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Nurmengard, a half-hour after mid-afternoon (London time: two-and-a-half hours after lunch)…
"If I were you, sir, I wouldn't think of drawing that sword."
Hearing that kind statement, Matthew McCormick jolted before he spun around…and then stopped himself on seeing the smiling man standing nearby. Taking a moment to calm himself, the special agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigations — his being immortal forced him to be supported by the magical agents of the FBI to ensure no one asked any stupid questions about his not growing older — smirked as he lowered his broadsword. "I should apologize for that, Mister President," he stated as he offered his hand, which Abraham Lincoln took. "But given all the people I'm sensing…"
"It's Holy Ground, Matt! Didn't people tell you that 'bout this place?!"
He perked before a delighted grin crossed his face. "Mollie!" he called out before giving Mollie Bean a one-armed embrace, kissing her on the cheek. "What are you doing here?!" He then blinked on seeing her marshal's star on her jacket. "Oh…!"
"Can't haul me back into military service, so I got a choice," Mollie said as she gazed fondly on her old fencing instructor from Salem. "I decided that since Mister Lincoln here was involved, I'd be what I was back during the Late Unpleasantness."
Matthew laughed as he slipped his sword into his jacket before offering his arm to Mollie, which she took. Like many immortals when he travelled around and didn't have any car to carry necessary supplies, he used a calf-length gaberdine to help mask his broadsword; as he was a Special Agent (Honorary Magical) in the FBI, his clothes had specialized notice-me-not and technological-masking charms that helped keep his sword hidden since carrying such a weapon when one might expect him to carry a sidearm would raise a tonne of questions. "So why aren't you wearing your medals?" he teased.
She groaned before waving to her jacket pocket. Sure enough, a nice "salad bowl" of twenty-seven ribbons in six rows of four topped with a row of three appeared over the pocket opening, the marshal's star shifting down to sit over the pocket along the way. Gazing at the ribbons, Lincoln blinked on noticing something surprising concerning the first two of her medals. "When did you get the second Medal of Honour, Mollie?"
"Right here in '45," Mollie breathed out as she looked around the former grounds of the Nurmengard Magic Academy. "Sure cleaned up this place a lot."
"Were you here, Mister McCormick?"
"Regretfully no," Matthew confessed as he tried to relax himself. Given the presence of a baker's dozen other immortals — including some as old as he and one who was VERY old…which most likely indicated the presence of one of Methos' peers if not Methos himself — it was hard…though a reassuring squeeze of his arm by Mollie made him smile in return; most likely, her Avalonian empathy had not detected any sign of belligerency from the others here. "Was busy back home hunting immortals who threw their lot with Hitler and came over to America to cause trouble even if the war was long over. They were all support personnel who protected the last of the Übermenschen from the War Hawks until that business over Lake Ontario after V-J Day." He then blinked on seeing a familiar face among the small crowd of undying swordsmen and swordswomen now relaxing close to the ruins of the World-Gate. "Was Carl here?"
"Nah! He's the one who pulled the Lady Tsukuyomi out of Nagasaki before Major Sweeney flew Bockscar over the town with Fat Man in August of '45," Mollie explained as the crowd of immortals turned to gaze on the newcomer before looks of recognition crossed several faces and one woman laughed with delight as she got up and walked over. "Most likely, he came here to escort her on her yearly visit to see Gellert."
"Matthew!"
Matthew smiled, blushing like a schoolboy as Mollie pulled free so as to allow the native of Salisbury a chance to hug his own teacher. "How are you, Mistress?"
"You look so well, my student," Ceirdwyn — currently living under the alias "Katherine McKearn" — breathed out with delight as she gave him a careful look-over. "We missed you here that day, Matthew…though your own student explained your absence." She gazed fondly on Mollie for a moment. "It's a pity that Josef's 'experiments' forced Hirosuke's last student and her friends to continue to fight even after that war was all done and over with." She gazed once more on Mollie. "How are you, Margaret?"
"Happily doing the one thing you folks always love to do, ma'am."
"Oh?! What's that?" the undying Celtic warrior-turned-fashion designer asked.
The Avalonian-American witch from North Carolina winked. "Teach."
"She teaches magical history at Salem," Matthew added.
Ceirdwyn laughed. "Seeing as how she lived it for as long as she did — thanks to the mercy shown to her by that kind fellow from the Land of the Three Stars — she would be eminently qualified," she mused. "And what of Howard, Margaret? Do you know?"
"He was killed by that curse that wiped out all the people of Phentax Twelve when the Lady Negako and her friends came calling in February, ma'am," Mollie answered as Carl Robinson, Duncan MacLeod and Amanda Darieux came over to join them. "His grandson was an observer in Washington state when the Noukiites came. He's on Tengsei now."
"That's good. And you are, good sir?" Ceirdwyn then asked as she gazed on the tall man who had accompanied her second student and his good friend onto the grounds.
A polite tip of the ascot cap he wore these days in lieu of the tall stovepipe hat that had fallen out of favour years ago. "Abraham Lincoln, Madame Ceirdwyn."
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
And then…
"You're one of US…?!"
That was a pale-faced Carl. "No, Mister Robinson, I'm not," Lincoln stated. "I was yet another 'experiment' done by Josef von Taserich prior to Mister Booth coming to Ford's Theatre in '65 when my wife and I were watching Our American Cousin. The quasi-immortality that comes with the injection of meson in my blood is unavoidable."
The native of Louisiana blinked several times before he offered his hand. "If someone takes my head now, I'll die a happy man knowing I finally met you, sir."
Lincoln took it…then, much to all the immortals' shock, gave him the personalized multiple-grip handshake the former slave used when meeting friends. As Carl grinned at him, Ceirdwyn laughed. "You're a Watcher, Master Abraham?" she gently teased.
"Sadly not, Madame Ceirdwyn. My hobby would rather get in the way of doing that…though I do hold those who allow themselves to bear witness to your actions in great esteem." His eyes then narrowed. "Save for those like your friend's cousin and those others who defy their oaths to never interfere in the Game, Duncan."
"You would probably scare the Hunters far worse than we do, Abraham," Duncan stated as he offered his hand, which the Rail-Splitter warmly squeezed.
"So what is your hobby, Mister President?" Amanda asked.
He gazed on the immortal Norman thief. "I kill vampires, Madame Darieux."
Jaws dropped as the immortals all took that in…save for Duncan and Matthew, both of whom grimly nodded in understanding. "You mean that book is REAL?!" Carl asked.
"Yes, Mister Robinson, it is," Lincoln said with an amused chuckle. "It was one of Henry Sturges' more interesting ideas. Since I was exposed to the magical public thanks to Xenophilius and Luna Lovegood, Henry felt it only right to put out my story to as wide an audience as possible. Mister Grahame-Smith's a normal, but he has magical relatives, so he wasn't subject to the clauses of the Statute of Secrecy that veil those like Mollie from normals." He winked at the others. "He's the one who suggested putting a 'fictional' account out as a novel to normal audiences."
"Those of us who know the truth appreciated the irony all the more," Matthew added.
"How did you know of this, Duncan?" Ceirdwyn asked.
Duncan sighed. "I was there when Dean helped Abraham regain his sanity."
"As was I," Mollie added…
Near Fort Saint John in British Columbia, Wednesday 17 July 1889, after nightfall…
"My God…!"
"Don't sound so dang surprised, Highlander! You're friends with Nicolas de Brabant! You know them blood-suckers have been runnin' around as long as you Immortals have!"
Hearing that, a cut and bleeding Duncan MacLeod blinked before he lowered his katana, his eyes scanning around the wrecked barroom to take in the sheer level of destruction the man holding an ichor-soaked woodsman's axe of all things just unleashed within a half-minute. As he felt the faint "buzz" in the back of his head warning that there was another immortal close by, the Highlander gazed on Mollie Bean, who had her wand held to her side. "There's someone else here," he whispered before focusing on her friend. "Not you…" he stated. "So who in God's name ARE you…?!"
A harsh click-clack! made the undying Scotsman gape as he found himself staring at the open hole of what had to be the muzzle of a rifled gun barrel…which was inserted in the handle of the stranger's axe! Before he could brace himself for the ugly pain of a bullet being shot into him, a sharp explosion echoed through the shattered windows of this saloon located at the site of the old Rocky Mountain Horse trading outpost on the shores of the Peace River. This place had been the local gathering hall of a small pack of daywalker vampires who had fled the United States in the wake of the launching of a campaign of total extermination in the late spring of 1865, when a reborn hunter of the undead was transformed by the Undying Lord into an unstoppable killing machine that just kept on coming no matter what was flung at him or whatever type of vampire — daywalker, nightwalker or demon-possessed — rose to challenge him. That had been what had brought Mollie Bean and her companion to this place. As for Duncan MacLeod…
"What the dang hell was THAT?!" Mollie demanded as she looked outside.
A gargled croak of surprise then escaped the now-immortal former president of the United States as he dropped to his knees, the axe he had used to decapitate over a dozen vampires tonight slipping out of his hand and dropping to the floor. As Duncan relaxed on noting that the gun within that axe clearly hadn't been primed to fire, he then jolted on seeing a stream of bloody sputum escape the other man's mouth…that flecked with small black dots that made the Highlander pale in horror as he realized what had happened to this fellow. Closing his eyes — and finding himself cursing again the name of Josef von Taserich for DOING this to people — Duncan gripped his katana.
"I'm so sorry…" he whispered as he moved into a beheading stance…
…before his eyes crossed on seeing the glowing tip of a wand right in his face. "Don't you dang hell DARE, MacLeod!" Mollie snarled, eyes misting with tears. "We KNOW what Mister Lincoln's going through right now! Why do you think I'm up here in CANADA of all places keeping an eye on him when he's been busy killing these monsters?!"
Duncan blinked as his eyes fell on her marshal's star before he turned to gaze on the retching man nearby. "Lincoln…?" he whispered in disbelief before he turned to gaze once more on the young magical marshal — which was clearly obvious to him; no normal woman would be allowed to bear that star on her clothes — who had stopped him from performing a necessary mercy. "My God…Abraham Lincoln…?!"
