As mentioned, this is my first attempt at a fan fiction which I began writing years ago so I think it hits its stride in later chapters.
JK Rowling owns everything that you recognise.
Please review! xxx
No one knew who Circe was; where she came from, her lineage. She had just been travelling on the Hogwarts Express with the other first year students one day, attentive but quiet, almost unwilling or unsure of how to engage with the interactions that played out so spontaneously around her. Once they had been ceremoniously, if somewhat precariously, crossed the lake to be deposited at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had been sorted into Gryffindor, her curly blond locks and bright green eyes shining from beneath the ancient hat. She sat down at the long table, smiled politely at her fellow Gryffindors and tucked into a steaming bowl of bouillabaisse.
It had taken her peers at least three weeks to notice she was different. She could perform magic – real magic – not the few textbook spells that some other first years had painstakingly practised in an effort to impress the other children that found perfunctory magic so mundane. She was always top of her class, her professors smiling indulgently at her as though they were privy to some consummate secret every time she performed a new spell to perfection. Even Professor Snape was civil to Circe; he never scolded her or persecuted her for his own enjoyment. He had almost smiled (which is to say not glared at her as though he wished he could relegate her to the nearest vanishing cabinet) at her a few times when her potions were particularly fine, much to the bemusement of the other students. But for all her apparent mystery, she was exceedingly amiable and approachable, always the first to help a student who struggled academically, comfort the homesick or make up numbers for an afternoon bash of Quidditch.
Sill no one knew where the girl had come from. Parents of other students speculated that she must come from an ancient pureblood family to be so powerful at such an apparently young age; others thought perhaps she was a muggle-born, aware of the growing resentment towards muggles, who wisely kept her heredity a secret. Either way, by her fourth year at Hogwarts, the other students were no closer to knowing any integral facts about Circe. They had ascertained that her family lived 'far away', that she loved swimming, that Professor McGonagall often invited her to tea and that she knew how to handle herself in a fight; effortlessly dropping a massive seventh year boy who had been terrorising of a group of first year Hufflepuffs. And that Circe was the only one seemingly unaffected by the reported rise of the dark wizard Voldemort.
"Circe, not again." Dumbledore looked disapprovingly over his little spectacles at the young girl, now half way through her fourth year at Hogwarts.
"Not again what?" Circe asked as she lowered herself to sit opposite the headmaster in a comfortable chintz chair, her legs hanging over the arm.
"Professor Sprout tells me you punched a boy in her class." His tone was mildly reproaching but Circe could see a glimmer of amusement and pride twinkling in his bright blue eyes.
Almost as bright as mine, she thought fleetingly as she met his gaze with her own.
"What was I supposed to do? If you want to keep your sleazy students intact, you shouldn't have a trained warrior in your school."
Dumbledore smiled softly. "Come here my child."
Circe slid from her seat and walked around his desk to sit on his lap, leaning her head into his neck as he cradled her.
"I know it's difficult for you, but you were the one who begged me to let you come here."
"I thought I could learn something."
"And you have, haven't you?"
"Well, Potions can be vaguely challenging at times and Transfiguration. Although I don't see the point of it when I can use glamours."
"Do you want to go home?"
"No, Mother is still on campaign."
"Is it your age dearest? I know being on the brink of 17 and surrounded by 14 year olds could be a bit much…"
"Its fine father, I made my choice. I don't mind really."
"The term is almost over, Circe and I was thinking . . . " a twinkle of promise entered Dumbledore's voice and Circe spun around to look him in the eye. "If you still want to, you can go to the London house. I don't know how much I shall be there, but James and Lily have promised to keep an eye on you, with Sirius and Remus as accomplices." Her father smiled wryly as his fingers performed a sarcastic 'accomplices'. "I know they are older than you but they're closer to your age than I am."
