A/N: Sorry for the delayed update... finally well enough to start writing again! Thanks for all your support!(◕‿◕✿)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

Chapter 25

The new arrival adopted an affronted look as he waved a dismissive hand in the air at the claim, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous and magically charged wizard that looked ready to blast him to oblivion.

"Betrayer? Rather silly to call me that, don't you think?" the new arrival objected sternly before giving a piercing look and motioning to a nearby table with his head, "Now, let's discuss this like civilized gentlemen, shall we?"

After a tense second, Voldemort sucked in a deep breath and instantly reined in all signs of belligerency, standing up straight and tucking his wand back into the deep folds of his swishing robes, his cool and collected demeanour now back in place as if nothing had just happened.

He walked slowly towards a waiting wizard that had just seated himself comfortably in the chair his follower had just vacated, "You are a child of the Dark," he called out, his voice now perfectly calm, "Where your allegiance lies is neither up to you nor me."

An astonished look erupted over the face of the other wizard, "Dark, you say? Dear me, you certainly have changed," he exclaimed before shifting forward in his seat to lower his gaze, "Always remember, there is no Light, no Dark – only power… and the will to use it," the other wizard chanted lowly, his voice thrumming with hidden magic towards the end of his sentence.

"As you always say," Voldemort mumbled under his breath as a wave of unseen magic washed over him, curiously noting that he was unable to pinpoint whether the pulse of power was of Light or Dark in origin. He then kept his mouth shut as he continued walking towards to the seated figure, memories of ages past rising up to the forefront of his mind.

Upon reaching the table, he elegantly slid into a chair and tightened his lips for a split second before opening them, "My apologies for the unsightly display," Voldemort started evenly as his eyebrows imperceptibly narrowed, "I was not expecting… company."

The other wizard donned a grave look as he leaned forward and placed his palms atop the wooden table, "Alas, I fear this visit is not a social one," he informed, the large girth of his clothes tightening around his chest as he spoke, "But one instead of business."

Voldemort showed no visible change in his face as he sat as he were, deliberating over the current scenario, "No beating around the bush? Very well then, colour me intrigued," he finally replied after a few seconds, his smooth voice slicing the thick air as a knife would butter, "Carry on."

The other wizard leaned back into the chair with his hands clasped across his belly, his eyes never wavering as they kept themselves locked onto Voldemort's, "To avoid the tedious effort of naming all the propositions I have to offer, I will summarize for the sake of time," he started cheerily, "In short, my side will hinder your efforts no longer."

Voldemort's eyebrows twisted in confusion as he replayed the sentence in his mind, "What do you mean hinder my efforts?" he echoed, "Who do you–"

He stopped talking mid-sentence as his mind finally acquired the final piece of a puzzle that he had been desperately trying to solve for the past year. "It was you all along," he gasped as his sculptured arms tightly gripped onto the arms of the chair he sat on, "Your rumours, your fabrications, your shadowy political dominance, your bewildering economic decisions… they all left me questioning the abilities of my most skilled followers," he then sat up straight and gave a huff of annoyance, "It seems like their worries were not misplaced, they were hardly a match for you."

Voldemort pushed forward, "No one else but you currently possess the wherewithal to defy me. Not even the members… of the Order," he carefully enunciated as he scrutinized other wizard's face before attempting to use Legilimency. Respecting a powerful defence that rose up against him, a mental barrier that could only be broken by a select few in the wizarding world, Voldemort decided not to forcefully breach it and pulled back, mulling over the new information.

"As I suspected," he suddenly announced in extreme confidence as he leaned heavily into the wood of his chair, "You aren't on his side either."

The robed wizard gave an approving nod, fully aware of what had just transpired against the shields of his mind, "Clever as always, my boy," he grinned with a proud look on his face, "Your perspicacity has always been second to none."

The mood eased up a little as Voldemort found himself giving a nostalgic smile in return, "My sincere apologies for earlier then, for questioning where your allegiances lay."

