Chapter 3 : Alexander Avery Sr.: Seven Words
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 3|
Background: Font color:
Author's Note: The name Alexander is completely made up by me and picked by Miss Miranda. Enjoy!
Thanks: Pad's for creating such a wondrous idea. Miss Miranda for picking the name. All the other members of the collab. The staff (can't leave you guys out of any 'thanks' hehe). And most importantly JKR for 1) giving me basically no info so I could create my own story mwhahah and 2) for giving me and everyone else this character (and all the others) in the first place! :D
Alexander sat outside the hall in which the Wizengamot was held and waited for his mother’s hearing to be over. The cocky guard, who had held the door open as his parents entered, commented snidely that it would not take long for them to convict her. It had taken all of his father’s strength to prevent him from killing the man.
It wasn’t that his father wanted to stop him; the truth was that he had wanted to do worse. Yet he was not about to lose a son on the same day that he would lose his wife.
Luckily, for both parties, the guard had been replaced while the trial got underway and Alexander did not have to listen to him any longer. Yet instead of watching the guard’s rather naive looking replacement, he kept his eyes fixed on the large wooden door in front of him.
He hadn’t had the stomach to watch. Not because he was upset and would act like a whimpering child, but because he was angry. He wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut.
His mother was guilty of nothing more than standing up for her heritage and yet these…fools were trying to place her in Azkaban for murder. Murder? Killing the mudblood in a fair duel did not constitute imprisonment.
It was the idiot’s own fault for not setting down any ground rules, much less for challenging his mother. It was the opinion of the Avery clan that the dim-witted youth had gotten what he deserved. And his mother had never denied that she had killed him, in fact she was proud of it.
But they called it murder.
Four of wizards on the council had been there when it happened, even cheered on his mother to stand up to the arrogant mudblood for saying such lurid things to her.
Squib he had called her; pathetic half-bloods he had called her family and friends. All because she had called him what he was: a mudblood.
His mother had never been one to turn down a challenge, especially one of that nature. And with so many people watching, she wanted to be sure she made her point perfectly clear. She had stood and told the little ‘child’ that she would teach him a lesson about real magic before promptly asking him to set the rules to which he so arrogantly replied ‘none.’
And so his mother had killed him. She had every right to. But while the four members of the council had cheered at her victory that night, now they condemned her. They said she was a villain no better than Grindelwald.
“Incompetent, arrogant, deluded…” Alexander could not bring himself to finish out loud, he knew the consequences, “filthy pathetic little mudbloods… ought to be killed off just like that fool who thought he could best my mother!”
The thought made him smile, which turned into a smirk when he caught sight of the guard’s curious expression. He leaned back against the wall and pleasantly remembered the night they had come to take his mother from their estate.
“You think you can send me to Azkaban for defending my honor! You think you can try me for fighting a legal duel! The mudblood deserved to die if he did not know better than to challenge an Avery!” His mother was a fierce woman, sweet as cauldron cakes to look at, but not one to cross.
This had not been the first time she had killed someone, but it had been the first time with witnesses and how ironic it was that this legal action was the one they called a murder.
The first time they had called it self defense. Self defense because the mudblood had drawn his wand first. Or at least that is what she had told them. The truth, which only came out in the Avery household, was that she had simply been annoyed with the man for being a thief of the pureblood’s magical heritage. It was something they usually laughed at, but this time was different.
This time, when she had taken a bolder step towards a more pure future, her pureblood friends had turned into blood traitors. They became nothing more than Ministry Officials that night they arrived and told his mother that they had turned her in.
But his mother did not blame them, she blamed the Ministry.
“Everything in the Ministry was corrupt,” she would say at dinner. Muggles and mudbloods had taken control of the highest offices and were now turning purebloods into blood traitors. It was his mother’s opinion that they would soon try to destroy all pureblood influence simply because they couldn’t have it for themselves.
And the purebloods let them do it. They held all the magic of the world at their fingertips and yet were too afraid of some fraudulent organization to take back what was rightly theirs.
The Ministry had started subtly, years ago, to ban everything that gave the purebloods their rightful power over others and they had let their enemies pull the chair legs out from under them while thanking them for doing it. They had become pathetic and scared, disorganized.
His mother hadn’t been scared though. Even now, facing Azkaban, she was strong. Never would she let her family name be linking to anything so disgusting and perverted.
Alexander was proud to be her son.
“You’ll never stop what is right! Mudblood scum! You’ll rue the day you ever thought you could control what is rightfully ours!” Alexander sat up straighter. The trial was over and he knew, just by the words his mother was using, what the outcome had been.
