaimed, eyes sparkling with mirth.

Evaristo glanced around the room and stepped closer, not wanting anyone to overhear. “I think…if I hadn’t had that vision, it would have turned into a Maelstrom. By the time we had reached him, his magic had formed into a semi-solid pillar. Another hour at most and it would have begun to magnetize and after that…”

Apolinar’s eyes widened, “You really think…?”

“I do.”

The two stared at each other, communicating wordlessly for a minute before both looked away.

“Alea iacta est,” Apolinar murmured simply, summing up the situation. (1)

Evaristo did not reply as he walked back to the table he had been seated at.

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“Well?”

Harpagus smiled at his impatient niece. “He is most certainly not a Veela, my dear. I would suggest you get in contact with Odysseus.”

Alauda sighed, “I suppose it was too much to hope that he would be a Veela. He has Columbe’s luck Uncle Harpagus, should I fear for the Family?”

“It will be a trying time no doubt but I think that we could do well with some change.”

“Perhaps, will you join me? I should inform his father now that we have confirmation of his heritage.”

Harpagus chuckled, his dark blue eyes dancing in mirth. “I would be honored to offer you my arm and support.”

Alauda placed her hand on her uncle’s arm and allowed the older man to steer them out of the private room that Anastas had been moved to. The boy had fallen asleep immediately after he had been allowed to rest. Privately, Alauda worried about his well-being. He had endured a number of abrupt changes already and wistful thinking made her hope that his sudden Inheritance would not add to his stress.

“How is my son?” Evaristo asked, once Alauda had gotten within calling distance.

“He is sleeping. There have been no ill effects from his Change and he should wake sometime tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.” Alauda replied smoothly.

Apolinar got to his feet, “I am pleased to hear it, madam. I am Apolinar Torres.”

Alauda nodded politely. “Welcome to Focalor Aerie, Hereditary Prince. I am Alauda Focalor, the Matriarch of the Focalor Family and this is my Uncle Harpagus Focalor, he is a Veela.”

While the three exchanged greetings, and in Evaristo’s case introductions, Alauda contemplated how to break the news.

“Have you determined my son’s Inheritance?”

Alauda cleared her throat. “After a through examination, we have determined that he is a Harpy. Unfortunately, there have been no Focalor Harpies within the last seventy or so years. I will contact Odysseus Gravari immediately as our Families are aligned, I am certain he would be happy to instruct your son on adapting to his Inheritance.”

“I see, you have my thanks.” Evaristo replied, politely.

“Think nothing of it, Anastas is Family after all.” Harpagus gently chided.

Alauda nodded, “Yes he is. Now if you would excuse me gentlemen, I will Floo Odysseus while Uncle Harpagus speaks with you of other matters.”

The older man smiled, “Let’s sit, I have much to explain about the…situation. I do not know how much you know about the Focalor Family but I am certain there are things you might have already inferred. We are a Matrilineal Family, something which came about due to the wide gap in power between the females and males born of the Family. In the Haute Monde, this fact is well known and has proven to be advantageous to all. As one might expect, it is not rare that a Focalor should come into a Veela or Harpy Inheritance. Statistically, the odds of coming into Inheritance are higher in the women of the Family but there is one particular exception, which is of great importance and secrecy. Every seventh to ninth generation a male Focalor comes into a Veela or Harpy Inheritance and these males are known as Focalor Hellions. They earned this moniker due to their rare births and the purity of their Inheritance. All Focalor Hellions have twice and, on occasion, three times the magical power and reserves of an average Wizard.”

The connection was obvious and in Evaristo’s case, even more clear as he knew more about his son’s past than anyone else.

“You believe my nephew is a Focalor Hellion.” Apolinar stated simply.

Harpagus looked them both in the eye. “There is no doubt in my mind. I too, am a Focalor Hellion after all.”

Evaristo nodded, understanding. “I see. Have there ever been two Hellions alive at the same time?”

“It has happened only once before. I’m sure you noted the number of examiners in your son’s room. This is the first occasion we have ever witnessed that a Hellion is born so…prematurely for better lack of a word. I was born nine generations after the last Hellion and records indicate the earliest Hellion was born six generations after the Hellion that came before him. That your son should be born a mere four generations after my birth is quite the mystery. Our scholars have studied the Hellion phenomenon extensively and have yet to find many ways to determine the likelihood of who may become a Hellion. Of a surety, they must have a Focalor ancestor and be of pure magical bloodlines but aside from those two prerequisites, the possibilities are seemingly endless.”