Hold on, why am I smiling?

Voldemort immediately banished it from his face and focused his mind as he returned to the matter at hand, "Why were you hampering my efforts in the first place?" he begun tightly, the cadence of his voice demanding an answer, "What possibly could you have to gain? I know you… and I know we both desire the same outcome for the Wizarding World," he pressed urgently.

The other wizard sighed heavily as he stood up, the chair screeching against the stone floor, "I've been watching you for a long time. You've… changed," he started slowly, his arms waving in the air as he struggled to find the right word, "Vastly. Indubitably. For the better," he added, his disjointed sentences punctuated by low and thoughtful hums, "No more is your directive purely a genocide of those with lesser blood, nor the desecration of our magical sanctuary, but a vision for the future… a future that could positively affect the lives of everyone."

Voldemort shifted in his seat, "Enough of your silver tongue," he barked, unsure even himself as to why his mindset had been slowly changing over the past year and a half, "What exactly are you really saying?"

Instead of answering the Dark Lord, the other wizard simply turned to his side and stared out of a distant window, "Your recent interaction with the Centaurs," he started off, earning himself an angered look from the avoidance of the question, "Most fascinating use of Merneptah's lost magic. I presume you found the exact location of the Forbidden Scrolls in Egypt then?"

Voldemort's anger was pulled back in as surprise once again filled his being from the mention of two pieces of information that he thought were kept securely under wraps, "Yes, I did," he cautiously answered, "I spent roughly two years in Cairo before I found the Pharaoh's tomb," he continued, wary as to why he was being so truthful.

The other wizard looked back at him with burning eyes with just one word off the tip of his tongue, "…Why?"

Voldemort blinked twice and immediately read between the unspoken lines, "Why what?" he said with feigned ignorance, crossing his arms elegantly across his chest.

The other wizard clicked his tongue in annoyance at the blatant bait, "Why the theatrics," he said impatiently, "Why not simply use demagoguery on the Centaurs, or even just coerce them to follow you on your path? They may be old and wise, but they are not the most cautious or rational of creatures."

Voldemort gave a dramatic sigh before turning towards a tall mirror in the far corner of the room, its reflection showing nothing but a miniscule image of young adult in his early twenties, "Say we use one of these methods you have just suggested, what would then entail?" he started, adopting the tone of a cultured lecturer, "For demagoguery, the impressionable masses will learn respect. For coercion, the servant will fear the master."

Voldemort got up from his chair and began pacing on the spot, his voice growing energetic, "Fear and respect – two emotional and intellectual bonds that are fragile beyond comprehension. Fear only leads to acrimony, while respect is only a temporary connection – one that can be easily corrupted by the seed of doubt. No, no... I require something far greater than those pitiful emotions from my disciples."

"I require… reverence."

The other wizard frowned from the unexpected answer, "Reverence?" he echoed, slightly baffled.

Voldemort nodded fervently, "Reverence strips away Man's uncertainties, his doubts, his fears. For only then is Man able to unbind the fetters that hold his humanity in place and pass it onto the thing he worships. A simulacrum of purification if you will."

Small beads of sweat started to form at the corners of the other wizard's brow, "I-I don't understand," he nervously interjected.

Voldemort's pacing only got quicker, his breathing more laboured, "A tool that is capable of transforming men into living weapons. A tool that would give rise to armies that obey your every command – regardless of their portents," he continued as his eyes grew brighter, "Capable of moving mountains, razing entire cities to the ground, decimating entire populations."

He grew more animated as he continued his speech, "My followers will be affected neither by the words of a Man, nor the strength of their wand. They don't desire to serve under a charismatic leader nor a self-proclaimed saviour," Voldemort paused to gather his breath, "Even the plutocrats and parvenus that sit atop the food chain – the ones in full control of the Wizarding World – do not move unless they are shown a tangible representation of their desires."

The other wizard felt a slow creeping dread dilute into his being as he felt the powerful orator that was the Dark Lord before him ply his trade – elocution, with words being the strongest weapon one could wield.

