Down With The Patriarchy? (1)
Nymphadora walked up to the front gates of Hogwarts. The castle really was an awe-inspiring sight, even at this distance. It was the morning after Kreacher vanished under mysterious circumstances, and she was feeling great. Dobby was a great cook and the bubbly little guy would never try to poison her. Probably.
She'd chosen her outfit carefully, making full use of the old wardrobes of the house's former occupants. Bellatrix had left behind a number of fun and revealing dresses that Nymphadora never would have imagined her aunt wearing. It made her wonder what she was like when she was younger, before all of the murder and crazy.
The dress that caught her eye was a slim black gothic dress with long sleeves that had a ruffled skirt that ended a few inches above her knees. For the Wizarding World, it was positively scandalous. She wasn't wearing any of those atrocious robes, but she did decide to try on what she assumed was Walburga's old witch's hat.
Don't judge, it was cute! A classic pointed black witch's hat! Nymphadora felt somewhat like a cosplayer with the hat perched on her head but she still loved it as it made her feel like a real witch.
She tied everything together with a pink sash that wrapped around her waist, with a small moleskin pouch hanging from her side. Expanded storage for the win!
She was wearing practical black sneakers because fuck heels that's why. Of course, she also had a thin, stylish wand holster that had definitely belonged to some stuck-up noble in the past. It was a bit much, but it was functional. It was the only wand holster she could find that had space for two wands, though it only held her own. For now.
This would be her go-to outfit for fighting the forces of evil and carving out a place in this world for herself! Maybe she'd add some leggings when she visited the muggle world for some shopping? Oh! And some combat boots! If there was one thing she and Tonks shared, it was a love of steel-toed boots. Worn together, it was the epitome of a modern Dark Lady's casual wear! No stuffy robes for her!
She was here at good old Hogwarts to really start messing with the plot. It'll be a big change! A nasty wrench thrown right into the wheels of fate! She was excited!
It was time to take a few of the biggest pieces off the board. She might have to upset the rest of the game to do it, but she would be the one picking everything up in the aftermath. All according to plan.
She held her wand up to the gate and grunted when a harsh detection magic scanned her from top to bottom. Very invasive. Dumbledore must have the war wards activated. Too bad his castle was such a leaky ship, these things were nasty.
After a moment, the foreign magic flowed back and the gates creaked open.
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It hadn't been hard to convince Dumbledore that she had tracked down one of Voldemort's horcruxes. A few pathetic pleas for help, some not-so-subtle stroking of his overinflated ego, and a famous Star Wars quote was all it took, and off they went.
"Oh, Professor, I've been scouring the Black Library and, after talking with Harry, I'm pretty sure I know how the Dark Lord-"
"I backtraced his lineage and found his ancestral family home. At least what's left-"
"The magic there is too powerful for me, Professor. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Albus Dumbledore, you're my only hope-"
The geriatric goat-buggerer was only too happy to accompany her to destroy a fragment of the Dark Lord. He didn't even think much of the strange coincidence that he was already planning to go to the same location in his hunt a couple weeks later.
Dumbledore never did think much of her. Unfortunately for him, that would come back to burn his beard, hopefully to ashes.
Nymphadora trailed behind Dumbledore as they walked up to the Gaunt shack. She maintained her nervous demeanor, constantly looking over her shoulder and scanning the tree line. After all, poor ickle Nymphadora couldn't possibly deal with the Dark Lord on her own, right? She needed the great Albus-too-many-names-Dumbledore to lead the way and take charge!
Nymphadora had to hold in a major eye roll when Dumbledore brandished his wand with a flourish. What a showman. Still, that was the Elder Wand. One of the sources of Dumbledore's great power and reputation.
He trailed the legendary wand down the front door of the shack, sparks bursting out at the contact.
"Hmm. You were right to come to me, my girl," Dumbledore muttered, lost in concentration. "Tom was always fond of wards such as these. Very dangerous. Very dark..." he trailed off as the outer wards started to come apart.
Nymphadora twitched when she saw how swiftly he had dismantled the magical protections. She could have stood there for hours and not made a dent. She wondered how much of that was skill and how much was power.