Term ended with little to remark upon. Circe finished top of her class, as she had grown accustomed to, and clambered onto the Hogwarts Express with her fellow students to maintain cover. She didn't completely understand why her father had to keep his paternity a secret but suspected it was because of his position in this world. Most Hogwarts professors knew who she was, of course, but they didn't seem to be adversaries and wouldn't use her against him. Circe knew difficult times were ahead; she not only sensed it but was also privy to more information than others her age.
Circe usually went back to Cybele for her holidays - the elfin world where she had grown up. There time passed slowly, the sun shone warmly, wine flowed freely and she had trained in the arts of espionage and warfare just as her mother had before her. She had now attained a master level, having trained since she was three years old. As such, as well as the fact that there was no denying her magical power and cognitive abilities, she often conversed with her father and his friends about this new dark wizard, who her father insisted on calling Tom rather that his preferred 'Lord Voldermort'.
Circe contemplated this as she half listened to the excited ramblings of her friends.
She wondered suddenly, if any of their families had any affiliation with Riddle but swiftly banished the thought from her mind. All her father's clandestine meetings along with her training were making her paranoid. She smiled and joined in Ruby's and Jemima's conversation about the seventh year boys long before the train shuddered to a halt and she joined the sea of students rushing onto King's Cross platform.
Circe loved the London house. After his marriage to her mother, Dumbledore had commissioned a garden that rivaled those at Kew as well as an artificial lake that was filled with merpeople who had happily taken up residence at his invitation.
On the second evening of her summer hols Lily and James had come to stay. They spent their time together drinking large amounts of alcohol (even enough to effect Circe's half-elfin physiology) and playing ludicrous games invented by The Marauders. Remus and Sirius eventually decided to stay at the Dumbledore house too as they spent almost as much time there as the others did and, with the house inundated by men as thick as thieves, Lily and Circe were fast becoming close friends. They spent hours in the garden, or shopped, ate, drunk and gossiped unashamedly. In fact, they spent little time with the men when they weren't all lounging around the sitting room together, daring each other to have just one more shot. Until one day when James announced that he and Lily were going to Germany for a week. Sirius lamented the fact and tried to convince them to stay.
"Come on James. It's like old times, but now we've got two gorgeous birds to keep us company."
Circe and Lily both winced at the word 'birds' but were used to Sirius's attempts to rile them up with his less than politically correct teasing.
"Padfoot, I think you forget that James and Lily are married now and, as such, might like to spend some time alone together" Remus weighed in, ever the diplomat.
"It's not like we care if you guys are fucking like rabbits. Just cast a silencing charm if you're worried!" Sirius insisted.
Circe winced again. Sirius looked from James to her, noticing her distasteful look.
"Circe, I'm pretty sure you know what grownups get up to" Sirius was not at his best when he wasn't getting his own way.
"That is hardly the point!" Circe burst out, "I think you are being highly selfish not to mention childish. It's only a week for the Goddess's sake! They'll be drunk in the sitting room before you know it."
Her admonishment of him seemed to end the conversation and Lily and James soon left the perimeters of the house for the disapparation point. Circe figured it was the end of the matter until, when Remus had left the room in search of his favourite jumper, Sirius rounded on her, grasping her wrist roughly.
"What was that about Circe?" His grey eyes were menacing, and maybe a little hurt. Circe could smell aggression radiating from his skin.
"What is your problem Sirius?" she shot back, infuriated with the way he clasped onto her. "Are you honestly annoyed that they went away? Why don't you just go home if you find my company so intolerable without them?"
She wrenched her wrist from his grip and was about to follow Remus up stairs when Sirius grabbed her again, this time around her waist, pulling her back towards him. Circe growled and seized the offending arm, pulled upwards so it reached over her right shoulder and yanked hard, bending her knees and flipping him so he was sprawled on his back across the kitchen floor. Panting, he was on his feet within a few seconds, glaring at her.
"If you ever pull a stunt like that again girl, I will retaliate and trust me, you won't like it much."
She snorted, trying to ignore his piercing eyes and the scent of his anger.
