The pureblood families evenly split themselves between attending the wake of Abraxas Malfoy and that of Rosier Sr.'s son, T. Rosier. The Minister of Magic had kindly offered the Auror services for use during both services. And had also offered these services to the Prince family, who had formally declined the offer.
The Rosier family home was quite different from the grandiose manor of the Malfoys. For one the Rosier home was much smaller and simpler. There were sharp iron black gates that surrounded the entire property with a wall of pine trees blocking the view inside.
A pebbled trail leads the way inside past pine-filled grounds until a large open space opens up to reveal the dark hall. The Rosier home was gothic-styled, to say the least. Much more reminiscent of the Gothic era with snarling stone gargoyles and black turrets.
Unlike the times before, both in front of the stone steps and inside the home, the Aurors patrol the area. They are rather alert and keep their hands on their wands. And any guest that seems suspicious is immediately either pulled to the side to be searched or kept a stern eye on.
The guests entering the manor solemnly gave their condolences and it was not just pureblood families but members of the Ministry of Magic as well. The Minister of Magic Eugenia Jenkins had been present earlier but had since left to attend the Malfoy wake. All the guests wore a black ribbon tied around their arm signifying their acknowledgment of the mourners.
The front doors of the Rosier home are wide open as the stout, tearful Mrs. Rosier tried to greet the guests with an even tone of voice. Credit had to be given to her that despite her immense sorrow, she managed to keep her voice from trembling. But her sorrow could not be entirely hidden as moisture always seemed to fill her eyes and every now and then she would dab the corner of her eyes with a silk white handkerchief.
Hanging directly behind the black-dressed Mrs. Rosier on the front door is a wreath of laurel and yew tied with black ribbons to signal that a death had occurred. Even the doorknob had a neat black ribbon tied around the door handle to point at the deceased young, unmarried age.
However, Rosier Sr. was someone who all the guests briefly greeted, before hastily moving on. It was not the guest's intention to be rude, but the murky eyes of Rosier Sr. are bursting with rage. There was a bloodthirsty air about him that he made no attempt to hide whatsoever. Rosier Sr. was out for blood.
Inside the Rosier home, the wake much followed in the Victoria-era traditions. All the clocks in the house had been stopped at the hour at which T. Rosier had died. All the curtains were drawn closed, and the mirrors covered. Family photos and portraits of the deceased were all covered for the moment. His image would only be uncovered once his box was closed, and the coffin had been left head-first.
The pallbearers are family members and close friends who would carry the coffin via procession to the waiting funeral carriage that would take the body of young T. Rosier to his final destination. In the procession of carriages that would follow after the first carriages which would be filled with the direct family members of the deceased and so forth.
At present in the front hall, the open casket held the deceased body of the young T. Rosier, who solemnly lay in black robes in his coffin. Wreaths of flowers surround him including those placed inside his coffin by the mourners. His eyes are closed, and his skin is deathly pale. And there is no doubt in anyone's mind that the boy had died far too young.
The burly man with angry eyes, Rosier. Sr. gestures at three other men that are present to follow him. Rosier Sr. finally excuses himself much to the relief of everyone else. The guests dressed in mourning quietly whisper and the purebloods tactfully remain somewhat shamefaced. Those that knew exactly who Lord Voldemort was would never confess to knowing so now. They all knew that the first one to speak would become the Ministry of Magic's scapegoat. They all knew better than to do so.
The first man to enter Rosier Sr.'s study is a sharp-faced man with a widow's peak much like his son, Avery Sr. Behind him is the shorter masculine form of Nott Sr. and that of the handsome still somewhat golden-haired man despite his years, Mulciber Sr. The last one of them to enter Mulciber Sr. closes the study door behind him.
Four of the original Knights of Walpurgis had finally gathered once again. The fifth knight was lost to them, Lestrange Sr. having died several years ago. And the sixth, Antonin Dolohov who still served as the head of their knighthood so to speak for the half-blood Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Rosier Sr. has his back turned to them as he stares at the softly burning fireplace. Despite the warmth of the flames, the room felt very cold. It was as though an impregnable chill had descended upon the room.