"What is this representation?" the other wizard said lowly, unconsciously lowering his voice.

Voldemort gave a serene smile that seemed totally out of his place on the unnaturally young and cold face, "My dear friend, reverence can only be earned through one single act," he whispered, the mellifluous tone of his voice raising slight goosebumps on the other wizard's arms.

"A miracle."

A disturbed and disbelieving look crossed the other wizard's face, "You think this planned genocide, this… pogrom, is a miracle?" he returned in growl.

Voldemort stood up to his full height, his sinewy body becoming ramrod straight, "Yes, I do," he emphatically replied, "For there will first be the gnashing of teeth and bursting of hearts, the inevitable sorrow and inconsolable weeping, the solemn requiems and the grief-stricken elegies."

"For through my acts of horror and destruction, wizards and witches of all different statuses and ideologies of the world will band together for solace and succour in their rebellion against me," he paused as stared the other wizard straight in the eye, his dark orbs shining with righteousness as he reached his chilling climax, "At first, the world will mourn. They'll be united in grief…. and then they'll just be united."

Neither wizard spoke as they each held their breath in the thick, seemingly consuming air that surrounded them. A long minute passed before the other wizard could regain his composure and speak.

"You… speak of martyrdom do you not? Where death is given not only a voice, but also a life," he started in a breathless voice, "Do you really think scratching some long-lost rituals onto your body gives you the power to lord over men, to earn their votive offerings? Many a wizard and witch in the blood-soaked annals of history have treaded down this path before. You… are no different."

The other wizard continued without pause, "I believe are still stuck in the past. Still peering through the looking glass at the halcyon days of the Wizarding World, the rose tint of its lens enticing you to look once more at a time before Muggle-borns were allowed into our society. Truly, a hopeless cause."

The other wizard finished solemnly as he shook his head sadly, "Nothing you will do can amount to anything more than a single drop in a limitless ocean."

Voldemort stood as he were, feet planted fully on the ground, his fists loosely clenching and unclenching as fire surged through his veins, "What is an ocean," he whispered with conviction, "But a multitude of drops?"

As a fiercely stubborn face greeted his own, he suddenly lost the will to continue debating, his temper all but slowly draining away, "Oh ye of little faith," he softly sighed.

He then glanced out the window at a setting sun briefly before looking back at the familiar face, "Just tell me why you are really here," he intoned tiredly, only now remembering just how intractable the other wizard was.

The other wizard gave a surprised hum as the debate prematurely ended, "Very well," he began with slight disappointment laced within his voice, seemingly acting as if he took pleasure from verbally jousting with one of the most dangerous wizards alive, "I have come with a message from my master."

"Master?" Voldemort started with unfeigned surprise, regaining some of his vigour, "Impossible," he scoffed disbelievingly, "Who in this country could possibly claim to be your master?"

The other wizard let out a mysterious smile as he brushed the question aside, "My message is this: we will not aid the Order's forces any longer nor disrupt your activities. In return, we will come back two years from now to collect a single item from you. Do you accept?"

Voldemort sneered, "Am I to conduct business with proxies then?" he angrily retorted as he folded his arms across his chest, "I refuse to listen to your stipulations unless your 'master' reveals himself."

The other wizard carried on without a bat of an eye, as if expecting the question, "I have been given permission to only reveal his alias, his nom de guerre," he informed lowly, "He is a wizard with ambitions that exceed any person I have met in my life so far – even you – and is a terrifying monster in his own regard. He calls himself… The-Wizard-Who-Sold-The-World."

A pensive look crossed over Voldemort's face as he pondered out loud, "The wizard... who sold the world, eh? What a curious moniker," he muttered under his breath, the cogs and sprockets whirring to life as his brain came up with theory after theory of who this person could be.

A solid minute passed before he looked up with a strangely energized look on his face at the waiting wizard, "Very well," he announced loudly, "I accept these conditions."

