Chapter 31. The Brewing Storm
Alice Longbottom
The saying 'Be careful what you wish for' fits her life perfectly these days.
From the moment she discovered that her husband was tortured into a coma, it became her life's mission to save him. She searched worldwide, knocking on both expensive as well as shady doors, meeting renowned healers and slimy charlatans, all in the desperate hope of a cure. But there was no miracle. His brain was irreparably damaged, leaving him nothing more than a breathing corpse. There was nothing that could be done.
The realisation broke her. It thrust her into a dark abyss of despair. The grief was so overwhelming that she couldn't speak for a while. She became pathetic and undependable. Someone she hated. Not wanting to dwindle into a grim shadow of herself, she decided to shift her attention and save what she thought he would want to protect. Their child, their House, her difficult mother-in-law, even herself.
If she couldn't save her husband, she would at least dedicate herself to preserving what remained.
Somewhere along the line, as she steadfastly pursued her new purpose, Alice changed. She grew. She cast off her naive self and was forged anew. She learned how to gently dissuade unwelcome advances. She weaponised her smile and beauty. She became skilled in using her gentle and kind nature to get in everyone's good graces. Manipulating came easy to her, almost frighteningly so. And men were the easiest. It became a second nature to seduce them without giving away anything.
She learned that men admire women who are loyal. Most men, while disappointed that she could never reciprocate their feelings because of her devotion to her husband and child, still ended up liking her, respecting her.
It's the absolute truth. Men revere loyal women, even if they are despicable and unworthy of love themselves. Only a few she encountered wanted to 'charm' her away from her dedication and sleep with her—to conquer her. A fool's errand, because while she did use her loyalty as an effective instrument, it wasn't a lie.
Alice Longbottom is a loyal woman. There's no two ways about it.
It was a source of pride, if she were being honest. In today's world, where people break relationships as if it were something cheap and replaceable, she stood as an anomaly, loving and committed to a man who hadn't opened his eyes for more than a decade.
It's not wrong to say it has become an integral part of her identity. So it shouldn't come as a surprise, then, that she becomes enraged when someone casts doubt on these important pillars of her character.
And when that someone is her husband, it becomes unforgivable.
"I know I wasn't there for you. And it's understandable that you might have looked at someone else for companionship. But it needs to stop right away. I am back and you're mine now."
…
…
Young Alice might have loved her husband's straightforwardness and childish possessive nature, but the mature woman she had become certainly did not.
Merely days after Frank was revived, they had a nasty fight. She yelled and screamed at him for even questioning her fidelity, while he kept sighing and explaining to her how women cannot remain faithful after ten plus years of solitude.
It reminded her that the man of her dreams—her idealised Frank Longbottom—existed only in her dreams. Her real husband had flaws, many flaws. And it was a difficult pill to swallow.
In an ideal world, Frank would have woken up and trusted her implicitly. He would have kissed her, embraced her, and whispered praises in her ear. He would have worshipped her for waiting for so long, for loving him beyond reason.
Unfortunately, this wasn't the ideal world. The real Frank Longbottom didn't believe that only a couple years of marriage could merit such a faithful wife.
The real Frank is infuriatingly frank, cynical, and possessive, with a dash of subtle sexism. He even had the audacity to demand she become a housewife again, to let him take the reins of House Longbottom.
Safe to say, her marriage isn't working quite well right now. She didn't think the vial of a Cure-All potion would risk her independence and ambition. She has spent far too much effort into building up a rapport to throw it all away at the whim of her husband. She wants to do so many things. She wants to achieve all her goals instead of sitting at home like a piece of furniture. She's not that Alice anymore.
Is it unreasonable to wish she had let him sleep forever, preserving the ideal Frank in her heart?
The sudden flare of green flames in the fireplace pulls Alice from her thoughts. And out steps a beautiful man. Not handsome, but beautiful.
He's tall and lithe, with an effeminate face framed by golden locks, the rest of his hair pulled back into a loose bun. His eyes flash with mischief, blue as the deepest ocean, and his lips are soft and pink, devoid of moustache or beard, allowing his high cheekbones and narrow jawline to remain unmarred. Alice wouldn't be surprised if some mistook him for a woman. It's only his voice and clothes—the pastel blue trench coat over a white dress shirt and sleek black trousers—that reveal his masculinity.