The thinner Avery Sr. narrows his eyes and says, "Well, Rosier? What is it?"
"Will you still side with him?" Rosier Sr. icily asked. It was rather ironic really for one of the most loyal friends of Riddle to suddenly turn away. But life is full of nasty surprises that way.
Avery Sr. presses his lips into a flat line and says, "I pulled away ever since the revelation of his being a half-blood. I still retain some ties with him, but beyond that, no. I've not lent a hand of aid since then."
"And what of you, Nott and Mulciber?" Rosier Sr. curtly asked.
"I have a cousin that is a Death Eater, Devante Nott, but my two boys remain untouched. I promised my deceased wife that I would keep them away from my cousin's interest. And I've kept my promise all these years as I have been wary of his true intentions," Nott Sr. confessed. "But none of you would listen. I told you, there was much more to him than initially met the eye."
"Yes, well, it's too late now to be pointing fingers," Avery Sr. drily said as Nott Sr. shot him a dark look. It was no doubt a sore spot for Rosier Sr. considering all the aid that he had given the Dark Lord. The sheer guilt and rage must utterly be consuming the man.
"You've not said a word, Mulciber," Rosier Sr. chillingly pointed out.
Mulciber confidently smirks at them. "I have not lost anything as such, I'll remain where I stand. Neutral, but I'll lend a hand if it's in my best interest. We are Slytherins, Rosier, surely you would know better than anyone else. If not for his trifle little incident, Rosier, you would not have suddenly grown conscious. Let us not pretend otherwise."
Rosier Sr. whirls around with such force that the three men take a step back. Pure and utter rage can be seen in the depths of his eyes. "My eldest son is dead," Rosier Sr. hissed. "He was a mere boy of fourteen. And I know that you'd all be that much more furious than I had, had it been any of your sons. After all, I still have a second son, but the three of you only just have a sole heir."
"Is that a threat?" Mulciber Sr. icily asked as his handsome features narrowed dangerously.
"Had it been your sole heir? What would you have done?" Rosier Sr. spat back.
Even Mulciber doesn't dare answer as Rosier Sr. growls, "I know that we will shortly be receiving the Prince summons and I will be in attendance. No matter what happens I will side with him. He's called for Sanguis Enim Sanguis, and I will demand no less."
"What is that you're saying, Rosier?" Nott Sr. slowly said rather wary.
"It is a fair and clear warning," Rosier Sr. straightened up. "If you should side with Him, we will become enemies. And I will show no mercy."
Nott Sr. does not show any surprise as he slowly nods his head and says, "I have no intention of siding with him as I have said before the blinds fell off a long time ago."
"As I've stated before, I'll remain where I stand but maintain ties via third parties. I will not aid him, but I wish to remain aware of the situation," Avery Sr. replied.
All three men turn to stare at Mulciber Sr., who coldly says, "I do not like to be threatened, Rosier. You really should know better than that. That being said, I will accept the Prince's summons. After that, I will make you aware of my final decision."
"Then we have nothing more to speak about," Rosier Sr. said as the three men excused themselves with a simple head nod and left. The door clicked firmly shut behind them as their footsteps faded away.
Rosier Sr. tremblingly reached into his pocket and pulled out a golden pendant. Snapping the pendant open to reveal a small portrait of his smiling son with a lock of hair enchanted to stick on the other inner side of the pendant. "I'm so sorry," Rosier Sr. whispered as he kept the guilty tears at bay.
For it had been he who had aided Rabastan Lestrange in acquiring said invitations for the other Death Eaters. And it had been him who had paid for the Polyjuice potions. And it had been him who had so foolishly been the other mastermind behind the attack that had resulted in the death of his child. He would never forgive himself, not ever. And though he could never atone for his sins, he would ensure that justice if not vengeance would prevail.
Clutching the pendant in his hand, Rosier Sr. swore to himself to see Tom Marvolo Riddle dead even at the cost of his own life. With a new fire burning in his eyes, Rosier Sr. tenderly put the locket away and squared his broad shoulders back. Mourning or not, he'd not show his weakness again. The other purebloods were like sharks like that instantly scenting blood in the water and attacking the weakened prey. And he was no prey.