“How intriguing,” Apolinar commented thoughtfully while Evaristo kept his silence.

Harpagus inwardly frowned, it was clear to him that the young tiercel’s father knew something about why it was possible but he knew that it was very unlikely that the other would say anything yet. He could only hope that after a time, the father or the son would come forward with the information.

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Holding Cells
Department of Magical Law Enforcement, British Ministry of Magic, London UK
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
1:02 PM


To say that the British Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in a state of chaos would be putting it too lightly.

It had begun normally enough, being on duty over the weekend was usually dull and tedious but then all Hades had broken loose. What would have been a dull day of filling out mind-numbing paperwork and going on long patrols had turned into a fiasco.

First the alarms had gone off, alerting everyone of a developing Maelstrom which had caused controlled panic. Investigation teams had been deployed immediately and then the second surprise of the day had made itself known. There was no developing Maelstrom at all, only the attempted kidnapping and resulting Inheritance of one Anastas Lund-Torres, the Wizarding World’s newest eligible bachelor-- despite being underage.

Aurors had to be sent out in force to secure the site and take the attempted kidnappers into custody while others were sent to reassure the frightened students on Hogsmeade visit and the equally nervous villagers. By the time everything had been returned to normal, the paperwork that had been generated within that two hour window that had to be at least two feet high.

The quills hadn’t even been inked yet when Madam Bones had arrived, snapping out orders like a general and sending everyone scrambling. Security in the holding cells was to be increased dramatically and the more pertinent of the paperwork from the attempted kidnapping were to be finished a quarter to one o’clock or heads would roll. Those unlucky enough to be assigned to fill out said paperwork could only wonder at the odd demand.

However when a group of wizards dressed in the azure and amber robes of the Asturian Royal Guard arrived, any lingering questions were swiftly answered. The Wizard at the front of the group looked as though he was in the throes of cold fury. His hazel eyes looked like molten gold, his body was stiff with anger and his hand clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the massive sword belted to his waist.

“Where is Madam Bones?” The man snapped, his voice cutting like steel.

One of the senior Aurors stood up. “Madam Bones is in a conference with Mr. Scrimgeour, the Head of the Aurors. I will retrieve her post-haste, if I may be so bold as to ask who requests her presence?”

“I am Silvio Torres, Warlord-Prince of Asturias and I have come for the prisoners. Minister Bagnold has already agreed to extradite the prisoners to Asturias and I was commanded by Sovereign Prince Estavan to retrieve and deliver the prisoners to the Royal Prison in Oviedo.”

Robards froze for a moment. “Er, I will be on my way to alert her to your arrival then, Warlord-Prince.”

Silvio gestured curtly for the other to get moving. “If you would; there are other matters that require my attention.”

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Staff Room
Hogwarts, Scotland
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
1:08 PM


“The last of the tests have been completed. No harm was done to the wards, if anything they have been bolstered rather than damaged.” Dumbledore explained at length to the tense teaching staff.

Professor McGonagall gaped, “Headmaster…how is it possible that the wards weren’t damaged? You saw what the…display did to the grounds!”

“I have thought carefully on the matter and have come to the conclusion that the wards absorbed a fair amount of the magic Mr. Lund-Torres was manifesting. Under normal circumstances, the wards would have contained the magic opposed to absorbing it but Mr. Lund-Torres appeared to be spreading his magic outwards. It is my belief that if precautions were not taken by the Focalor Matriarch, his magic would have begun to pull magic from all nearby sources. Without a focus the Change would never have taken place and the magic would have had to find an outlet, which would have likely led to the complete destruction of the Forbidden Forest and possibly Hogwarts or Hogsmeade.”

“Is it wise to allow the Lund-Torres Heir to return to Hogwarts then?” Professor Sinistra asked nervously.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “The wards are the strongest they have ever been, from what I can tell and what the other Headmasters have told me. I believe that there is little danger in allowing him to return once he has adjusted to his new Inheritance. Personally, Mr. Lund-Torres has such a rigid control of himself that I do not believe he would prove to be a danger to the students.”

“Headmaster, do you know what Inheritance he came into?” Professor Osborne asked curiously.