"Yes!" Mollie breathed out as she lowered her wand. She knew through the connections the Department of Magic maintained with the Watchers that the Highlander was a very honourable man. Unless he was caught up in a killing frenzy — like what he endured at the Battle of Culloden in 1746 — or a Dark Quickening, he would back off from doing such a mercy if the logic of the situation was properly explained to him. "He can control it more than most normal folk that Taserich bastard does his 'experiments' on do, Highlander," she added. "He's been spending years — hell, since WAY before that slime Booth tried to kill him in '65 in Washington City! — killing them carpetbagger daywalkers that started that stupid war down south in the first place!"
Duncan blinked several times before he lowered his sword. Gazing around as he tried to feel out the other immortal who was close by, he walked over to help the Kentucky-born lawyer up. "I'm sorry, Mister President," he apologized. "It's just…"
A wry chuckle escaped him. "Don't apologize, Mister MacLeod," Lincoln hoarsely said as he walked over to pick up a napkin to wipe his lips. With a gesture of his hand, he telekinetically retrieved his axe, then un-cocked it before shoving the blade down on the handle to ensure the weapon was safe. "I've had episodes where the madness the mesonium now in my blood unleashes in me gets out of control, but not as frequently as young Marshal Bean has reported others Josef 'helped' normally undergo. It strikes me when I'm confronted with a large number of the monsters like the one who killed my mother." As Duncan winced, the vampire hunter gazed on him. "Duncan or Connor?"
He perked. "You know?"
Lincoln smirked as he reached over to pick up a discarded glass of whiskey, drowning it in one gulp; since all the people in this saloon — including the bartender — were vampires, he doubt they'd mind now. "I was President for a little over four years, sir," he explained as he reached over to pour Mollie a drink. "Thanks to the Department of Magic and the clauses of the Statute of Secrecy that demand heads of state or heads of government be let in on the secret of magic, I learned of people like yourself."
Hearing that, Duncan relaxed as Lincoln leaned over to hand the shot of whiskey to Mollie. "I'm Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod, born in Glenfinnan in the County of Inverness within Scotland in 1592, sir." He offered his hand.
Lincoln took it. "Abraham Lincoln, born in Hodgenville in the County of Hardin within the Commonwealth of Kentucky in 1809. I'm honoured to make your acquaintance, Mister MacLeod." He nodded to Mollie, now calmly sipping her whiskey. "My most wonderful friend and travelling companion, United States Magical Marshal Margaret Bean of the town of Tarboro in the County of Edgecombe within the State of North Carolina. Salem Witches Institute Mistresses Class of 1856, graduated sixth in her class. Winner of the Medal of Honour for her fighting — while wounded — to help kill all the daywalker vampires within the ranks of the Army of Northern Virginia at the Battle of Gettysburg in 1863. All of whom were then engaged in helping to dismember the Union."
"I was just doing my duty, sir," Mollie said as her cheeks reddened.
"What regiment?" Duncan asked.
Mollie smirked as she recalled reading what the Highlander had been doing at the time. "Company 'D,' 47th North Carolina, Pettigrew's Brigade, Heth's Division, Third Corps. I disguised myself as a man; called myself 'Melvin' even if everyone in the company knew what I was. Got wounded in the wand arm on the first day, but I wasn't abandoning my friends when they moved to get the job done. Captain Lucas helped out."
That made the immortal Scottish warrior gape. "Lucas Desiree?! Then why…?!"
She gave him a knowing look. "As we help those like you live private lives, all we ask in return is silence, Mister MacLeod," she advised him. "And there's no dang way that we magicals — much less those vampires who'd NEVER do anything to hurt normal folk — would want the secret of what REALLY helped provoked the Late Unpleasantness in the first place from getting out to the normal public. Even to you Immortals."
Duncan blinked before he nodded in understanding. Indeed, Lucas Desiree — a captain who had served with the headquarters cavalry troop assigned to Thomas Jackson himself before the famous Virginian soldier had been mortally wounded at Chancellorsville in 1863 — would keep a secret like what Mollie just implied. The South Carolinian veteran of the War of 1812 — who pulled the recently-hanged Highlander out of the grave after Duncan had been caught helping slaves escape North when they first met during the Civil War — would understand the importance of what Mollie just spoke of. While Duncan had no real problems with vampires generally — atop his long friendship with the French crusader Nicolas de Brabant and several others like him, he was safe from being turned as a vampire could NEVER drink the blood of an Immortal — he would NEVER stand back and allow such beings to ruin the lives of mortals wholesale, much less…
Wait…
From Flor'da to Virginny,
You can hear him revel
For ol' Johnny Reb's
Made a deal with the Devil.
Send him up North,
That snake-eyed liar,
To drag us boys off
To the Lake of Fire…
"I've always hated that poem."
Duncan jolted before he gazed on Lincoln. "Lucas told me that once…"
He then tensed as the buzz in his mind increased violently, which made him turn…
"Oh, my Lord! What on Earth did you do here, Duncan?!"
…before he relaxed and lowered his sword. "Sorry, Lucas!"
A chuckle escaped the handsome man who had just stepped inside as he lowered his own cavalry sabre. Taking a moment to gaze around the room, he then stopped on seeing one of the dead people, his fangs still splayed even if his head was now separated from the rest of his body. "Vampires!" he hissed out in disgust…before his eyes fixed on the woman with the marshal's star on her jacket. "Mollie Bean…"
Mollie grinned as she straightened herself, saluting him. "Captain Desiree, sir."
He returned her salute with his sabre, a smile crossing his face. "Private Bean. It does my heart well to see you alive and whole…even up here, well beyond your jurisdiction…?" His voice trailed off in question.
"The Canadian Ministry of Magical Affairs is aware of Marshal Bean's presence here and has deputized her as part of the North-West Mounted Police for the duration, Captain," Lincoln reported, making the South Carolinian spin around to stare wide-eyed at the man whose election to the White House so scared his countrymen that they gladly supported secession in the late fall of 1860. "And I honestly now wish that there had been some co-ordination between people like Mollie and people such as yourself, sir. A lot of innocent lives, both North and South, would have probably been spared in the long term." He allowed his axe, still glistening with ichor, to rest on the bar.
Staring at that weapon, Lucas gaped…before he grinned. "'Rail-Splitter?!' My God, Mister Lincoln! I never once suspected that would be YOU of all…!"
Another gargled scream escaped the vampire hunter as he dropped to his knees. Mollie raced over as she drew her wand to perform some healer's spells as Duncan and Lucas stood ready to assist. After a moment, a ghostly parchment appeared before her…and then she hissed. "Shitfire! I'm such an idiot! The Cave of Tears must be close by! Mister Lincoln's reacting to whatever that danged thing is inside the Cave!"
"'Cave of Tears?!'" a confused Lucas demanded.
"It's a legend of the Niitsítapi, Lucas," Duncan reported. "From what I know of it, it's a small crystal of meson — the same stuff in Mister Lincoln's blood; it was Josef Taserich that did this to him! — with ungodly power that's on a necklace…!"
"You mean THIS necklace, sir?"
Everyone spun around…
…to stare at a woman dressed in what Duncan would swear was a Japanese kimono top with wide-bottomed trousers — not pleated as hakama trousers were — currently standing at the wrecked doorway of the saloon. The clothes were midnight black overall with the images of the Sun and the planets that orbited it — including a world similar to Mars even if coloured like Earth; on seeing that, Mollie realized that represented the red planet's magical twin of Nerio, the Mundus Magicus — in a sea of beautiful stars. Strapped around her waist was a black leather-like belt that had a sheathed sword — which looked like a straight-blade version of a katana to Duncan's eyes — at her left hip. She had dark brown hair cut short like Mollie's — the North Carolinian witch hadn't allowed her hair to grow out since she had played at being "Melvin Bean" while serving in the Castalia Invincibles over two decades before — and sea-blue eyes on a very pretty face…though said eyes were darkened with layers of horrid grief which made her appear as melancholy as Abraham Lincoln always seemed to Mollie. Slung around her neck was a beautiful, intricate necklace of pure silver lace metal that holding a silver metal frame surrounding a glowing crystal that seemed like pure diamond from a distance…but had underlying layers of red and black in it.
"The Tear of the Stars…!"
Lucas and Duncan gazed on Mollie. "Are you sure?" the Highlander asked.
The magical marshal nodded. "Yes, sir. Don't touch that thing. The Niitsítapi have lost dozens of people when they tried to take that thing out of the Cave of Tears."
"It's called a Power Jewel, Marshal."
Eyes locked on the newcomer. "How did you know that?" Lucas wondered.
A wry smile crossed her face. "As baffling as this will sound to you, sir, it TOLD me that," she stated before gazing at Mollie. "As for those poor unfortunates of the Niitsítapi who've tried to take the Jewel from the throne it was left on three thousand million years ago — strange that I can say that name now; I've always believed their name to be 'Blackfoot' as a tribe — they didn't meet all three qualifications that were mandated to allow any to become the Jewel's chosen Host." Her eyes then glistened with tears. "I did." She then tilted her head to gaze around Lucas at the slumped man on the floor. "Is he alright? Why's he got all that ebony meson inside him?"
"You can tell?!" Mollie demanded.
"The Jewel told me," the newcomer stated before raising her hand. "Here…"
Suddenly, a bolt of bright energy exploded from her palm to lance into Abraham Lincoln, causing the former president to shriek in agony as his whole body glowed with ebony fire for a moment…before the fire turned into a brilliant crimson shade. As a look of shocked surprise crossed his face, the energy the newcomer was forcing on him faded. "There," she breathed out as she lowered her arm. "It's all de-crystalized to ruby meson now. Maybe he won't feel so sick from now on." Confusion then crossed her face. "Who on Earth would do such a horrid thing to him?"
Duncan moved to answer…before a surprising sound tickled his ears.
Joyful laughter.