The other wizard released a breath of air from his lungs in surprise from the lack of negotiations but quickly collected himself and brought out a black scroll from under his robes, proffering it with one hand, "I hope this artefact is magically sufficient enough for you to bind our agreement."

Voldemort recognized the thousand-year-old vellum and gave an approving nod before placing his hand on the seemingly fragile parchment. After a few words to link their magical cores to the ancient object, both wizards then stood back after a soft glow briefly emanated from their frames – a signal that the ritual was complete.

The other wizard then looked out the window and saw that the sun the verge of disappearing below the trees, casting long and dramatic shadows against the backdrop of the room, "Oh dear, I believe I've overstayed my welcome," he exclaimed cheerily before carefully placing the now soot-like scroll back into his robes, "I'd best get going."

He turned back towards Voldemort with a hidden look of sadness on his face, as a father would to a burdened child, "My boy, may you find peace on your quest for… apotheosis," he uttered quietly and in finality before abruptly vanishing on the spot, leaving only behind a small vortex of swirling dust as he passed harmlessly through all the wards that protected Malfoy Manor.

Voldemort stood silent as the other wizard disappeared, his nose curiously detecting a leftover whiff of powered moonshine that hung stagnant in the air. Mulling over his thoughts as he watched the disturbed particles of dust settle back down into quiescence, he mulled over what had just transpired.

"If it were anyone else in the world who just approached me," he murmured to himself quietly, "I would have killed them right on the spot."

A feeling of muted calm slowly flowed into Tom Riddle's torn soul, an unending sea without a ripple or wave in sight. It was fifty-one long years since he was first conceived, but this was the first time he was experiencing this strange feeling, this odd sense of… serenity? He then stared out the window one final time as the last light of day drained away over the ever-darkening horizon, the mauve of the dusky sky intensifying until there nothing less but blackness.

"May we cross paths again… Professor."

Some time later

A young girl stood half clothed in front of an ornamented cheval mirror that lay mounted atop a wooden plinth, her pale skin juxtaposed against a multitude of magnificent murals that called the walls in this particular place home. Vibrant splashes of blue, vermillion and turquoise dashed upon snowy white canvases showed a myriad of bucolic scenes that sought to stimulate the senses of both the connoisseur and layman alike.

Apart from those defining articles, a single bed with white and feathery pillows alongside small splint-bottomed chairs graced the room, an ornamented hat-stand and a large wooden desk lay illuminated thanks a pair of curtained windows, their white cotton cloth drawn back to reveal the world beyond.

Truly, this dressing room was the quintessence of quaintness – and one which was part of the Potter Summer Mansion.

"Dear, are you sure you don't need any help?" a voice called loudly through a closed door.

The young witch that was currently inspecting the room let out a feminine squeak as she realized that her mind had been absently wandering for quite some time.

"I-I'll be ready soon," she hurriedly called back in a slightly flustered tone.

Ariana gave a defeated sigh as she looked back at her reflection in the mirror for the tenth time that day, wondering how in Merlin's name was this particular dress that hung around her waist was even supposed to go on her body as she pulled at strips of loose fabric helplessly.

"Why did I agree to go through with this nonsense," she grumbled, now toying with wayward laces that seemed completely useless to the functionality of the cloth, "Ron would never live this down if he saw me."

Looking up for a brief second at her image yet again – a recent and unconsciously habit which she couldn't stop doing – she gave a surprised gasp as she suddenly noticed something she had totally missed beforehand.

There's no mistake… I've definitely grown taller!

Her spirit soared as she gave a delighted smile and bounded over to the resident hat stand for a reference, placing one hand atop of her head to reaffirm her new height and soon realizing that this new body was finally starting its journey to – hopefully – give her a height she had always wanted. Giving a little celebratory jig as she stood half-wrapped in a squished and tousled gown, she suddenly caught sight of something else amidst her victory dance as her eyes travelled downwards.

"What the–" she muttered under her breath as she froze in alarm.

