The raven, a silent harbinger of ancient wrath, soared through the night sky. Its powerful wings cut through the cool air with unwavering purpose, the crudely carved effigy held firmly in its beak. Malfoy Manor, a sprawling edifice of dark stone and colder ambition, soon loomed in the distance. Its numerous windows, like watchful, unblinking eyes, glowed faintly in the oppressive darkness, each a silent testament to the family's wealth and power within.
The raven circled once, its keen eyes surveying the estate. Guided by an instinct older than memory, it found its perch – the tallest, most prominent gargoyle atop the manor's central turret. With a delicate maneuver, it secured the effigy to the gargoyle's stony claw, positioning it so that its twisted, screaming figure was visible from every approach to the manor, a macabre sentinel against the stark sky. The tiny, invisible runes on its surface pulsed with a faint, earthy green glow, a silent hum of ancient, malicious magic.
Just as the last tendrils of magic settled around the effigy, a window on the ground floor leading to a lavishly appointed drawing room slid open. Narcissa Malfoy, elegant even in her distress, peered out into the darkness, her pale face etched with a familiar worry for her son. The raven seized its opportunity. With a swift, silent beat of its wings, it darted through the open window, startling Narcissa, who let out a small, sharp gasp and quickly slammed the window shut behind it.
Inside, the drawing-room was opulent, filled with dark, polished furniture and portraits of stern-faced ancestors. Lucius Malfoy, arrogant and self-assured, sat across from his father, Abraxas Malfoy, whose face, though aged, held a similar disdain for the world. Both men looked up sharply as the raven materialized, seemingly from nowhere, and landed on the mantelpiece above the roaring fireplace. Its beady eyes, ancient and unnervingly intelligent, fixed on Lucius. A cold, guttural voice, laced with the dry rustle of forgotten leaves and the chill of damp earth, echoed through the room, not from the raven's beak, but from the very air around it. It was Ethel's voice, amplified and imbued with dark power.
"Those who harm the innocent," the voice intoned, chilling the air, "those who meddle with bonds not their own, those who draw the ire of the ancient earth… will face consequences far older than any Ministry law."
For once, Lucius was speechless, his face paling as he stared at the ominous bird. Abraxas, however, merely narrowed his eyes, a flicker of something ancient and knowing in their depths.
"A debt has been incurred," the voice continued, unwavering, "a transgression against the natural order, and the balance will be restored. The hag remembers. The forest remembers. And the consequences will be… profound, and Granny Ethel never forgets or forgives easily."
As the last word hung in the air, a final, chilling whisper, the raven launched itself from the mantelpiece. The drawing-room window, now firmly shut by Narcissa, was no longer an option. Instead, with a final, defiant caw that seemed to shake the very soot from the chimney, it soared straight up the flue, a swirling vortex of black feathers vanishing into the night. Silence descended upon the drawing-room, broken only by the crackling fire. Narcissa, her hand still pressed to her mouth, looked utterly terrified. Lucius, his usual haughty composure shattered, could only stare at the space where the raven had been, a cold dread seeping into his very bones.
Abraxas Malfoy, however, slowly rose from his chair, his expression unreadable. He walked to the window, peered out into the darkness, and then turned back to his son, his voice low and dangerous.
"Lucius," he said, his eyes hard, "what, precisely, did the Dark Lord have you doing that managed to piss off a hag?"
Lucius merely grumbled, running a hand through his pale, aristocratic hair, his face a mask of bitter resentment. "Undoubtedly," he muttered, his voice thick with venom, "this is Echo's doing."
Abraxas merely raised a single, skeptical eyebrow. "Echo? The boy who barely scraped by his OWLs, and whose most impressive feat seems to be irritating the entire faculty? I doubt he possesses the magical prowess, or indeed the cunning, to orchestrate a hag's curse against the House of Malfoy." He paused, a sneer twisting his lips. "Unless, of course, the boy has discovered some new, incredibly irritating form of accidental magic, capable of bending ancient nature spirits to his childish whims."
Lucius snapped his head up, his eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and fear. "It is Echo! Father, I swear it! That accursed boy has a knack for making the strangest, most dangerous allies! First, that beast of a dragon, then the Dementor, and now a hag! A hag, Father! And not just any hag, but one who clearly has a personal grudge!"
