ANTARES IS OVER THE MOON. He is grining from ear to ear while Achilles was being held back from commiting a very reasonable murder as he had repeat over and over against to James and Lilia. Emrys is sulking in his side, next to Aurelius who too did not look please at the idea of their Coventina and Antares being too close together. Anastacius was glaring daggers at
Antares while Draco was frowing with a cold look which was something surprising for those who only saw the dramatic and funny Draco Malfoy. Yet in front of their eyes sat someone else, Draconis Laskos.

Aerys was now back to her former self except that her eyes were colder and her demeanour was calmer and almost close  to a humanly one. She let out a quiet yawn while looking at Draco who glances at her with a knowing look. Aurelius let out a sigh and sent a glare at the two silver heads kids who scoffs turning away from him like two
children who are being extremely petulant.

After hearing Coventina calling Antares hers, James almost faints while Achilles had a betrayed look which Thanatos adored. Yet while he was being held back from hurting Antares, Coventina simply sat back on her couch, her cold eyes staring right into her hands as if it contained all the secrets of the universe. Apart from telling Antares that he was hers, Coventina haven't speak or look at anyone in the room.

It worries her family who was confuse. They just saw her having a panic attack and then was disconnect from the world
and now she came back looking like an
emotionless doll.

Thanatos has informed everyone of the fourth movie coming to play. The screen
turns back to white. THE RIDDLE HOUSE.

Many tenses at the name of the house. The Riddle, Tom Riddle's family house or most likely Voldemort's. It was ironic how every dark pureblood family hated halfblood and muggles while following one cluelessly. The idiocity of people will always make Achilles laugh.

The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it “the Riddle House,” even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a hill over looking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face. Once a fine-looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied.The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house was “creepy.”

The Marauders snickers, even their own made house were prettier than the one on the screen.

Euphemia shakes her head. "Kids."

Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many places that nobody was quite sure what the truth was anymore. Every version of the tale however, started in the same place: Fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer’s morning, when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.

"Why are we even listening and seeing this? Is it not important at all." Says Draco, he looks bored and extremely annoys.

"Patience is virtue." Theo says proudly.

"I will fucking show you virtue." Draco runs his hand through his silver hair.

"In what way?" Blaise muses.

"The same way your mother had you." Blaise chokes at Draco's unmanner words.

"That was uncalled for."

The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village and roused as many people as she could. “Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!” The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and illdisguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for they had been most unpopular.

"Ouch."

Elderly Mr. and Mrs. Riddle had been rich, snobbish, and rude, and their grown-up son, Tom, had been, if anything, worse.

"are we talking about Tom the elder or his son?" Pansy asks confuse.

"Use your fucking brain." Draco pauses before smirking. "Oh. Right you don't have one." Pansy blushes embarassedly.

All the villagers cared about was the identity of their murderer — for plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same night. The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade that night; the whole village seemed to have turned out to discuss the murders. They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles’ cook arrived dramatically in their midst and announced to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just been arrested.

“Frank!” cried several people. “Never!” Frank Bryce was the Riddles’ gardener. He lived alone in a rundown cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. Frank had come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud noises, and had been working for the Riddles ever since. There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear more details. “Always thought he was odd,” she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. “Unfriendly, like. I’m sure if I’ve offered him a cuppa once, I’ve offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didn’t.”

"So they blamed a man without proof?" Professor McGonagall comments.

"Present." Sirius lifts up his hand eagerly.

Franks was accused of the murdered of the Mrs and Mr Riddle but without proof, the police were forces to let him go and the man had continued his stay at the Riddle House. Frank was very devoted to the house and the former owners but some boys were evil enough to cause him pain by throwing broken things in the house and throwing dirt at him.

"Children." Severus rolls his eyes.

"Snivellus." Sirius rolls his eyes.

Frank, for his part, believed the boys tormented him because they, like their parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer. So when Frank awoke one night in August and saw something very odd up at the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further in their attempts to punish him. It was Frank’s bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstair into the kitchen with the idea of refilling his hotwater bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee.

Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in its upper windows. Frank knew at once what was going on. The boys had broken into the house again, and judging by the flickering quality of the light, they had started a fire. Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he had deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had taken him in for questioning about the Riddles’ deaths. He put down the kettle at once, hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door.

"I don't like where this is going." A student from Hufflepuff comments.

"Yeah, sound like a scene from a horror movie." Their halfblood Ravenclaw friend
comment back.

"Aww scared?" A gryffindor teases them.

"No!" The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw scoffs.

