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A Bend in Time

Before there ever was a boy that ever lived in a cupboard on Four Privet Drive, there was a similar boy in a far worse home that lived on Spinner’s End. We all know the tale of that abused boy who grew up to become a bitter spy. But not all tales end the same for in the many parallel worlds that exist in the universe there are far better endings, and equally as many worse ones. This is a tale of one such condemned universe that for better or for worse chooses to change its own fate at through the sacrifice of the bitter spy. (All rights to the Harry Potter world and characters belong solely to J. K. Rowling. However, I do claim creative fanfiction rights. Please do not post my fanfiction elsewhere without my express permission. This work will also be partially hosted at RoyalRoad, Wattpadd, and Archive.)

EsliEsma · Derivados de obras
Sin suficientes valoraciones
1221 Chs

Malfoy Betrothal Ⅳ

The attack rages on as Reginald nimbly dodges the multiple masked figures. He expertly engages almost like an elegant dancer as he sidesteps their hexes, jinxes, and curses and returns fire. Spells rebound back onto the attackers due to the Backfiring jinx, while others are simultaneously attacked by the cascading spell.

From behind, Reginald senses a spell being directed at him and rolls to his side firing a stinging jinx at the caster who falls down with a painful groan. Rushing forward, he casts a gaze about to spot his sister battling two other masked figures. Knowing she would be fine against two, Reginald rushes forward blasting anything in his path to reach the concentrated area of the attacks, Abraxas Malfoy.

Suddenly finding someone at his back, Reginald whirls around with his wand raised high and spell mid-chant to only see the surprised figure of a younger Black family member. "Alphard Black," Reginald briskly nodded at the younger gaunt-faced wizard, who said, "Prince."

The two of them whirled away and dived back into the battle as Reginald pushed forward to spot Abraxas Malfoy being further pushed back by a rather abled dueler.

"Switch!" Reginald shouted as he rushed forward knowing full well, Abraxas would react to the words instilled into them from their time in the dueling club while at Hogwarts.

Abraxas threw away his dignity and fled as Reginald stepped in to take his place. "Bombarda!" Reginald shouted the charm to counter the shards of glass flying toward them. The shards of glass burst into a spray of dust that gently falls down.

The attacker didn't even hesitate as he cast an entrail-expelling curse. Reginald barely moved to the side trying to keep himself from being cursed. Not one to play nicely anymore, Reginald casts back the disintegration curse that disintegrates anything it touches. The attacker rolls to his side to avoid the blast of sparks as pieces of the floor while his cloak simply vanished.

But despite rolling to his side to dodge, the attacker cast a scorching charm producing blazing flames to give the attacker time to get back on his feet. Forced to dodge the scorching flames, Reginald leaped back barely singed by the flames, and returned fire with Stupefy Duo! The attacker cringes in pain at the spell that should have frozen him in place but did not due to the strong enchanted charm on his person.

"Deprimo!" The attacker shouted blasting a hole in the floor where Reginald was previously at.

"The Aurors are coming!" Screamed a hooded figure as the surviving hooded attackers began to apparate away abandoning the wounded and the dead.

The opponent of Reginald instantly reacts with a deadly hex forcing Reginald to dodge the hex. As Reginald rolled to the side, the attacker takes the opportunity to apparate away. Reginald returns fire, but it is too late as his opponent is gone.

Breathing heavily Reginald reaches up to wipe his sweat to only found blood trickling from down the side of his head. Staring at the wetness on his palm, Reginald snorts and says, "Not bad at all." He had sufficient admiration for his unknown opponent who clearly was a talented duelist.

Pointing the top of his wand at the cut on the side of his head, Reginald mutters a healing spell as the wound begins to knit itself shut. Having been a talented dueler, he'd quickly picked up a few healing spells to heal himself. Casting a cleaning spell on his person, Reginald nods in satisfaction as he strides over to Abraxas Malfoy in the distance.

Weeping can be heard from those guests foolish enough not to defend themselves nor apparate away in time. The remaining guests that stayed to fight mostly members of the ministry are wounded in various stages, while others are clearly dead. Taking care to walk across the broken ballroom floor, Reginald reaches for his wand at hearing the popping sounds behind him. He is not the only as do the remaining survivors.

With relief, Reginald and others lower their wand at seeing the uniforms of the Aurors. They are led by an older Auror with the insignia of a Senior Veteran Auror, a salt-peppered witch with owl-like eyes.

"The healers are on the way to take the worst to St. Mungo's," Auror Sara Vinovich loudly instructed as the other Aurors trained in basic healing rushed forward to treat the wounded.