Eyes locked on Lincoln as the lawyer and vampire hunter spryly got back to his feet. Waving off Mollie's and Lucas' helpful hands, he took a deep breath…before he smiled as he reached over to take up a bottle of whiskey — it was Jack Daniel's — and pour himself another shot. Taking another deep breath, he swallowed that before gazing on the newcomer. "Would you care to join us, miss?" he asked. "I feel like celebrating. Mollie, get some glasses for the others, please."
"Celebrating what?" Lucas demanded.
Lincoln gazed at him. "For the first time in over a score and four years, Captain Desiree, the black madness that grew from the melancholy that has haunted my soul since I watched my mother murdered in Little Pigeon Creek in 1818 is gone. I still have the power Josef gave me…" — with that, he allowed his axe to float up into the air; seeing that made the newcomer laugh as she clapped her hands at such a display — "…but the anger and hate that has burned my soul since my encounter with Mister Booth at Ford's Theatre is…not there anymore." As the immortals both gaped at him and Mollie grinned before she hopped over the bar to get some glasses, Lincoln turned to the newcomer, who seemed not bothered by such revelations. "Now, if I may be so bold, may I have the pleasure of the name of the woman whom I will thank unto Eternity for saving me from such madness?" he asked as he allowed his axe to descend on the bar.
She smiled as she offered her hand. "Deannette Raeburn. My friends call me 'Dean,' Mister President," she introduced herself, her eyes twinkling with mirth.
"You guessed it that easy, Miss Raeburn?" Lucas asked as Lincoln came over to gently kiss the offered hand, that making the newcomer curtsy in return.
"My new friend has told me, sir, that you and this handsome gentleman here were actually born of the energy of the Earth itself," Dean stated, smirking with delight as Duncan blushed while she walked over to sit on a stool by the bar, ignoring the dead bodies lying about. "When you were fatally wounded, you became literally frozen in time, practically immortal. The only way you could truly die is to be decapitated; that, I believe, is the reason you have swords with you." She nodded her thanks as Mollie handed her a glass of whiskey. "The marshal is a type of person endowed with the ability to manipulate the life essence of Existence Itself, a power that is known to her as 'magic.' Our late hosts are vampires, though capable of surviving in the daylight thanks to a meson-based magical spell that they can transmit to each other through their bites when they seek to turn a victim into one of the so-called 'undead.' And President Lincoln was rendered practically immortal thanks to the meson in his blood…though my friend cautions you that there is no true immortality."
"That is the truth, Miss Raeburn," Duncan said as the others moved to relax. "So tell us: What is the truth behind the 'Tear of the Stars?' Why you of all people?"
Dean blinked before she sniffed. "There are, as I said, three specific qualifications that one must have to become the Host of a Power Jewel, sir." She sipped her whiskey. "I'll go in reverse order than what the Jewel itself told me they are listed. First, you must be a 'bearer of life.' In other words, a woman. Second, you must have endured either physical and/or emotional hardship while growing up. And third…" She bowed her head. "You must be an orphan or have been abandoned by your parents. And it must not be a natural death due to things like old age, of course."
Silence.
More silence.
Still more silence.
Then…
"My parents died just before I went to Salem — that's my magic school — back in '48 thanks to the cholera. But they loved me," Mollie whispered. "How'd you lose yours?"
"Murdered by my uncle ten years ago, along with my twin sister," Dean breathed out. "I'm originally from Lincoln County in Ontario, a village called Queenston on the Niagara River downriver from the Falls themselves. Ever since I lost my family, I've been on the move, looking over my shoulder to ensure my uncle hasn't caught up with me."
The others gazed in sympathy at her. "Never forget your parents and your sister, Miss Raeburn," Lincoln quietly urged. "Also, if such a heinous act ultimately allowed you to become qualified to earn the right to bear the Tear of the Stars unto your person, then never give up hope that you will avenge yourself on your uncle for his cruelty."
"Just don't let it consume you," Duncan added before nodding as Mollie handed him some whiskey. "As the Chinese are fond of saying, 'If you seek revenge, dig two graves.'"
"Wise words," Lucas noted.
The others nodded as they quietly enjoyed their drinks…
A chilled bottle gently touched Lincoln's cheek. "HEY!" he yelped.
People gasped as they turned to see who had been able to sneak up on the vampire hunter with such stealth…before Methos laughed. "Nice one, Dean!"
"Sorry about that, Abe," Dean Raeburn said with a twinkle in her eyes as she sat beside him, handing him the bottle of Jack Daniel's Old Number 7 she brought with her. She was dressed in her modified field uniform composed of CADPAT temperate woodland trousers bloused into combat boots, a lime green flight jacket with the insignia of the Royal Canadian Corps of Air Cavalry and her old home regiment in low visibility Velcro patches on her upper arms, her brevet rank of major general displayed on camouflage epaulette slip-ons at her shoulders, a T-shirt barely masking her Power Jewel under the jacket and a buff gold beret with a general officer's cap badge on her head. "You looked like you were contemplating the evils of the world right now. Had to shock you out of it."
Laughter from the other immortals before they nodded their thanks as one of the Israeli prison guards who was standing close by to assist moved to conjure some glasses so they and their friends could enjoy a drink. "Actually, I was remembering when we first met in Fort Saint John and you — even in a minuscule way — showed us how small we are in the face of Existence as a whole, Dean," Lincoln noted as Mollie took the bottle and uncorked it before she poured people drinks. "And remembering Lucas Desiree."
The Protector of All Life — even if she personally loathed that title — perked. "What happened to him?" she asked, her voice suddenly going cold.
"The Game," Duncan sighed. "Howard Crowley got him."
Dean's eyebrow arched. "You got him?"
"Yep."
She shook her head. "We know what you're about to say. Don't bother, Dean," Methos stated as he gave her a knowing look. "You can't change Immortal tradition."
Dean scowled. "Some damned tradition, Methos," she sourly said as she swallowed her whiskey, then handed the glass to the wary-looking wizard — who was clearly wondering what the hell he had missed — before she got up and walked away.
"Dang it, Dean!" Mollie snapped as she moved to follow.
Lincoln watched them go off towards the ruins of the World-Gate before he gazed on the others, all of whom had sad looks on their faces. "She does that to give you people some hope," the former president advised before he sipped his drink.
"It's still so hard to accept at times," Erno Jocszak noted.
"True. And she's not trying to FORCE you to accept it, Mister Jocszak. But she — and I suspect, Master Hosan before her — have looked on your duels with each other…"
"And sees a waste of good people's lives."
Eyes turned as Joe Dawson staggered up, leaning on his cane. "Mister Dawson," Lincoln said. "Come join us old folk and relax a spell. Have a drink."
"Never thought I'd ever share a drink with YOU of all people, Mister President. You normally don't come together with the type of immortals my group are interested in," Dawson noted with a smile as he sat down where Dean had been before nodding his thanks as the wizard came up with an empty glass for the retired Watcher to use.
Lincoln's eyebrow arched. "Your people can tell the difference?"
"We've watched the Rittmeister over the years since he tends to interact with other immortals even if he's not part of the Game," Dawson replied. "We've known about what happened to you since right after he pulled you out of your tomb in Springfield in 1865. There are magicals among us like your friend." He nodded off towards Mollie. "Amazes me that the vampires you've hunted down over the years never tried to use us to learn more about you. There have been times we've lost members to them." Dawson gave Lincoln a concerned look. "You're worried about Sewell, aren't you?"
Methos gaped. "Adam Sewell?!"
"Who's that?" Amanda asked.
"He's often credited as the man who provoked the American Civil War from behind the scenes, Amanda," Alicia Mackenzie answered. "He was the hidden power behind Jefferson Davis since the magicals — though he never knew there were so many of them in America — wouldn't rebel against the federal government. He helped galvanize vampires — most of them daywalkers — into supporting his drive to make an independent nation by which vampires could rule over all. Like that 'Greater Good' nonsense Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore — before Albus wised up, of course — came up with to do away with the Statute of Secrecy and have wizards rule over 'muggles.'" She sneered that last word. "All of it — if you don't know, Carl — would have been fed on black slaves."
Carl paled before his features flushed; while most Immortals never bothered him because of the colour of his skin, he was still haunted by his past as a slave and the tortures African-Americans had suffered since the Civil War. "Please tell me, sir, that you got this son of a bitch in the end," he snarled as he turned to glare at Lincoln.
"So I believed until late yesterday, Mister Robinson," the former president coldly declared. "I thought I destroyed that man on a train heading to Gettysburg in 1863 just prior to the battle between Lee and Meade. My wife, God rest her, killed Adam's sister Vadoma when she tried to sneak into the White House at the same time…and this was even after the Department of Magic improved the defences there to protect my family after I lost my son Tad to one of them." As the immortals winced on hearing that — with tears of sympathy appearing the eyes of women like Amanda, Alicia, Ceirdwyn and Angelina de Valicourt; even if they couldn't have mothered their own children due to their immortality, they never escaped the nesting urge that hit from time to time thanks to their interacting with mortal female friends their physical age — the former lawyer breathed out, "So I was shocked beyond belief when one of Harry Potter's good friends transmitted a picture of that man — and his sister — she obtained thanks to her telepathically probing her brother's mind. It was a most cruel surprise."
"'Crystal-blood'…"
Eyes locked on Amanda. "What is it, Amanda?" Ceirdwyn asked.
"What the vampires in the cave said yesterday morning before the Friend of Dragons came to get the Black Maidens out of there, Kathy," the Norman-born thief explained. "They called her a 'crystal-blood.'" To Lincoln. "Mister President, is this all because of what happened to Liam, Bill and Drusilla when the Avalonians moved to rebuild Sunnydale?"
"Most likely, yes," Lincoln stated. "Now, as we all know, the Avalonians would never dream of FORCING vampires back into mortal lives as adopted members of their race. It goes against all they fundamentally believe in because of what the Niphentaxians forced them through until February. From what I read over the HyperNet about how William, Drusilla and Liam became normal people again, it started totally by accident."
"I heard about that," Matthew stated. "The woman who did that was from a neighbouring town who lost friends to the vampires but never could do something about it since that DNA loyalty lock that kept the Avalonians enslaved affected her; her 'master' didn't want to break their cover, of course. I forgot her name, though. I do know that she volunteered to join the Sunnydale Restoration Committee in helping rebuild the town. Spike went there one night in April to talk them out of it. That's when Drusilla came. Mad as a March hare as she always was…and determined to 'win' her man back."