"Boo!" They both screams before turning to the Slytherin who did that.

He picked up his walking stick, which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night. The front door of the Riddle House bore no sign of being forced, nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock, and opened the door noiselessly.

He let himself into the cavernous kitchen. Frank had not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his way toward it, his nostrils full of the smell of decay, ears pricked for any sound of footsteps or voices from overhead.

He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows on either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust that lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his feet and stick. On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were: At the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor.

Frank edged closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the room beyond. The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This surprised him. Then he stopped moving and listened intently, for a man’s voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful.

"Oh fuck."

“There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry,”  “Later,” said a second voice. This too belonged to a man but it was strangely high pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy wind. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on the back of Frank’s neck stand up.

"YOU-KNOW-WHO!!" The fearful students and elders screams.

"No nose." Draco scoffs. "And shut the fuck up!"

Delphina sweatdrops. Maybe Draco needs a break or something.

“Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail.” Frank turned his right ear toward the door, the better to hear. There came the clink of a bottle being put down upon some hard surface, and then the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head. Then he went out of sight again.

"Oh Peter." Euphemia signs disappointly.

Peter looks down.

“Where is Nagini?” said the cold voice.

Antares raises a brow. That boa, he rolls
his eyes. Aamon was so much damn better than that boa.

“I — I don’t know, My Lord,” said the first voice nervously. “She set out to explore the house, I think. …”

"Weak." Draco calls out.

"The hell gotten into him?" Emrys asks Aurelius.

"A stick."

“You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail,” said the second voice. “I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly.” Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the door, listening very hard. There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again.

“My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?” “A week,” said the cold voice. “Perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over.”

"Will they attack Hogwarts?"

Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his
ear and rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to a buildup of earwax, he had heard the word “Quidditch,” which was not a word at all. “The — the Quidditch World Cup, My Lord?” said Wormtail. (Frank dug his finger still more vigorously into his ear.) “Forgive me, but — I do not understand — why should we wait until the World Cup is over?”

"Wizard are coming more and more in the country for it." Remina whispers.

“Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity checking and double- checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait.”Frank stopped trying to clear out his ear. He had distinctly heard the words

“Ministry of Magic,” “wizards,” and “Muggles.” Plainly, each of these expressions meant something secret, and Frank could think of only two sorts of people who would speak in code: spies and criminals. Frank tightened his hold on his walking stick once more, and listened more closely still.

"Poor muggle."

"Yeah, he is dead like a fish."

“Your Lordship is still determined, then?” Wormtail said quietly.

Delphina gasps. "Don't call him 'Lordship'! Thats an insult to Remington Astor!"

"Who the hell is that?" Anastacius scoffs.

"A fictional character who have Delphina hooked." Draco says with a bored glance at them. "I say leave her and date her enemy, Anastasius."

"Draco Malfoy!" Narcissa says firmly.

"Yes, Narcissa Black?" His mother frowns.

"That my blood right here." Lilia whispers.

“Certainly I am determined, Wormtail.” There was a note of menace in the cold voice now. A slight pause followed — and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve.

“It could be done without Coventina Potter, My Lord.” Another pause, more protracted, and then —“Without Coventina Potter?” breathed the second voice softly. “I see …”

Coventina raises a brow at her name. Her eyes darkened. From Fire to Water. She hums, what was the Fate playing at again? From Fire to Water. She was being pathetic.
Its her power, how can she not control it?

“My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the girl!” said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. “The girl is nothing to me, nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard — any wizard — the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while — you know that I can disguise myself  most effectively — I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person —”

"That actually sound like concern." Mary points out.

"Or cowardice." Regulus adds.

“I could use another wizard,” said the cold voice softly, “that is true. …” “My Lord, it makes sense,” said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved now. “Laying hands on Coventina Potter would be so difficult, she is so well protected —”

Antares smirks.

Achilles scoffs.

“And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder … perhaps the task of nursing me has become wearisome for you, “Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than an attempt to desert me?”

"I mean, who would not?" Draco sasses.

"He wakes up and choose violence." Altair muses to himself.

“My Lord! I — I have no wish to leave you, none at all —” “Do not lie to me!” hissed the second voice.

James finds it amusing but he stays
quiet in respect of the guilt of Peter.

“I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me.…” “No! My devotion to Your Lordship —”

"They sound like an old married couple abiut to break up!" Alastor snorts at the
scene and grins amusingly. He looks so cute that Aelora tried her best to not kiss his cheek in front of everyone.

“Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?”