Adopting a pensive frown, Ariana began to awkwardly shuffle back towards the mirror with the intent to get a better look, her movement impeded by the Parisian–style couture that stifled action in her lower body. Upon reaching an appropriate distance, she gazed in trepidation at the enhanced image.

Although she had already experienced her menarche, she was still woefully unattuned to the new vessel that she was currently residing in as she had other, more imperative areas of activity that she needed to invest her focus on. She had been turning a blind eye to the other changes with her own body ever since she arrived in this strange new world, completely relying on the spell that kept her from harm every month thanks to Professor Slughorn.

"What's wrong with my chest?" Ariana murmured in confusion as looked down at an unfamiliar wave of gentle gradients on her once flat chest, a sight that seemed physically similar to the swellings of bruises – but without any the discolourations.

Raising one cautious hand, she gingerly prodded the offending areas to check for any signs of pain, her dainty fingers careful but precise. As she circled inwards, she soon gave a loud gasp as she felt something akin to a bolt of lightning electrify her entire body when she prodded a certain sensitive area, hurting her… yet not hurting her at the same time. Truly, the oddest and most bizarre feeling she had ever experienced over the course of her two lifetimes.

"Note to self," Ariana breathed heavily, her hand still trembling slightly from the sensitive contact, "If this swelling doesn't go down by the end of this week, get in touch with Madam Pomfrey."

Hoping that whatever medical condition was ailing her would not develop into something more severe, she hastily grabbed onto the gown that encircled her waist and brought it up to cover her upper body, as if to blot out the previous image and pretend she was whole and well. She then looked at her reflection just once more, ruminating away until she couldn't take it and finally broke the silence.

"Oh well, whatever," Ariana announced as she shrugged in indifference, adjusting the final straps on the piece of fabric that was trying its hardest to stay on her small shoulders, "It is what it is," she continued without emotion, a blasé stance that was built from the constant trials and tribulations that had occurred over the course of her life, inured to the the promise of pain or torment.

"Dear, is it okay to come in now?" suddenly came the same voice as earlier, its kind and motherly voice easily recognizable even through a thick wooden door.

Ariana twisted her body sideways and tied one last fluttering strap into a neat ribbon before shouting back an affirmative to the extremely patient lady that had been waiting on the other side of the door.

Dorea burst into the room with a poorly disguised look of eagerness on her face and immediately narrowed her eyes towards a certain young witch, one that was trying her hardest not to fidget under the intense scrutiny. "Almost done – but not quite yet," the older women emphatically decided with a nod as she moved with elegant purpose towards her charge, grabbing the tools she would need as she passed by the wooden desk.

Ariana's eyes grew wide at the appearance of the new objects and hurriedly let out a high-pitched squeak, "This is more than enough Mrs Potter, I don't need–"

As if her voice were lost upon the wind, her words was completely ignored as she was firmly planted down onto a mahogany chair that this time faced a smaller mirror, one small enough to only show her image from the neck up.

"Now, which of these do you prefer?" Dorea started briskly in a business-like tone once she had everything she wanted was set up, motioning to a collection of shiny and expensive looking earrings that lay top the dressing table.

Ariana grew animated as she gestured to the sides of her head, "M-My ears… they aren't–"

"Goodness, dear," Dorea interrupted with a chuckle as she patted the panicking young witch's cheek affectionately, "The earrings are enchanted, there's no need for piercings if you don't want them yet. We are in the seventies you know."

The worry in Ariana's face visibly lessened as she calmed down and looked over the foreign, glittering baubles. Feeling as if they all looked the same from the way they glittered and shone under the morning light, she chewed on her lip and was about to pick one from random, but stopped, as one in particular caught her eye.

"That one," she decided firmly as she pointed to a rather curious looking set of earrings.