“I cannot say for certain. His coloring would suggest a Veela Inheritance but his wings were the color of rust and that trait is not common for Veela or Harpy. It is possible that he could be a successful cross-breed, that is not unheard of, if extremely rare. More so than the Inheritance I would think. In short, we will know when Sovereign Prince Estavan makes an official announcement. Regardless, things have gotten very complex.”

Professor Slughorn chortled. “Oh, I cannot wait to see what the Haute Monde makes of this!”

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Colchester Castle, Wales
Saturday the 2nd of November 1974
1:15 PM


Cassius finished his report and watched as Voldemort paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, expressionless. Half of northern Wizarding Europe had been on the alert of a level three Maelstrom and though it had later been called a misreading, very few people knew what exactly had occurred. Not ten minutes after the strange pillar of glowing light that could be seen from both Hogwarts and Hogsmeade had faded; Asturias’ Sovereign Prince and Hereditary Prince had stormed onto the scene and began stifling news of what had taken place. Cassius himself had only learned about what had truly happened because several of his acquaintances at the Ministry had had to cancel their lunch meeting due to the situation. Once he had learned the full truth of what had occurred, he had contacted his Lord and arranged to meet the older wizard at his stronghold to give his report.

The entire situation had now changed due to this development. It went without saying that the Lund-Torres heir must be brought into their ranks at any and all costs. Before it would have been possible to do without the power and influence he would wield but now, as the stakes had increased, failure to win him to their cause could be fatal.

It was beyond rare for magical creature blood to fully manifest in a wizard or witch, as wizarding magic often conflicted with creature magic. Minor manifestations were well documented and could often be found in the majority of Pureblood Families. For the Lund-Torres heir to fully manifest a magical creature inheritance, it meant that his magics were both complementary and that he had enough magical reserves within his core to fully support both.

Now the only question was what creature blood he had manifested. The Lunds had the faintest trace of Elven blood, while the Focalors had both Veela and Harpy blood and if the Torres Family carried any magical creature blood, it was well hidden.

Voldemort came to a halt and turned to face Cassius. “I think… I should like to meet the Lund-Torres heir for myself. See to it that he receives an invitation to the Malfoy festivities this Christmas.”

“Of course,” Cassius replied slowly, wondering what exactly the cunning wizard had planned.

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Workroom Notus I
Focalor Aerie, France
Sunday the 3rd of November 1974
9:57 AM


On the edge of sleep and consciousness, Anastas became aware of that presence that had haunted him, waking or sleeping. The only good thing about Azkaban was that it had weakened the visitations to short chats every once in a while opposed to the nightly brushes with temptation that he had been exposed to when he had been free. He had hoped that the dimension hopping had gotten rid of the presence totally but it had been a fool’s dream.

- You look so unhappy to see me brother! Haven’t you missed me at all? -

Anastas grimaced as the harsh voice. “Must you call me that? And no, I haven’t missed you at all as you very well know. I would happily destroy you if I knew how.”

Brittle laughter surrounded him as the other spoke. - He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. (2) All power comes with a price Diablo and my presence is the price you pay for the power you now wield. -

“Would that I could take back that foolishness on my part.”

- I would have had you sooner or later my beloved brother! Power calls to power and you could not have resisted me for long. Struggle all you like, all it does is tire you and draw us closer and closer together. -

Anastas shuddered as an icy phantom touch caressed his cheek.

- Someday you will yield yourself to the inevitable and then, we will truly be unstoppable! No one will stand against us and we will be whole, as it was meant to be. That is why I am patient beloved brother; I have all of eternity to wait. -

Jerking out of reach from that the icy touch, Anastas trembled. “I won’t do it! I won’t give into you! I won’t forsake myself.”

Mocking laughter poured over him. - Ah but you already have… -

Awareness came in a dizzying rush of feathers, cloth and cold, stone floor. Stumbling to his knees, Anastas shakily ran his hands through his sweaty hair as his breathing slowed back to normal. He despised those conversations as much as he feared them. Desperation had driven him into the arms of that creature once and he worried that another brush with desperation might drive him back to the source of his power. Back to that all too tempting offer and all it would cost him was to allow that creature into him. A small price some might say, but it was not a price he was willing to pay. Not yet and hopefully, never.

Calmed as well as could be expected, Anastas worked up enough energy to examine his surroundings. He was in a dark, sparsely furnished room. The walls gleamed with a variety of runes, all of which served to siphon magic. It didn’t take very long to put one and one together. The Focalors were no one’s fools and wisely had him placed in a room that could siphon his power if he lost control, which was a likely scenario. After all, he’d leveled more than sixty Maelstroms in the world he had left behind. They didn’t call him the Diablo without reason, after all.

