Beta:lil'hawkeye3, amazing as always, thanks!
Of course, Tom was excited when he heard about the cavern. She had told him he'd better find a broomstick if he wanted to go down.
She didn't tell her partner-in-crime about her encounter with a certain Austrian. Tom could be too harsh sometimes. After that, the day continued peacefully, and Meier never approached her again. He neither did in the following weeks, and in a blink of eye, it was already the first day of October: a Sunday.
The Ancient Studies booth was one of the most interesting in the Quad, with life-sized shabti – clay servants – of an Erumpent, a Tebo and two Fwoopers, and pocket-sized shabti of a Romanian Longhorn and a Nundu. She had also a live-sized human shabti working as her "propaganda" boy, handing invitations to everyone who passed. They had hieroglyphics written around, and paintings of the reactions to the spells in those. A scrying bowl showed a visage of the Great Lake surrounded by trees on fire – in which another bowl had been placed.
"So let me see... this 'stahp' hieroglyphic is like the disarming charm? Do most of those spells have their Latinised counterpart or just those?" Dorea inquired, braiding the tip of her hair in boredom.
"Well, 'stahp' is a bit more lethal than stealing the wand. It actually cuts off the target's hand at the wrist. Several spells do have similar effects to the Latinised ones; for example, 'se-kebeb,' which can be compared to a freezing charm."
"Why study it? You spent too much time preparing yourself to do this kind of magic."
"First of all, because this isn't the only branch of magic. There is elemental, scrying, telepathy, sympathetic magic…and second, spell-making. It's far easier to find a hieroglyphic which matches with your intentions and send your magic to it." She explained. "What about the Astronomy Club?"
"I'm getting a break. Alphard is the only Black of the newcomers, and he already says he is out." Dorea told her, eliciting a laugh of the other.
"We have to appreciate the fact that your family alone forms one club in the school." Anya teased.
"There are some others outsiders…but believe me, they have no idea what they are doing." Dorea snorted together with her. "Because of that, I don't work with inviting people. Apparently, I can be quite fierce with those who don't understand the galaxies yet insist that they do."
"Lady Lyra told you to get lost?"
"She did." The pureblood girl exclaimed in outrage. "Nonsense, isn't it?"
"No wonder she did, I say." Charlus said from behind Dorea. "She is from a distant branch, isn't she? Because insanity runs out in the main one."
Dorea shoved the boy hard. "Nobody asked you, Potter."
"Don't ask questions if you don't want them to be answered." Charlus popped up on a bench, and Anya rolled her eyes at their bickering. They had recently taken that route on their friendship, something about Dorea's owl, Vega, eating Charlus's frog-rabbit hybrid, Goggle. "You were fantastic on a broom last year, Nastya. I will try out for the Quidditch Team, promise me you won't."
Anya laughed. "I won't, Charlie. I'm pretty good here. Which position you will be trying for?"
"Chaser. Campbell left, so it's opened. It will be hard to substitute him, but I was tempted. If you were a Gryffindor, I would encourage you to try out." He snorted. "As it is, I'm glad. I don't feel that your house deserves our Quidditch Cup."
"They don't like Quidditch, Potter, they are girls. I cannot believe you are so oblivious." Abraxas sneered, approaching them while holding two glasses of wine. Dorea took one of them thirstily out of his hands.
"I don't dislike Quidditch, Ax." Dorea pointed out.
Charlus had gotten a bit flushed. "I'm a gentleman, Malfoy!"
"No, you aren't. But that shouldn't be surprising. No lion is."
"Shut it, Abraxas." Anya instructed. "Gryffindors value chivalry, and Charlie is a good knight in shining armour. You can be the Victorian gentleman. No harm done."
"Yes, both can continue as drama queens." Dorea mumbled with her lips touching the glass. "Nastya will be the damsel in distress. I can be the widowed aunt who has lots of younger lovers."
"Your life ambitions are appealing, Dora." Abraxas snorted; "Longbottom was looking for you, Potter. I think he was missing his side-kick."