Dorea frowned slightly as she leaned forward and picked up the chosen earrings, "I'm sorry dear, those weren't supposed to be in there. I'm sure that I threw them out years ago," she replied in a confused tone as she brought them close to her face, wondering how on earth something so odd looking remained in her collection, "Are you sure you want it? I have others–"

Ariana's bright green eyes shone into hers as the younger witch tilted her head back, "I really like them Mrs Potter, can I wear them please?" she pleaded.

The sight of the large eyes with the sound of earnest tone utterly melted the heart of Dorea Potter, a woman in her late middle-ages who had lived her whole life with ample fame and wealth. Though she had been affluent, there was always one thing she wished she could trade all the material goods for in the past: to have a child.

When Lady Potter married into the Potter bloodline, she very quickly discovered that she could not bear children, much to her abject horror. She tried and tried as much as she could, and almost gave up at one point. But near eighteen years ago, she was blessed with a late-in-life miracle pregnancy – to the one and only James Potter. Though she utterly loved her irreplaceable son down to every last fibre, there was a small part of her that had always yearned for a daughter.

Is this fate I wonder? Dorea thought to herself as she looked at the small face below her, only now curiously noticing that Ariana's facial features were striking similar to her son's.

Realizing that the younger girl was still waiting for an answer, she refocused and gave a gentle nod before grabbing the respective earrings off the desk. Muttering a few words to quickly activate the magic within the tiny pieces of metal, she then attached them onto the earlobes to the one that requested for them.

"They look rather… unique, I'll admit," Dorea confessed after giving a closer inspection.

Ariana delicately ran a finger over her first ever pair of earrings as she looked at herself in the vanity mirror, relishing in the fact that out of all the design choices, the intricate flowers, the iridescent gemstones, and other complex geometric swirls, there was one in which she resonated the most with: a pair of beautifully carved animals, a stag and a doe gracefully entwined.

Pushing that train of thought to one side as she glanced down at the top of the dressing table once more, she realized with slight nervousness that there were still many nefarious looking objects that lay dormant, each carrying a palpable feel that felt as if they would suddenly jump up from the table top and pounce on her.

The first was a flat disk of held some sort of white cream that looked strangely like a compressed marshmallow. The next looked like a painter's brush, one that seemed as if it could create a masterpiece on a canvas but had bristles that seemed too soft to be dipped in paint. Beside it was a square box that was evenly partitioned into many different sections, each one showing a unique colour as if a housing a scrumptious selection of candies. Alongside those, a myriad of other objects lay ready and waiting.

The hairs on the back of the neck stood up as she sensed growing danger in the air. Giving a big gulp, she slowly turning her head inch by inch to the side and was greeted with large and rather terrifying smile, one that most resembled Madam Malkin's, when she was forced to wear dress after dress whilst shopping almost a year and a half ago.

"My dear," Dorea started with a predatory grin, looking a bit too enthusiastic for the younger witch's liking, "Shall we begin?"

Ariana's squawk of protest went unheard as the next hour or so was dedicated purely to an activity was entirely new to the young witch, the precise and complex art of human beautification.

"… and for future reference, this part goes into here, and this part goes into here," Dorea informed not unkindly as they neared the end of the ordeal, loosening some laces and reversing the direction of a line of fabric near the hem of Ariana's dress, effectively perfecting the setup.

"Voila!" she cried with triumph once the final touches were in place before hurrying the young witch over to the cheval mirror, "Take a look, dear."

Ariana slowly walked over to the mirror, almost nervous for some mysterious reason. When she reached her destination, her heart skipped a beat and she sharply sucked in a breath of air as she glanced upon her reflection, almost not recognizing the other person that lay within the mirror's silvery depths.

W-What is this?

Soft, ivory shoulders lay partially exposed as midnight-black curls tumbled gracefully down her back in waves, the undulations so smooth and texture so silky it almost resembled a river of molten onyx. Full lips carefully tinted a cherry red sat delicately amongst a sea of flawless skin as vivid green eyes shone like twin suns under the soft glow of the morning sun.

This person... is me?