“Ah, you’re awake finally! We were beginning to wonder how much the Change had taken out of you.” An unfamiliar voice called out.

Anastas turned around and peered in the dim light. Standing in the doorway to his room was a gold haired man, dressed in dark gray trousers and a dark blue silk shirt. The shirt clung to his body, subtly emphasizing the muscular torso that was a must for all Harpies, or so he’d overheard from his examiners. The stranger looked to be in his mid-thirties and had a tanned, chiseled face. The way he stood spoke of self-assurance and his black avian eyes observed Anastas shrewdly.

“I am Odysseus Gravari and I will be your mentor for the foreseeable future. I hope you are as diligent as I have been told; you will need all the mental strength that you can muster to control your new instincts. All Harpies possess a terrible temper and more importantly, we have a natural fixation for justice and fairness, it’s an instinctive drive that has gotten a few of us into some difficult situations. There’s a reason, after all, why no one makes an enemy of a Harpy.”

“I trust this training also includes a way to hide my wings?” Anastas asked, gesturing over his shoulder at his unwieldy red wings.

“Oh you’ll do much more than just hide those wings; you’ll learn to fly with them! You are just unlucky enough to need to learn during the winter but I imagine the cold winds and treacherous weather will make you learn quickly and properly.” Odysseus grinned, wickedly. “I see you’ve already managed to destroy your bed but that was expected. Put these rings on and then we can leave. Until I tell you otherwise, you won’t go anywhere without them so get used to it.”

Anastas sighed; it was going to be a long day.

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Fourth Year Slytherin Boys Dorm
Hogwarts, Scotland
Sunday the 3rd of November 1974
10:30 AM


Lucius was annoyed, because for the past day, all anyone could manage to talk about was that strange pillar of magic coming from the Forbidden Forest. Students from all the houses had gossiped, exchanging stories and rumors but none of them were close to the truth. If definitely wasn’t a Maelstrom, despite the alarms going off. There was simply, no way that a pillar of magic could turn into a Maelstrom and he knew of no natural magical phenomenon taking that shape.

Anastas had yet to return from meeting his father and while it was not unheard of for a student to return home on the weekend to attend important family functions, it was a little suspicious that he had yet to return. Yet it seemed a little extreme to say that his friend was involved in the incident. Clever and skilled, he would not put it past Anastas to be able to pull something of that caliber off but the younger boy did not actively seek attention. If Anastas was involved, it meant he had been in a less than ideal situation for him to be willing to make such a grand display. Those who claimed he was too angelic or well-mannered for Slytherin House knew nothing of the calculating and ambitious mind that lived within the princely shell.

It was one reason Lucius found Anastas so attractive. Malfoys were drawn to power and Anastas had more power than most full grown Wizarding Patriarchs or Matriarchs. With his angelic looks, flawless manners and skilled wizardry Anastas captivated his peers and charmed his elders. It was a masterful role, one that surely would earn him accolades had he been on stage.

Lucius wanted Anastas and if he were to have any hope in getting him, he would have to work hard and play the game carefully. Anastas was a Prince of the Blood, with bloodlines as pure as arctic snow and a fortune that made other Pureblood Families envious. The odds were already stacked against him but Lucius would not surrender so easily, he would claim Anastas as his husband no matter what he would have to endure.

A bell chimed, causing Lucius to startle slightly. Turning to his armoire, he opened the silver note box. It was a letter from his brother. Intrigued, he eagerly opened it, if anyone had an idea what was going on it would be his brother and father.

After he finished reading the letter Lucius wasn’t sure what to think. In a way he was delighted that Anastas was so unique but it also made things more difficult. This revelation would make the fight over Anastas fiercer. Forewarned, he settled on his bed to plot.

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The Headmaster’s Office
Hogwarts, Scotland
Saturday the 23rd of November 1974
11:00 AM


Anastas scowled slightly as he stepped out of the Floo following his father. Things had not gone as well as he had hoped. Odysseus had not been lying when he had later stated that Harpies had the temperament of a foul tempered low classed demon. Anastas could not remember being so emotional and he had never been a sweet tempered Hufflepuff. It had been overwhelming at first to find that his rigid control had been frayed so badly by the biological changes.

