Increased - a sequel to Turned

Chapter Sixteen

"You reckon she'll be alright out there?" Dominic queried one morning. Charlotte had left to move into an apartment with another intern from the ministry. "An Auror is a risky path."

"All of the kids aspire to be an Auror, who knows if that's what she will become," Elizabeth shrugged, waving her wand over the sink, the suds washing away the residue of their breakfast.

Dominic nodded, "I agree, I always saw her as more of a professor. Who knows, she may even seek out an occupation at Hogwarts." Elizabeth was silent. "I'm sorry, I know you want her to stay as far away as possible."

"I thought it would be enough. You know, the bangs, the glasses, fixing her teeth. I just fear that people will know."

"Elizabeth," Dominic slowly stood and took his wife's hands, "there is nothing to worry about. She is a smart girl."

She sparked a cigarette and nodded in assent, "I suppose."

"Anyways, I think it is beneficial to have her out of here with everything going on," Dominic brought up. He used his wand to light his own cigarette.

"I agree, I just wish there was a way for us to identify who is doing all of this without compromising ourselves," Elizabeth sighed. She didn't want to think that it was Tom, so she remained in perpetual denial.

Dominic nodded, "Do you think that is why Wendy called an emergency conference today? She said she has new information, but she was entirely unspecific."

"We will see when she arrives," Elizabeth mumbled, tossing her cigarette into the bin as she determined she was finished with it. She had been trying to stop smoking, but it eased her nerves, unlike any medicine. Changing the subject, she noticed the package on the kitchen table that was unopened, "Dominic, you need to take the potions Wendy made for you."

His health had been slowly declining over the recent years. He would frequently leave during meals and be heard hurling into the toilet. Dominic didn't want to worry Elizabeth with his sickness, so he never went into details. The frequency of his vomit, often including blood, would cause Elizabeth amounts of stress that he didn't want to bestow upon her. "I'm getting better, I really am," he argued, taking a strong drag from his cigarette.

"I know you are against it, but I really believe we should see the muggle doctor I told you about," Elizabeth suggested a bit more firmly than when she had brought it up before. "They've seen wizards before and haven't said a word."

"Elizabeth, you know how I feel amount muggle doctors. They will say anything for money," Dominic countered, shaking his head.

"Please," Elizabeth begged, "do it for me, if not for yourself."

After a long exhale of smoke, Dominic nodded, "Fine."

-

"Marvel at it, do not be afraid."

"It burns," Matilda's son, Dorian moaned. A snake-like illustration was slowly pigmenting his skin. "I know people with tattoos, it should not hurt this much," he fought back tears. Tom stood over him as Malfoy implemented the tattoo with his wand. Matilda stood from a distance with her head down, in closeted misery.

Dorian could feel the ink snaking through his veins, becoming part of him as his spot in Voldemort's order solidified. He didn't want to be part of it, but he also could not imagine disappointing his parents. His eyes searched for his mother, but the blonde curls gave no way to a supporting gaze.

"You are finished," Malfoy muttered. Dorian let out a shaky breath before standing from the chair.

"Mrs. Bennett, please take your son back to the dining hall and send in Mrs. Black and her niece," Tom ordered. Dorian nearly gasped. Walburga's niece, Bellatrix was only fourteen.

Matilda escorted her son out of the room. Once the door closed behind them, she pulled Dorian in for the tightest hug. "I am so sorry, sweetheart, I had no choice," Matilda consoled, rubbing the back of his head in gentle circles.

"Why is Walburga letting them do this to Bella? She's even younger than me," Dorian questioned.

Matilda shrugged, "Walburga didn't want them to, it was Bellatrix's decision. She said it would make her family proud."

"That is ridiculous," Dorian commented. "If grandmother knew what you were doing, she would never speak to either of us again," he pointed out.

Matilda sighed, acknowledging how much of a disappointment she had become. It wasn't just in the eyes of her parents, but herself. She knew the reputation Slytherins had the moment she was sorted on her first day at Hogwarts...

"Matilda Aleita," the man called.

Matilda wanted to hide behind her short, blonde curls. She was the first one to be called and was terrified.

She slowly walked up the stairs, her skinny legs nearly collapsing beneath her. After turning around to sit on the stool, she froze. The entire school's eyes were on her. Jumping at the initial contact, she felt the hat on her head.

Within seconds, it began speaking to her, "Miss Aleita... what a pleasure. I remember your parents from not too long ago." Matilda fronted a brave face. "You are not as dense as many have told you, and you appear to know that. Your aims are not those that would be completed only to satisfy others... yes... you know exactly where to be, but where will you be placed?"

Matilda's palms were clammy as it continued. She looked at the four different tables in front of her, each a different crowd than the next.

"I believe... Slytherin!" it roared.

The table furthest to the right let out a cheer while the others murmured to their colleagues. Matilda knew what a Slytherin was, but did not realize the true meaning until she took her walk to the table. Another student was called and the attention was no longer on her, but at the same time, she heard the whispers from the table sporting blue accented ties.

She sat down alone at the end furthest from where she had been sorted. Matilda stared at her hands as the ceremony proceeded through the rest of the names. One name, in particular, caught her attention, not by the name itself, but by the reactions of her table.

"Walburga Black."

Silence. The table of Slytherins nodded to one another, ready to accept her with an open embrace.

"Slytherin!"

Mass cheers broke out as the small girl with a head full of thick, black hair made her way down the aisles, the seas seeming to part for her.

She looked like a god at the age of eleven.

Out of all of the open spaces on the long table, Walburga sat down next to the shy, blonde girl.

"Walburga Black, what is your name?" she stretched her hand out to Matilda.

"Matilda, Matilda Aleita," she shook her hand.

Walburga grinned and scanned the hall over, "Well, Matilda, these are going to be some of the best years of our lives." Walburga already had reign over the school and she had just arrived.

Looking back, Matilda recognized that if she had been in any other house, none of this would be happening. Her son wouldn't be suffering.

"Mother?" Dorian searched his mother's blank face for a response.

"Sorry, sweetheart, just thinking," she returned to the reality of her situation. "Let's go read your sister a story," Matilda placed a hand on her showing belly. Dorian followed her away from the madness of his truth, both of them hoping that the child would have a better fate than them.