A dark purple gown made of soft, satiny fabric draped long and loose over her lithe figure. Sleeves hung gently around the elbows and at the bottom of the dress, where the pooled gossamer effused only a sense of sartorial elegance. The thing that caught her eye the most however, was a bewitching violet sash that held the gown together in her midriff with the use of a tiny flower pin – its design a beautifully sculptured orchid.

A gentle breath of natural wind breezed in through the window while she was inspecting herself, their cool tendrils wrapping around the young witch's skin as it lightly rustled her dress and hair. As Ariana's eyes travelled upwards to observe stray strands of jet black hair that danced to the tune of the wind, she made an audible noise of surprise as she suddenly realized something.

It looks like makeup hides the scar on my forehead.

Also... it looks like none of my other past injures can be seen too.

Turning her body from side to side as she scrutinized all the exposed parts of her body, she did indeed affirm that no visible traces of scars were visible. She then gave sudden but joyful laugh as she playfully twirled around on the spot, the dress mimicking her action as it fluttered daintily around in the air. Her face flushed with colour and her heart rate sped up as a grin slowly formed, a first nascent twitch of the upper lips that slowly led to a radiant smile that stretched across her entire face.

I feel like a different person now... no prophecy, no war, no sacrifices. The proofs of my struggles are not visible anymore. I look… I look…

I look normal.

"Yes, you do," came a low voice from behind her, interrupting her quiet musing.

Ariana whirled around at the sound as the words registered in her mind, "D-Did you just read my mind?" she stammered in shock, unconsciously taking one step back and instinctively throwing up a powerful mental shield.

Dorea gave a sad, fleeting smile at the defensive reaction before holding up her arms in a placating manner, fully aware of what her charge had just checked for – for she was the one to hide the ugly scars that sullied the young witch, "No, but I saw the change in your face," she gently explained to the young girl as she walked over and kneeled down so that they were both eye-level.

"And whatever thing you thought of yourself that caused you to smile like that, it is nothing but the truth," Dorea continued strongly, "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

As Ariana slowly lowered her Occulumency shield, a rush of emotion filled her heart as unbidden tears started to pool at the corners of her eyes. Try as she might, she couldn't help but let a few stray droplets spill over from her eyes as she rushed forward and threw her arms around the woman opposite her in a tight hug.

Dorea was caught by surprise for a brief second before she returned the action in kind, murmuring words of comfort as she encompassed the sobbing witch with a tender embrace that only a mother could accomplish.

"Why…" came a muffled whisper from the smaller, trembling frame, "Why… are you always so nice to me? You hardly know me or my story. What could I have possibly done to earn your kindness?"

Dorea gave a thoughtful hum before prying the tightly clinging girl off her and placing her hands on the younger witch's shoulders as her face took on a serious countenance. A fire then lit up in her eyes as she began to reply, her voice carrying no traces of unsureness or hesitancy.

"I have kept every letter James has sent back home in the past year," she started strongly, purpose flowing into her voice, "And almost every last one of them includes a little anecdote of your doings, ranging from how you would try your hardest to help your schoolmates with their studies, regardless whether they were Gryffindors or Slytherins, how you would run up and cheerfully greet all the Professors when you see them, and even to how you would interact with the house-elves in the kitchens."

"He would also often say that you were the most popular witch in your year, and everyone knew it – apart from you," Dorea added with an soft laugh.

Realizing she was diverging away from the point, she refocused and tightened her grips on the young witch's shoulders, "An act of kindness can take on many forms in this world," she continued intensely, "Some people in this world do it in return for future favours, some to do it to brag, and others do them to only appear altruistic – although it is mostly for the sake of fame, glory or even monetary gains."

"However, kindness for the sake of kindness itself, is the only act which carries momentous weight and speaks volumes about a person," she carried on, "Purposeful and genuine, endless as the sea, this is what I saw in the real you."

"Kindness begets kindness, regardless of their circumstances," she emotionally ended before putting her hands softly on the sides of the young girl's head as both of their eyes connected, "Never forget that."