"What happened, Matt?" Carl asked.
"She noted this girl speaking to Spike," Matthew answered. "The lady was friendly and respectful to him, didn't do anything provocative at all. She knew he was a vampire and was interested in learning about all the things he's experienced over the years. And poor Bill…" He shrugged as an amused smile crossed his face. "He had NEVER encountered a mortal woman before that accepted him, faults and all, from the get-go; not even Angel after the gypsies got through with him or Buffy Summers' gang were willing to trust the poor man at first." As the others nodded, Matthew sipped his whiskey. "Ms. Keeble took it the wrong way and attacked Mr. Pratt with a stake."
"That should have killed him right then and there!" Methos noted.
"Well, our Avalonian friend was quick to force him to swallow some of her blood to keep him alive," Matthew answered. "It was meson versus wood. Meson won."
"As it always should, especially with the presence of Sagussan DNA in that young lady's blood," Lincoln mused before sipping his drink. "William is 160 years old. If he had been born Sagussan, he'd be physically twenty-nine. Still young by their standards."
"Indeed," Matthew affirmed with a nod. "As Ms. Keeble sensed her lover undergo that transformation — which is bloody painful, by the way — she went berserk and tried to attack the 'mean woman' who 'hurt her Spikey so.' This time, it was vampire-enhanced psionic powers against a woman who could see the Veil of Eternity in her mind's eye."
"We can guess who won," Carl noted with a smirk.
The others laughed as they imagined what might have happened. Being able to literally SEE the Te'a, the very Power of Eternity Itself in all Its Vastness, was one of a post-Awakening Avalonian's more amazing — and frightening to the uninitiated — powers. "So I assume that when this lady got her senses back — on realizing that she was really dealing with two people that she had unintentionally hurt, vampire or no — she called up to the factory to send a spare body for Drusilla to undergo a body-swap," Erno finished.
"And Drusilla regained something of her sanity back along the way, especially after Avalonian genetics bound her and Spike together in a marei'cha bond," Matthew finished. "Naturally, the lady who forced them into that was more than happy to 'marry' them!"
Amanda laughed. "Oh, I heard about that!"
"C'mon, Amanda! What happened?!" Angelina's husband Robert demanded.
"This is what Liam told me," the millennia-old thief answered. "After Drusilla woke up and her heart did the flip-flops when she saw Spike for the first time as an Avalonian, this girl — I don't know her name, by the way — decided to play Miss Matchmaker. She took Spike's hands and made him hold's Drusilla's hands. Then she pointed to him." Here, Amanda mimed pointing at someone. "'You do!' she said. 'I do?' he asked. She then pointed to Drusilla. 'You do, too!' Fortunately, Drusilla was a little quicker on the uptake." As the others laughed, Amanda smirked. "'I do indeed,' she declared. And the lady then said, 'In the name of Creation Itself that blesses us all with life — even for those called "undead"…which is a misnomer since they are as living as anyone else; it's not their fault that they are forced to endure such weird dietary requirements — I hereby declare you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.'" As the others whooped and laughed, Amanda smirked. "Even if he still was in pain, Spike appreciated the joke. I even hear they're planning to start a family now."
"What about Angel?" Duncan asked.
"Once he found out, Liam said that if Bill could do it, so could he," Amanda stated. "I bet he rather came to regret it after he got through it."
More laughter. "So what are you doing here, Abraham?" Methos asked.
"I need to know what are Adam's connections — if any — to Josef, Methos," Lincoln stated. "When Josef pulled me out of my crypt in '65, he stated that he saved me because he didn't care to allow the man who destroyed a person who betrayed him to die at the hands of a mere 'child.' The 'child' was John Wilkes Booth, I realized. I've long suspected Josef ultimately meant Adam…but now I need to know something."
"And I — being as old as Mister Sewell — would be the best person to ask since Vlad Tayčéško is restricted by his oaths to never interfere in 'mundane' matters without a confirmed threat from an inter-dimensional source…and Hosan Hirosuke never dealt with the man, so you can't ask Dean," the oldest Immortal alive concluded.
The American nodded. "Yes."
Methos sighed. "Well, here's what I do know…"
Schloss Greifswald on Rügen, that moment…
She hated being alone in this place.
She really, really, really hated being alone in this place.
As much as serving Wolfram and Hart had been an eye-opening experience to her…
…learning of the one being that the "senior partners" would cower from — and now, after spending even a short time in this beautiful manor house overlooking the Greifswald Bodden, she was not ashamed at the idea of NOT emphasizing that title for the three ancient demons that had helped create one of the most powerful and influential international companies on Earth today — had rocked her worldview like nothing else.
And it was understandable, of course.
Her name was Meagan Schwartz. She was the only daughter of Marius Black, a squib exiled from one of Britain's most prominent wand-wizard families shortly before the start of the Great Depression. Outraged at being treated as such, Marius would eventually flee to Germany, changed his name to a rough approximation of the local term for "black," then offered his services to Gellert Grindelwald. Glad to have such a prime source of personal intelligence concerning one of the most powerful families of Britain at his fingertips, the then-master of the Elder Wand used Marius and others like him who had come across the North Sea — with the assistance of some interesting devices given to them by the Undying Lord himself that allowed them all to simulate the magic they couldn't consciously use — so that they could serve as advanced scouts to probe targets such as Hogwarts, Azkaban and the Ministry of Magic for destruction.
Such reconnaissance paid off handsomely during World War Two thanks to people such as Marius Schwartz (né Black). Azkaban Prison was wrecked in 1939 and its population of dementors burned out of there, rendering the place useless for five years. Two years later, the Ministry headquarters in London was assaulted to ensure the loyalty stones that had entrapped millions of magicals in the colonies for years were destroyed…and also avenge the deaths of the relatives of the British members of the Schwarze Mädchen. Hogwarts itself would be attacked in mid-1944, though that last battle wasn't been as successful as the other missions on British soil by the forces of the Magische Reichsarmee thanks to the intervention of a team of American magicals led by then-Colonel Mollie Bean. That — as Grindelwald's lieutenants later realized — proved that such attacks on enemy territory should have been left solely to the Black Maidens to plan and execute; their competence in carrying out lightning raids having been proven time and time again across Europe since the war's beginning.
That attack also allowed Marius to exact his revenge on the family that abandoned him.
"Consider this my parting present to you all, sister dear," the squib had told his older sister Cassiopeia when he had caught her alone in the Black family townhouse on Grimmauld Place while elements of the 8th Magical Jäger Brigade were battering down Hogwarts' wards. "From this day on, the family magic will slowly drain from all of you until within five generations, there will be NO more Blacks who will have magic. And the only way to avoid such a fate…" Here, he moved to teleport away. "You and yours will have to renounce the family motto once and for all." And after he wiped her mind clean of that information, he returned back to Germany, his vengeance complete.
Unfortunately, Marius hadn't considered that the portrait of Phineas Nigellus Black would report what happened to then-clan leader Sirius Arcturus Black. And while the other members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black of Grimmauld dismissed such an act as a cruel hoax, Marius' paternal uncle knew better; he had seen the damage Grindelwald's forces had unleashed first hand and he knew that the master of the Elder Wand had won the Undying Lord's favour. Fortunately, Sirius had the means to strike back: The Black family magic, which Marius was bound to even if he couldn't use magic himself. Thus, prior to the Battle of Greifinswald two months prior to the Battle of Nurmengard, Sirius killed Marius with a curse meant for traitors to the family.
Sirius never realized that Marius had married and fathered a daughter by then.
And he never knew until he died that Marius' wife Rowanna had added to the curse her beloved husband unleashed on his relatives to ensure that those who madly followed the Black family motto Toujours Pur would have their souls sacrificed to demons.
Since such happened after people had died, there was no way to learn this…
…until Sirius' namesake and great-grandson had an interesting encounter…
Gringotts in Diagon Alley, Tuesday 9 April 1996, early morning…
"You're Marius' daughter…?"
"Yes," Meagan said with a nod and a smile. "I apologize for my physical youth, but being part of Wolfram and Hart does permit certain concessions to the employees."
Gazing at the raven-haired, grey-eyed beauty before him, Sirius Orion Black would swear on his magic that Meagan Rowanna Schwartz was about Harry Potter's age, which would make her a fifth-year at the Nibelung Academy of Magic outside the German city of Worms. In truth, his second cousin once removed had graduated from Nibelung — the last magical school in Germany after the purges launched in the wake of Grindelwald's War thanks to the Soviets and the Americans — in 1954, six years before Sirius' birth. Even better, she had been at the head of her class — Nibelung, despite it not being as old as the "Big Three" schools of Hogwarts, Beauxbâtons and Durmstrang, was a very tough institution when it came to teaching magic — which easily debunked the moronic nonsense pureblood traditionalists said about squibs amounting to nothing at all.
Nodding in understanding, he then took a deep breath. "Am I doomed, Meagan?"
"In what way?" she asked, surprised by that question.
"Your father's curse. As family head — which I became even if I was in Azkaban when Grandfather Arcturus died — I learned of what your father did in 1944. And knowing you now work for Wolfram and Hart, I can guess there's a demonic side to that curse."
Meagan genuinely smiled at him, impressed that Sirius had deduced that quite easily. "You need not worry about the Senior Partners — or any of the other Old Ones — claiming your soul after you finally pass from this life, cousin. You — just by your being sorted into Gryffindor in 1971 and later befriending your future cousin-in-law James Potter — showed you wouldn't accept the stupid beliefs of your relatives that would have caused their descendants to become squibs eventually hadn't Father hastened it. So did Andromeda when she married Theodore Tonks. You need not fear the Shadowlands when the Grim finally comes to take your soul within the next few months."
"And Harry?"
Meagan smirked. "With your permission, Senior Director?" she asked.
Erlking — who hadn't been fazed at all when the beautiful lawyer from the demon-controlled international law firm had come in requesting to meet with his current client — nodded his permission. "Please do, Mistress Meagan," he bade.
