HP/LOTM: Visionary - 429

Chapter 429: Hostage, Prewetts and Marauders March to War

At Riddle Manor, Rookwood threw back his head and laughed when he saw Eleanor lying unconscious on the sofa.

"Success," he said, not bothering to hide his hunger.

Tom sat in the main seat. Jealousy burned in his chest, but the blood oath bound his hand. He could not strike at Rookwood.

Rookwood strode forward, reaching a greedy hand for Eleanor’s earrings.

A crackling surge of power flared. Lightning blasted him off his feet. Eleanor might be unconscious, but the Protocol still guarded the one it had acknowledged.

"Damn it," Rookwood snarled, dragging himself up and whipping out his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Green lightning lanced toward Eleanor, carrying a soul-deep chill.

The gems in her earrings burst into silver light and blocked the curse, turning death and cold aside.

"Impossible," Rookwood hissed, pouring more power into the spell.

With a sharp crack, a fine fracture appeared on the surface of the stone. Both men’s pupils shrank.

"Enough," Tom said, stepping between them.

He could not curse Rookwood. Rookwood could not curse him either.

With Tom in the way, Rookwood dared not cast again. At some point, chains of the blood oath had coiled tight around his throat.

"It seems this little treasure has not chosen you, my dear friend," Tom said with a faint smile, manners impeccable.

He turned with cool confidence and reached for Eleanor himself, stretching his hand toward the ancient masterpiece forged by the first wizards.

Another explosion of power answered him. The shock drove straight through Tom’s hand, leaving a lump of blackened charcoal where flesh had been.

More cracks spread over the gem.

"So it will only accept one host at a time," Tom said, thick-skinned enough to make the guess.

He simply refused to believe anything in this world could truly reject him.

"Which means we have to make this woman hand it over willingly," Rookwood said, frowning as well.

"That is simple. Family makes the best weakness. Used properly, it yields the finest returns," Tom said.

He lifted his hand. Magic flooded the air. A shell of transparent crystal blossomed around Eleanor, sealing her in.

"You mean Gideon Prewett and Fabian Prewett," Rookwood said, hope flaring again in his eyes.

"Of course."

Tom felt the odds tilt in his favour. He sent his followers to deliver a message to the Prewett family.

……

In Byberil village, Gideon and Fabian had just received the bad news from the Department of Mysteries.

"Brother, Eleanor has been taken," Fabian said, bursting into the study.

Gideon was already strapping on alchemical gear.

"You knew, and you were still going alone?" Fabian’s voice shook with anger.

"Fabian, if I die, you are the next head of the Prewetts. Raise my child with Eleanor well," Gideon said.

He tightened the laces of his boots and slid several small knives, shining with enchantment, into the sheath strapped to his leg.

"Not a chance. I am coming with you," Fabian said, meeting his brother’s gaze head-on.

"Idiot."

Gideon grabbed him by the front of his robes and hauled him up. Dragon-like slit pupils burned in both their eyes.

"The Prewetts need someone left to bear the weight. Do you want the family wiped out?"

"Do you want a Prewett who ran from a fight?" Fabian shot back, louder.

The tension between them only mounted until a timid voice at the door cut through it.

"Master, Master Black and his friends are here to visit," Sibby said, peeking round the doorframe.

Sirius, as heedless as ever, barrelled into the room, Remus and Peter right behind him. “I heard Eleanor’s been taken—what happened?"

"Voldemort attacked the Department of Mysteries. Eleanor went to reinforce them. A traitor among the Unspeakables ambushed her and took her away," Gideon said heavily, dropping into the chair behind his desk.

"So you are just going to walk into it alone?" Remus asked, taking in their gear.

"We are going too," Sirius said at once, springing to his feet.

"No. This is a Prewett fa—" Fabian began.

"This is Voldemort striking at the Order. The more wands we bring, the better," Sirius cut across him, not seeing the fear in Peter’s eyes.

"We are grateful, but we already—" Gideon tried to refuse as well.

"Stop being stubborn. We go together. We bring Eleanor back," Sirius said, voice ringing.

His resolve poured into his magic and swept through the room, catching the others.

"…All right. Thank you. Truly," Gideon said at last.

He could not trample on the sincerity of his friends.

They armed themselves and set out for war.

To gain the element of surprise, Remus had made a point of borrowing James’s Invisibility Cloak before they left. James, bound indoors by the Fidelius Charm, had been in a foul mood about it, but he still handed over the Cloak without a second thought.

At Riddle Manor, Gideon and Fabian walked in through the front gates. The other three slipped in elsewhere under the Cloak.

The two Prewetts were marched by Death Eaters into the central courtyard. Tom stood on the first-floor balcony, glass of red wine in his hand. Beside him, Eleanor hung suspended in her shell of transparent crystal.

"Ah, the Prewetts. Such a fine family. Why ever did you choose to stand against me?" Tom said, every inch the man in control.

He flicked his hand. The crystal shell melted away, letting Eleanor slump forward.

"Let us have a good look at this moving little scene," he said.

He hooked an arm around Eleanor and pressed his wand to her throat, signalling his followers to close in on the two Prewetts.

Gideon and Fabian stood back to back, wands raised together against the oncoming Death Eaters, just as they had once fought their way out of the Prewett training camps as boys.

"Use it. Let them see," Fabian said first.

"Fine," Gideon answered.

They each drew a vial of silver potion and drained it.

Heat roared through their blood.

Horns pushed through their foreheads. Scales spread across the chest, arms and cheeks.

The growth was rough, imperfect, forced out by the catalyst potion. But years of battle had already brought their dragon blood close to the surface. With the brew’s help, they completed the change into dragonkin.

"Dragonkin," Voldemort breathed.

A hunger he could not hide flared in his eyes. A legend that had run through Europe for a thousand years now stood before him in the flesh.

The Death Eaters attacked as one. Green lightning speared in from every angle, ready to drown the brothers in a sea of death.

Gideon lifted his wand high. His magic surged, turning into water that boiled up from the ground and rose in a towering wall, catching and absorbing every Killing Curse.

Fabian moved like a conductor, wand cutting through the air. Magic rippled and reshaped the water wall. Blades of water spun away from it, scything down any Death Eater too slow to dodge.