Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Author's Note (1): This chapter has been edited heavily. Please re-read if you read this prior to November 28th, 2014.

Chapter 3: Witches, Wolves & Vampires (Oh my!)

Having safely tucked Teddy into bed and watched as he fell asleep practically before his tousled head hit the fluffy pillows, Ari was back down into the parlour to find the two witches engrossed in a conversation – about vampires of all things. Sinking into a recliner, she simply relaxed and listened as Hermione recounted a tale from her work as a Liaison to the British Ambassador for the Magical Nations.

It really was the ideal career for the driven, highly intelligent young woman: her passion for learning as well as her desire to investigate, and potentially improve, the lives of the vast assortment of magical beings within their world was more than satisfied by the requirements of an aide to an international ambassador. The opportunity to travel to other countries under a diplomatic flag, and immerse herself into the magical culture and traditions while not being limited by the diplomatic duties an ambassador was bound to undertake, was not to be discounted either.

Hermione had just recently returned last month from a placement in Germany, based primarily in Frankfurt and travelling throughout the country, taking in the ethnic diversity and historic customs and rituals carried on by the peoples of modern Magical Germany. Apparently, whilst on a working tour of Dresden, travelling alongside a nomadic dwarven tribe that tended to find places of great artistic significance to settle into for a time, incorporating designs and concepts from the area that appealed to them before moving on; they had encountered a crew from the local vampire population. Ari listened along with Andra as Hermione told the story . . .

They squared off, with Hermione managing to prove to their satisfaction – and Hermione's own great relief – that, in a supernatural pissing contest, Hermione and her allies could well and truly hold their own. The dwarves, along with Hermione, were invited into a local bar – neutral territory, so the vampires (three females and two males) had declared – to chat and get to know each other. As the night progressed, Hermione had observed an interesting piece of jewellery, a bangle, on Anneke's (one of the females) wrist. What rendered this piece unusual to Hermione was the large chunk of lapis lazuli set in it as only one type of vampire had an affinity with that gemstone, in particular. Those that the British Wizarding World labelled as theSange Elevi, supposedly descended from the very first of their kind – the Originals, the eliteMedeisangui Corte – rumoured to have been created by Dark blood magic.

Lapis lazuli, when Enchanted by a witch and worn against the body of a Sangevin (a slang term), guarded the vampire against the sunlight which was lethal to their kind. Anneke seemed to recognise Hermione in turn – if not at first sight then as more of Hermione's past came to light, she had a sudden revelation – proclaiming, "I know her," in front of everyone in the mixed group. "Or of her at least, Granger . . ." she looked Hermione over carefully. "Of course, Granger was the name of that girl, that Englisch girl, who fought in the British Blood War against that supremacist bunch with the stupid name – Death Tasters, or something. She was the ally of their 'Chosen One', another little girl named Potter. So typical of the Englisch, make a mess and expect children to clean up after them." She shook her head in contempt.

Having established Hermione's credentials as a war heroine, even if she was only Englisch, the vampires relaxed further – joking and laughing about having considered the idea of fighting in the war – it was a Blood War, after all; they never actually spoke of which side they'd intended to fight for, Hermione was careful to note, but they were warned to be distant and neutral in the British conflict by one of the leaders of their world: Klaus.

Ari snapped her head abruptly to Hermione at that, "Klaus?" her swift movement and sudden question catching both females attention as Hermione lifted a brow in query.

"Yeah, they said his name was Klaus. Why?" she caught Ari's eyes, a little puzzled by the faraway expression in them. "What's wrong, Ari?"

"That name, I feel as if I've heard it before – recently." Ari mumbled, only half-aware of the others as she wracked her brains for the vague recollection.

"It's certainly not a common name these days, unless you're in Germany, Switzerland or the like," Hermione commented thoughtfully, brows furrowed as she surveyed her friend, obviously lost in thought.

Suddenly, the metaphorical light-bulb clicked on in Ari's mind. "You won't believe just how random this is, but I had this weird dream last night . . ." she described some of her visions from the previous night, spinning a tale of magic and murder, witches, wolves and vampires (oh my!), and a blonde man named Niklaus, who was no mere Vampire, alongside of his siblings. Looking back at her companions, she was taken aback slightly to find the pair staring at her with identical expressions of slack-jawed astonishment. "What?" They continued to stare, unblinkingly. "WHAT?"

