Prologue:
There was not much time left to prepare. Two hands in the dim blue light of the magical fire, wrapping up a small silver phial in a tick of dark velvet. A quiet voice from the shadows – a woman's voice callous with wear but, presumably, not with age – spoke sharply to another shadow hunched and slightly illuminated by the frosted window, emitting transparent, faintly glowing breaths.
"When it is done, when it is finished, let it pass to the boy," said the woman's voice, hands shaking slightly as it brought the phial over. For one moment, she hesitated, bringing the phial to her eyes. The slight luminescence showed quivering brown eyes flecked with green. The glow of the phial cast a long streak of white in her corneas, a thin vertical strip that showed a cat-like intensity.
"Are you sure, cousin? Are you sure you want to wait?" said the voice, a higher-pitched feminine one, shaking slightly with cold and fright. The phial stayed elevated a moment more, the fingers holding the phial lit by the window, thin and bone-like.
"He will come for me soon," she said. There was a sharp intake of breath before she spoke again.
"Don't argue, Miranda," said the voice, a whispering hiss. "It is too late for that. Besides, even if I wanted to escape, he would find me and kill you and anyone else who was protecting me – you know he would, despite..." There was a long pause, a wintery silence. Outside the window, snow was beginning to fall.
"But what about the boy?" said the addressee, Miranda. "Could the information help him?"
"I have already communicated with the boy, nearly a year ago," said the other woman. There was a sound of heavy footsteps as she turned away. "He won't remember me anyway – I made sure of that." She stopped walking, breathing in sharply as she ruffled her coat. Miranda walked slowly towards her, her voice thick and wobbling with tears.
"Why? What is the use? Why must I do this? I can't bear it alone, without guidance." Three gulps reverberated around the room. "Please, please cousin, I can't do this without you. I've been wrong about so many things, but I'm ready to... my son. What about my son? And Harry, the Chosen One, his friend? How can this help if you've wiped his memory?" A cloak swished as the silent figure turned.
"Harry may not remember, but he will still know, deep down, deep beyond even his reaches, how to use it." The sobbing stopped.
"But how?" said Miranda. She lifted the phial, revealing a pair of pale brown eyes and freckled skin.
"It may not help him much, but he must keep some connection," said the shadow's voice. She leaned towards the phial, revealing wisps of red hair streaked with grey and wide set eyes. She gazed at the shifting silver in the phial, keenly penetrating the plasmatic substance. "He will see the Dark Lord in his anger, when his plans are foiled, when something goes wrong. The information may help the boy find his weaknesses, expose him, show him what he is up to."
She sighed, lifting Miranda's hand, which clenched the phial, up so the phial rested between them, softly lightening their shapes. They were of near identical heights, each face bearing an uncanny resemblance to one another. Gently, the grey-haired woman raised Miranda's face, which was previously gazing at the phial, tears quietly trickling down her nose.
"You won't be suspect, as you are full-blooded," the shadow said, her voice less harsh, and tinged with something resembling sorrow. "And while a Ministry member no one of such consequence as to... and your face, while like mine... just don't draw attention to yourself, all right?" A slight pause, as the older woman's hand brushed Miranda's tears away. "Ah, Finney..."
"You haven't called me that in ages, cousin," said Miranda. "You don't need to start now." She sighed hand closing the phial, plunging their figures into dark.
"If you're sure... But why must I take it to the boy?" said Miranda. "Why will it matter then?"
"I suppose," said the shadow's voice, slowly, as if for one moment uncertain. "I suppose it does not matter so much after, if all goes well, except to show him why... why he had to see."
"And if things do not go well?" spat Miranda. Then, softly, as hesitant as her addresser's voice – "If You-Know-Who were to prevail? Would you rather I destroy it?"
Whispering, the shadow replied, "If Harry should fall...Make it known to those who supported Harry Potter, should there be any left," she said. "Perhaps it will give them another chance."
"But perhaps he will let you go, cousin, perhaps he will let you live," said Miranda, a tone of perplexed hope rising through her steaming breath. "It was told he had a fondness for you."
"He has a fondness for no one," said the shadowy woman. "He lost even that broken humanity long ago." Suddenly, she inhaled painfully, and there was a thick slapping sound as she thumped her hand against her chest. "You must go now, quickly, before he suspects."
"No, he can't be... not now!" There was a shove, and Miranda backed into the window.
"Leave! It is too late! Go!"
There was a slight pop, and then silence. Only one shadow stood, shivering slightly, and pulling her cloak around her. A woman's figure approached the window, long hair catching the ghostly rays of the snow. She gazed out into the wintery landscape, almost hoping for a figure to walk by – anyone, it didn't matter who at this point – and look up at her, see the horror in her eyes, save her. Even as she shoved Miranda away, she prayed softly that rescue would come.
But she knew it was a vain hope, and besides that, she had chosen the town too carefully. It was full of Muggles – not a single drop of magical blood resided in the sleepy coastal village. No one could see her – the cottage would only appear to be a boarded up shack.
Nothing was left to do. He was coming. She had truly outdone herself this time. Everything was prepared, and yet she still shivered. Despite all her strength, despite everything, fear was weaving its cancerous arms through her chest, freezing and choking. She smelled her own sweat erupting on her skin. With one last glance to the outside world, she turned from the window and gently waved her wand. He spell brought one lone candle to light, illuminating a tall, hooded figure in the center Apparating in the center of the dust-ridden room. A pair of red eyes gleamed from the shadow of the hood, gazing at the woman by the window.
"Ah, Cassandra," said the figure in a high, hissing voice dripping with malicious familiarity. He glided slowly towards the now pale and trembling woman. "Darling Cassie, it's been far too long."