"Peter, you have become the maid." Sirius laughs.

"Always the fool, never the ruler." Draco says dramatically. Narcissa has given up.

"I felt like you-know-who is the mom in the relationship." Dorcas says to Evan who laughs.

“But you seem so much stronger, My Lord —”

Remina snickers.

“Liar,” breathed the second voice. “I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care. Silence!” Wormtail, who had been sputtering incoherently, fell silent at once. For a few seconds, Frank could hear nothing but the fire crackling. Then the second man spoke once more, in a whisper that was almost a hiss.

“I have my reasons for using the girl, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited thirteen years.A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you, Wormtail — courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort’s wrath —”

"Rather his than Antares'."

The next generation agreed.

“My Lord, I must speak!” said Wormtail, panic in his voice now. “All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head — My Lord, Bertha Jorkins’s disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I murder —”

“If?” whispered the second voice. “If? If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has died. You will do it quietly and without fuss; I only wish that I could do it myself, but in my present condition … Come, Wormtail, one more death and our path to Coventina Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my faithful servant will have rejoined us —”

Peter wants to dig a hole and crawl in it.

“I am a faithful servant,” said Wormtail, the merest trace of sullenness in his voice.

"Rectification. Husband." Sirius smirks.

“Wormtail, I need somebody with brains, somebody whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfill
neither requirement.” “I found you,” said Wormtail, and there was definitely a sulky edge to his voice now. “I was the one who found you. I brought you Bertha Jorkins.”

“That is true,” said the second man, sounding amused. “A stroke of brilliance I would not have thought possible from
you, Wormtail — though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?”

“I — I thought she might be useful, My Lord —” “Liar,” said the second voice again, the cruel amusement more pronounced than ever. “However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me, one that many of my followers would give their right hands to perform. …”

Lucius rolls his eyes. God what did his father find in that man to start with?

Abraxas notices the facepalms looks of his sons at him. The man himself crosses his arms. "I followed Tom, not that man."

“R-really, My Lord? What — ?” Wormtail sounded terrified again. “Ah, Wormtail, you don’t want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end … but I promise you, you will have the honor of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins.”

“You … you …” Wormtail’s voice suddenly sounded hoarse, as though his mouth had gone very dry. “You … are going … to kill me too?”

Marlene tenses alarm and looks at Peter. A traitor was not their friend but Peter was and the idea of him dead did not set right with Marlene.

"You alright, pretty girl?" Rabastan asks her softly. She nods.

“Wormtail, Wormtail,” said the cold voice silkily, “why would I kill you? I killed Bertha because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless. In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to run into Ministry of Magic witches at wayside inns. …”

The Marauders felt disgust and hatred for Voldemort. Peter hated his older self. But he will not do the same mistake in this future.

Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank could not hear it, but it made the second man laugh — an entirely mirthless laugh, cold as his speech. “We could have modified her memory? But Memory Charms can be broken by a powerful wizard, as I proved when I questioned her. It would be an insult to her memory not to use the information I extracted from her, Wormtail.”

Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware that the hand gripping his walking stick was slippery with sweat.
The man with the cold voice had killed a woman. He was talking about it without any kind of remorse — with amusement.

Antares signs, he was as bored as Draco and Draco was basically playing with a
dagger in his hand. One wrong word and
blood will be spill greatly.

He was dangerous — a madman. And he was planning more murders — this girl, Coventina Potter, whoever she was — was in danger —Frank knew what he must do.

"Her? In danger?" Theodore looks at Coventina and snorts. "She is the danger."

Emrys smirks. "Please bring voldemort here." Thanatos shakes his head and Emrys
pouts.

Now, if ever, was the time to go to the police. He would creep out of the house and head straight for the telephone box in the village … but the cold voice was speaking again, and Frank remained where he was, frozen to the spot, listening with all his might. “One more murder … my faithful servant at Hogwarts … Coventina Potter is as good as mine, Wormtail. It is decided.
There will be no more argument. But quiet … I think I hear Nagini...”

Antares's darkened. As good as mine? Who the fuck did Voldemort think he was saying that his déesse was his? She was his even if she hated him or they hide from each other.

"Bring him here."

Thanatos scoffs. "Come your horse, you both!" The message was for Emrys and
Antares.

And the second man’s voice changed. He started making noises such as Frank had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting without drawing breath. Frank thought he must be having some sort of fit or seizure.

"Parseltongue." Walburga says.

"We can hear and see." Lilia rolls her eyes.