She held up her hand. "I, Meagan Rowanna Schwartz, swear on my life, soul and magic that I will never claim the headship of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black of the Marquessate of Grimmauld…nor defy the wishes of the current Patriarch of said House when it comes to choosing his successor. This I swear, so mote it be."
She glowed with magic to "seal the deal," which made Sirius smile. "If I may, old friend?" he then asked the smirking goblin behind his desk.
"Go ahead, Sirius," Erlking said with a nod.
Drawing his wand, Sirius declared, "I, Sirius Orion Black, Marquess of Grimmauld, do renounce the actions of my predecessor concerning Marius Arcturus Black and welcome him and his progeny back into the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black of Grimmauld as a cadet branch, holding place of cognatic primogeniture after the Patriarch's chosen line over all other branches. Before Magic Itself, this I decree, so mote it be."
His body glowed for a moment to "seal the deal." Once that was done, Sirius put his wand away before opening his arms. "Welcome home, cousin."
Meagan laughed as she accepted his embrace. "It's good to be home, cousin."
"You accept it so easily, Sirius," Erlking noted with an amused cackle.
Both humans sat down before him. "Unlike most British magicals, my family's really had no problems with Wolfram and Hart, Erlking," Sirius noted. "Yes, they're controlled by demons…but as barristers, they're top-notch. Given what I've learned about how a certain Supreme Mugwump has treated my godson while I was enjoying my 'vacation' in Azkaban, I think it's high time that people in Britain are reminded that they are NOT at the top of the food chain. Meagan can help if she's allowed to by her superiors."
"I am allowed to do that for this occasion, Senior Director," Meagan announced.
Erlking nodded. Like Sirius, the goblins of Gringotts had no problems dealing with representatives of Wolfram and Hart. Unlike the Marquess of Grimmauld however, those like Erlking knew of a secret about the beings that controlled Wolfram and Hart that — if it got out to those who would be affected the most by such revelations…and was believed to be truth; that was always the key! — would diminish the overall influence of that company disastrously. Given what was currently brewing in the California town of Sunnydale which would soon see a new Slayer called to service, the Wolf, Ram and Hart would NOT welcome such revelations. For the latest of that long line of demon-powered vampire killers would be a woman who would defy ALL expectations — according to the Mistresses of Lore, the wise precognitives who were the most trusted advisers of the Board of Directors at the International Mercantile Bank of Gringotts — and live a very long, healthy life. Not to mention usher in an age that would rival the time when the Praetorian himself, Lord Rjazán', underwent his Test 25,000 years ago to literally rise above ALL divine influence…then, with the help of the Undying Lord, banished the Old Ones back to the dimension of their birth and destroyed the Seed of Wonder the demons had created in hopes of countering the power and the influence of the Tear of the Stars, thus ultimately ensuring that Magic could touch all living things on Earth.
But that need not be spoken of at this meeting.
And despite his being friends with Sirius Black, Erlking didn't feel it necessary to publicly note of such things even if the young wizard was soon to face his own death.
After all, why would a magical of any sort — who supposedly "sold" her soul to demons — SWEAR on that selfsame soul when she made a magical oath…?!
Meagan smiled as she gazed out the windows of the sitting room onto the grounds and the ancient rock where Uchida Ryūsei had been beheaded by Margareta Hecht in 1937.
You didn't know how much helping you cost me, Sirius…but I would do it again if I needed to do it. Even if I became allied with demons because of what Mother did to ensure Father gained his revenge, that didn't make my feelings go away…!
Ever since she was a child, Meagan Schwartz had been filled with tales about her father's suffering at his family's hands and how he had allied with the so-called "Dark Lord of Europe" — who was simply just a greedy man who wanted to have power over his fellow beings and came up with that silly "Greater Good" nonsense to win support to his "cause" — to gain justice for being banished from his family for the "crime" of being a squib…when it had been long proven that dormant magical lines would eventually restore themselves thanks to interbreeding with non-magicals. How Marius — who had been forced to confront the hypocrisy of pureblood traditions head-on when he was thrown out of Grimmauld Place in 1927 after he failed to get an invitation to attend Hogwarts — felt that his whole world had come to an end. How he had been heartbroken because his own beloved sister Cassiopeia came to detest him because he was incapable of using magic like she did…and how that agony turned into pure hatred that would have seen his family eventually wiped out hadn't people like Sirius Black and Andromeda Tonks woke up to that hypocrisy and walked away from the "always pure" beliefs of their ancestors to forge their own paths and embrace the wider world beyond.
And while neither of them would live to see how the family was slowly rebuilding itself into a brighter future thanks to Harry Potter and his extended family, both Sirius and Andromeda had not faced the Shadowlands — the dark pits forged by mass human agony and allowed thanks to human beliefs in Hell to be influenced by the Old Ones and their kin — on their passing from this life to what lay beyond the Veil of Eternity, going to enjoy their "heavenly" rewards alongside friends and loved ones. Meagan had been happy to ensure Sirius would face his fate with open eyes and a smile, knowing he wouldn't be subject to the true power of Marius' curse when he was flung through the Veil of Death at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries two months after he had met Marius' own daughter at Gringotts during the Easter holidays of Harry's fifth year.
When they learned of it, the Senior Partners were NOT amused.
Their punishment: Force Meagan to stand guard over Schloss Greifswald alone until such time as she learned the company's secrets were NOT to be revealed to ANYONE!
And while she simply hated being alone in this place with NO ONE to talk to…
…she had learned quite a lot in her fourteen years of effective exile here.
Before she was sent to Rügen in the summer of 1996, Meagan knew — and had accepted with a stoic calm that won the admiration of her peers at the Berlin branch of Wolfram and Hart — that her service to the Wolf, Ram and Hart would ultimately demand her soul and see her condemned to Hell once she finally died and slipped out of this existence.
After coming here, Meagan learned that there WERE ways to avoid such a fate.
But the price one had to pay to do that was quite high:
You had to accept in every part of your soul that there was a Power — Faceless, Formless, Nameless — that was BEYOND those beings called "gods" and "demons"…
…and hand-in-hand with that, you ALSO had to accept without question that such beings either were created or — if they had hailed from other dimensions as the Senior Partners and the other Old Ones did — were given power over mortals in this realm by that Power which, for lack of a better term, was simply called "faith."
Accept both…
…and you were truly free to pass through the Veil of Eternity at the end of your mortal life without any fear of facing something akin to "hell."
Even if it would be hard to do so thanks to the constant tidal waves of influence one's culture and society forced on a child as he or she was growing up, it was possible.
That was something no self-respecting demon EVER wanted to see happen.
After all, without a belief in Hell and the influence of demons, how could beings such as the Wolf, Ram and Hart be able to sustain themselves?
THAT had been Meagan's crime in the eyes of the Senior Partners.
By telling Sirius that he would never face the Shadowlands after he was thrown through the Veil of Death by his cousin Bellatrix Lestrange, his soul escaped the grasp of the leaders of Wolfram and Hart — thanks to what Marius and Rowanna Schwartz had done in 1944 to the former's relatives — and passed through the Veil of Eternity unharmed.
Even if it was just one soul at the end…
"They are quite greedy, aren't they?"
"Ja, they are," Meagan answered. "After all, they have so many…"
It hit her.
"Who…?"
She slowly turned…
…before nearly passing out in stunned disbelief on seeing the man now standing at the entrance to his sitting room, an amused smile on his ordinary face — framed by stylishly-combed black hair with long sideburns, an almost indecently-thin moustache and goatee surrounding his lips, said face pierced by ageless grey eyes — as he gazed on this young woman who had been forced to watch over his house for fourteen years.
"Mein Freiherr…?!" Meagan croaked out.
A thin eyebrow arched. "You're Marius Black's daughter, aren't you?" Rittmeister Josef Wilhelm Freiherr von Taserich — as he was known these days, Meagan knew; his real name had been long lost to history…and she had not been able to find records of that name in his vast library, which she had visited time and time again during her stay here — calmly asked as he moved to take a seat in his favourite lounge chair.
She shakily nodded her head. "J-j-jawohl, mein Freiherr…!"
A hand came up as Meagan felt a sure of peace flood her from head to toe. "Calm down, child," Taserich stated. "Much that I know I possess quite a reputation among you magicals, I don't normally bite." He then peered at her — as Meagan felt something wash through her body from head to toe — before he hummed. "Ah, I understand now. You're part of Wolfram and Hart. An amusing choice of name for that group. Part of the payment your mother offered to allow your father to avenge himself on his kin?"
"Jawohl, mein Freiherr," she stated with a bow of her head.
"So why are you here then?"
A sigh escaped her. "I comforted a cousin who wouldn't have been affected by my father's curse by telling him he wouldn't face the Shadowlands."
Taserich blinked before a delighted laugh escaped him. "Ah! Those three don't like it when potential prey escapes them!" he exclaimed before waving her to sit in the chair across from him. "So they sent you — as punishment — to the ONE place on Earth outside Vladímir's castle in Russia or Hirosuke's dōjō in Japan where the truth of Existence is there for those who have the intelligence to go research it?! How stupid!"
She sat down as she had been bade before an amused smile crossed her face. "They told me that you had allowed them to make use of this place if they needed it."
"Before you came here?"
"Ja."
"And after you came here?"
"I learned of that truth you just spoke of, mein Freiherr…and how ignorant the Wolf, Ram and Hart really are concerning what you have in this place. Especially your delightful library and scroll lockers." Meagan then shrugged before she sat back in her chair, her smile slipping as her grey eyes teared. "Once it all sank into me, I realized that if I left this place, they would immediately seek to kill me to ensure my silence over such matters," she added. "They trapped me here, sir…"
"Oh, if they only WISHED they had that type of power over this place, much less those I allow to come here," he said with an amused smirk. Noting her surprised look, his eyebrow arched. "My dear child, do you honestly think I would have allowed people to live in my house — even when I was staying on Yiziba these last sixty-five years! — without ensuring they could be safe as long as they didn't cause harm here?"
Meagan croaked out, "Yiziba…?!"