Suppressing his temper led to wild bursts of accidental magic or his wings making a swift reappearance, ruining his clothing. Odysseus had been close to throttling him and the young Harpy couldn’t blame him. Anastas had managed to learn everything else but controlling his temper and his bursts of Harpy magic had proven to be beyond difficult. It was instinctive to reach out for his Harpy magic when he was angry and so far he had managed to completely destroy six fully furnished rooms as well as completely unbind all the siphoning runes in his temporary bedroom at the Focalor Aerie.

Having run headfirst into a roadblock the size of Mount Everest, Odysseus had proclaimed him a Squall Harpy and dragged him to Alauda to declare that there simply wasn’t anything more he could teach the younger Harpy. In short, there were two types of Harpies: the Squall Harpies which were known for having violent tempers and excelled in area effect magic of mostly destructive proportions and the Halcyon Harpies which were relatively tranquil and excelled in precise focused magic.

Halcyon Harpies had much better control over their tempers, unless someone managed to stomp all over their sense of fairness and justice, in which case they were just as dangerous as their Squall counterparts. Squall Harpies would always have problems controlling their temper and often got themselves into trouble when said temper got the best of them. So it was little surprise that they were required to wear vast amounts of siphoning gems. Anastas, as a very young Harpy, had been tested and told very strictly to wear at least thirty of the clear gems every day until he fully matured.

It came as no surprise that he was irked. He would never be able to have complete control over his temper and now, he would have to wear a trove of siphoning gems daily to boot.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Mr. Torres and Mr. Lund-Torres! Your friends will be very pleased to see you again.” The Headmaster greeted as he shook hands with Evaristo.

Evaristo smiled politely. “Good morning, Headmaster. I hope you are well?”

“I am in excellent health and spirits, thank you for asking. Please, both of you have a seat and we’ll discuss the arrangements for Mr. Lund-Torres. Would either of you care for tea?” Dumbledore asked as he ushered the two towards his desk.

“No thank you,” Anastas murmured as he carefully seated himself, careful not to let his new jewelry catch on anything.

“I am fine, thank you.”

Dumbledore smiled as he took a seat behind his desk. “The media has been agog for the past three weeks but I know better than to listen to rumor.”

“The fact that the attempted kidnapping had already leaked to the public caused some…concern about revealing more details about his Inheritance. Father decided it would be best to make announcements after Anastas returned back to school. With Anastas safely away at school no one will have any grounds to make an impromptu visit without offending the Family by acting out of order.” Evaristo explained simply. “There should be a formal report sometime this afternoon although many details have been left out. To be brief, Anastas is a Squall Harpy and has mastered most of the Harpy abilities he has exhibited at this particular time. His moods are mercurial as one can expect but he will be wearing his siphoning gems as he was instructed. Anastas has spent the last week in company and had no extreme losses in control so he should be more than prepared to return to school.”

“I am happy to hear it. I imagine that the usual arrangements will need to be put in place?”

“Yes, he will need a private suite with a bedroom, bath, study area and a kitchen or dining area if you can manage it. From what his mentor has told us, Anastas should be fine most days in company but occasionally he will need to separate himself from others. Madame Alauda mentioned that the Focalors should still have a suite here in the castle that should suit him.”

Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, I believe it is at the top of the South Tower. It has a balcony that overlooks the lake I believe. Now that I know, I shall have the house-elves begin to make it habitable again. They should be finished by dinner at the latest.”

Evaristo glanced at his son and then the Headmaster. “Very well, I shall take my leave then. If there are any other concerns feel free to contact me. Anastas, walk me to the Entrance Hall. I wish to have a few words with you in private before I take my leave.”

“I will keep that in mind, Mr. Torres. I wish you both a good afternoon.”

The two left the room and made their way through the school to the Entrance Hall. Evaristo did not stop to speak until they stood on the steps of the school.

“You will contact me if you are having any problems otherwise, I should like to hear from you weekly about your progress.”

Anastas nodded, “I will keep you informed.”

“Good,” Evaristo leaned down and playfully tugged at the chain of siphoning gems which had been artfully braided into Anastas’s hair. “Your grandfather and I have already discussed handling any requests on your behalf. As you already know, your Inheritance will cause a sensation and we expect an increase in requests to open Anterior Courtship Rituals. Try to remain level-headed if you receive any propositions from your peers.”

“I will do my best but I make no promises.”

