"Daphne? You awake?"
"I am now. Come on in, Tori."
The lighting charms activated to a dim setting, bathing the room with light. Daphne was sprawled on her bed and was looking at her sister with one eye open. Astoria closed the door of the room and sat down on the bed.
"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," said Astoria, looking nervous. Daphne raised an eyebrow. It was a far cry from the confident, sarcastic girl she was used to.
"What is it?"
Taking a deep breath, Astoria began. She told Daphne about how Dylan's behaviour had confused her at the World Cup. She had noticed that he had become withdrawn suddenly and didn't speak to her. Then it was her reaction to him being attracted to the Veela. She was quite confused.
"Do you like him, Tori?" asked Daphne, observing her sister.
"I - I don't know," admitted Astoria. "I mean, he's my best friend and we spend a lot of time with each other; he's cute and - I thought I had a crush on Draco, but now…"
After a minute of silence, she said, "What if he stops being my friend if he realises that like him? What if he feels awkward around me? I don't want to lose him."
Daphne smiled. "Tell me something; why do you think Dylan became withdrawn before the match?"
"I don't know."
"Well, what were you doing right before that happened?"
"I was talking to Draco," answered Astoria promptly.
"Uh-huh. I noticed the same reaction in him during the ball at Potter Castle. When Draco asked you to dance, he became silent and withdrawn."
"Why?" asked Astoria with a frown on her face.
"Oh, come on, Tori!" snapped Daphne. "You're smarter than that! Put the pieces together! Dylan is a chatterbox. For him to become silent like that means he didn't like you spending time with Draco!"
"But why would he not like it?" urged Astoria. "Unless -"
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "You mean - he has a crush on me?"
"I don't know," Daphne shrugged casually. "That's something you have to figure out yourself. But tell me something - if there ever were a competition for your heart between Draco Malfoy and Dylan Lestrange, who do you think would win?"
Astoria stared out of the windows, the cool breeze ruffling her brown hair as a small, shy smile formed on her lips. Her cheeks turned pink as she got off the bed.
"Thanks, Daphne," she said quietly. "Can you keep this between us?"
"Of course, what are sisters for?" Daphne smirked at her. "You have another year before you actually start dating boys, Tori. Daddy wouldn't allow you to date before that. Take your time."
"I don't need time," whispered Astoria as she left the room with a happy smile on her face. A smirk formed on her lips as she thought about many delicious ways she could give Dylan hints about her having a crush on him, but not outright telling him. This was going to be fun!
...
The room in Riddle Manor was filled with people who were kneeling in front of the lone armchair by the fireplace. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Rabastan, Rookwood, Pettigrew and Barty Crouch Junior were all kneeling in front of the babyish form of Lord Voldemort.
"Rise, my faithful Death Eaters," said the high, cold voice. "We have gained valuable information thanks to Wormtail's spying on the wizarding population and from the mind of that Ministry witch, Bertha Jorkins. Barty here has had the time to listen to his father speak of the Ministry's dealings and operations during all those years he was held captive, so we have classified information at our disposal. It is time we show them the true power of Lord Voldemort."
"I cannot believe my blood traitor of a cousin is now Lord Black!" shrieked Bellatrix, "and Minister of Magic to boot!"
"That is most definitely something we hadn't anticipated, my Lord," said Barty. "Amelia Bones is now married to Sirius Black and they are a formidable team. Ever since Black became Minister, there have been several changes. International relations between Magical Britain and the rest of the world are at an all-time high. He is also more efficient, which was how Rowle, Dolohov, Jugson, Travers and Mulciber were killed. He is a dangerous adversary."
"We can deal with Sirius Black later," said Voldemort coldly. "But first, I must get my body back. I will be using a ritual of my own design, but the potion needs to stew for nine months using very rare and hard to find ingredients, culminating on the night of the summer solstice. I also need the blood of an enemy and right now, there is no one better than Harry Potter, the boy who caused my downfall." Twice - once when he was a baby, and the next when he was eleven years old. I need the blood of the boy who was willing to commit cold-blooded murder at the age of eleven. "I will need his blood to make me stronger than ever before."
"Barty, here is what you must do," ordered Voldemort. After explaining the plan to him, he turned to the others, "You all will have to begin working on the potion. I will also send you on missions so that we can begin recruiting the dark creatures. We shall not call the rest of the Death Eaters yet. Their welcome shall be special ."
"However," said Voldemort, his red eyes gleaming, "we do need the specialised services of one of them. Contact Macnair and bring him here. We need to send envoys to the Giants. I'm not sure how successful we would be with Vampires, but we need to find Greyback if we are to have the werewolves on our side again. Begin searching for him. The Dementors can be taken care of once I regain my full powers."
All of them grinned savagely. "Wormtail here will continue his role in spying on the wizarding population," said Voldemort. "Any new piece of information or magical technology which we can use - he'll let us know so that we can take advantage of it. Barty, are you up to the task?"
"I live to serve you, my Lord," said Barty, looking at Voldemort with respect shining in his eyes.
"Good," said Voldemort. Smirking, he turned to one other. "Rabastan, you have been awfully quiet. Any thoughts about this newly discovered son of yours? Barty here tells me the boy wears the Heir ring of your family on his finger, so there is no doubt that he is your son."
"No son of a Mudblood is a son of mine," spat Rabastan. "The heir of the noble Lestrange line being a half-blood is inconceivable!"
"Not to worry, my friend," said Voldemort smirking coldly. "Your family's taint shall be taken care of soon enough."
Rabastan didn't mention the conflicting emotions he was feeling within him. He had a son… Dylan… Oh, he remembered the boy's mother, alright; the beautiful Muggle-born witch he had violated. Rabastan still felt sick just by thinking about it. He and the rest of the Death Eaters had done a lot of vicious things in their lives, but never in his life would Rabastan ever have imagined that he would have been capable of doing that to a woman, even if it was a filthy Mudblood. He had been intoxicated that night, not in his senses, and he had let his body overrule his mind and instead of killing the young Mudblood, he had raped her.
Even the vegetative state of the Longbottoms had never bothered Rabastan, nor did the countless deaths he was responsible for, but this one memory was something he couldn't ever forget. He had violated one of the most sacred laws of Magic. Was this a way to make up for it? He had been given a chance to redeem himself for what he believed to be the one and only mistake of his life and he would use it to the best of his ability.
....
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