"Ja," he breathed out. "The Seeker's Forge, where Deannette's Power Jewel was first made three billion years ago at the time the First Ones ascended to a place even beyond the Veil of Eternity…as shocking as that will sound to you. Currently the home of a race whose overall power so frightens the 'norms' and 'sames' on other worlds that speaking the very NAME of that planet or the NAME of its inhabitants is verboten. The origin point of all mesonium in Existence, even that which flows through my blood. The one place beings like the so-called 'senior partners' would consider their own version of 'Hell' given what mesonium ultimately would do to them…as people such as Abraham Lincoln readily demonstrated during the aptly-named 'Score and Four' when they were foolish enough to try to turn him." He shook his head. "Such limited vision. I helped them maintain ties to this dimension out of pity given that their need to feed on the power faith and belief granted them had become so addictive…and they presume they have power over something that is MINE? I do not think so."
She blinked. "Um, so…?"
"Oh, it's easily corrected, young lady. Especially given a wonderful rumour I heard recently; that's why I came back here just now," he breathed out.
"Welcome home, Josef."
Taserich's eyebrow arched before he looked over. "Hello, Vladímir."
Meagan blinked before she turned to look…
…then collapsed to the floor in a dead faint after realizing who just came here.
"She took that quite well," Vladímir Rúsalovič Tayčéško noted.
The Undying Lord shrugged. "Children have no stamina these days."
"Indeed," the Praetorian Guardian of Earth mused…
Nurmengard, that moment…
"Deanie…!"
Dean sighed. "What?"
"You got THAT smirk on your face!" Mollie scolded.
The leader of the War Hawks shrugged before puffing her cigar.
Abe should be happy to hear about this, she mused to herself as she cast her meta sight in the direction of Rügen and the pair of multiple millennia old beings there…
The Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts, mid-afternoon…
Minerva McGonagall was trying not to smirk.
It would be undignified to do something like that.
Especially in the presence of the Friend of Dragons.
As the current headmistress of Hogwarts made her way down the worn trail that led from the edge of the forest near Rubeus Hagrid's cottage to the place where practitioners of the old faiths went to perform their private devotions, she tried not to shudder again as she remembered that incident some months ago when the staff and students of the United Kingdom's primary wand-magical school were given a very surprising demonstration of the sheer power of ancient Sagussan meson-based technology.
It was the start of a normal day of classes in early March. A normal-born first year Gryffindor named Catherine Fleming had been walking towards the Grand Staircase at the seventh floor landing, chatting with a friend…and not paying attention before she literally found herself stepping out into open air thanks to one of the staircases swinging away at the last moment. As people watched in horror, the young native of Coatbridge east of Glasgow began to tumble down towards the ground and certain death. Before any of the prefects could use a summoning spell to save her, a flash of light allowed a beautiful Japanese girl appearing to be the equivalent of a third year or fourth year student at Hogwarts to appear, dressed in a medium blue sailor suit-type uniform, catching the screaming Catherine single-handed while holding a two metre-tall staff with a glowing crystal of meson the size of a person's head in her other hand. Drifting serenely to the ground floor, the stranger then placed the wide-eyed girl down before she waved her hand to allow Catherine's book bag — which had spilled all its contents when she had slipped off the landing — to appear, then she handed it over.
"Young Mistress Catherine, you certainly should know by now that these stairs move all the time," she then calmly admonished the younger girl, who was trying not to break down and cry in fright as she realized how close she came to dying. "It is no different than crossing a street. You look both ways to ensure all is safe before commencing the endeavour. Do be careful in the future; I might be distracted by other things to save you — or ANY of you…!" — here, she looked around and up to gaze upon a sea of stunned teachers and students — "…the next time this happens."
The stranger then gazed on Minerva herself, who was trying to maintain some sense of decorum…even if she nearly had a heart attack on realizing that one of her precious little lion cubs had nearly died under her watch; even if she was no longer head of Gryffindor, she still cared for those sorted into her old house. "Wise Mistress Minerva, I would strongly recommend the installation of safety barriers at all the landings near this interesting Chinese puzzle the founders of this grand old school placed here to prevent this sort of tragedy from ever happening again. Now, if you'll all kindly excuse me — and please extend my sincerest apologies to the Lady of Hogwarts herself for entering her halls without prior leave — there are some miscreants who need to be soundly thrashed before they abscond with some helpless, unhatched dragons. Methinks they're former alumni of this great school…which clearly demonstrates they didn't take to heart Hogwarts' motto. The Wise Lord's blessings upon you all."
And in a flash of energy, she was gone…
…and soon enough — after the report of a strange woman with a mysterious energy staff having stopped an act of poaching at the dragon reserve in Wales near Snowdon not far from Meridiana broke out in The Daily Prophet — the legend of "her" was born.
In the wake of that incident, Minerva DID do as that young lady had suggested. As soon as she gave a stern lecture to all the students about being careful at places like the Grand Staircase, she hired some of Gringotts' best warders and construction engineers to put in proper safety barriers — augmented with blocking charms to catch people who might slip off a landing — in all the potential danger zones.
Ever since that incredible day, the headmistress of Hogwarts — as did millions of magicals on both Earth and Nerio — continued to speculate about the identity of the Friend of Dragons; like many, Minerva had to wonder about the reporters at daily broadsheets like the Prophet when they settled on a mere pronoun of all things to designate this girl…especially in the wake of all the interesting terms they coined for Harry Potter over the years. And while the Friend of Dragons — Minerva personally used the Scots Gaelic translation of that term, Caraid nan Dràgon, when speaking of that young lady — continued to effortlessly elude those such as Luna Lovegood and her father Xenophilius from learning her identity, there were all the other obvious clues:
She was an Avalonian, Terran-turned, originally from Shikoku in Japan.
She was a practising Zoroastrian, though respectful of all other faiths.
She had endured a hellish tragedy whose full dimensions remained a mystery.
And she was protecting friends who had obviously endured that selfsame tragedy.
In doing that, she was forced to keep silent about even her name.
As to why that was so…
A shudder ran through Minerva as she considered that.
In all honesty, part of her didn't want to know…
…even if it was quite glaringly obvious to many people that this strange girl was cut out of the very same cloth as Harry Potter himself.
"A good afternoon to you, Wise Mistress. Lovely day, is it not?"
The headmistress jolted on hearing that voice before she looked up to see the Friend of Dragons standing just outside the circle of bluestone trilithons which surrounded the three stone altars where people went to pray to the divinities they acknowledged as their personal spiritual guides; the number of altars was believed to have been chosen in honour of either the sacred triad of Taranis, Esus and Toutatis or the three mother goddesses later called Matronae by the Romans. A glance towards the altars revealed the various offerings made in recent weeks by people like Rubeus Hagrid (who prayed for the gods' protection of all the magical animals he loved so much), Filius Flitwick (who always prayed to both human and goblin divinities for the safety of his beloved students) and Severus Snape (who had embraced his mother's personal faith in the Mórrígan, the Irish war goddess, in flat-out rejection of his father's puritanical Calvinism which had heavily contributed to the tense conditions within the Snape home in the Spinner's End part of the old mill town of Cokeworth in Derbyshire near Matlock).
And sure enough — Minerva had, before entering the Forest when she had sensed the presence of the Friend of Dragons so close to Hogwarts, forged a translation spell bubble around her so that she could interpret the younger woman's words…which were, no doubt, spoken in the tongue used to write the holy book of her faith, the Avesta — the Friend of Dragons had been offering a benediction, calling upon Ahura Mazdā to bestow His Blessings to the living beings to whom those who came to this sacred temple of ancient faith had prayed to their own divinities to protect.
How utterly Japanese, the headmistress mused to herself as she remembered what Yomigawa Tsukiko had once told her about the pluralistic approach people from Japan used when it came to religion, especially the balance between the demands of Shintō and Buddhism.
Even if this girl was a true Zoroastrian, she was also a true native of Japan.
"It's a quiet day," Minerva mused as she came to stand beside the other girl. "Much more quiet than what I heard just happened down in Diagon."
Inada Mizuho smirked. "Not surprising. Were you informed of what the Lady Raven and the Lady Ariel discovered after tapping into their brothers' memories?"
The headmistress blinked before she snarled out, "Aye! What the devil is the matter with people these days?! Your sisters mean no harm to anyone, not even to the undead! What happened to Spike and Drusilla in Sunnydale was an accident, no more and no less! That doesn't mean that those of Avalon would seek to force vampires back into the sun…even if it would do them a world of good in the long term."
"True…but the Wise Lord granted us His Favour when He allowed the Black Maidens to touch the minds of the Immortals who went to Nurmengard yesterday morning to honour their fallen friends, thus attracting my friend's attention and seeing them released from their decades of imprisonment," the would-be warrior-priestess from another dimension and ten years back in time noted. "Atop that, the ever-jovial Master Tȟatȟáŋka…" — she stuttered the name of the famous Lakota chief as she found it hard to properly speak the voiceless uvular fricative together with the voiceless alveolar stop that was the initial sound of the first two syllables in that name — "…sensed this was soon to happen, then warned Master Abraham about this so he could come to merry old Albion to ensure it didn't get out of control."
Minerva nodded as she tried not to feel giddy on remembering the first time she had met the legendary Rail-Splitter. Shortly after she became the transfiguration professor at Hogwarts in 1956, a rogue daywalker vampire took up residence in Hogsmeade so that he could attack students in hope of making his own army of turned wizards and witches for some foolish reason. On one weekend when the students got the chance to go into the village to spend time away from the castle, one particular girl was accosted by the vampire. Before Minerva could summon a wood stake to drive into the beast's heart, a man in funeral black dived out of nowhere to fling the vampire off the poor child, then lay open the creature's throat with a well-aimed strike from his woodsman's axe. Once the monster was dead thanks to the silver and meson in the blade, the Rail-Splitter — Minerva had heard the vampire scream out that accursed phrase before he was attacked — guided the shivering girl over to the transfiguration professor's side before he gave her a lanky, amused smile that nearly drove the native of Caithness to her knees.
"You would believe, Professor McGonagall, they would know better than this."