Dumbledore waved his wand and the creaky door slowly opened. Nymphadora sensed danger and death from inside. The ambient magic was angry and volatile like it would strike out at them on its own. Whatever Voldemort had done in this place had left traces, that's for sure.
They cautiously walked inside, Dumbledore pausing every few steps to disable another trap.
Honestly, Nymphadora had been expecting more Indiana Jones style defenses, though with a magical twist. Where were the screaming inferi? The spikes that would explode out from the floors and walls? Was it too much to ask for a giant rolling boulder or two?
Instead, she just stood behind the aging wizard and tried not to look bored. She sensed curtains of magic unravel and fall, but there were barely any visual effects. How un-cinematic. No wonder this scene wasn't included in the movies.
Soon enough, they found themselves in a large, decrepit room that reeked of black magic. Shadows permeated the room unnaturally. Nymphadora posted herself by the door, wand at the ready, like she was on guard for any danger.
In reality, she was just going to stand back and watch the show, no matter what happened. She and Dumbledore shared a nod before the old man's gaze centered on a specific floorboard in the middle of the room.
Dumbledore's magic flared as he focused on his task. The clawing darkness of the room peeled back, layer after layer, being drawn away by Dumbledore's precise casting.
It took a few minutes, but he eventually pried the floorboard away, revealing a small black box hidden underneath. He levitated it out of the hole and set it down in front of him. He cast a series of charms and nodded thoughtfully.
He flipped his wand up and the box floated into the air, slowly opening to reveal an ancient golden ring embedded with a jagged black stone, etched with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
Dumbledore's breath hitched and his hands trembled. Nymphadora was a little worried the barmy codger might have a heart attack as he reached out for the fabled treasure, enchanted by its allure.
The ring floated through the air and slid seamlessly onto Dumbledore's ring finger, almost as if it had its own will. He didn't resist, completely lost in the euphoria of his unexpected find. All he needed to do was take back the Cloak from Harry and he would be the Master of Death!
Dumbledore was so lost in his daydreams that he didn't notice the withering curse until it was too late. It slammed into his magic like lightning, suppressing him and burning through his will. The curse was attacking his body and magic at the same time!
The Elder Wand fell from his nerveless fingers as he collapsed to the floor in a heap, his hand starting to blacken, curl, and wither. The ring glowed with power as it sapped his own.
He screamed in pain, shouting, "Nymphadora! Help me! Arghhh!" He was in a tremendous amount of pain, but was starting to push back against the curse with his own magic. He could hold the curse at bay, but he would need help to contain it completely.
"To Severus!" he shouted, "Get me to Severus! Quickly!"
Nymphadora watched him writhe on the ground from her spot by the door. He didn't look so powerful now, did he?
"No need to worry, old man, I've got you," she said. She would even speak her spells out loud, just so her dear old Headmaster would understand what was happening.
"Accio Elder Wand," she spoke clearly and the wand hopped up into her other hand with no delay.
Dumbledore had a look of unprecedented horror on his face as his long-cherished wand flew away from him. The instant it hit Nymphadora's hand it shot out a wave of red sparks, highlighting her manic grin, which quickly turned into a pout.
"I thought they would be pink! Red!? Are you kidding me? Look at my hair! Look at my clothes! Pink! Pink is cool! What a bloody tease!" She stomped her feet with a large, put-upon sigh. Why did things never work out for her?
She silently conjured a chair and plopped Dumbledore into it with a negligent wave of her new wand. "Incarcerous." Dumbledore was tied and bound, the strength of the magical ropes incomparable to any other time she'd used the spell. It felt so smooth and natural to cast spells with the Elder Wand, like it wanted to be used. Her magic had never flowed so easily.
Oh well, she guessed the Elder Wand was pretty cool, even if it didn't shoot pink sparks. Soon, she'd have its companions, as well. She thought Mistress of Death had a nice ring to it.
From the look of dread on Dumbledore's face as he squirmed on the chair, he did not agree. Oh, well. He wouldn't be a problem for much longer.
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