Charlus sputtered in rage, and Anya decided that it was enough. Handing the miniature shabti of dragon to the Gryffindor – his favourite creature – Anya ordered him to show it around, preferably with Harfang. Properly distracted, the messed-haired wizard was happy to leave them behind. The emerald-eyed witch shook her head in amusement, before turning to pin the blonde boy in front of her with a stare.
"I'd prefer if you didn't openly contradicted my friends in other houses. It isn't easy to build an good image among the school as a whole if you are a Slytherin."
"I was doing it out of orders. Tom's orders." Abraxas explained. "Go talk with your fiancée if it bothers you."
"How many times I have to say we aren't engaged?" Anya asked in disbelief and in the next moment she felt something pressing her lips gently. She looked down the glass full of dark red liquid on her lips. "What is this?"
"Superior Red, my family's vintage claret. Open your mouth." Abraxas commanded, and Anya saw no reason to deny him. He pushed a sip down her throat, and Anya hummed. She knew absolutely nothing about wines, but it was good, fierce even – a bit too much to her, in truth.
"That's all you do in the Maenad Club? Drink wine?" Dorea inquired.
"There are worse ways to spend your time, don't you think? But we have some debates as well."
"Intoxicated discussions. Now it seems so much better." The pureblood witch deadpanned.
A fourth-year Hufflepuff with olive skin and long black hair smiled over at the trio, specifically Anya. "Thanks, Nastya, I will take over now. Professor Trocar is going to kill me if I keep his cellist for much longer." Maya Gowda said, dismissing her. "But if you find Master Sankara, tell him that his presence is requested here so he can give a lecture."
Master Amon Sankara was the never-present teacher of Ancient Studies. He was actually a renowned curse-breaker of Gringotts, who had been contracted by Dippet to teach once a week at Hogwarts. He was brilliant and unfortunately, very busy. And when he wasn't busy, he was trying to seduce the staff. She found him flirting with the healing apprentice of Durmstrang, Ms. Adelberg.
"Master Sankara, Maya Gowda is threatening you to go back to the Ancient Studies booth." She said, grinning at his companion. Beside her, Abraxas chuckled at the man's gulp.
"Anya dear, wouldn't you be able to tell her that you couldn't find me?"
"Don't fear facing a fifteen year old, sir. You can deal with worse."
"I can't deal with you, and you are twelve."
"Age isn't the synonym of worse, sir. You already seem to be dealing with an older girl well." Anya said, fleeing before she could hear his response. She didn't want to be convinced into dealing with an angry Maya either. Tom was enough.
Professor Trocar had planned an outdoor rehearsal for the full-orchestra, which could be categorised as a chamber orchestra, with forty-two musicians. They were to play at the Sundian Garden, a large garden in the grounds with a stone circle in it. It was located just outside the wooden bridge, which granted access to the clock tower courtyard where the booths were this year. A sonorous charm was to be used on the instruments, allowing the sound to travel to the courtyard and attract the students to the performance.
Professor Trocar was a vampire, which was a pretty unfitting characteristic in a teacher – first because as nocturnal creature, a vampire awake in the daylight was moody and sleepy; second, because vampires were extremely scheming creatures and Anya wouldn't put past him making passes at students and tasting a bit of their blood. He was definitely the kind of teacher that you had to keep your guard around – or you could end up dead, or at least anaemic.
He was a renowned musician and conductor, though, and the perfect teacher for Ghoul Studies – and because of that, Dippet had employed him. He wasn't a boring, or hate-able person once you got to know him better. Anya got along pretty well with the man, although Tom did better. One would almost think the two were best buddies – which spoke volumes about their characters.
Conducing an orchestra outdoors was potentially problematic for a vampire, and because of that, the pedestal in which a maestro usually stood was actually a black tent made of a material that the vampire refused to reveal the name of – there was a bet among the orchestra members about it being a magical creature's leather. Whatever it was, it completely hid his gaunt face and slender body to everybody except the orchestra.
Abraxas sneered at her side, looking at the tent. "It's true that Tabassum Trocar is a vampire, then?"