Andra closed her jaw with a snap, and shook her head in disbelief as Hermione finally recovered enough to croak in awe, "You had a dream about a period roughly a thousand years ago, judging by the mode of dress," holding up a hand as Ari nodded unsurely, "Where you saw five siblings – one of whom was named Niklaus – four males, one female, who appear to be vampires."

Ari gestured tensely, "You've hit the highlights so far."

"You had a full-fledged 'vision', in your sleep, about the Originals – THE Original family, in the flesh as it were – a thousand years ago."

Ari slumped back against the headrest, rolling her eyes. "Is there a point to your reiteration of the facts as I have laid them out for you?" Ignoring Andra's slight huff at her discourteousness, Ari closed her eyes. "If there IS a point, feel free to elaborate at any time because I'm a little lost. I've NEVER had a dream like that, not even when . . ." she paused, sharing a loaded glance with Hermione.

". . . Not even when you were sharing a mind with the late, unlamented Thomas Riddle, Junior?" Hermione finished softly.

"And I haven't had any dreams like those ever since I turned the snaky bugger into garden compost, either," Ari retorted, suddenly furious. "So why now?" she sat upright again, angry and confused, appealing to them. "Why would I have dreams about people straight out of legend that I've never met, dreams that make me feel like I was actually THERE?"

Andra sighed. "That is not something I can answer on my part, but I do remember something from the Library. I do not know if it will help you, but it could offer more information than we currently have. Excuse me for just one moment, please." She stood and exited the room as they stared after her. Turning back, Ari shrugged to show her incomprehension of the older woman's plans as she hopped up to pace, suddenly filled with nervous energy.

Hermione watched her: stride, halt, and pivot, stalk, stop, then turn and start the cycle over. Finally, slightly dizzy, she decided to ask the question burning on her tongue. "So, seeing as you were there, in the dream anyway-" she hastened to add as Ari shot her a look that screamed 'Are you high?', "-What were you thinking when you watched them?"

Ari stopped pacing, exhaling heavily as she considered the question, and how to respond. Her brows knitted together as she struggled to define the whirlwind of emotions that she had experienced throughout the vivid dream. She slumped back into her chair, deep in thought. "It's all mixed up – in my mind, in here." She pressed her fisted hand against her chest as though she was trying to keep her heart from bursting through her ribcage. "I loved them, all of them, so much.

"So much sadness when I looked at them, the five, and realised that there was someone missing, someone I remembered as being precious to me . . ." she trailed off as her jewel-like eyes met Hermione's deep gaze. ". . . But I don't remember who is missing. I couldn't even tell you if it was a girl or a boy that should have been there alongside them."

Her face suddenly hardened, tightening into unforgiving lines as she spat through tightened lips, "I'm ANGRY, so disappointed with them – how could they? How could they just watch . . ." they were interrupted by Andra's return, holding an old book triumphantly in her hand, waggling it in the air.

"I KNEW it had to be in there somewhere. That library has books on everything, I tell you."

"I thought you didn't like the Black Library, Andra." Ari arched her brows in surprise as Andra laid the bound leather journal across her lap and knelt beside the recliner to flick the pages to the section she'd wanted Ari to see. As ever, when confronted with books, the self-confessed bibliophile Hermione was in. She nestled on the arm of Ari's recliner in order to see the pages as Andra rifled through them.

Stopping on a certain page, she indicated for Ari to read it. Ari saw the page title: Medeisangui Corte – The Origins of the Blood-Born, and beneath the subheading: A History of the Original Family. She looked askance at Andra, who just waved her on. Staring back down at the page she read silently.

'The New World was filled with great magic, of man and beasts alike, when the Viking couple who would later come to create the blood-cursed Originals sailed to its shores with their young son, over a thousand years ago. Much of the records of that period have been lost over the years, but the legends have remained.

'Loose pages taken from a private journal, that of a witch identified only as Ayana, form a partial account of the early human lives of the Original family. For Ayana claimed to be a mentor and close confidant of the woman she named as Esther, the wife of Mikael, and the mother to those who would become the vampires of legend.

'Alongside other families, they built a settlement and lived in peace with their neighbours – men and women who became wolves, savage and predatory, with the rise of the full moon. Alongside their firstborn, they had several other children who survived their infancy, and continued to live in peace – as the full moon ascended in the heavens; the villagers retreated to the safety of the nearby network of caves, waiting out the beasts that roamed the lands.

'Tragedy struck, and the peace was broken when their youngest son, Henrik . . .'

"Henrik," Ari murmured to herself, thinking, 'That's who was missing, Henrik was not there,' before returning to the text.

