I am working on an original story for the foreseeable future. If anyone wants to do anything with this let me know. Otherwise I'll return to it eventually. I figured I would add the side story here just to simplify things.
Vega sat in the office in his anscestral mansion on the tip of Denmark. He was going through his morning mail. At the moment he was reading a front page article "The second reign of terror is upon britain: Dumbledore has died and with it the light's best hope at thwarting he-who must-not be named."
Well that was unfortunate while he wasn't dumb enough to bank on it Vega had been hoping that Dumbledore would take care of that threat. Voldemort would likely be a far more dangerous impediment to the unification of wizarding Europe than the old man. Yet again he wished that an alliance with the dark wizard was possible but it wasn't, he was far too accepting of impurities like werewolves and wizards with creature blood also he was too lenient on subhumans like goblins and centaurs. He also wanted the subjugation of muggles when it made far more sense to integrate the muggle's technology into their lives. He crumpled the paper and tossed it aside. This would have to be dealt with in a timely manner.
July 2 1:35 am rural Romania
A dozen wizards stood arrayed hidden at the edge of a remote Romanian wood. They wore identical uniforms red robes trimmed in black in the traditional battle style of Scandinavia. Their faces hidden by red-eyed, black wolf masks. Voltik the leader of this little group stood toward the middle his blackthorn staff held in trembling hands. As battle hardened as he was A nervous squirm twisted in his stomach. While he was loathe to admit it he almost hoped that their quarry wouldn't show. He knew that respect for a worthy opponent was necessary for survival and he couldn't think of many scarier opponents than the one they were trying to ambush. The serpent lord was different from those soft westerners that he so looked down upon. He had followed the creature's exploits for long enough to feel genuine dread at the news of it's return.
Voltik was still wondering what young duke Vega could possibly be thinking when his eyes picked up movement. He focused though the red-tinted night vision afforded by his mask. a dark figure in flowing robes walked purposefully out into the meadow that bordered their hiding spot. When it got within thirty feet he and two of his companions fired killing curses at it. The figure fell in a burst of green light. He felt a grin spread across his face. So the myth exceeds the man, he thought triumphantly. Then the ground exploded and he was thrown back into a tree.
He came to his senses to see two comrades dropped by the killing curse.
Pointing his staff he cried, "Nigrum Ignis." Black flames rushed from his staff, where they burned nothing would ever grow. At least until powerful cleansing spells were performed. The figure leaped into the air and to his shock hovered. He rolled out of the way of a curse and saw the figure blasted out of the air by one of his teammates. He stalked forward moving cautiously from tree to tree. He never heard the man move, never heard the spell.
Voltik awoke to pure searing agony. It took almost ten minutes for him to gain enough awareness to take in his surroundings and situation. All eleven members of his team were strewn before him in various states of mutilation most notably the newly joined nineteen year-old laying in front of him skinless from the neck down. Two decades of combat experience did nothing to stop him from emptying his stomach. Nor did it help with the horror when he fell to his knees puking and landed in the bile, the arms he'd put out to brace himself severed and cauterized at the shoulders.
Vega was rudely awakened by the beeping of wards indicating that one of his people had entered the mansion. A screeching alarm would indicate an intruder. He rose from the king-sized teak four poster in which he slept and dressed. Black silk undershirt, gold brocaded red coat, silk lined, dragon hide pants and calf high, dragon hide boots. Lastly he put on a griffin skin cape that he had acquired on the hunting trip that had killed his father and earned him his inheritance.
Vega swept from the room and took the five minute walk to the entryway. There he found Voltik, his father's old friend and best Sargent unconscious and missing his arms. He flicked his wand lazily and the man came to, his eyes glazed with pain.
"What happened?" he asked. The man recounted the story with a shaking voice when he finished Vega was thoroughly disgusted. Both with the failure and with the fact that one of his best soldiers was now useless. Yes there ways to make him useful again but he knew the man couldn't afford them.
"Avada kadavra." he intoned banishing the body and walking back to his room.
The next day Vega sat at the head of the table in his ornately carved teak throne-chair for breakfast. He looked down the long-table at his family. Sitting to his right was Norður, tall and lanky with lightning bolts of white styled into his spiky black hair and a thick clashing gold chain around his neck. Norður was one of the most purebred and least refined people he'd ever met. He wasn't entirely sure why they got along but they did, maybe because their politics were almost identical. Norður was his only true Friend, they'd met as 2nd years at Durmstrang and had graduated from the Ragnarok institute of magical enlightenment together. Norður had majored in magical artifacts and minored in necromancy while Vega himself had taken demonology and minored in shadow arts. Norður had been the only other person to go on that hunting trip three years earlier. A graduation gift from his dad. Norður had an IQ to rival Vega's own and a mile wide sadistic streak that made him one of the scariest wizards Vega'd ever met. He wouldn't have trusted anyone else to help with his succession.
On his left sat his brother Malik. Entering his fifth year at Durmstrang he had a rather striking look. Pure silver hair and amethyst eyes, gifts from their kitsune mother that only he'd seemed lucky enough to inherit. Though the malevolent gleam in those eyes was all their father's. Though his grades were good it was only the family name and Vega's pull that kept him in school. The kid was a trickster in a worst way which there was a reason his friends called him Loki. He'd be a formidable ally when- or if- he matured.
His two half brothers were also there. Third year Satir and Luc who would be entering Durmstrang this year were polar opposites. other than their brunette hair. He and Satir had never gotten along though he really did try to guide the kid. Was it his fault that the boy couldn't understand the natural order of the world. How many lectures had he given to convince the boy that he shouldn't associate with the half-breed mutts that now populated Durmstrang. Only for the boy to offer non-commital grunts in return. Luc on the other hand was highly intelligent, magically gifted, ambitious and arrogant as hell. If he could curb the overconfidence Luc would probably grow into one of the greatest wizards in history.
They all engaged in small talk over breakfast until the door opened. In stepped a women garbed in what would have been the finest fashion if not for the cut . Her skin though originally as alabaster as his own, was slightly tanned now including into her disgustingly low cleavage to an extent that suggested a nudist beach. She wore just the right amount of make-up, green eye shadow making her dark eyes even smokier. The skirt portion of her strapless black dress ended mid thigh and he doubted that there was anything under it. Her hair, pulled into a high ponytail that hung just passed her shoulders was as ebony as his own and gave her a slightly haughty appearance. An Egyptian style gold multi-strand necklace was slung across the bare part of her chest, a green gem in the ankh just visible before the pendant disappeared into her cleavage. Cleo, his nineteen year old sister, he hadn't seen her since she'd 'graduated'. Because today just didn't suck enough, he thought bitterly.
Malik jumped up and hugged his sister while the rest of them remained seated. None of them had much respect for Cleo. Father had doted on her and she loathed Vega for not spoiling her as well. When she graduated Durmstrang with a legacy appointment to Ragnarok she told him off, with more vulgarity than any pure-blood should know much less use and moved west. He hadn't heard from her in two years which suited him fine. A party girl in the finest form she wouldn't have been good for appearances. Luc and Satir asked to be excused with Luc looking openly disgusted. Vega allowed it, smirking at the fact that they actually agreed on something albeit for different reasons. Satir disliked her arrogance while Luc shared his own view that she was a spoiled whore. He had to admit she was good at what she did. Norður cocked an eyebrow at her waiting for the fireworks. She couldn't stand him and he knew it. This would be an enjoyable summer.