“That’s good enough for me. Take care, my son and beware of those known for bad faith.” Evaristo murmured softly before abruptly stalking away.

Anastas frowned thoughtfully. It came as no surprise really; the Malfoys had always been at the heart of power struggles. He would keep an eye on his friend and see what exactly the Malfoys might have in store for him.

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Heads turned as Anastas walked into the Slytherin Common Room for the first time in three weeks. Silence immediately fell as people stared. Bristling, Anastas allowed them to look their fill now. It was annoying but everyone would want to have a look at him even if they wouldn’t see the more dramatic changes unless he dropped the Harpy Glamour he had woven around himself. He’d grown a little taller, his hair a little longer and his voice had broken in but those were the only noticeable changes.

Behind him the wall shifted and two familiar voices drifted into the room.

“- in the Common room or the dorm, I would imagine. Anastas doesn’t like being gawked at.” Severus commented, sounding weary.

“You would think he would have written to us while he was gone! We are his best friends aren’t we?” Lucius complained before stopping dead in his tracks.

Anastas turned around, scowling. “Well excuse me for being too busy to write you! It wasn’t like I was on Tour.”

Severus sighed, feeling a headache coming. “Ignore Lucius, he’s being a whiny brat. How have you been?”

“Other than being lectured and run to the ground, I’ve been better. They wouldn’t have let me come back if I hadn’t learned to control myself after all.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“So what?” Anastas crossed his arms, irritated.

“Well aren’t you going to tell us what Inheritance you had?”

“You’ll find out with everyone else, I’m not supposed to mention anything until then.”

Lucius grumbled. “Fine. What are your plans for the Christmas break?”

Anastas relaxed slightly. “I’ll be spending the beginning of break at the Palacio since Grandfather is hosting a Christmas Eve Ball and from the twenty-sixth to the twenty-eighth, father and I will be at the Focalor Aerie. After that, father and I will be returning to his estate in Luarca. He has some plans for a New Year’s Eve Gala but I have not been told what they are yet.”

“Severus and his family will be joining mine for Christmas Day,” Lucius added not so subtly. “You, of course, are also invited.”

“I will mention it to father,” Anastas agreed.

Severus frowned slightly. “Speaking of New Year’s Eve, don’t the Blacks traditionally host a gathering?”

“They do but Cassius told me that they received an invitation to some grand affair instead.” Lucius confided.

“I wonder what would qualify as a grand affair to the noble House of Black?” Anastas wondered aloud. “They aren’t haute monde but they are amongst the most esteemed Pureblooded Families in Europe.”

Severus walked past Anastas. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. No gathering of that caliber can be kept quiet for long.”

“That’s true,” Anastas agreed as he followed his dark haired friend.

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Colchester Castle, Wales
Sunday the 24th of November 1974
7:00 AM


“A Squall Harpy,” Voldemort murmured, absolutely delighted. “Such an exemplary boy you are, Anastas Lund-Torres!”

Tossing aside his copy of The Spanish Navigator, Voldemort leaned back in his chair and chuckled. This was a marvelous development! He couldn’t have wished for a better situation to emerge! Had the Lund-Torres Heir been a Veela it wouldn’t have changed the situation much but the fact that he was a Harpy, and a temperamental Squall at that, only made it absolutely necessary to gain the young wizard’s allegiance. Manifesting magical creature blood was rare enough but for the Lund-Torres heir to be a Squall Harpy to boot?

This clearly was a sign!

The Harpies had large populations though they were scattered far and wide in small Tempests for the sake of keeping peace. It was a highly kept secret but Voldemort had weaseled it from one of his contacts several years ago when he had first sojourned to the Mediterranean. One in every twenty Harpies was a Squall and when tempests were formed, no more than four Squalls could share a given amount of territory without all out warfare erupting. Famous for their ill temper, their secret was well disguised from outsiders and most importantly, from any would-be wizards who dreamed of the olden days.

In the days of Ancient Greece, the much smaller Harpy populations had been used by warring Wizard Families to wreck destruction on rivals and allies alike. The Harpies likely would have remained as little more than soldiers had Archelaus the Vengeful not been born. It was said that he was the first Squall Harpy but all agreed that he was easily the most destructive. In twelve hours he had completely destroyed six of the twenty Greek pureblooded Families that had existed at that time, two of which had been descendants of Mesopotamian wizards. None of the remaining Families had protested too much when Archelaus demanded freedom for his brethren and a pact to keep the peace between wizards and Harpies.