'. . . Henrik, who had snuck out of the caves to secretly witness the turning of the werewolves, was carried home bloodied and lifeless in the arms of his older brother, Niklaus, who had accompanied the boy in the hopes of protecting him from his folly – a wish in vain, as it turned out. Henrik was killed, and his family struck down in their shared grief. Soon, the father's mourning switched to thoughts of vengeance against the murderous beasts. Mikael went to his wife, and demanded of her, "Where they are strong, we must be stronger. When they use their speed, we shall be faster. And when they bite, we will bite back harder. Speed, agility, senses. Everything must become more than it was."

'He asked this of his wife, Esther, and her dear friend Ayana because they were both powerful witches, and surely their combined magic could uncover a solution. Ayana refused, her duty as a servant of nature was clear – the magic that he spoke of turned against nature, his words spoke of Mikael's pride and lust for revenge.

'Thwarted, Esther was forced to act alone: she created a Spell that called on the power of the sun that granted life to all things; summoned the strength of the great White Oak, a symbol of immortality; and shed a mortal's blood, a potent Charm to bind her family together as one.

'But, there are rumours that claim that it was not so – some of the pages from Ayana's journal refer to another witch who lived in the wilderness beyond the village's borders. A wild thing herself, fey and reclusive, she rarely entered the village proper unless she was assisting the local coven in rituals and healing. According to Ayana, she was known to help other villagers in times of great need. The extract below is taken directly from a page of Ayana's journal, in reference to this witch . . .

'"Anyone who seeks her within the woods may only find her if their need is genuine – for this witch is unlike any other, she is a creature of light, pure and free."

'Not much is known about her, not where she came from or how she came to live by the village, nor even whether she may have been the one to perform the spell that birthed the Medeisangui Corte, the Blood-Born from whom all lesser Sange Elevi, their blood progeny, are descended. But, Ayana claims that she was close to Mikael and Esther's sons and daughter, particularly the youngest boy, Henrik, lost to the wolves; and that she disappeared not long after his death, right around the time that the Originals came into being. According to Ayana, no sign of her presence was left in the woods any longer – she had vanished without trace.'

There was more on the page, but it was an account of the Originals later years once they travelled back to Old-World Europe, so Ari leaned back slowly, processing what she had just read on the page. Hermione stared off into space blankly, trying to make sense of it all. Ari tapped the book suddenly. "Andra, what is this book?"

Andra winced slightly. "A treatise from the Black Family Library on the study, and practice, of Bloode Magick."

Ari groaned in disgust. "Andra..."

"I knew that you would react like this, which is why I waited until you had read it to say anything."

Ari just looked at her. "Can you blame me?" Bloode Magick, indeed. It seemed to follow her around like a bad smell from her earliest days: her mother had, apparently, worked a powerful Charm based on their shared blood to protect her from Voldemort; Lily's sacrifice was used to create the infamous Blood Wards at Privet Drive that had held her prisoner inside that little house of horrors; Lily's sacrificial magic supposedly remained within her blood, alternately saving her (Quirrel), and condemning her (Voldemort's return to a corporeal form was achieved with her stolen blood); as well as acting like a beacon for every supernatural creep and freak she came across.

In sixth year, the vampire Sanguini had moved toward her like lightning once her scent had drifted to his nose. He'd had her by the throat before anyone had even seen him move, only her swift wand-work ripping him away from her as she blasted him at point-blank range with a full-fledged Banishing Charm. It had taken the efforts of a half-dozen strong young males from amongst the party guests – Neville and Draco were two of them – to hold him away from her as he strained to get to her, eyes darkened and fangs extended as he groaned, "The blood, the BLOOD, give it to me," over and over. Needless to say, her attendance at Horace Slughorn's Christmas party was short-lived and not merry at all.

Werewolves had problems with her scent as well – they wanted to eat her, and not in a good way. Apparently, she provoked their most basic, atavistic instincts: fight, feed, and fuck. Remus had explained it to her once, during the Christmas holidays of her fifth year, to try and help her to understand just why he had avoided her urgently for the first part of her third year when he had been the teacher for Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had wanted so badly to get to know her, and to let her know him in return, but every time he went near her he felt his wolf side rise up to the surface – trying to strike out, to claim her as prey, to kill and feast. Constantly dosing himself with the Wolfsbane Potion had apparently helped, enough so that by the time she had approached him about anti-Dementor lessons, he was more in control of his inner beast. The Dementors, of course, were a whole other complication – supposedly, her aura attracted the vile creatures by the dozens.