Then he walked off, calm as could be before teleporting himself away.
Minerva was so overwhelmed by such an act that she forgot to ask him his name…!
"Good afternoon, Wise Master Filius. A pleasurable day, is it not?"
The headmistress turned to see the jovial master duellist and charms professor walk towards them, an amused smirk on his face on noting who ELSE had come to visit the three altars this day. "It is indeed. Heard you were a little busy in Diagon today."
"I thought Lord Harry closed off all communications from that wonderful alley as soon as the situation was secure to keep news from reaching Mister Sewell," Mizuho noted.
Filius Flitwick scowled on hearing that name. "So it's true," he coldly declared as he moved to stand to Mizuho's side opposite Minerva. "That beast is still 'alive'…!"
"He won't be for long," the would-be warrior-priestess from another dimension stated. "Denied the power of the Black Maidens, Sewell and his friends have now focused their attentions to those imprisoned in Azkaban. According to what was spoken of yesterday at the home of Theodore Nott on the Isle of Lundy, they plan to attack on Friday morning. Since I've no idea how many have allied themselves with Sewell — nor where they have gone and hid themselves as they await that moment — I could not realistically sweep in and deal with the matter without being assured of final success. Hence, Lord Harry's move to censor all news of this morning's delightful 'fun' in Diagon."
The older magicals nodded in understanding. Having been forced to live through TWO civil wars — even if the second one had been a brief and almost one-sided affair — they had both learned the ugly lessons of keeping things secret from the enemy to ensure none came to harm. "So what does bring you here today, my dear?" Filius then asked, an amused smile appearing under his thick moustache. "I would suspect your friends would be panicking right now given that you seemed to have disappeared on them."
"I briefly went up to assure them all was well," Mizuho stated as she hefted the Staff of Gihan. "But something caught my interest prior to delivering the Key of Gonebren to your fellow alumnus, the Wise Mistress Elizabeth Gibbon, before the vampires in Diagon were dealt with. It concerns Lord Harry's new house guest."
"Thérèse?" Minerva asked; she and the other senior teachers at Hogwarts had been let in on the secret of the future Duchess of Kyme Eau shortly after the last fragment of the soul of Tom Riddle had been given new life as Thérèse Peverell.
"Aye. Look at that."
With a wave of the Staff, she allowed a faint golden line of magic to appear in the sky off to the south, leading from some place way past the horizon to probe into Hogwarts itself. "That's heading into the residence wing!" Filius stated as he drew his wand and sent a diagnostic probe out towards the light; he suspected the Friend of Dragons would allow his spell to reach all the way to such an extreme range. A moment later, a ghostly parchment appeared before him. Scanning what was there, he gaped.
"Oh, my word…!" he exhaled. "Minerva, that's the magical link of a Life Debt!"
The headmistress gaped. "Merlin! Can you get us into the castle, lass?!"
Mizuho raised the Staff, teleporting all three away…
…to let them appear in a corridor in the residential wing, just outside one of the entrances to Ravenclaw Tower. Looking around, the professors blinked before they gazed into the doorway of a girl's lavatory, one that had been closed for years. Atop the new physical barrier blocking anyone from stepping inside, this room was also shielded thanks to wards added in the wake of Catherine Fleming's accident months before; this was to ensure the entrance of a certain chamber buried below the dungeons would remain blocked in case another parseltongue showed up. "Oh, my word!" Filius breathed out, the complete unreality of the moment nearly causing him to faint. "This is…"
"Hello? Oh, Minerva! Filius! What are you two doing here?"
Mizuho smiled as the ghost of a rather nerdy-looking girl — who reminded the would-be warrior-priestess a lot of her own classmate from Shiroiwa, Noda Satomi — in the robes of a Ravenclaw from the mid-1940s drifted through the physical barrier blocking the lavatory from the hallway. As Filius and Minerva both gaped on seeing the slender golden line that Mizuho had shown them at the three altars was now linked to the ethereal heart of this young woman born in 1929, Mizuho could only sigh. "Good afternoon to you, Mistress Myrtle," she said with a polite bow. "Much that I don't wish to disturb you, I was wondering if…"
An embarrassed giggle escaped Myrtle Warren — "Moaning Myrtle" as she was commonly known here — as she stared at this girl in the odd school uniform. "'Mistress?!' I'm no mistress!" she protested before blinking. "Hey! You're Japanese!"
"The clear mark of a potential heiress of Wise Mistress Rowena," Mizuho dryly stated, which made Myrtle blush — if a ghost COULD blush! — before she sighed. "As I was asking, Mistress Myrtle, did you by any chance do something to the late Master Thomas Riddle that could have constituted the forging of a Life Debt between you?"
That made the ghost blink. "Tom?" she asked before her face dissolved into anguish. "How could he do that to me?!" she moaned out. "How could he kill me like that?! Why?! I never wanted to hurt him! How could he be so mean to me…?!"
As she began to wail — though Minerva and Filius were quick to note that Myrtle hadn't done as she normally did and fled into the piping leading to the lavatory to be alone — Mizuho moaned. "Have you located her mortal remains, my friend?" she asked.
Located, Controller, the Staff reported, causing Myrtle to stop crying as she stared at the pulsing ball of crystal at the end of the long metal staff the Japanese girl was now holding. Do you wish a replacement body for Myrtle Elizabeth Warren templated?
"Do it."
Done.
The Staff's crystal flared…
…before a bolt of energy lashed out to strike the floor nearby, causing something human-shaped to appear. As the castle seemed to quake slightly in echo of such an incredible display of power, the strange shape solidified into the still body of a young woman with dark brown hair tied in simple ponytails to hang over her collarbones, the body sheathed in a standard gestation suit worn by non-templated Avalonians prior to their physical forms being properly moulded before final awakening. Ignoring the gaping looks from both Filius and Minerva at such a mind-boggling display of power, Mizuho then gazed on Myrtle. "Your new body awaits you, Mistress Myrtle."
Myrtle blinked before she turned…
…and then gaped on seeing what now lay on the floor nearby. "What…?"
She then cried out in fright as energy formed around the still body, reaching out to gently embrace the ghost. Myrtle seemed to freeze at that moment as surprise crossed her face before she closed her eyes…and then faded forever from view as the energy that had entrapped her spirit flowed back into the body. Seeing that, Mizuho closed her eyes. "May the Wise Lord allow you to embrace the Frašōkərəti after so long being entrapped within the Shadowlands, Lady Myrtle," she whispered.
"The nŏksbae…!"
Minerva gaped at Filius. "What the devil does that have to do with THIS?!" she demanded as she waved at the
The charms master laughed. "Minerva, don't you remember what Lady Tsukiko told us about what Tom did when he split his soul apart?!" he demanded. "He mixed elements of the nŏksbae rituals with what he discovered about creating horcruxes! A person was made a nŏksbae when a dying wizard wishes to pass on his memories and knowledge to a worthy heir! That's how Thérèse was able to be created in the first place and become her own person! The magic of the nŏksbae allowed Tom's soul fragment in Mistress Helga's cup to evolve into its own being!" He blinked before staring wide-eyed at the young would-be warrior-priestess standing nearby. "Which is no different…!"
"Than the tre'cha process a dying Sagussan would employ to pass on her knowledge to an heir," Mizuho finished. "Aye, Master Filius! Thanks to Lord Voldemort's desire to escape death, he allowed his soul fragments to be touched by the benevolent magic of the nŏksbae even if each fragment was cleanly broken thanks to acts of vulgar murder…which started the day the Lady Myrtle was slain by the basilisk trapped within the Chamber of Secrets below us just before the summer solstice of the Thirteenth Year of Shōwa. And given that he obviously owed a Life Debt to Lady Myrtle…"
"For what?!"
"The Yule Scream of 1941, Minerva."
Heads snapped around…
…as the recently templated bioroid sat up, peering at them as a light smile crossed her face. Noting that she was squinting, Mizuho sighed as she waved her hand, allowing a pair of reading glasses to appear over the newly-born girl's eyes. Blinking in surprise, the girl then nodded her thanks at the would-be warrior-priestess before she gazed once more at Minerva and Filius. "The Yule Scream?!" the headmistress gasped. "Ye would have been in your second year, lass! How the devil…?!"
"I'm a Ravenclaw, Minerva," the newly-created Myrtle stated. "I was researching spells left, right and centre right from the moment I was Sorted!" She blinked. "Or was that me? Was I programmed correctly? Am I Myrtle Warren?" She slumped. "I'm confused."
"No different than what the Lady Thérèse Peverell — who was bound to your other-self with a Life Debt bond before your awakening — felt on her awakening," Mizuho said as she leaned down to help Myrtle up. "But before we allow an omiai to occur to see if that Life Debt will evolve into a marei'cha bond, let us prevail on the mistresses of the kitchens here to make you a nice sundae, then we'll get you some clothes."
Myrtle blinked. "I like ice cream!" She then seemed to deflate. "I think!"
Filius and Minerva gaped at her before they broke down and laughed…
To be continued…
WRITER'S NOTES
1) Highlander character and situation notes:
Matthew McCormick first appeared in the fifth season episode "Manhunt." He was Carl Robinson's teacher.
Matthew's own teacher Ceirdwyn (AKA Katherine McKearn) first appeared in the third season episode "Take Back the Night."
Lucas Desiree first appeared in the first season episode "Innocent Man."
2) When it was first introduced in the 1860s, the Medal of Honour (short-form MOH) was held up by a standard suspension ribbon that was pinned onto a jacket in lieu of being worn around the neck. The latter design wasn't approved for use by the Navy until 1942 and the Army two years later; the Air Force version of the Medal of Honour (first approved in 1965) was designed from the start as a neck ribbon. Atop that, the ribbon pattern design was much different; in the original Army Medal of Honour, the ribbon was patterned after the Stars and Stripes flag, with a blue field where the ribbon was threaded into the suspension bar and thirteen mixed red-and-white stripes flowing down from the blue field towards the bar which was connected to the eagle's wings over the inverted star. This design remained the standard pattern for the Medal of Honour from 1862 to 1895, when the ribbon pattern was changed to red overall with a blue centre stripe embossed with a white stripe; that would remain until 1903 when the familiar light blue ribbon with thirteen silver stars in an upward-pointing arrowhead pattern was adopted. Atop that, the practice of awarding special badges to indicate a consecutive award — for the Medal of Honour, such had been a bronze 'V' Device — didn't officially come into play until 2011, though such a practice was discontinued in 2014.