"If you had bothered to listen to me," he continued "I could have told you that Dumbledore asked that I attempt to keep them here with us. For their own safety and ours. But obviously a headstrong little nymph like you can't deal with listening to people who just might happen to know better than her."
"Elf" she almost whispered under her breath as he stormed from the room.
Remus found her an hour later, sitting on the kitchen bench, a glass of wine almost empty in her hand, her hair spilling over her face and the residue of old tears splattered on her pale cheeks. He jumped up next to her, pouring a glass of his own and silently saluting her with before taking a swig.
"It's not your fault. I thought they should go too. I'm sure they'll be fine dearest."
Circe supposed he had spent the past hour in Sirius's room, probably calming him down from the measured footfalls she could hear coming down the uncarpeted stairs. Sirius paced into the kitchen, gave her shoulder a swift squeeze, which she took as the best apology he could muster, before jumping onto the bench to sit on the other side of her, a fresh bottle of Merlot in his hands.
They sat there a while; the occasional sip of wine slurped from their rotund glasses the only sounds that issued from them. Suddenly, Sirius jumped down, swept Circe effortlessly up from the bench into his arms and smirked at Remus.
"This is getting way too heavy. Merlin's'?"
Remus grinned back and nodded before the three of them headed upstairs, Circe still in Sirius's arms, and into her bedroom. Sirius dropped her on the bed before he and Remus began going through her wardrobe.
"Guys, what are you doing?"
"Looking for something for you to wear to Merlin's of course." Remus smiled at her.
"And what is Merlin's?"
"Only the best club in wizarding London. You're underage of course, but I'm sure you could glamour your way around it. Anyway, we Marauders were regulars by the time we were 14" Sirius announced as he spun around holding up a Grecian style white dress that fell to her knees with a loose gold sash around the waist.
"Perfect," Remus agreed.
Circe changed into the dress quickly, slightly tipsy and glad that the three were friends again. She slipped on some gold roman style flat sandals that tied half way up her calves then turned to Remus and Sirius.
"How old should I look? Your age or do you want some young bimbo hanging off your arms?"
Sirius looked pleased with the prospect but Remus shook his head furiously.
"I do have a reputation to uphold Circe. About 28 or so should be fine."
Yeah, but aren't you pushing 30? thought Circe, but she cast the glamours anyway.
Her long blond curls transfigured into straight black hair that fell short of her shoulders, her green eyes turned a brilliant blue like her father's and her nose extended faintly. She gave herself vague smile lines around her eyes and lips, taking away the slightly immature look of her own face.
"Happy?" She asked them.
The three trooped out of the house. Sirius in black dress pants and a thin white shirt that very intentionally fitted his toned and tattooed body. Remus wore similar black pants and a crisp pale blue shirt that brought out the brightness of his hazel eyes. When they had passed the house wards, Remus and Sirius slipped their arms around her waist and the three of them disapparated.
Merlin's was, apparently, the hot spot for the bohemian and hedonistic of the magical community. Loud Hungarian folk music burst into the street where masses of witches and wizards were lining up, twirling and dancing as they waited. Once inside (ostensibly an honour in itself), Merlin's was bursting at the seams, filled with every kind of magical creature. Sirius strode confidently through the crowd and up to the bar, ordering a round of absinthe for the trio from a dreadlocked and shirtless faun. They downed these quickly and soon Remus was whisked away, smiling, by a brown eyed, red headed witch. Sirius and Circe soon followed the masses on to the dance floor and spent the next four hours dancing with each other and with everyone. Sirius frequently dashed off for and delivered more drinks before, after many attempts at nonchalance that only the young and impressionable bother to feign, everything that had so recently thrilled her: the scent of too many people, the ricochet of frantic violin, and the unfamiliar feeling of complete intoxication, finally forced Circe to slip, unnoticed, outside to breathe in the fresh air and shake off her glamours. She didn't realise how big a mistake this would be.