She shuddered in revulsion; her experiences at the hands of the cold, soul-stealing abominations had left her with a distaste she felt for few other people or species in the world: if she ever discovered a method or device capable of destroying a Dementor, she would not hesitate to employ it to see to the complete extinction of the creatures. She loathed them.

She blinked back to the present as Andra spread her hands in a self-deprecating fashion. "No. I am sure that the entire subject is more than a bit of a sore point for you – considering your history."

Andra didn't know the half of it; she thought wryly, almost no one did. Hermione had most of the facts, but even she wasn't privy to the entire horror story. As much as Ari loved and trusted her friend with just about everything, some secrets were better left unspoken. Ari had always been a very private person, anyway.

She closed the book firmly, handing it over to Hermione with a fond eye-roll at the latter's huff of dismay – she would read anything and everything she could lay her hands on, no matter the topic. Hermione chuffed contentedly, hopping up from her perch to curl back up on the couch with her prize. Humming to herself, she opened it to read through from the start as her companions watched her with knowing amusement.

"Well, that explains it, then." Ari clapped her hands together in an 'Aha' motion.

"It does?" Andra and Hermione chorused in unison, as the latter peered over the top of the book in query.

"Sirius gave me permission to access the family archives back in '95," Ari explained. "I told him I was looking for any information on blood magic that I could lay my hands on. The ultimate goal was to find a way to get myself away from the Dursleys-" here her two listeners gave identical shivers and grimaces of distaste (they had each heard enough on the subject of Ari's so-called relatives to form a highly unfavourable opinion of the family). "-And I figured that if anyone would have that kind of information tucked away, the Blacks would be high on the list, given their history of, err, delving into the more obscure and shadowy Arts," Ari finished.

She shrugged her shoulders casually. "I must have read literally hundreds of texts – and some of them were truly revolting, by the way – on the effects and history of it all, obviously I never found what I was looking for in the end.

"But I must have read that one-" indicating the journal in Hermione's hands, "-And retained just enough of the information subconsciously to give myself the willies."

"But it took over a decade for your, er, willies, as you put it, to manifest in a dream?" was Hermione's sceptical rejoinder as she eyed her quizzically.

"If you have another explanation," Ari waved her hand encouragingly. "You perceive me all ears."

Though both Andra and Hermione remained doubtful, no other logical explanation presented itself as a case for demurral, and though Ari's provided scenario was dubious at best, it WAS still possible.

Laughing at Andra's pursed lips as she clearly tried to come up with a rebuttal, Ari swiped her hand through the air as if to cut through the serious atmosphere. "Come on, ladies. Enough with the heavy topics for tonight – it was JUST a dream – Teddy's out for the evening, and there's a Magical Monopoly board set up with the game we still haven't finished from the last time you were here," to Hermione who grinned ruefully. "And if I recall correctly, YOU-" to Andra with a mischievous smirk, "-Found yourself in a bit of a sticky situation on one of my properties," she finished, grinning toothily in anticipation.

Groaning, but gracefully accepting the change of subject nonetheless, they pulled out the game and settled around the coffee table in the centre of the room, ready to engage in spirited combat over the board once more.

The rest of the evening passed with much laughter, banter and gossip as they battled it out in the magical real estate game, wheeling and dealing, no one giving an inch as they competed light-heartedly. They left aside the topic of strange dreams and ancient legends that surely could have no impact on their lives in modern Magical Britain. After all, as Ari had said, it was only a dream...

A/N: Ooooh, foreshadowing! The next chapter will have a time-skip, and hopefully finally get the plot moving, so fingers crossed. Also, I have used some terms in this chapter that more than likely have most of you scratching your head saying, "WTF?". It's okay to be confused, I've been making up some terms purely for the sake of the story – just check below for the definitions.

P.S. In case anyone's wondering about my reference to there being different types of vampires known to the magical world, then there are two for the sake of my fic. The Originals and their descendants, of course, and for the other kind (which I'm making Sanguini a member of) just think of True Blood style vampires – the ones who explode into nasty goo when killed, and the whole "V" blood drug deal.

Translations

Englisch (German): English

Sange Elevi (Romanian): literal Blood Progeny– referencing the later generations of vampires sired and descended from the Originals

Medeisangui Corte (this is my twisted version of some Latin words) see below

Medeis: magic. Sanguis: blood, power. Cortus: birth, origin, rising.

Basically, my way of referring to how the Originals came into being – magic caused them to arise from their mortal human origins, and be reborn as the very first of their kind, powerful beings driven by their thirst for human blood.