Six men, all clad in wizard robes, appeared in the cave with a series of popping noises. They stood there for a few moments, blinking in the darkness. One by one, they each muttered “lumos,” and bursts of light materialised at the ends of their wands, illuminating their surroundings.
The cavern ceiling was adorned with glittering stalactites that hung in magnificent structures like chandeliers. A rock formation that resembled the face of a witch shimmered overhead, looming eerily over the action taking place below. Not one of the six men in the cavern took notice of these majestic wonders of nature, however, because they were all focused on the mysterious hooded figure in front of them that was angrily pacing back and forth.
“The Minister has got some nerve,” said a hoarse voice from inside the folds of the hood, “Allowing people to go flying up and down Muggle streets on broomsticks in broad daylight, displaying their wands around for the entire world to see. Doesn’t he realise that they’re frightened of us? Doesn’t he realise that they’ve been hanging witches and wizards?”
“But sir,” interjected the boldest of the six men, “is it not true that the majority of these hangings did not involve real wizards and witches?”
“DO NOT INTERRUPT ME WHILE I AM SPEAKING,” the hooded man shouted so loudly that the cavern floor seemed to vibrate like the strings of an out-of-tune lute. “DO YOU SEE THIS MANUSCRIPT?”
He threw a small, cheaply-bound booklet at the feet of the men. It was frayed at the edges, but the writing on the front was clear: MALLEVS MALEFICARVM. They picked it up and began to examine it with interest, murmuring amongst themselves while the hooded man looked on in silence.
“Give it here -”
“What does it mean?”
“I think it’s Latin…”
“Give it to me, you ignoramus -”
“Go on, what’s it say?”
The man who was holding it paused for a moment and read the title slowly. His eyes widened. “Hammer of the Witches?” The hooded man nodded coldly.
“Now, my loyal comrades, we face a trying decision. If we sit and do nothing, the bloodshed will only continue and worsen. More and more witches and wizards are being slaughtered every year. The Muggles are frightened, and with good reason. We are unknown to them; therefore they fear us in the same manner that a child fears the darkness. If the situation deteriorates any further, we may have a war on our hands.” This statement initiated several hushed whispers, which were quickly silenced when the hooded man cleared his throat and carried on. “Thus, the solution to this persisting threat would be an international statute of Wizarding secrecy.”
Discord immediately broke out, echoing violently within the walls of the cavern like Cornish Pixies unleashed in an enclosed space.
“Sir, you must realise that this action would be highly unpopular with the old wizard families “ what about pride, sir, and the dignity of our kind?” The five other men nodded in agreement.
“The Headmaster will not go along with this plan,” said the only one of the six men who had not yet spoken. “He will do whatever it takes to preserve his pride.”
In acknowledgement of this remark, the hooded man raised his head just high enough for his followers to see the corners of his crooked mouth turn up into a roguish grin. “I know.”
The Headmaster’s Office in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked like the result of a Gryffindor common room party that went horribly over the top. Garish streamers of gold and crimson hung from every corner. The floor was carpeted with a design of embroidered lions that occasionally curled up for a catnap or roared at the people who trod on them. Crimson Quidditch robes which had once been worn by the current occupant of the office were being proudly displayed in a case just inside the entrance.
Headmaster Septimus Zabini was “play wrestling” with his pet lion, Bijou. Even though it was just “play wrestling,” the lion was definitely winning.
“Septimus, honestly, one of these days that cat is going to kill you,” said Professor Crispian MacCrae, who had been observing for quite some time, unbeknownst to Zabini. The Headmaster simply laughed and brushed off his robes.
“Ah, Crispian, my good fellow.” He scratched Bijou affectionately behind his left ear, and the beast immediately went limp. “What brings you to my office on this fine summer evening? Term has only just ended, after all.”
“Just ended? The letters for next year are to be sent out in a fortnight!”
“Calm yourself, Crispian. Everything is perfectly under control. Also,” Zabini lowered his voice and looked around the office as though to seek out any potential eavesdroppers, “remember the plan that I was telling you about at the end-of-term feast?”
“The one with the Mudblood girl? Septimus, have I not already told you -”
“The plan goes into effect this year. The continuity of our race, the pride and dignity of our people, and above all, our children’s future, must be preserved at all costs. I have found the one whom we need.” He bit his lip hesitantly. “Anne Boleyn.”
“Boleyn?” The name meant nothing to him.
“Her mother is a Howard.”
MacCrae shook his head in disbelief. “Howard? Of the Muggle aristocracy?”
“Ah, so you have heard of them?”
“Heard of them! They are one of the most prominent families in the Muggle aristocracy, perhaps second only to the sovereigns themselves! If the Blacks were Muggles -”
“Yes, yes, I know. And eleven years ago, this Noble and Most Ancient House of Howard spawned a witch! If that is not good fortune, then I know not what is!” Zabini was getting excited now, and the energy was infectious. MacCrae’s lips broke into a wide, toothy smile that he couldn’t hide, and the lion gave a mighty roar of approval.
Professor MacCrae left the Headmaster’s Office with a slight spring in his step, and Zabini settled into his crimson armchair with Bijou curled up at his feet. He felt as though he controlled the world. Nothing, not even his spiteful cousin, could get in the way.
Hundreds of miles away, eleven-year-old Anne Boleyn was studying a Latin translation at her desk in Hever Castle, completely unaware of what had just taken place.
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