"Lady Longbottom, a vision of beauty, as always." He gives her a cheeky bow.
"Not as much as you. Mr. Rayhmir. A pleasure." She nods with a polite smile.
She is wearing a midnight blue gown that flatters her curves. It's tight at the midriff before flowing down in layers of loose fabric. If the tight fitting pushes up her large bust and reveals more cleavage than usual, it's not an accident. If her foolish husband is going to be suspicious anyway, better to give him more reasons to be paranoid.
Vindictive and petty? Certainly. Being a good faithful wife hasn't been rewarding recently.
Speaking of her foolish husband, he places his hand on the small of her back and grins at the newcomer.
"Mr. Rayhmir. It's good to finally put a face to the name."
Rayhmir—that's the name Harry has chosen for this persona, the man behind the Cure-All. Had she not been informed in advance, she never would have guessed the man before her is actually a sixth-year Hogwarts student.
Ideally, Alice would have preferred the creator of the Cure-All Potion remain anonymous. But she's learned her lesson—'ideal' is always hypothetical. It doesn't exist in reality. And if Harry wants to have some fun with a pseudonym and another identity, who is she to spoil his entertainment?
"You should thank your wife. She has a way with persuasion," Harry says, giving Frank's hand a firm shake.
She bites back an exasperated sigh when she feels her husband grip her side and tug her closer.
Why did she ever think possessiveness was an attractive trait? Even young Alice shouldn't be that dumb.
"I'm ever thankful for my wife. You have a strange name, Rayhmir. I'd say it's Arabic if not for your appearance and accent."
Harry drops his hand and steps back, smiling amiably. "I do have some Arabic ancestry, though my parents were born and raised here. The name comes from 'Rahim' and 'Amir'—'Merciful Prince.' Yes, it's a bit ostentatious, but that's just how my parents are."
Alice remains silent as the two men chuckle.
Whether the name is actually derived from Arabic, she doesn't know. What she does know is that, in a fit of immaturity, Harry created an anagram from 'I'm Harry.'
It's asking for trouble, for someone to find the clue in the made-up name. Usually, 'I'm Harry' doesn't count as too revealing. There are so many Harrys out there, after all. But Harry Evans has gained enough fame from participating in the Triwizard Tournament, that few might be able to form a connection between the strangely powerful Hogwarts student and the mysterious potioneer. Whatever, Harry is capable of cleaning up his own mess. She doesn't need to worry too much about his safety.
"Darling, it's time for me to depart." She pecks Frank on the cheek. "You should floo to your office, or you'll be late. I have prepared your lunch, and it's in the kitchen. Don't forget it."
Frank eyes her with reluctance as she moves away from him and stands beside 'Rayhmir', fishing out the portkey.
"Are you sure I can't come to this auction?"
She shakes her head. "I'm afraid not. Considering the gravity of the object on auction, there's a limited number of people allowed in."
Before he can waste any more of their time, she takes Harry's hand and activates the portkey.
~xXxXx~
"I sensed some tension there. You alright, Alice?" I ask as we appear in a cathedral-like chamber.
"We'll talk about it later. For now, just smile at everyone and don't linger to gossip." She links our elbows.
The dome above us is made almost entirely of stained glass, and the sunlight filtering through it changes color depending on the pane it passes through. A thin layer of carpet conceals the floor, muting our footsteps. The chamber has no doors, only a single hallway visible some distance ahead.
There are people in extravagant clothes milling about. Few are tall and graceful, while most are fat and ungainly.
I do not smile, putting on a mask of ice.
"Is he the one?"
"He looks so young!"
"Look at that face. I wouldn't mind selling myself to him."
The last one was from an old, wrinkly woman. Ew.
I do not react and let Alice march me towards the hallway, where two men with swords are stationed.
"They will make sure that only invited guests are allowed in. It was expensive to employ some of the most powerful wizards as guards, but I'm sure today's auction will be worth it."
The two men are indeed strong. One is level 78 and the other is 80.
They don't bother to stop us, though I do catch their intrigued glances.
The hallway stretches on, illuminated by lights that push back the encroaching darkness. As we near the exit, I notice a shimmering barrier rippling like the surface of clear water, blocking our path.