Since the signing of that peace treaty, no wizard or witch had so much as dared to approach the Harpies for fear of inciting another rampage. After learning the closely guarded secret, Voldemort had occasionally considered the possibility of gaining a Harpy ally or perhaps even an alliance with the entire group but until now, had never found a contact that he could approach safely. The Lund-Torres heir was still maturing and if he managed to bait his hook carefully, he might be able to catch the younger wizard unawares and then he could reel him in slowly.

Voldemort smirked, he loved a good challenge and he was the best at delicate manipulation. This would prove to be both advantageous if done correctly and would amuse him until the rest of his plans came to fruition.

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The Throne Room
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain
Monday the 25th of November 1974
8:27 AM


“This is getting ridiculous!” Apolinar exclaimed, glaring at the massive stack of letters, invitations and courtship requests set on a table in the center of the room.

Evaristo crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not your home that is getting flooded with this madness.”

“Be silent both of you, this is hardly the time to argue over trivial things! I had expected the furor to increase but I had not expected this,” Estavan grumbled, gesturing at the stack of paper in front of the three men. “It is a good thing that we had decided on taking pre-emptive measures long ago or things would be far more complicated. I suggest we have the mail sorted, then choose suitable candidates and add them to the guest lists. Anastas can then weed them out as needed based on whatever criteria he has.”

“How will we choose suitable candidates?”

“As we always have, begin with those who are Haute Mondeand then select the rest based on lineage, wealth, power and influence. Do not discriminate in gender or ethnicity but select no candidates over thirty. If you have doubts ask gran dama (great lady), she knows the Pureblooded Families best of all of the Torres’. In the meantime, I will ask Tiziana and the other women in the family to begin plans for a Soiree in April. We will allow those who pass the initial screening to begin the Anterior Courtship Rituals then.” (3)

Evaristo gaped, “But that is against tradition!”

“If we follow tradition, there will not be enough time to deal with the number of people offering proposals. This is the best course of action for the time being.”

Apolinar sighed, why did Anastas have to make things so complicated? “Let’s get started then.”

Estavan rose from his throne. “The two of you may begin. I need to speak with your uncle about the security arrangements. No more than four hundred guests are to be added to the Christmas Eve Ball. We do not want the guests to outnumber the guards in any way or fashion.”

“And how many guests should be invited to the New Year’s Eve Gala?” Evaristo asked wearily, wishing he didn’t have to play host to several hundred strangers who would all have their eye on his son.

“The Villa is the smallest estate so I would say no more than four hundred guests total, excluding family.”

Evaristo sighed, “Very well.”

“Best get started my sons, the day grows shorter and time is fleeting.” Estavan joked as he left his sons behind to begin the onerous task of creating a suitable guest list.

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The Ballroom
Palacio d’Asturias, Oviedo, Spain
Tuesday the 24th of December 1974
7:00 PM


It was a huge gathering with a thousand guests attending the grand event. The Royal Guard had a visible presence in the room and patrolled the ballroom, gardens and hallways in clusters of six. Laughter, conversation and alcohol flowed freely as guests mingled in their luxurious attire.

Three receiving lines had been created so that guests would not be kept waiting too long. Sovereign Prince Estavan and Sovereign Princess Tiziana stood at the head of the first line, Lady Araceli Cardozo Torres, the Princess dowager, greeted guests in the second line and Hereditary Prince Apolinar and his lady wife formed the last line. Inside the ballroom Evaristo, Cyril, Odysseus and Anastas had been stationed to the right side of the ballroom. Those who had hopes of courting the younger wizard would have a clear path to gain an introduction.

Unsurprisingly, it was one of the more heavily guarded portions of the room. After the official statement was released detailing the events that had occurred on the day of Anastas’s Inheritance, security measures had increased significantly around the Torres Family and Anastas particularly. There was no better a marriage or ransom prospect than the young wizard and the Torres Family had always protected their own. Odysseus was present as a friend to the Torres and Focalor Families, though his presence was mostly to act as a restrainer if the young Harpy lost his temper.

Two hours after the Ball began and Anastas was already exhausted. It seemed as if there was no end to the number of guests who wanted an introduction and a few words. Inwardly he shuddered at the prospect of what would happen when the dancing began.

