The Gray's Secret: Scene 3 (Patreon)

The owl soared across the skies of England. One more journey, one more letter, one flight closer to the magical owl equivalent of union-mandated vacation.

Gliding over the green fields of Wiltshire, patchworked with hedgerows and pocked with oak, birch, and willow, the barn owl saw her latest target, large and imposing, and dove.

The house elves of Malfoy Manor were up to their neck in unexpected guests and unexpected work. In other words, they were in heaven. Almost enough so to ignore the ‘thing’ in the upstairs girl’s bedroom. Almost...

A pair of double doors burst open, revealing the Lord and Lady of the Manor one marching, the other looking rather frazzeled, together disturbing the quiet air of the hallway, and causing one house elf to drop and subsequently frantically catch the vase he’d been polishing.

“We can’t keep pretending this hasn’t happened!” hissed Lord Malfoy. “Whoa!”

Lady Malfoy flicked out her wand to arrest the collision of Wizard and House Elf. A moment later, with just a brief pause to curse and for the House Elf to vanish, the two continued on.

“We can’t pretend this hasn’t happened!” Malfoy said again, walking faster than he usually would to keep up with his wife. “I know she’s doing a lot better now than when she arrived, but that doesn’t mean that other people might not notice.”

Narsissa scoffed. “Even if someone does notice, what are they going to think? Nothing, that’s what. We can easily wave away any lingering oddness as family business. And I believe her rate of improvement is quite acceptable.”

Lucius scowled. “And if she regressess? We’ve no idea what’s going on in that head of hers now. You weren’t there when she first arrived. Do you have any idea of freaky it is to watch a witch talk like a house elf? Let alone your own ‘daughter’.”

“Having second thoughts, Husband?”

“The daughter idea was yours, Wife.” Lucius snapped.

A third voice bellowed. “HOW DARE YOU.”

Narssissa wielded on her six, wand already out.

“THE LORD OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF MALFOY PALMING RESPONSIBILITY OFF ON HIS LADY? WHY I OUGHTA—”

A red light splashed into a painting hung half way up the corridor that the pair had just stormed past. The long dead wizard fell silent.

The two continued on without even a glance back, turning a corner and descending a flight of stairs.

“We both knew that releasing Dobby as we did was a calculated risk,” Narsissa said, now in front. “And might I remind you, that that little plot was your idea.”

Lucius pursed his lips. “So now we face the homonculus of our combined plotting, is that what you’re saying? And what if helearns about what we’ve done? Before this whole thing, there was some scope for plausible deniability and the possibility of putting the genie back in the bottle, but now?!” They reached the bottom of the stairs and he found himself jogging a few steps to catch back up. “I very much doubt our lord of lords will appreciate being informed that even a small sliver of him might now be part house elf – or whatever the hells is going on with that girl.”

“Obviously, we don’t tell him that,” Narssissa scoffed. “That’s if he ever turns up again.”

“He will,” Lucius said, with same sureness that the stars would burn and the planets turn.

“There’s the confident wizarding lord I married.”

Lucius finally stepped back up beside his wife.

The pair stood before another pair of large double doors.

Narssissa reached up and adjusted the lapel of his robes.

Lord Malfoy took a measured breath. “I am nothing, if not confident,” he drawled.

“Good.” Narssissa stepped backwards, placing herself behind her husband.

Lucius turned towards the doors, pushed them open, and swept into the room.

Eight pair of eyes sitting down a large rectangular table turned to meet theirs. The Notts, the Crabbs, the Goyles, and the Parkinsons. They were not the only families who shared the problem that was the reason for this little get together, but they were the ones whose children had been directly involved in what others were calling ‘The Black Coup’ at Hogwarts.

“Friends.” Lucius strode confidently up to the table. “Thank you for prevailing yourselves on us.” He took the middle seat of three at the head while Narssissa lowered herself into the one on his right. “We have much to discuss.”

“Damn right we do,” said Lord Nott, “But before that, what of the basilisk? Has any decision been made?!” Lady Nott put a steading hand on his.

“Edgar,” Lucius drawled. “Such desperation is not becoming of you.”

“Well, why shouldn’t I be desperate?” Nott replied defensively, shaking off Isadora’s hand. “The monster was a thousand years old! A thousand! You know how expensive basilisk farming is!” Edgar’s eyes briefly met his wife’s. “I just want to know if we need to prepare for tough times on that front is all,” he finished, rather more calmly.

Lucius nodded. “From what I’ve heard, Lord Slytherin is still pushing for sole ownership rights of the monster, but what his purposes might be are unclear. He gave assurances that he did not intend to flood the market with Basalisk blood or venom.”

“Well that’s something,” Nott muttered.

“Lord Potter, on the other hand, is insisting that since it was ‘his heir’ that killed the beast—” chuckles and giggles surrounded the table “—that it should be House Potter that takes ownership,” Lucius finished with a smirk. The smirk faded. “And of course, the ministry is still maintaining their own claim, though that seems to be on the general principle that meddling in family affairs is their Merlin-given right, rather than because they have any real basis for such a claim.”

“I support Slytherin’s claim,” Nott said firmly.

“Same,” said Lord Parkinson.

