May 10, 2009
9:45 pm

Berkshire, near Windsor


This tale begins as so many others do, with the air-slicing crack! of an Apparition.  Persepolis Zephyr stood hesitantly at the head of the walk.  Her usually cheery face was marked with a deep frown, and her bright colors were gone in trade for robes of deepest black.  A heavy, concealing hood covered her face in shadow.

This was a very bad idea, and she absolutely could not be seen.   It would be political suicide.  Reputable people like Zephyr, current chairwitch of the Hogwarts School Governors, did not call upon people such as the Lestranges.  In most progressive, modern circles, the Lestranges had disgraced themselves.  But Zephyr, as nervous as she was, was resolute.  However distasteful, this task was necessary.

Zephyr began to step forward knowing full well the security enchantments she'd be passing through, and so she proceeded carefully, gingerly, along the paving stones.  But as she meant no harm, she hoped nothing would attempt to stop her progress - the last thing she was ready for was a Venemous Tentacula, or to be Vanished without warning.

She reached for the knocker on the door.  It knocked itself. 

The sound of the doorbell disrupted the house's early evening snooze, its erruption of sound filling the quiet hallways of Tarth Hill so violently the girl jerked out of her daydreams.
Had she been gone for long?
Katarzyna tried to concentrate on any noise that might have given her a hint, but there was none.The office door was still closed.
A cold shiver ran down her back. 6 months in and she still felt a chill and, quite plain, fear. The house alone had been hard to get used to , it was so much larger, older and labyrinthine than her parents' house back in Russia. But it wasn't only that. It was the whispering. The darkness that strolled through the rooms at random as if it lived here. People arriving in the middle of the night, one looking weirder than the other. Some of them bleeding. Some of them with nervous twitches. All of them with a blank, threatening gaze. The Lady of the house, silently emerging out of shadows where you never expected her to.
And then the child. That haunted, malignant child.
Viktor Lestrange was only 10 years old, but whatever has happened to him during those months in his mother's womb in Azkaban, made him look so much older. So different.As if he carried the essence of a Dementor within him, slowly sucking happiness and life and joy out of your very heart.
A true child of Azkaban.
Katarzyna had no doubt about what had happened to all the previous nannies of Viktor. She also had no doubt that, although she was a squib, her blood purity and her genes were the best protection she could have in this place. Physically.
It was only a matter of seconds now before Mrs. Lestrange would ring the servants' bell, so Katarzyna would escort him back to his rooms until Lunch. She did not like anyone around when she "entertained guests".

Inside, the sound of the doorbell had left no mark on the Lady of the house and her offspring. They had been sitting here for almost 3 hours, now. Viktor had filled parchment for parchment with his tight, tiny letters in various attempts to please his mother and get his lessons done with. No he was standing in front of her large wooden desk, hands folded behind his back, watching her read. For a moment, he searched for time. Where did it go? These days it didn't seem to pass at all. Ever since he cut a couple of fingers off a houseelf because he-well, felt like it, he had been forbidden to leave his rooms unless to attend his lessons and the meals. 3 weeks now. 3 long, boring weeks. His nanny only watched him now, sitting with her back against a wall and on her hands, speaking very little to him. What a stupid cow. Didn't she see it had all been very necessary?
Tiring. All this silence was just tiring.

Amarantha reached for the bell. "You may leave my presence and retrieve to your rooms," she scanned him briefly and then, without lifting her eyes off his she added: "I expect the usual, Katarzyna"
The usual, meaning: Keep him quiet without getting yourself killed. Have him cleaned and ready for bed at 10.30 pm sharp. Do not, under any circumstances, disturb me.
Katarzyna nodded quietly - an answer was not expected - and ushered Viktor out of the office, through the library and up a hidden staircase to avoid the entrace hall.
Amarantha rose from her desk, her wide black skirts rustling gently, and left the room as well. Mulby waited outside for her, knowing very well it was not permitted to common houseelves to enter the rooms in which she was present.She had received the guest in the entrance hall, led her to the usual room, serving the usual Darjeeling with the usual tea biscuits. "Miss Persepolis Zephyr is waiting in the back parlor. Tea is served."
Amarantha raised an eyebrow and passed Mulby without further comment. As far as she remembered, Zephyr was the Head of the Hogwarts School Governors. For her own brittle tolerance, the Lestrange hoped nothing bored was to be discussed. Since she had no way of influencing certain things as she would have liked, Hogwarts matters were of no interest to her. But maybe someone had died. Maybe Ima had finally snapped and pushed someone out of a window or similar. That would be a lot more entertaining. Not that she would have tolerated her children at home when they shouldn't be. She'd sent her away somewhere where Amarantha would not have to deal with her. But still.

She entered the room without hesitation, approaching the woman as if she'd been expected. "What a pleasure to welcome you to my house, Miss Zephyr."
She did not smile or extend a hand to shake. Instead, the visitor was examined carefully, like a newly obtained object one didn't quite know what to make of.
"Do sit down, please" she said finally, motioning to the wide armchairs by the windows, overlooking part of the estate. "May I offer you some tea and biscuits?"
The distress pouring out of Miss Zephyr's skin like sweat could probably even be smelled in Russia. Whatever had brought her to Tarth Hill must be of a lot more importance than just a random dead kid.

I cannot believe I'm standing here, Persepolis thought to herself as she was left alone in a dark parlor.  Large windows revealed the darkness of the night's touch over their extensive grounds.  The house just dripped with oldness and ancient pureblood tradition.  The portraits on the walls could have been Level Two's criminal dossier from the 1970s, so many notorious faces sneered down at her.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and carefully lifted her hood off her head.  Amarantha had entered the room, looking drawn but regal. 

"Madam L-," she responded, stuttering embarrassingly.  Her nerves, Merlin, her nerves! She must keep them in check.  She coughed into her hand, hoping to safe face.  "Madam Lestrange, thank you for having me so late," she said, this time more boldly.

She sat down as asked, adjusting her black cloaks around her, finding her wand again under her robes.  It always gave her comfort in a strange situation, as much as it would any witch to have her wand beside her. 

"I know that you and I have never been introduced," she said, formally apologetic, "so you must forgive me.  But I do believe we have some acquaintances in common.  Vedir Prideaux?  He sits with me on the Board of Hogwarts School Governors."  She searched Amarantha's face for some sign that she'd mentioned a name she knew.  But perhaps it was reaching - Vedir was just such a snake in the grass purist, how would he not know her?