"How did you guess- were the long fangs an indicator?" Dorea inquired.
"He never walks around Hogwarts during the day, only for the rehearsals. It's more surprising that you have seen his fangs than me not seeing them." Abraxas pointed out. "How did that happen, Dora?"
"I went to one of the rehearsals with Nastya, perhaps? Tom never invited you, Ax?" The Black scion provoked her friend, laughing when the Malfoy heir refused to answer.
"Arawn is too shy for that, Dora." Anya informed in a teasing manner. "Can't you see how introverted he is; his fellow violinists eat out of his hand?"
"That's admirable of him. My father said Tom was a very promising man, according to my observations." Abraxas parroted, at the same time Dorea rolled her eyes.
"Yes, and you couldn't have thought of this without him, could you, Ax? You are better than this."
"My father is a respectful member of society."
"Mine is an arse…an incompetent one. I swear, if it wasn't for Pollux, I would fear for my future. When I consider my brother, I only have to fear for my offspring, and my ability to raise them. Wally is a lost cause, and Cygnus isn't any better. I suppose Alphie could be saved, if he landed on Earth for enough time."
"My father is very comprehensive and original. Mother gets the more down-to-earth side of things, although she is also rather creative." Anya lied.
"They are musicians, that's expected. It's a blood thing, isn't it? All Blacks are crazy, all Malfoys are pompous, and all Donbyres are musical." Dorea commented. "All Lestranges are unique, all Potters have messy hair, all Longbottoms are honourable, all Rowles are luxurious, all Dolohovs are strong."
"Will you stay to watch?" Anya asked them, changing the subject.
"Of course, I can see my little nephew with Nott's little cousin and Zabini, what an opportunity to embarrass family members!" Dorea declared, walking down to the side of the stone circle.
"Have you seen Arawn? I lost my sight of him." Anya questioned to the blonde wizard.
"Tom is talking with Miss Moon, Nastya. Allow me to accompany you to your seat." He offered his arm to her, which she took gracefully, letting him guide her to the vacant seat with a cello – her cello. Abraxas then kissed her knuckles and excused himself, like a true gentleman. She watched as he left to Dolohov's side.
[][][][][][][]
Georgiana Moon laughed at Tom's caustic remarks over Hogwarts boyfriend material. Really, the boy's wit was interminable. She had no idea how their conversation over the utility of the seize and pull charm when the summoning charm existed had evolved into a confession of her troubles finding proper lovers and an evaluation of what the school offered.
"No, Fawley isn't bad. It's absurd to divide people into good or bad. People are either charming or tedious." He said, making her look surprisedly at him.
"You know Wilde? How has a pureblood ever heard of him, Tom?" She laughed as she classified the people she had been thinking as bad with the adjective tedious – it was a surprisingly right match.
"Although my blood is pure, my mind isn't as pure…prudish, Georgie." He winked at her. "No, that would be immensely boring. And we can't be allowed to be boring, can we?"
"You could have been in Ravenclaw, Tom. You must have read more books than any fifteen year olds in this dammed school – and I won't speak of any younger students. You are very witty; I'm surprised that the Sorting Hat landed you in Slytherin, you being far from a traditionalist arse."
"Thank you, I think. But don't allow yourself to be fooled, Georgie. As Mr. Maugham once said, 'Quotation is a serviceable gift for wit; but having its gift doesn't classify someone as witty.'"
She laughed again. "Well Tom, let me see if you are as gifted with a violin as you are with your eidetic memory, then."
"You didn't pay attention to the end-of-the-term feast? I'm wounded now." He said, taking her to one of the seats which had been conjured to those students who would watch. "Wish me luck, Georgie."
"Good luck, Mr. Riddle. And call me Georgiana; I can't let everyone hear a second-year calling me that!"
"You have charmed her completely." Anya commented as he sat at her side, grabbing his violin.
"Gina is an intelligent girl; she knows I'm not sincere. However, when you are deeply entranced in politics without having real endurance in it, sometimes you allow yourself to be manipulated only for the sake of having an enjoyable conversation." Tom explained, testing his bow.