“What a surprise,” Lucius drawled. Unsaid was the fact that Parkinson had received many contracts from Lord Slytherin over the last few years for construction and general labour and if word from the grape vine was any indication, the still mysterious enigma that was the Gray Lord was far from done. “But perhaps we should move onto our main topic of discussion. Regardless of your business interests with our noble colleague, you don’t seem to be enthralled with the moves of his pawn at Hogwarts.”

“No, we are not!” seethed Lady Parkinson. This time it was the husband of the pair that put a placating hand on his wife’s. “Being a client does not give him the right to so interfere in our daughter’s upbringing! The only reason we haven’t pulled Pansy out of Hogwarts and sent her to Beauxbatons, is because the Black girl isn’t actually the Heir of Slytherin. Otherwise Pansy would be out of there faster than you can say ‘Quidditch’.” Lady Parkinson fixed Narsissa with what could only be described as ‘a look’. “Can’t you do something about her? She’s your niece.”

Narsissa smiled tightly. “Unfortunately, my dear cousin has rarely allowed me much part in Alexandra's life and my influence over the girl is limited. I hear that she does favour the old ways, so perhaps if I had been able to step into the role of mentor earlier something could have been arranged, but it seems I have been firmly beaten to the draw on that score.” Her tight smile turned into something far more easy and genuine. “On the other hand, Black blood clearly runs true through her veins, more so than anyone in the family I’ve ever known, more so than even my late grandfather. Her performance at the duelling tournament was an exercise in savage beauty. So maybe an appeal to the family might work on her regardless.”

Lady Parkinson snorted. “Don’t delude yourself, Cissy. Whatever enabled that ‘performance’, Black blood was only a small fraction of it. The rest was pure Slytherin Hocus Pocus. I swear, the moment the Prophet announces that Lord Black has Bethrothed the girl to Slytherin is the moment we are out.”

“You think he will?” said the rather alarmed voice of Franklin Crabb. “Slytherin’s already getting far too big for his britches. We don’t need any more families jumping ship. Even Light ones.”

Lady Parkinson sat back in her chair with her arms crossed a rather smug expression on her face. “I don’t know what Lord Black thinks, but I know Lord Slytherin is trying. He wants Alexandria Black.”

“You have proof of this?” Lord Malfoy said sharply, jumping back into the conversation again.

Lady Parkinson scoffed. “I need no proof. The man already snapped up the Greengrass and Lovegood girls. He is clearly comfortable with the dangers of multiple wives and the idea of playing the marriage game. And the girls are clearly fine with it, too. Greengrass keeps her own council, but Lovegood is an open book. She is happy. Young witches don’t go around all skippy and cheerful like that if their fiancé is someone they hate. So, why wouldn’t he go after Black? There is zero question the girl is now the most eligible heiress in the entire country, probably in the whole of Europe.”

Goyle raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’d have said, Miss Malfoy—” he began, before Lucius hastily cut him off.

“Let’s not talk about Virgo right now. I suggest we stay on topic.”

“Agreed,” said Lord Parkinson, giving his wife a meaningful look.

“I was on topic,” she muttered not quite under her breath.

“The upcoming Wizengamot session,” Lucius said firmly and loud enough to forestall any further derailment. “This will likely be our best opportunity to free our children from Slytherin’s influence.”

Goyle cleared his throat. “You’re talking about the so-called ‘muggle protection act’, yes? Not really sure how comfortable I am about using that as leverage. How many families are actually affected by the coup? Eight? Ten? Twelve maybe? Some of whom aren’t even noble.” He gestured to himself, his wife, and the Crabbs, “And the dark hold how many seats? Five or six times that many? How are the other lords going to feel about forking over concessions to the Gray just to get our children out of the cauldron they themselves jumped into? We have business relationships to consider.”

Lucius raised a placating hand. “Do not worry yourself, Niall. I have already spoken with our Noble friends and they have agreed that the situation is serious enough that certain concessions may be given. Within reason, naturally. Remember that the game of power in the Wizarding World is played over many generations.”

“Exactly!” said Lady Parkinson again. “Can you imagine how terrible it would be if Slytherin were able to completely usurp our values and recruit our own children to his...” She trailed off, as though unwilling to complete the thought out loud.

She didn’t need to. Lucius could practically feel the weight pressing down on the group around the table as the same conclusion was being drawn. Not only was every family here affected by the Hogwarts Black Coup, but if each participant rolled up their left-hand sleeves, each could display the mark of another coup. One that had taken place many years ago. A coup which was the reason that they were sitting around this table discussing family politics and not their fathers or grandfathers. It had later been expanded to grant membership into the organisation in general, but everyone sitting here today knew what it had originally meant. A willingness to murder family in cold blood and bear the consequences as dictated by the Albion.

“We have zero intention of letting things get that far.” Lucius stated. He drew a letter out from his robes – a letter that had been delivered by a rather harried-looking barn owl just that morning. “And the upcoming Wizengamot session will be the perfect opportunity to solve not only that issue, but quite a number of other problems as well.”

“Other problems?” Lord Nott asked. “What other problems do we have?”

“Us?” Lucius drawled. “A few. Betrothal contracts, animagus negotiations, the basalisk, of course. But mostly, I’d say the other problems are opportunities for us, and problems merely for other people.”

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