The door flew open and they dragged his mother out by the arms. She wasn’t about to go willingly though and several guards had to keep hold of her to prevent her from running off.
“Alexander!” she yelled at the sight of him but one of the guards used a charm on her that muffled her voice so all she could do was mouth words to him.
He didn’t need to know what she was saying though, her words were not important at that moment. His words were the ones that took precedent now, “I am proud to be your son!” She smiled and fell into submission as if those seven words were all she needed to put her at ease.
It was an image that Alexander carried with him through the years and he still honored his words to her even now.
Two years had past since that day and that image was all that kept him going. His mother, his strong and willful mother, was now nothing more than a twig in a wind storm; the time in Azkaban having withered her away into nothing.
It had taken his father these past two years to convince the Ministry that her son should be allowed to visit, but once he finally arrived at her cell he was disgusted with the new image she presented him.
Her will had been strong when she first entered but being isolated from her family had broken her. The righteousness in her eyes had been replaced by a fog that even her son’s voice could not penetrate.
Alexander wept that day. It was not something he had done since he was a child, crying for his mother’s help, but it was all he could do…well, almost all…
Now was his chance to repay her for all those days she had stood by him. Now he would be true to those seven words he had yelled to her as they dragged her off to this unwarranted hell.
They had destroyed his mother, his mother…and now he would cause them the same misery that he felt. And he would start with a single act of redemption for his mother, giving her a death she would feel honored by.
“The mudbloods are winning mother. Don’t let yourself die at their hands. Let it be at your own,” he had whispered to her while the guards came to escort he and his father out.
And she stopped eating. Her love for her son might have been something the Dementors could take away, but they could not touch hatred. And her hatred for mudbloods surpassed any other feeling left in her clouded mind.
Now he was just waiting for the news. It had been only a week since his visit but he knew it wouldn’t take long. The frail figure that he had witnessed in that prison cell was all that remained of his beautiful mother and now he had given her a way to suffer at their grubby hands no more.
To die with honor.
Alexander slammed his goblet down on the table hard enough to crack the base; butterbeer seeped out and ran over the table. Several people around him glanced over but looked quickly away when they saw the tormented expression on his face.
“My dear friend, what troubles you?” asked a voice behind him. It was as familiar as his own and yet so completely changed that he didn’t recognize it.
“After all these years, you show up now.” Alexander was vexed.
“I have been on a journey Alexander. One I believe you can appreciate now more than ever.” A cloaked figure came before him and sat down, not across the table, but next to him; leaning forward to usher him into a hushed conversation.
“The time has come my friend. With the passing of your great mother, we shall show these mudbloods their rightful place in this world. At our feet.”
“Lovely speech Tom, too bad its two years too late.” Alexander was now faced with something even more nerve-racking than the unjust death of his mother.
The one person who might have saved her from Azkaban had now reappeared on the eve of her demise asking to use her as a martyr. But his talent for words and the ease for which he charmed people would not save him from Alexander’s destructive mood.
“Do not use that filthy name to address me any longer. I go by a new title now.” His friend’s voice came out with a slight hiss that he could only now hear because they were so close together. He was becoming rather curious what sort of image he would find under the hood and looked deeper to find a pair of red eyes gazing into his.
“Oh? And what great and powerful name have you thought up now?” The eyes he stared into were not that of the Tom he had known in school. These were the eyes of someone he didn’t know and yet, they seemed to be telling him exactly what his bitter heart wanted to hear.
“I am Lord Voldemort.”
“So, Lord Voldemort, what’s your scheme? I know you’re not doing this all for my ‘great’ mother.” Alexander felt the eyes bore into his, reading his thoughts, and he jerked his head away. This was some new trick Tom…Lord Voldemort had learned over his ten year absence and he did not appreciate the intrusion into his mind no matter how close they had been during their school years.
“Of course not.” Now the figure sounded more like the Tom he remembered, always having ulterior motives, always doing things for the good of himself. “Your mother is just an honored loss in this war we will now commence. This war is about power. We have it, they do not deserve it. We shall show them what ‘pureblood’ really means and we will be those that others bow to as we always should have been.”
“This great war you’re planning…how do you expect to accomplish anything with just the two of us?” Alexander turned back to the red eyes that watched him.
This was his response. Lord Voldemort did not need to ask Alexander Avery for his allegiance, the mudbloods had already procured it for him. He would stand by those seven words he had told his mother and he would make sure that those seven words where something his future children would be proud to say as well.
“Come,” Lord Voldemort stood, “let us find Lestrange and the others.”
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories