(Rodolphus Lestrange POV)
As I floated above Hogsmeade, searching for my target, I could not help but recall everything that had happened in the past few days.
My father had been killed, and I had no hesitation in admitting that my actions or rather the failure of the action had been the ignition for all that had unfolded.
I should not have attacked that bastard Antonio Olario's house, and when I did, I should have ensured its success. He should have been killed. At least, no one from my side should have been killed. But I had failed miserably. And now, there was nothing to do except lament.
When I first heard the news of my father's death, I had been in the house. That day, for reasons I still do not understand, my father had asked me not to attend the gathering of the death eaters and to remain with my mother, Penalia Lestrange. Although I had wanted to be there when my father would return with his glorious victory, I obeyed his instructions.
Perhaps he had suspected something. Whatever the reason, he ordered me to stay.
Shortly after he left the Lestrange mansion that night, my mother received a summons from Hogwarts concerning my brother, Rabastan Lestrange.
Already worried about her husband and my father, she hurried to the school. I waited anxiously. She returned soon after with Rabastan at her side.
He had been suspended from Hogwarts for ambushing a girl named Lily Evans. She was the very same girl whom Antonio had praised at the Black family gathering. Worried about Father, we did not dwell on the matter at the time.
It was almost morning and we had been waiting for Father's return. We assumed he might have been held at the gathering by the Dark Lord. After all, it had been such a momentous affair. Perhaps they would have been celebrating.
Then the first newspaper arrived at our manor. It was a bit earlier than usual. Rabastan rushed toward it expecting news of the death of Edmund Bones. It was not Edmund Bones who had died.
When I first read the headline, and saw the image of the severed head of my father, I had lost all self control. It felt as if madness had taken over me. A thirst for revenge, an unquenchable hunger for blood. I wanted to rush to Bones Manor myself and kill that man.
But my mother stopped me. It was only her calm, soothing, and yet authoritative voice that kept me from losing myself and throwing away my life. Rushing into Bones Manor at that hour would have been a death sentence.
Things happened afterward. I became the Lord of the Lestrange family. We carried out the funeral of Lord Reinhart Lestrange in extreme isolation. I had wanted to invite a few people, but my mother stopped me. I argued that the man deserved some respect. My mother replied that he would receive respect when we had our revenge.
Despite everything, I had hoped the Dark Lord would act and would take revenge. I knew the Dark Lord felt no fondness for the death eaters, his followers. But it was not only a group of Death Eaters who had been killed.
His prestige and reputation had been shattered as well. Wizarding Britain, it seemed, had begun to lose its fear of the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord was someone who valued his prestige a lot.
I was hopeful that he would make a move. But my mother was sure he would not. At least not in the foreseeable future. And she was right. He did not move.
When I received the summons for the gathering at Malfoy Manor, my hope flared once again. I fell into the delusion that the Dark Lord would announce some decisive move. I was convinced that even if he would not launch a direct attack on Edmund Bones, he would at least declare a major plan. But nothing of the sort occurred. All my hopes were shattered.
Instead, he shifted the burden to us. He gave us a vague mandate to unleash terror. It was an ambiguous command. I doubted many Death Eaters would act on such a vague instruction. Only those who had already slipped into madness would move without clear incentive. If things had remained as they had been a few days back, when everyone was fearing us, many would have unleashed the terror but now a lot of death eaters were afraid. They were fearful.
The Dark Lord had also promised revenge for Reinhart Lestrange, my father. But I knew his promises were hollow. He had merely been putting false words.
Now, about my mother and me. I am better than a slightly average wizard. Though not very powerful, I am still stronger than the majority of the population. And with the Lestrange family magic behind me, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.
But I am not especially intelligent. If I had been alone after my father's death, I would probably have already ruined the Lestrange name. My anger was almost uncontrollable and I do not really think things through. I am not someone like, say Lucius Malfoy.
My mother, however, is different. While being an incredible witch, she is very intelligent and shrewd.
While my father lived, she rarely concerned herself with political matters. Unless necessary, she did not voice her thoughts. And when she had, my father had heard it with complete attention and paid great importance to them.
Now that he is gone, she holds all authority in her hands, and I am content to let her. She is far more competent than I am.
When she heard what the Dark Lord had asked us to do, she was pleased. Everything aligned with plans she had already been making, plans designed to restore some of the Lestrange family's reputation, at least within the dark faction. It was the first step of the long staircase she was intending for the Lestrange family to climb.
Lost in my thoughts, I finally reached the section of Hogsmeade where my little informer from Hogwarts had asked me to look for the red head I was searching for.
And as if I was in luck, she was running in one of the streets with one of her friends. A smile appeared on my face as I dashed towards her.
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