His would-be suitors ranged from awkward, inexperienced teens still in puberty to fully mature adults who had already established themselves. They all came from various places and were from the most affluent Families. Fortunately all were fluent in English or the situation might have been significantly difficult. Already he had noted which would not be suitable and they would be written off later to save room for those who could prove useful to his plans. Not, of course, that he had any intention of getting engaged or married. This was all an elaborate but correct ruse to find the best connections to all the legal and illegal activities going on in the Wizarding World.

The best thing about his Inheritance was that it gave him a perfectly reasonable excuse to be selective about a prospective spouse. As a Squall Harpy, he could never have a successful relationship to anyone who treated him as less than an equal, and a great number of those who had been introduced to him had failed dismally in that regard. He had focused most of his attention on the males who had been presented, as they often had the best connections but a few ambitious females had caught his attention.

Charming Lionel DeMars was a twenty-six year old American Wizard, sole heir to the Sauder-DeMars legacy and currently was aide to the Treasurer of the American Wizarding Ministry. In contrast Li Cheng was a stoic Chinese Wizard, twenty years old and while he was a third son, he was from the oldest Pureblood Family in China. Benito Moreno was the sixteen year old heir to a botanical empire that monopolized all of South America and a vast portion of Southern Asia and Central Europe. Bubbly Deirdre Cassidy was niece to Rufus Ogden, the current owner of the bestselling Firewhisky Brewery in Europe and her distant third cousin was Alyssa Eckhart, the founder of the New Zealand University of Magical Studies. The confident and sly Ryuzaki Kisuke was a twenty-nine year old Wizard whose family was known for their shadier dealings. South African Malik Samara was the second son of a family that made their money through their diamond mine while Sylvester Lafayette’s family made a fortune by owning the largest collection of wand wood groves in the Wizarding World.

It was, most definitely, a wide and varied collection of people whose interests, goals and profits came from different endeavors. All would benefit him in some way or form and he was more than interested in furthering an acquaintance with the frontrunners that had caught his attention. While a good hundred guests were suitable and would make tolerable companions, these eight were particularly intriguing and he wanted to see just how useful they could be to him.


TBC in Chapter IV- Celebration II…

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Notes:

(1) Alea iacta est –A quote attributed to Julius Caesar, roughly it means ‘the die is cast’. In short, in Apolinar’s opinion, they have already passed the point of no return and have no choice but to see what happens.

(2) This is a quote by Friedich Nietzsche from Beyond Good and Evil, Aphorism 146

(3) Estavan refers to his own mother, Lady Araceli as gran dama or great lady. Technically as she is the Princess Dowager (the widow of the former Sovereign Prince of Asturias) she would still be formally called ‘Her Serene Highness, Araceli Cordoza’. However outside of formal situations she is called gran dama to avoid confusion between the current Princess verus the Princess Dowager.

In retrospect, this is probably confusing to most of you (which wouldn’t surprise me too much as I have been confused thoroughly conducting the research behind royal titles and forms of proper address). All the Torres family members are called a Prince or Princess and styled ‘His or Her Serene Highness’ the major difference being that Estavan is ‘His Serene Highness, the Sovereign Prince of Asturias’ and Apolinar ‘His Serene Highness, the Hereditary Prince of Asturias’. This is modeled after the Liechtenstein Royal family.

I apologize if this may get confusing later on but I want this to be as accurate as possible. I have created a Character Appendix for GI which is available on my group if you’re of age in your state/country or I can send it by e-mail if you would prefer that. I actually have Family Trees constructed but have been having issues loading it to the Group, Visio either hates Yahoo or I’m doing something wrong somewhere. Will work on it if I find the time otherwise I will bite the bullet and re-make them on MS publisher (which works fine with Yahoo).

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While I do love hearing from you all, I do get very sick of ‘OMG U NEED TO UPDATE ASAP!’ that generally makes me irritated and then I find myself wanting to de-stress by reading fanfic opposed to writing it. I really hate to ask for reviews but real life has been kicking me to death and it’s hard to work up the energy to put as much time and research that goes into writing this story. Reviews cheer me up and put me in the mood to work, no matter how difficult the characters or plot are being.

So please, waste two or three minutes of your day and leave me a review! Tell me what you liked, what you didn’t like, what you thought could be better, what you think might happen or ask questions if you’re confused! I write because I enjoy it but it’s no fun if other people aren’t enjoying it as well.

-SheWolfe7
First Posted: Feb 24, 2007
First Revised: Dec 15, 2008
Second Posted: Dec 31, 2008