Anya hummed in agreement, stretching her body and winking in assurance to Anne Harris, who had just sat a few rows forward. "Which doesn't lessen much the manipulation, as fondness and loyalty to someone are things induced subconsciously."
"Indeed. I have come to believe that those who notice the manipulation are the most affected by it – as they feel some safety around it for recognizing it. This turns them more susceptible." He stated.
"You would know how to read your own schemes better." Anya conceded.
"Yes. Have you talked with Henry Potter and Hengist Longbottom?"
"Uh-hum. Mr. Potter is only curious about his boy's first female friend; but Lord Longbottom wants to know if I'm going to interfere with the marriage contract – which I already assured him I won't."
"Good. We will have to meet them someday, even if they are borderline blood-traitors." Tom pointed out, satisfied with the tuning.
"They are rich, they will never be called that…You realise that this is a rehearsal, don't you Arawn? There is no use of naming it like that if everything is going to sound perfect." Anya changed subjected harshly when she decided that there were too much musicians around to that kind of talk. "The tuning doesn't need to be the best."
"As if anything imperfect would be acceptable."
[][][][][][][]
A week after the club recruitment, Dorea and Brianna were woke up by screams. The source of those screams was a frightened Anastasia Donbyre. She was panting heavily and crying in despair, a dream – possibly a nightmare. Brianna groaned – it wasn't the first time that happened, but it had been awhile. Dorea took a look at her friend's bleeding arm and rushed to her bedside.
"Stop it, Nasyta! It was only a dream! Stop it!" She ordered, and her pixie haired friend ran to her side, helping the Black witch to stop the emerald-eyed one. "Alright there?" Brianna inquired. "It was only a dream, you see."
"Thanks you two. It's fine now." Anya assured them, watching carefully as Dorea got silent.
"Do you want to talk about it? It helps." Brianna offered, but looked relieved when Anya refused her proposition. "Okay, I'm going back to bed." The blonde girl declared, and in a few minutes, only the black-haired duo was awake, the younger one of them writing in small notebook.
Dorea sneered. "She is not the best friend kind, but harmless enough, I suppose."
"The opposite to you." Anya noted. "Any reason for piercing me with your eyes in the last minutes?"
"You hurt yourself. This was in no way a common nightmare." Dorea pointed out, retreating to her bed.
"No." Anya agreed, and it was soon obvious that she wouldn't say anything else about it.
Dorea sighed, understanding quickly. "If you are not going to tell me, you at least have to tell Tom."
"I promise I will."
"Great, now come here." Dorea commanded, bringing her sheets up.
"Are you serious?" She asked, surprised that the pureblood witch would even think of sharing a bed.
"No, I'm Dorea. My uncle is, though. And my grandfather had a brother named Sirius as well. He died when he was eight. Are you coming?" She said again, and this time, Anya slipped into her bed. "Goodnight, Anya."
[][][][][][][]
"Oh, isn't this a sweet image?!" Brianna's voice swooned. Dorea opened her eyes and groaned, great way of waking up. "Get up, you two. Today is the first game between schools. And I have a cute German boy waiting for me."
"I don't watch Quidditch." Not after you had to give up on being in the Quidditch Team, Dorea completed in her mind. "Besides, isn't twelve years a bit early for a date?" Anya continued at her side.
"I will be thirteen in four months. And differently from you, I don't have a fiancée – I have to enjoy it, don't I?" The pink-blond witch fastened her blood-red and dark brown robes. "Does it suit me?"
"No. You would do better with the colours of Beauxbatons. Are you really wearing their colours?" Dorea inquired.
"Yes. I'd stick out like sore thumb in Hogwarts colours in the midst of Durmstrang students." She answered, appalled that they hadn't thought of that.
"Whatever. Just ignore me and the rest of the student body saying that you look like a ridiculous Gryffindor." Dorea shrugged. "Come on, Nastya, we have to dress up like thinking people and have breakfast."