Reginald nodded with gratitude at the Auror, before making his way across the destroyed ballroom. With some care, he makes his way to Abraxas Malfoy, who stands protectively close to his son and his future daughter-in-law. On his way, he spotted his young sister hiking up her torn ruined skirt and making her way in his direction. He let out a trembling breath of relief he had not realized he had been holding in.

Clearing his dry throat, Reginald announces his presence. "May I suggest that you tighten your wards, Malfoy? Clearly, the wards are far too easily broken into."

Abraxas Malfoy slowly cleared his dust-streaked face with a spell. "I was careless," Abraxas coldly admitted as he glanced over his all too-pale son and frightened bride-to-be.

"Did you recognize any of the attackers?" Reginald curiously inquired as Abraxas shook his head with a frown.

"No, I did not," Abraxas icily responded as Reginald carefully eyed him.

Unable to tell if Abraxas was lying or not, Reginald turned away to leave. "Thank you," Abraxas stiffly called out to his old foe's retreating back.

Reginald paused to glance back and nod his head. "You're welcome," Reginald wryly answered before heading over to his sister.

Reunited once more in a rather uncharacteristic display of affection, Reginald reached over and fiercely hugged his younger sister. For once, Georgine did not fling his arms off in a huff and returned the warm gesture as if reassuring herself that her older brother was fine as well.

"What a night," Georgine croaked as she pulled away to gaze at the strewn corpses across the floor. She stiffened upon recognizing one familiar corpse that of Mr. Longbottom.

Reginald followed his sister's gaze and furrowed his brow upon recognizing the identity of the corpse. The Longbottom's were an old pureblood family one of the 28 sacred families. Yet the family line was dying off with only a single child in the upcoming generation, Frank Longbottom the heir to the Longbottom line.

Georgine pulled her gaze away to say, "I wonder how many are dead."

"Far too many," Reginald sadly concluded at recognizing the corpse of a younger Dwight family member. Tomorrow would be Christmas and instead of laughter and gifts, there would only be tears and despair for several families.

"Prince!" The sharp voice caused them both to flinch and reach for their wands as they turned to face the source.

Standing before them stood Auror Vinovich as she stared at the duo. "I heard that the two of you were the first to let out the warning," Sara coldly asked.

"Yes," Reginald acknowledged. "We were on our way to say our goodbyes for the night as we were due home by eleven. But it looks like that is out of the question now."

Not quite believing him, Sara further inquired. "But even if you were leaving how did you sense the wards were broken? As far as I am aware the Prince's are not related to the Malfoy whatsoever."

"My sister and I are sensitive to ward magic, but Georgine is better than I," Reginald honestly admitted. "I only sensed something amiss, Georgine on the other hand sensed the wards fully being broken into."

Sara narrowed her owl-like eyes. It wasn't uncommon for wizards and witches alike to be more sensitive to some magic types over others. "And what of your dueling?" Sara Vinovich snorted.

Both Georgine and Reginald's lips twitched into smiles. "We are Prince's," they said in unison as if that answered everything.

"Well, we'll be interviewing all the guests," Auror Sara Vinovich said. 'Stay put, we'd like more of a word." Whirling around Sara marched away to corral another guest.

"Well, at least we have a good excuse as to why we're late," Georgine offered as they searched for a seat in the war-torn ballroom.

"Yes, well, I somehow get the feeling that Sirsa won't see it that way," Reginald drily remarked as they found a perch on a broken slab of the marble floor.

"Mm, well you're the one that married her," Georgine teased.

Rolling his eyes, Reginald said, "Rather the question is why haven't you?"

The mirth disappears from Georgine's eyes as she slowly says, "We both know why."

Feeling a bit of remorse, Reginald merely pats her on the back as the two waited in silence for their turn to come. It was certainly a Christmas Eve for them to remember.

Something most of us forget is that Mr. Longbottom, the father of Frank Longbottom was still alive when Neville was born. According to Neville in Book 5 that is the reason he can see the Thestral is that he saw his grandfather pass away when he was very young.

I can only guess that Mr. Longbottom kept his wife Mrs. Longbottom in check as well as his brother, Algie until his death. Algie is the great-uncle who hung Neville out of a window and dropped him trying to see if he had magic. We know Mr. Longbottom was probably nicer and had some sense of humor since Neville states in The Queen's Handbag that, in 1947, his "granddad" put a fanged gerbil into Augusta's handbag as a joke, prompting her to keep a mousetrap in her bag at all times thereafter.

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