The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter LIV

CHAPTER LIV:

Fleur's POV:

Standing alone before the handsome wizard in expensive robes, Hermione, Harry and the boy, Tom, having all filed out of the antechamber, Fleur felt... uneasy. Harry and Hermione's reluctance to leave her alone with Thaddeus Dagworth certainly did nothing to help that.

It took her a moment to pinpoint the source of her unease– Dagworth's emotions were wrong; they felt muted and shallow to her senses, and it made Fleur swallow nervously.

Tonks had been similar; the older witch's emotions burned fast and shallow, lacking any true depth bar from predatory lust. Dagworth had echoes of that same shallowness but he felt more removed then anything, both from his emotions and, it became apparent, in his regard to the other people in the manor– a pair of ball attendees walked close enough by the anteroom they were in that she could hear their chatting and Fleur had to hold back her shiver at the automatic, dismissive way Dagworth regarded them as nothing but insects.

Emotions didn't lie and his spoke of a chilling disassociation from the passing attendees– and from her– as fellow human beings even, and Fleur had the sinking realisation that Dagworth was likely too far removed from humanity to even comprehend human morals. She suddenly understood Hermione's warming and just why the younger girl had seemed so sure it would come down to wand against wand one day when they'd been discussing Fleur allying with Dagworth– Dagworth was the sort of man who wouldn't be satisfied with just leading the government of Wizarding Britain; he would want to rule it, to change and shape it to his image until eventually Britain alone wouldn't be enough.

Men like this, they didn't come out of nowhere. "'Oo are you?" Fleur whispered before she could stop herself.

A brief flicker of genuine amusement danced on the edges of her senses before fading but the older wizard's face could have been carved from marble, his expression not so much as twitching. "I should have realised Hermione would never bring me someone boring," 'Dagworth' mused, the smooth, light tone of his voice a jarring juxtaposition to the sheer cold blankness she was aware lay underneath his charming surface. Dark eyes fixed on hers and Fleur had to choke back the instinctual wave of fear that rose up inside her as the glamour he must have been wearing faded away, revealing bold red irises and slit pupils. "I am Lord Voldemort." He told her, his mouth stretching into a brief, terrible smile, and her legs felt like they'd turned to water. "I assume you have heard of me." He added, amusement flickering momentarily again before vanishing.

It took every ounce of strength she had to stay upright, though she still dipped in a deep curtsey. "M-My Lord," she whispered, wondering just how ghastly pale her face looked. She was grateful for how the long skirt of her gown hid her shaking knees as he looked down at her, though there was nothing she could do to hide the tremble in her hands from his cold, dispassionate stare.

It didn't matter that Lord Voldemort was a British bogeyman– even in France people knew enough of the man known as the Darkest wizard in history that Fleur knew to be very, very afraid.

She'd thought he was dead, though. There were whispers, of course, but there were always whispers; Fleur had disregarded them as empty rumours, desperate or devoted men and women trying to stir up fear or discord and using Voldemort's name to do so.

She had been so very wrong, though. And they had been right. There was no doubt in her mind that the wizard standing before her was the Dark Lord known as Voldemort.

"I want you to arrange a meeting for me," Voldemort said, and his voice had changed slightly as the glamour had dropped– it was silkier, more sibilant; the 's' sounds slightly elongated. "When Hermione wrote to... explain the situation, she said you created an organisation of veela and part-veela who were willing to actively do something about their dissatisfaction with the treatment of your kind."