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Passing a long abandoned part of the Divination Section, the Slytherin first-year pushed three runes respectively dissimulated under a tapestry, a row of books and a table, before descending the row of stairs which had appeared from nowhere. This particular secret passage was only known to a few, which made it the ideal location for a secret meeting. Passing a section dedicated to the Ancient Nordic magical tribes, William approached the table located in the middle of this secret section, before bending the knee.
"Mistress."
The figure who sat at the table turned her head towards him, her body hidden behind a black robe and a black hood, only bright red eyes shining in the penumbral shadow of this part of the library.
"Ah, Rosier. How kind of you to come. I trust you have what I need?" Asked the black-robed figure, in a voice which indicated suffering in case of failure.
"Yes, Mistress. Here are your results for the blood inheritance you asked to Gringotts." Said William, rising from his bending position and handing her a roll of parchment. The dark figure seized it, unrolled it and took a few moments to assimilate the information contained.
"A bit disappointing, but not unexpected." Murmured the figure to herself in a conversional tone once she had finished her lecture. The black-robed figure turned her head in direction of William Rosier, red eyes flashing in the half-light.
"I will need a powerful blood ritual on Yule to attune my magic, Rosier. I want to begin a purge of the impure blood which flows in these veins, and the shortest days of the year are the ideal moment to do this."
"Yes, Mistress. I will make the preparations for everything to be ready at Rosier Manor for Yule. What ritual do you have in mind? The Blood of the Inheritance?"
"No." Replied his interlocutor. "The ritual you speak of is useful, I will grant you that, but it is extremely long, several years at least, and it can be countered easily by simple blood infusion. No, the Blood of the Inheritance is not what I need."
"There is the Ritual of the Ancestors..."
"No. I want to do the Sang Royal."
William Rosier's body shivered involuntarily at this affirmation.
"Mistress...this ritual is extremely dangerous!" Protested the young first-year Slytherin.
It was considered Dark and strictly forbidden by the Ministry of Magic in Britain among many other things. In itself, it signified absolutely nothing. The British Ministry had forbidden almost every known documented ritual in the last decades after all. But it was worthy of mention that every single European Ministry had done the same concerning the ritual of Sang Royal. The danger to the one performing the ritual, so great about one-third of the persons who did it never recovered physically and mentally, obviously played a part in this decision. So did the large quantities of human blood required, which often led the organisers of this ceremony to kidnap and butcher some Muggles. Even the Durmstrang Institute of all places had placed it on their black list, as the ritual had been the origin of several Honour Duels, disputed inheritances and some Blood Feuds extremely damaging in pure-blood circles.
"My decision is made, Rosier." The voice of his mistress was no subject to discussion and counter-arguments. William Rosier thus closed his mouth and ceased his protestations. "I am aware of the risks, but the danger of the ritual is outweighed by the sheer benefits I will gain once I have completed it. The first ritual at Yule will attune my magic to the darkness and start the purification process. Once this step is finished, the danger is...acceptable. The last ritual will only need my participation at another Yule ritual, and each phase of the ritual is irreversible."
The Rosier Heir nodded, understanding nothing he would say would change the outcome. His Mistress had decided, and he would obey.
"I suppose I better ensure the preparations for the Yule are perfect?" William voiced it like a question but his instincts told him his mistress would treat as a statement.
"Yes, Rosier. Oh, and begin to approach a few of the brutes in Slytherin House before you leave for the holidays. I will be weakened by the ritual for several weeks, so I think it's best if we hire some muscle to prepare the next attacks for us."
"By your command, Mistress."
19 December 1992, Hogwarts Express, Scotland
"I'm really happy to be out of the castle and going home this year." Huffed Nigel, pushing his heavy trunk in the first compartment of the Hogwarts Express available.
"I see what you mean." Sighed Alexandra, once the group of four were all seated in the compartment. "Between the snow storms and the attacks, winter is really not pleasant at Hogwarts this year."
"I heard only a few students were staying here for the holidays."
"The Weasleys and some older students wanting to study for their NEWTS are all the living who remains." Confirmed Morag. "Apart the teachers who do not go home for Christmas, everybody is gone."
"What did you expect, Morag? People are terrified by the wave of attacks. We have...let's see, one caretaker, one cat, one ghost and four students petrified. And for the moment, the answer of the Professors has been...less than stellar shall we say?"
"Somebody is in a black mood." Smiled the red-haired Ravenclaw.
"Of course I am in a bad mood!" Exclaimed Alexandra. "This is supposed to be a school, Morag! We are children, whose parents paid a small fortune to learn an education in magic and the mysteries which come with it. Attacks which petrify people, troll, monsters, prank wars and hate between Houses are not normal. The Professors doing anything but their jobs is not normal." The Potter Heiress huffed. "We should really wonder if the adults are not all insane. Now that I think about it, it would explain a lot of things..."
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