"Before I have breakfast I should go speak with Arawn, actually." Anya explained, choosing a grey platted robe with green details of her trunk and slipping into their bathroom.
Dorea huffed in bewilderment. The times Tom managed to steal her friend for her. Well, she would have to go bother Abraxas because of that. Dressing up in dark green and black, she styled her hair in a voluminous bun and walked out of her dormitory.
"Clemency!" Dorea called, seeing the blonde girl walking arm-in-arm with a gaudy looking brunette. "Are you going to the Quidditch pitch?"
"Yes, Dora. Tori, have you ever been introduced to Dorea? She is the sister of Lord Black. Dora, this is Vittoria Zabini, the daughter of Casimiro Zabini, the director of Advocates to the Wizarding Ministry." She said with much decorum and self-importance.
"I know of her, Clemency. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Zabini. How are you fairing against all male students that seem to be attracted to Slytherin?"
"Pretty well. Primrose is nice and Bones is very…reserved. The excess of males isn't a bother." The two firsties shared a laugh. "Your nephew is very funny, by the way, Dora."
"Alphie? Indeed, he is. And what about that other girl, Mabelle? Marianne?"
"Ah, Shabby-Anne." The brunette said with disgust.
"Shab- I mean, Mab-Anne is so poor, Dora. She is always wearing those pauper robes, and her hair is so out-fashioned. I can't believe the Sorting Hat placed her in Slytherin…she is a taint in our reputation." Clemency complained.
"Shabby-Anne, Clemency? I always thought of you as someone kind, Clemency, otherwise I would never let you near my family. Are you saying that you just shunned a pureblood girl because of her clothes?" Dorea said coldly, making the younger girl wince.
Feeling no use in sticking around, Dorea walked into the Great Hall, greeting those in her house-table with nods and plopping beside Abraxas's seat. "Hello boys. Riddle around?"
"Nastya took him away." Abraxas responded, handing her a plate with poha. Dorea hummed in appreciation, her favourite kind of breakfast – Indian. "You don 't know what I had to do to find something like this, Dora."
"I suppose you bribed a Hufflepuff, they are the only ones who know where the kitchens are. Thanks, Ax, I love you."
"Uck. That's a disgusting thought." He moaned in pain.
"Don't be a gentleman with me, then. Oi, Ragnar, is that Mab-Anne Perks?" Dorea inquired, pointing to the tiny brunet whose long hair covered half of her face. "The first year whose grandmother was a Bulstrode?"
"Yes...oh, your mother was a Bulstrode. Are you thinking of family aid to Perks?" Ragnar inquired, and Dorea agreed absent-minded.
Her mother had died some years ago, mysteriously found dead in Knockturn Alley. The main suspect was her father's lover at time, Lavinia Carrow – but then, the murderer could also have been Dorea's sister-in-law. Dorea was never very fond of her mother, who was a weak-willed woman with no self-respect, but she couldn't deny her family ties, could she?
"Hello. You are Mab-Anne, aren't you? I'm Dorea. My mother was cousins with your grandmother." She said, unfastening a ribbon of her cuffs and using it to tie the girl's hair in a high ponytail. "So, I heard you have faced some problems in your dorm. That's quite common. Now, I'm the favourite sister of Lord Black. If you have some self-preservation instinct, you will use my goodwill – or whatever this is – in your favour. And I think you have surviving instincts, otherwise, you wouldn't be sorted in Slytherin."
The girl looked at her. Dorea could see some beauty there – nothing noteworthy, but enough to be arranged in a beautiful way. Her hair was a mane of brown tresses; her eyes were faded her eyes dark, skin, pale. Mab-Anne nodded.
"Great, now I have a set of robes that will highlight the golden in your hair, what do you think?"
"It doesn't matter, does it?"
Dorea smirked. "No."
[][][][][][][]
"An archway which those who pass through it land in the Dead Land? Where is this?" Tom asked. "Orion dies there? How old does he look, exactly?"
"I wouldn't know. He couldn't be older than thirty-five…but in a way, he looked much older." Anya shuddered. "I will always find difficult to guess a wizard's age. Look at Dippet, he doesn't look three-hundred – not that I know many people at this age. But Dumbledore doesn't look almost sixty either. If I were to give his age, I'd say forty."
