Chapter 84: The "Repentant" Carrow
The word "Mudblood" landed in the grand hall like a boulder dropped into a still pond, sending shockwaves through the assembled guests.
Everyone present knew there was something strange about the sudden announcement of a new, school-aged patriarch for the House of Selwyn. Many of the older, more experienced guests had arrived with a healthy dose of suspicion. They were old hands at the games of power and influence, and they could smell a coup from a mile away. But smelling a rat and proving it were two different things, and who would be foolish enough to speak up for the losers in a power struggle?
However, the utterance of that single, vile word changed the dynamic entirely. The conflict between pure-bloods, half-bloods, and Muggle-borns was a deep and bitter one. Even though the Hogwarts students were the guests of the new Lord Selwyn, the speaker could easily claim he was simply overcome with nostalgic passion for the glory of pure-blood supremacy.
Many eyes turned to the wizard who had spoken. He was the only member of the Carrow family—another of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and a notorious den of Death Eaters—not currently residing in Azkaban. This wasn't due to any particular skill on his part; he had simply been too young to officially join the Death Eaters during Voldemort's reign of terror. At the time, the Dark Lord had plenty of more capable followers, and there was no need to send a mere boy on dangerous missions. Thus, he had escaped punishment, a fact that had only deepened his hatred for Muggles and Muggle-borns.
Was his outburst a careless slip of the tongue, or a deliberate provocation? The old hunters of the political world watched and waited, eager to find out.
Upstairs, the two young men who were about to descend heard the slur clearly. A chill fell over both of them. Vaisey could feel a tidal wave of raw power gathering within Ryan, a force that seemed ready to obliterate the loudmouth downstairs, held back only by the thinnest thread of courtesy to his host.
"Wait, Ryan, hold on," Vaisey urged, trying to quell his own anger. He couldn't let Ryan use brute force in a public setting like this. They could always deal with the Carrow family's insolence later, in a more private venue.
"Fine."
"I know you won't want to let this go—" Vaisey stopped, his eyes widening. "Wait, you agreed?"
"I'm not yet confident enough in my control to create a public spectacle," Ryan said, the icy look in his eyes not thawing in the slightest. "But that doesn't mean I'm not going to teach him a little lesson right now." He turned to Vaisey. "That's a Carrow, correct?"
"Yes. Amoso Carrow."
"Aren't the Carrow siblings in Azkaban?" Ryan asked.
"Precisely," Vaisey confirmed. "Which is why this youngest one feels his family is owed something for their 'service' to Voldemort."
"It seems I'll have to put some effort into arranging a full family reunion for them in the future," Ryan said with a cold, humorless smile. "But for now, the situation downstairs requires the host to make an appearance."
As they spoke, Amoso Carrow found himself pinned by the dead, empty stare of the only other middle-aged wizard at the Hogwarts table. Under that gaze, a profound terror seized him, a feeling of being seen through, his every thought laid bare. Carrow recognized Professor Snape, noting with some surprise that he had finally changed his perpetually greasy hairstyle. But as the Head of Slytherin, shouldn't Snape despise Muggle-borns?
Even more shocking, it wasn't just Snape. Draco Malfoy was also glaring at him with undisguised fury. Had the world turned upside down? Was a Malfoy now defending Mudbloods? Carrow was doubly confused when he saw Lucius Malfoy notice his son's reaction but do absolutely nothing, continuing his conversation as if nothing had happened.
Just as he sensed that something was deeply wrong, the Hogwarts students rose as one, drawing their wands.
"Well, well, a Carrow," George said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your family makes up a significant portion of the Azkaban population. You must be so proud."
"Oh, absolutely," Fred chimed in. "Such a vital contribution to one of our most famous institutions. Truly remarkable."
Pablo Pierce was more direct. "Apologize."
Carrow sneered internally, unfazed by the threats of a few students. He opened his mouth to spit the word "Mudblood" again, but what came out was something entirely different.
"I am so terribly sorry," his own voice declared, loud and clear. "As a disgrace to the wizarding world, the Carrow family has caused immeasurable harm!"
"I apologize for my vulgar, baseless barking! I apologize for attempting to stir up conflict between pure-bloods and those of non-pure blood! I am a sinner, and I belong in Azkaban!"
Horrified, Carrow clamped his hands over his mouth, managing only muffled, desperate sounds. Why did I say that? Why can't I say what I'm thinking?
He wasn't the only one who was stunned. The political hunters, who had been scenting blood, were shocked. They had never imagined a Carrow would utter such words. They realized instantly that his speech must have been magically altered.
The Imperius Curse.
The thought flashed through many minds, but it was just as quickly dismissed. Carrow could still control his body, could still try to silence himself. A victim of the Imperius Curse was a puppet, with no will of their own. This was something else entirely. It was a type of magic that no one in the room had ever seen, or even heard of.
As Carrow struggled to keep himself from speaking, footsteps sounded from the grand staircase. Two figures descended, one in front of the other.
The one in the lead, dressed in magnificent robes, called out in a resonant voice, "Mr. Carrow, to realize one's mistake and seek to correct it is a noble act. Why must you debase your family so? Surely you don't believe the House of Selwyn is being inhospitable?"
Carrow shot a venomous glare at Vaisey, vowing to expose him as a traitor to every pure-blood family in Britain.
Then, the boy walking behind Vaisey spoke, his voice laced with amusement. "Our host's hospitality is, of course, impeccable. Perhaps Mr. Carrow is simply so overwhelmed by his own guilt that he feels the need to scourge himself with words."
The comment was met with a roar of laughter from the Hogwarts students.
"I never thought I'd see a Carrow with a conscience! Merlin, what a miracle!"
"Now, now, don't be so hard on Mr. Carrow. We asked him to apologize, and he did!"
"We just didn't know an apology could be so... creative."
The hall filled with the sounds of jeers and mocking praise. The atmosphere, once tense, was now full of mirth.
Only Amoso Carrow was not laughing. Consumed by a white-hot rage, he ripped his hands away from his mouth, ready to engage in some "righteous negotiations" with the students.
"You're all absolutely right!" he shouted. "The Carrow family is guilty! We are a nest of Death Eaters! We are vermin!"
~~~
Get early access to 50+ advanced chapters on Patreon!
https://www.pat-reon.co-m/c/Hollowborn