❛ASTERIA EDWARDS was your average, typical eleven-year-old child stuck in a pandemic with her mother Isabella Diggory until she found out where she truly came from.. and where she truly belonged...❜
[extended summary inside]
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harry potte...
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The handsome manor looked just as dark as a decade and a half ago— when Severus Snape and Yaxley walked towards it. Gravel crackled beneath their feet as they sped toward the front door, which swung inward on its own at their approach.
The large hallway was dimly lit, decorated, with a magnificent carpet covering most of its floor. It would almost seem like a feast— a Ball to be precise— but the drawing room it led to was full of silent people sitting at a long, ornate table.
Hovering over it was an unconscious human figure, hanging upside down, rotating slowly as if it had been suspended by an invisible rope.
None of the people seated underneath this singular sight was looking at it except for a pale young man- Draco Malfoy— sitting almost directly below it. He seemed unable to prevent himself from glancing upward every minute or so.
"Yaxley. Snape," said Voldemort's voice, from the head of the table. "You are very nearly late."
"Severus, here," he said, indicating the seat on his immediate right. "Yaxley— beside Dolohov."
The two men took their allotted places. Most of the eyes around the table followed Snape, and it was to him that Voldemort spoke first. "So?"
"My Lord, the Order of the Phoenix intends to move Harry Potter from his current place of safety on Saturday next, at nightfall."
The interest around the table sharpened palpably: Some stiffened, others fidgeted, all gazing at Snape and Voldemort.
"Saturday.. at nightfall," repeated Voldemort. His red eyes fastened upon Snape's black ones with such intensity that some of the watchers looked away. Snape, however, looked calmly back into Voldemort's face and, after a moment or two, Voldemort's lipless mouth curved into something like a smile.
"Good. Very good. And this information comes—"
"—from the source we discussed," said Snape.
"My Lord." Yaxley had leaned forward to look down the long table at Voldemort and Snape. All faces turned to him. "My Lord, I have heard differently."
Yaxley waited, but Voldemort did not speak, so he went on, "Dawlish, the Auror, let slip that Potter will not be moved until the thirtieth, the night before the boy turns seventeen."
Snape was smiling. "My source told me that there are plans to lay a false trail; this must be it. No doubt a Confundus Charm has been placed upon Dawlish. It would not be the first time; he is known to be susceptible."
"I assure you, my Lord, Dawlish seemed quite certain," said Yaxley.
"If he has been Confunded, naturally he is certain," said Snape. "I assure you, Yaxley, the Auror Office will play no further part in the protection of Harry Potter. The Order believes that we have infiltrated the Ministry."
