New Moon Ⅱ

Pontifex Delia, the middle-aged former witch carefully makes her way down the hall ensuring that none of the lesser vampires are harmed at the hands of their guests. Prior to being a vampire, she did not know that magic had a scent. And far more importantly, the scent of foul dark magic which their guests absolutely stank of.

The doors of the summit hall are grand and ornately decorated with gold and breathtaking jewels. Pontifex Delia knocked once in warning, before pushing the doors to the summit hall open. Waiting inside is the Pontifices including a formidable elderly female vampire, Pontifex Hecate. Pontifex Hecate's silver hair is tightly coiled up with nary a hair out of place. There is a frigid disposition about her that does little to hide her dislike or disdain for their guests.

Pontifex Hecate presses her lips together in a surly manner, before saying, "It would seem that our guests have arrived at last. How very punctual of them." The lips of various Pontifices flicker in a smirk or snicker at the words of Pontifex Hecate.

Not found among them is Pontifex Luther, who carefully takes a sip of his 1912 elf-wine. His gleaming dark eyes do not blink as he studies the dark wizard and his followers. An unsettling feeling is felt by him but even more so at the sight of a large slithering serpent with an awful gaze. Pontifex Luther hastily retrieves his gaze in deep thought and concern.

A raspy elderly voice at the front of the round table clears his throat., "We welcome Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters on this fine evening."

The seated vampires turn to face the Pontifex Maximus Ambrogio Sangria a wrinkled, elderly vampire with a silver widow's peak, who had just spoken. The eldest of vampires only ever lived to see two hundred and fifty years old. Pontifex Maximus Ambrogio Sangria is well over two hundred years old and nearing the end of his life span. The political jousting had not yet begun for the position of the next Pontifex Maximus, the head of the Coven, but it would soon commence as the end of Pontifex Maximus's Ambrogio Sangria lifespan drew steadily closer to an end.

"I thank Pontifex Maximus Ambrogio Sangria for entertaining us this evening," Lord Voldemort coolly said as he took a seat at the table without so much as a signal from the Pontifex Maximus. Several of the Pontifices look affronted by the rudeness but remain tactfully silent for the moment as the rest of the magical party remains standing behind the seat of Lord Voldemort and at the pointed motion from Pontifex Maximus Ambrogio Sangria to remain silent.

Pontifex Maximus Ambrogio Sangria rests his pale hands with blue veins upon the armrest of his chair. "We have gathered this evening to discuss the future of the coven. Lord Voldemort humbly comes before us on this night to plead his case. We shall hear him out and determine if his cause is righteous."

The Pontifices glance at each in silence as their robes rustle sounding like the uneasy fluttering of bat wings. A silence falls upon the room as the Pontifex's of the vampire coven all turn to gaze at the invited wizard before them. There was a mixture of interest and guard upon many of the Pontifex's faces while others gave away nothing.

The enormous green serpent with diamond patterns slithers underneath the table causing many of the Pontifices to pull their feet closer to their chairs. The serpent Nagini hisses maliciously, before coiling around the feet of Lord Voldemort. The serpent's flat viper head comes to rest upon the forearm of Lord Voldemort intently gazing at the vampires with malevolent, hungry serpent eyes. The serpent's dark tongue flickers periodically tasting the air for the scent of fear, prey.

The face of Voldemort is frigid as ever before he begins to speak. "I am aware that the blood houses have been affected by the changes within the Ministry of Magic and the formal departure of the Potentate of London-."

Voldemort is interrupted by an impatient middle-aged vampire with rare brown colored hair, Pontifex Nikolas. "Though the Potentate of London is gone, there still exists the Circle of the lesser Potentates still in power. Newport for the coast, Forsythe for the Scots, Lewis for the Welsh, Murphy for the Irish, and Smith for the North."

"Yet the vacuum left behind by the departure of the Potentate of London still remains wholly untouched," Voldemort persuasively answered showing no signs of irritation at having been so abruptly interrupted by the middle-aged vampire. "I offer the whole Potentate ownership of London allowing the coven to rule without interruption including the unbridled growth of Blood Houses."

"That is truly a tempting offer," said Pontifex Dario, an older vampire that eagerly licked his lips in relish at the thought of more blood houses. Food was no longer passive and expected to be treated well. It was a perturbing thought, why, in the olden days, they had no need for such pathetic, weak qualms.

The elegant older vampire, Pontifex Luther narrows his eyes pensively over the golden jeweled encrusted goblet that held a 1912 elf wine. Delicately setting down his chalice, Pontifex Luther pensively says, "Your offer Voldemort is most gracious, but despite the changes in the Ministry of Magic and that of London, the Blood Houses are as safe as ever. You forget one crucial detail despite everything that has transpired the Blood Houses are a joint enterprise with the wizarding purebloods. Wizardkind receive purchased pleasure for the coin, while we in exchange receive a stable, healthy food source."

Pontifex Luther paused to gaze firmly Voldemort in the eye without any hesitation. "Perchance, the Ministry of Magic would act on a rogue vampire feeding in public, but the coven is very strict with sires and newly created newborns. And as old and traditionalist as the coven is, we are very much modern in our own way adapting to the times. It is a precarious balance that was not easily achieved and not without great loss of our coven forebearers."

The Pontifices at the table nod and murmur in understanding. Their kind is most often looked down upon by wizardkind and humans alike. To finally find peace and the means to safely feed themselves was not an easy process. Many of them had been hunted down in ages past by wizardkind and muggle vampire hunters from the Vatican. Even now to this day, their covens were small and few, and all vampires far too well remembered the cruelty that humans had shown them from staking them out alive under the sun to a slow, agonizing death or violently plunging a wooden stake through their chest.

Why even a famous muggle novel had been written by a would-be vampire hunter on the tragic murder of a high vampire by the name of Dracula, a proud descendant of the first Vlad Dracula (Ivan the Terrible). Poor Dracula had been vilely slain by a treacherous vampire hunter named Van Helsing! The tragic tale had been further maliciously twisted by the vampire hunter who destroyed the love and life of two genuine pairs of lovers. Even now the death of the high vampire Dracula weighed heavily on the hearts of many who were descended from this sire.

Yet the death of Dracula only served as a permanent lesson to many especially the newborns. They were thoroughly warned to not fall for a mortal and much less to believe in the treacherous friendship of humans! Humans throughout the centuries had only served to betray them, both magical and non-magical alike.