And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway. He turned to look, and found himself paralyzed with fright. Something was slithering toward him along the dark corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realized with a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve feet long. Horrified, transfixed, Frank stared as its udulating body cut a wide, curving track through the thick dust on the floor, coming closer and closer — What was he to do?

The only means of escape was into the room where two men sat plotting murder, yet if he stayed where he was the snake would surely kill him — But before he had made his decision, the snake was level with him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it was passing; it was following the spitting, hissing noises made by the cold voice beyond the door, and in seconds, the tip of its diamond-patterned tail had vanished through the gap.

"Fuck."

"I was glad to have know his name."

"Rest in peace."

There was sweat on Frank’s forehead now, and the hand on the walking stick was trembling. Inside the room, the cold voice was continuing to hiss, and Frank was visited by a strange idea, an impossible idea. … This man could talk to snakes.

"Yeah, no shit."

"Draco." Aelora sighs. "Damn ferret."

"Sure miss pinky with bitchy attitude." Draco resorts back.

Anastacius watches them. "Calm down, you both." Draco turns to him. "Whatever, you simp."

Frank didn’t understand what was going on. He wanted more than anything to be back in his bed with his hot-water bottle. The problem was that his legs didn’t seem to want to move. As he stood there shaking and trying to master himself, the cold voice switched abruptly to English again. “Nagini has interesting news, Wormtail,” it said. “In-indeed, My Lord?” said Wormtail.

“Indeed, yes,” said the voice. “According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing right outside this room, listening to every word we say.” Frank didn’t have a chance to hide himself. There were footsteps, and then the door of the room was flung wide open. A short, balding man with graying hair, a pointed nose, and small, watery eyes stood before Frank, a mixture of fear and alarm in his face. “Invite him inside, Wormtail. Where are your manners?”

The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair before the fire, but Frank couldn’t see the speaker. The snake, on the other hand, was curled up on the rotting hearth rug, like some horrible travesty of a pet dog. Wormtail beckoned Frank into the room. Though still deeply shaken, Frank took a firmer grip upon his walking stick and limped over the threshold.

"Serious, I am not surprise if he die." Daphne comments.

"No shit Sherlock."

The fire was the only source of light in the room; it cast long, spidery shadows upon the walls. Frank stared at the back of the armchair; the man inside it seemed to be even smaller than his servant, for Frank couldn’t even see the back of his head. “You heard everything, Muggle?” said the cold voice.

“What’s that you’re calling me?” said Frank defiantly, for now that he was inside the room, now that the time had come for some sort of action, he felt braver; it had always been so in the war. “I am calling you a Muggle,” said the voice coolly. “It means that you are not a wizard.”

The youngs students hides their face in the elders's coat. Euphemia giggles when a little
slytherin girl hide her face in his arm. She slowly let her thumb rubs the girl's back.

“I don’t know what you mean by wizard,” said Frank, his voice growing steadier. “All I know is I’ve heard enough to interest the police tonight, I have. You’ve done murder and you’re planning more! And I’ll tell you this too,” he added, on a sudden inspiration, “my wife knows I’m up here, and if I don’t come back —”

"He is married?"

“You have no wife,” said the cold voice, very quietly. “Nobody knows you are here. You told nobody that you were coming. Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Muggle, for he knows … he always knows. …” “Is that right?” said Frank roughly. “Lord, is it? Well, I don’t think much of your manners, My Lord. Turn ’round and face me like a man, why don’t you?”

Aelora grimaces. "Should not have taunt the man. He is uglier than chucky."

"Stop with the muggles movies!"

“But I am not a man, Muggle,” said the
cold voice, barely audible now over the crackling of the flames. “I am much, much more than a man. However … why not? I will face you. … Wormtail, come turn my chair around.” The servant gave a whimper. “You heard me, Wormtail.

"Not a man but a snake."

Slowly, with his face screwed up, as though he would rather have done anything than approach his master and the hearth rug where the snake lay, the small man walked forward and began to turn the chair. The snake lifted its ugly triangular head and hissed slightly as the legs of the chair snagged on its rug.

And then the chair was facing Frank, and he saw what was sitting in it. His walking stick fell to the floor with a clatter. He opened his mouth and let out a scream. He was screaming so loudly that he never heard the words the thing in the chair spoke as it raised a wand. There was a flash of green light, a rushing sound, and Frank Bryce crumpled. He was dead before he hit the floor.

Gasps were heard in the room.

Draco looks at them. "Ridiculous!"

Two hundred miles away, the girl called Coventina Potter woke with a start.