"This will break any disguise magic and expose the true form," she says, unlinking our elbows and stepping forward. "I wish we could force everyone to leave their wands too, but that's practically impossible. Let me disable it for you. Wouldn't want anyone finding out your true identity."
"No need." I catch her arm, stepping in beside her. "My disguise isn't affected by things like this."
Hesitation flickers across her face, but when I remain blonde even after stepping through the shimmer, her eyes widen. "I don't know whether to be in awe or check the strength of the doorway."
"The enchantment works. I just have other unconventional means."
[Faceless Men]
— Allows the user to change their appearance into anyone they have killed.
Two more wizards, level 80 and 82, are placed at this side of the doorway. And they aren't the only ones. The gigantic room has few more of them, given the responsibility to keep the peace if things get dicey.
Alice allows me a moment to look around the empty chamber. It's more wide than long, and set up like a theatre. Series of steps sporting plush chairs lead down to the stage where a familiar man sits behind the podium.
He stands up and bows to me.
I always love when Damian does that.
"Where am I supposed to sit?"
"There." She points up at the gallery jutting out from one wall. "The VIP seat. It will allow you to see everything below."
"And exhibit me like a prized monkey."
"Exactly. But once the auction starts and everyone has had enough of you, we'll use the enchanted glass wall to turn opaque from one side." She ushers me to the stair leading up to the gallery.
It's almost a small room, walled off with glass on the sides and the front. A sofa lies right before the front transparent glass wall, offering a perfect seat to oversee the auction below.
"Sit down, Harry. I'll go check if everything's in order."
I drop on the comfy sofa and yank her down beside me. "Relax. Leave the work to Damian, will you?"
She rolls her eyes at my swift look down at her jiggling tits. "Fine. I guess I need a breather. You don't know how incredibly annoying it was to organise this. Each one of them wanted a private meeting, hoping to buy the Cure-All before it was auctioned, as if I'm stupid enough to sell it at a cheaper price."
"Peasants, knowing they can't afford it. I'm surprised there haven't been attacks on you and Damian." I lounge, inclined against the soft backrest, crossing my leg over the knee.
Alice shifts on the sofa and faces me, her back against the armrest. "That's why we publicly declared that the Cure-All wasn't with us, that it was put away in a safe place. On top of that, we hired a few bodyguards these past couple of months. The ones who might've tried to kidnap us realised it would be futile."
"Smart."
She quirks her eyebrow. "Why, thank you, Harry. I didn't know I was smart."
"Modest too." I quip, regarding her with a smirk.
She looks absolutely smashing. It's the first time I've seen her in a gown with a low neckline. Well, it's not low low neckline, but it shows more cleavage than usual. As one would expect, she has plentiful mounds to display, straining within the tight gown.
I know I've basically given up on her, considering how loyal she is to her husband. But from a brief glimpse today, it's clear not everything is sunshine and daisies in the Longbottom Mansion. Do I still have a chance?
Alice Longbottom
Level: 31
Beauty Tier: S
Seduction: 40%
Points Available: 10
Kinks: Blindfold
Let's give it a try.
"Mind telling me what's bothering you?"
~xXxXx~
While Harry attempts to woo Lady Longbottom, Tom Riddle hovers outside the Riddle Manor.
In front of him is the army of Death Eaters. All new recruits. Most of them will die, but that's normal. Pawns are the first to be sacrificed when the game begins. And he means to win, no matter how many bodies he has to pile up.
Thanks to Lucius, who's invited to this prestigious event, the dark lord knows the site of the auction.
He's also aware that there will be incredibly strong mercenaries to keep the peace.
It won't matter.
They're not Dumbledore. And he almost killed his professor when he was weak and rabid due to the effects of splitting his soul.
Now that he's sane and at his full power, nothing will stop him.
Today, the world will know fear. Today, the civil war will restart.
~xXxXx~
Tom Riddle is not the only one preparing for something more than an auction.
Teresa Clare leans against the wall of the entrance chamber, bathed in the multi-colour light spilling through the stained glass.
She eyes the two men standing guard at the only hallway, the one that probably leads to the inner room, where the auction will take place.
There's no need to worry. Harry has procured an invitation for her. She'll be allowed in with the others.
For now, her only task is to be on the lookout for her master.
Today, she will know freedom. Today, Nicolas Flamel will die.