Thus, Mollie Bean has the right to wear the 1862 Army pattern of the Medal of Honour for her actions at the Battle of Gettysburg (1-3 July 1863) and the 1944 Army pattern of the Medal of Honour for her actions at the Battle of the Gates of Nurmengard (21 June 1945), in respect to the few times military personnel were given subsequent awards of the Medal for different actions…or, in the case of five members of the United States Marine Corps who were awarded BOTH the Army and Navy versions of the Medal of Honour in ONE single event; such would not happen these days.
3) Bockscar (always spelled as a single word) was a modified Boeing B-29A Superfortress heavy bomber (airplane serial 44-27297) that was the weapons vehicle used in Special Mission 16 to drop the Fat Man plutonium bomb on the city of Nagasaki on 9 August 1945. Flown by then-Major Charles Sweeney (1919-2004), Bockscar was first sent to target the city of Kokura (today part of the city of Kitakyūshū), but was diverted to Nagasaki due to inclement weather…which didn't help much as the clouds that covered the north end of Kyūshū pretty much covered the west end, throwing off the bombardier's aim and sending the bomb falling down in the northern sector of Nagasaki. After World War Two, Bockscar was donated to the National Museum of the United States Air Force and is today displayed at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base outside Dayton in Ohio.
4) Any statement concerning relatives of the author of Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, Seth Grahame-Smith, said here is fictitious, of course.
5) Nicolas de Brabant (AKA Nick Knight), for those who don't remember, is the lead character of Forever Knight.
6) The poem recited by Duncan MacLeod in the first flashback scene is derived from the AL:VH novel; it appears in the twelfth chapter, "'Starve the Devils.'"
7) Translations: CADPAT — Literally "Canadian Disruptive Pattern," this is the digitally-designed camouflage combat pattern worn by soldiers in the Canadian military these days; Toujours Pur — Literally "Always Pure"; Verboten — Forbidden; Trilithon — A structure consisting of two large vertical stones (called "posts") supporting a third stone set horizontally across the top ("lintel"); Matronae — Matrons; Thirteenth Year of Shōwa — The year 1943 C.E. in the Gregorian calendar; Omiai — A formally-arranged meeting between prospective marriage partners.
8) The badge design of the Royal Canadian Corps of Air Cavalry (RCCAC) noted here is further elaborated on my special collection of notes on the Corps of Air Cavalry units, The Air Cavalry Regiments of Canada, which can be found at the FictionPress website under my writer's name.
9) My theory concerning the Game and its eventual outcome as postulated by Dean Raeburn here — as shown in the original Highlander movie — is based on this: Immortals, being foundlings, are literally born of the life-energy of the Earth itself. As long as life exists on Earth, there will be Immortals; their creation normally comes about when a barren mother wishes for a child so strongly that the living spirit of Earth — "Mother Earth" in other words — responded with such. Hence, there can be no "Gathering"…and ultimately, no Prize.
10) The story behind Meagan Schwartz here is inspired by the Harry Potter/Buffy The Vampire Slayer crossover short story A Fate Worse than Death, written by Clell Harmon (pen-name "Clell65619") and marked as one of my favourites at this website.
11) Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel character and situation notes:
Wolfram and Hart, Attorneys at Law first appeared in the first Angel episode, "City Of."
The demons of the Buffy universe — known by the term Old Ones — were first mentioned in the BTVS first season episode "The Harvest."
The Seed of Wonder — said to be the source-point of all life and magic in the Buffy universe — was first mentioned in the 2008 graphic novel story "Anywhere But Here," the tenth issue of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season Eight series published by Dark Horse Comics.
12) Members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black mentioned here — Marius Black, his sister Cassiopeia Black (1915-92) and their uncle Sirius Black (1889-1943) — were first mentioned in the film version of Order of the Phoenix; their names appeared on the Black Family tapestry located at 12 Grimmauld Place. Details such as Marius Black's birth and death dates and the elder Sirius Black's middle name are my invention.
As an aside, when Sirius Orion Black declared that Meagan Schwartz and her descendants would have a place of cognatic primogeniture — also known as "equal primogeniture" — after Harry Potter and his descendants in the second flashback scene means that if something happened to Harry, Meagan would become the next Marchioness of Grimmauld. This effectively placed Meagan and her descendants AHEAD in order of precedence over people such as Nymphadora Tonks or Draco Malfoy…which ultimately means that Sirius totally flipped around the standard laws of primogeniture when it came to whomever would succeed him as head of the House of Black.
As one notes after looking at the family tree for Sirius' clan, next to inherit after the direct patriarchal line leading to Sirius would logically be the descendants of his maternal great-grandfather (and paternal great-granduncle) Cygnus Black (1889-1943). Cygnus' younger grandson and namesake, Cygnus Black (1938-92), is the maternal grandfather of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin (through Cygnus' second daughter, Andromeda Tonks), Draco Malfoy (through Cygnus' youngest daughter, Narcissa Malfoy)…and in the universe of this story, Cassiopeia Lestrange (through Cygnus' eldest daughter, Bellatrix Lestrange).
Running on those lines, under normal rules, Meagan Schwartz's place in the order of succession would actually fall in AFTER those descent from the younger Cygnus Black's father Pollux Black (1912-90), who was the eldest of the older Cygnus Black's children. Also, any children from Cassiopeia Black — none were noted — would have place of precedence over Marius' children, never mind his being a squib.
Also, by those very rules, falling at the very END of the line of succession from the elder Cygnus Black would be the descendants of his youngest daughter, Dorea Black (1920-77), who would eventually marry Charlus Potter and — in the universe of this story; this was never properly confirmed in any of the Harry Potter novels — would be the great-grandmother of Harry James Potter, though she would never live to see him born.
A final joke from an old Marauder, indeed…!
13) Germany's only post-World War Two wand wizarding academy, the Nibelung Academy of Magic (Akademie der Magie Nibelungen), is named in tribute to the mythical hoard spoken of in both Germanic and Norse legend that the royal family of the Burgundians — who settled in the area of modern-day Worms in the state of Rhineland-Palatinate in the Fifth Century C.E. — were said to possess. The actual term "Nibelung" is the name of a dwarf. This legend would later inspire Richard Wagner's famous opera cycle, Der Ring des Nibelungen ("The Ring of the Nibelung"), published in 1848-74. The third act of the second opera Die Walküre ("The Valkyrie") — titled Walkürenritt ("Ride of the Valkyries") — would become quite popular beyond Germany; it would appear in as far-flung performances as the famous 1957 Bugs Bunny cartoon What's Opera, Doc? and the 1979 war epic Apocalypse Now.
14) Unlike the more commonly known mythologies of the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans and the Vikings, the myths of the Celts that once dominated Europe before the time of Christ are shrouded in mystery. Taranis is the god of thunder and the Celtic equivalent to Jupiter/Zeus. Esus is believed to be a war god and the rough equivalent to Mars/Ares. And Toutatis — made famous by being the divine subject of oaths uttered by Gaulish characters in the famous Astérix graphic novel series published by René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo from 1959 onward — is believed to be a local tribal deity. However, Taranis, Esus and Toutatis became famous because they attracted the attention of the Roman poet Marcus Annaeus Lucanus AKA Lucan (39-65 C.E.). Atop that, the actual names of the Matronae (also called the Matres ["Mothers"]), who appeared in stonework dating from the First to the Fifth Centuries C.E. — to say anything of their spiritual realm of influence — have not been confirmed to this day…though triumvirate goddesses have appeared many times throughout the myths of Europe.
15) The actual location of Cokeworth — where the neighbourhood of Spinner's End is located; this is the place where Severus Snape, Lily Potter and Petunia Dursley spent their childhood — was not given in the Harry Potter novels. However, as Cokeworth was described as an industrial town on hard times — and Spinner's End clearly indicated something to do with the milling industry — I placed the town on the River Derwent close to the Derbyshire county town of Matlock. Located in the village of Matlock Bath a kilometre south of Matlock itself is Sir Richard Arkwright's Masson Mill, a water-powered cotton spinning mill built in 1783 during the early years of the Industrial Revolution. I felt it quite befitting to draw the comparison.
As an aside, the personal faith of the Mórrígan as expressed by Severus and his late mother Eileen Snape (née Prince) — inspired, of course, by Quote the Raven, Nevermore — arose from the fact that Eileen is part-Irish. She is related to those natives of Ulster who migrated into Scotland during the existence of Dál Riata during the Sixth and Seventh Centuries C.E. With that migration came the transmission of tales such as the Táin Bó Cúailnge ("The Cattle Raid of Cooley"), in which the Mórrígan was a prominent character. The Táin had an impact on Phoenix From the Ashes via Alexandra Lucy "Sandi" McLugh, the current reincarnation of the hero of that particular tale, Sétanta mac Súaltam AKA Cú Chulainn. Sandi first appeared in Part 21 of PFtA.
16) The actual birth year of Moaning Myrtle AKA Myrtle Elizabeth Warren (as noted in Part 7, the middle and family names were revealed by JKR in a Twitter message released in 2015) was never given in the novels. The assumption that she was fourteen years old as noted in the Harry Potter Wikia came from the woman who portrayed her in the movies, Shirley Henderson (born 1965), who stated in an interview with Newsday in 2004 — in response to the announcement that Myrtle would appear in the Goblet of Fire movie — that she was playing a girl that age even if she was a ghost. Originally, I based Myrtle's age in this story from what I portrayed her as in Harry Potter and the Icemaidens, when she saved Tom Riddle from the wrath of banshees in the Yule Scream of 1938. However, given that her being that age seems to be accepted as such, I had to move the Yule Scream to a year that would better match her time at Hogwarts; hence, that event happened in 1941 during Myrtle's second year and Tom Riddle's fourth year.