"That's not extremely helpful. But it's the first time you see someone we know – aside us." He noted. "And then there is this room. A room which gives you whatever you ask for, how useful can this be? And in Hogwarts! Any idea about the location?"
Anya denied. Really, why did he ask her to write every dream of her if he was going to quiz her on everything she wouldn't know. Actually, she knew – to latter. "How are you going with your research on the Slytherin family?"
"Nowhere. I can say that Adelina Slytherin married in the Peverell line, in the same way Iolanthe Peverell married Hardwin Potter. And since then, the family has been extinct in male line. However, it's impossible to state that the Potters have any relations to Slytherin. It's obvious that Adelina lived at the end of the 11th century; but left the country at the beginning of the Crusades with her husband, a Lovell Peverell. I believe whatever children they had was born in foreign lands – and married with foreign name. A daughter probably."
"Yes, otherwise the family wouldn't have become extinct in male line." Anya pointed out. "Is this extinction magically updated? And where did you find all these documents?"
"The Potters were never secretive about their relations to the Peverells. They even have a house in Godric's Hollow, where their ancestor is buried. Now, Adelina was the granddaughter of Slytherin. She was raised here in Hogwarts, when both her grandfather and her father abandoned the castle. There are registeries of this, if you know where to look." He sighed. "Unfortunately, there was nothing more to know. Some ghosts, some files in the library. And yes, the status of magical family is updated by a spell in Gringotts."
"Perhaps, if I can find this room which can transform in everything, you will be able to ask for such information. I'm pretty sure the ghosts know nothing about it – at least, most of them, and the minor group who knows something is tight-lipped – or else one of them would already have said. Nevertheless, I'll ask. The portraits can be more knowledgeable, or maybe the staff?" Anya pondered over that matter. "How long has Peeves lived here? Poltergeists are immortal, aren't they?"
"Amortal, I think. And the idea is interesting. Knowing the location of such room is productive, even if it proves to be fruitless regarding such matter."
"Yes, yes. How long do house-elves work here, by the way?"
"I didn't know that house-elves worked here, Anya, and I have no idea how long." He offered her arm to her. "Did you eat something?"
"I'm not hungry." She answered, linking their arms together. "Now, please tell me you didn't make any bets – much less in our school." She snorted. "Merlin, we will be awful in Quidditch. Not that the players aren't good – but taking the best of every house? Dolohov and Burke will kill Charlie, Boot and Dunbar. It doesn't matter if they are the best every team has to offer. One does not simply encourage a feud like this."
"Nothing to say about the keeper and the seeker?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw know how to put their differences to past in order to achieve a common goal. I honestly have what Madam Hooch was hoping for with a team like these. They may be the best of the school, but integrity is necessary in a team. And there is no trust between lion chasers and snake beaters." She sighed, entering the Hogwarts stands and seeking for her friends. "I suppose you will move away now?"
"Yes. Tripe has just arrived with Greengrass and Crabbe. I have no interest in Crabbe, his father lives off his inheritance, as his grandfather did – and it will be lacking until his generation. Now the other two…" Tom trailed off, but Anya nodded anyway. Linus Tripe was a well-known unspeakable and it some circles, there was the rumour he also was a necromancer. The Greengrass were a noble family, that while not very wealthy were of old-blood, and even older traditions. They were the kind of family that was there to improve the appearance of Noble and Most Ancient Houses once in a while. Very well connected.
Tom left, and Anya turned on her heels, looking for her roommates. Instead, she found an Austrian boy behind her.
"Anya! Did you make your bets already?" Dominik Meier asked. "Has Riddle bet on the other's foolishness as well?" He inquired with a grin.
"I don't bet, Meier." She snarled. "Now, can I help you? If I can't, would you screw off?"
"As it happens, you can." He grinned. "You see, I have a bet. Would you do me a favour?"
Reviews will inspire me and make me write an amazing next chapter