Narcissa, who had been listening in horrified silence, stepped forward, her voice trembling but firm. "Lucius, my love," she began, her gaze pleading with her son, "whatever other tasks the Dark Lord has for you regarding Echo, you must beg him to give them to another. As it stands, things are getting… bad. Before, it was merely the threat of an unknown magic and a proficient Dark Arts user with a menagerie of magical creatures, the variety of which we still have no idea. But now… now he has a hag on his side! And hags, Lucius, never forgive any slight against them, especially one's they are attached to!"
Lucius ran a hand through his hair, a sneer twisting his lips. "It's quite annoying how easily Echo makes the strangest of allies. It defies all logic!"
"Nonsense, Narcissa," Abraxas interjected, his voice sharp, cutting through her pleas. "Lucius has worked tirelessly, even at his young age, to achieve the standing he now commands among the Dark Lord's most trusted. To suggest he abandon his duties, to shirk the responsibilities bestowed upon him by our master, is unthinkable. The Dark Lord, I am quite certain, has a grand design, a plan in motion, and Lucius is fulfilling a crucial part of it."
Narcissa wrung her hands, her gaze frantic. "But things are escalating, Abraxas! Today, it is a hag – their curses, while potent, can often be broken or at least watered down with the right timing and knowledge. But what if it isn't a hag tomorrow? What if it's Echo's dragon? Or that terrifying Basilisk he seems to command? Or something even worse that we don't yet know about? This boy is an anomaly, a magnet for unpredictable power!"
Abraxas merely scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Do not fret, my dear. This estate, this very manor, has stood for centuries. It has weathered wars, rebellions, and more dark magic than this mere hag could ever conjure. A Basilisk, perhaps, might be a concern, but a dragon? No dragon, no matter how formidable, will break through the ancient wards and the sheer magical might protecting this house."
Narcissa shook her head, her pale face still etched with profound unease. "I'm not so sure of that, Abraxas."
Lucius, who had remained silent, a bewildered and angry observer, finally spoke. "What do you mean, my love?"
Narcissa hesitated, glancing nervously between her husband and her son. Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper. "I… I received a piece of information months ago from one of my contacts, a spy within the Ministry. It concerned Echo's dragon. I was too afraid to tell you, or the Dark Lord, for fear it would only push for more drastic, more dangerous measures against the boy."
"What information?" Abraxas demanded, his voice sharp and impatient, "Out with it, woman! Is it truly so terrible that it cannot be spoken?"
Narcissa took a steadying breath, her gaze flitting between the two men. "It's about Echo's dragon, Abraxas. Everyone believes it to be nothing more than a powerful, albeit unruly, Hibernian Black. But it's not just a normal Hibernian Black." Her voice dropped to a barely audible whisper, her eyes wide with fear. "That dragon... it can use the Unforgivable Curses."
Both Abraxas and Lucius stared at her, their faces masks of profound shock.
"You're kidding, right?" Lucius finally managed, his voice strained, a desperate plea for reassurance in his tone. "Narcissa, tell me you're joking."
Narcissa shook her head slowly, tears welling in her eyes. "No, Lucius. I'm not. The report said... the report said it could belch a green flame. A flame that holds the effects of the Cruciatius Curse." She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. "If it can breathe an Unforgivable, what else could it do? What else is it capable of? Is it connected to Echo somehow? What happens if he figures this out, Abraxas? What happens if he decides to seek revenge, not just for himself, but for... for others?"
She stepped forward, taking Lucius's hands in hers, her gaze intensely earnest. "Lucius, my love, I love this family, and I love you. More than anything. But I don't want to see it harmed when it could be avoided. Until we figure this out and understand the anomaly, please back off. For now."
Lucius took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes fixed on Narcissa's. He thought of the hag's ominous message, the terrifying power of Echo's creatures, and now, this horrifying revelation about the dragon. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, a new, somber resolve in their depths. He raised Narcissa's hands to his lips, kissing her fingers tenderly. "I promise you this, my love," he said, his voice low and firm. "For now, I'll back off."
He knew the Dark Lord would not be pleased, not at all. But for the first time in a long time, Lucius Malfoy felt a flicker of something akin to fear, a cold, undeniable dread that overshadowed even his ambition. He had seen Echo's power, his unsettling connections, and now, the terrifying potential of his dragon. It was a threat he could not, and would not, ignore. The House of Malfoy, for all its ancient power, was not invulnerable, and Lucius, for the first time, truly understood that.