Ariana stayed wide-eyed, silent and unmoving as she listened to her grandmother talk from the start to finish.

She then felt something odd twist within her chest. Hidden insecurities and fears about being spurned or rejected by the Potter family in her heart slowly dissolved away into nothingness as she then felt something else take their place and plant itself within her. It was a feeling of relief, a feeling of trust… a feeling of belonging.

The corners of her lips slowly curved upwards slowly, happiness starting to surge through her and warming her from the inside out as it gained impetus with every passing second. The nascent rise of her lips then exploded into a radiant smile as she started laughing for a reason she couldn't place a finger on, the melodious peals soft and gentle, like the sound of tinkling bells.

Dorea gave a slight start from the sudden change in mood but soon started laughing herself alongside the younger girl as the infectious sounds of joy, bright and cheerful like dandelions in summer days, spread to her.

It certainly took a while but they both managed to calm down in the end, each one carrying a flushed face and full heart from what had just transpired.

"You definitely are one of a kind," Dorea murmured lowly after she had finally regained her composure, not at all phased by the volatile and capricious behaviour her charge had just exhibited.

She then perked up when she noticed something, "Oh – hold still for a moment, dear" she quickly said as she pulled out her wand from a hidden holster that was attached to the side of her leg, "We wouldn't want all our hard work to go to waste, now would we?" she cheerfully continued as she motioned to tear tracks that meandered down the young girl's face, their gravity-aided paths disturbing the carefully applied makeup.

With a flick of her wand and a few mumbled words, the transient damage reverted itself as swiftly as it came, restoring the image to a figure that would surely stop many a person in his or her tracks at the sight.

Dorea gave a satisfied look as she carefully holstered her wand before standing back up to inspect her handiwork, "Many of the boys will be lining up to woo you later, that's for sure," she grinned cheekily as she leaned forward and tucked loose strands of midnight-black loose hair behind the younger girl's ears.

Ariana's brow furrowed in confusion as she replayed the sentence in her head, "Err, boys… woo me?" she repeated slowly, her voice lilting towards a questioning tone at the end as she tiled her head sideways.

Dorea's eyebrows raised upwards in surprise for a brief second before a fresh memory rose to the surface of her mind, "Ah… yes. James did tell me about this issue recently," she murmured to herself as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully, "Hmm… I'll guess it's better to address it after the event is over," she continued with a small shrug, deciding that this was not of vital import, "Time and a place, after all."

Her eyes then grew slightly shadowed as the topic reminded her that she had forgotten to ask the young witch something that she deemed more significant than the current conversation.

"Ariana, dear," Dorea carefully started, the words now turning slow and selected, "May I ask you a question?"

The addressed adolescent gave a nervous nod at the abrupt change in mood as she squashed her previous curiosities and focused on the new one, unaware that the previous topic had been adroitly brushed to one side.

Dorea nodded approvingly when she saw her charge don a focused look. She then readied herself as she prepared a verbal blitzkrieg, a tactic that is most effective when worked on children.

"Do you love my son?" she questioned bluntly, speaking quick but making sure her words were clear.

Ariana's heart missed a beat, "W… What?" she gasped as she physically faltered, stunned from the question that came out of the blue.

"James Charlus Potter, do you love him?" Dorea repeated with a straight face.

Words did not seem to come out of Ariana's mouth as she opened and closed it repeatedly in shock. After a few seconds, she found her voice, "Of… Of course, I do," she spluttered loudly in protest, as if almost being accused of something, "Every last bit of him."

As she glared up at the Potter matriarch in indignance, time seemed to slow down as her mind realised what had just happened, and what she had just said out loud. Giving a high-pitched squeak of panic, she whipped her head downward and stared at the floor in embarrassment from the confession she had blurted out without thinking, blushing heavily against her will.

W-What is this…? Why is my face heating up? Did I somehow mess up? Was my acting too obvious? Is this a test? How did…

As hundreds of questions and a multitude of hypothetical scenarios thundered and played themselves out through her mindscape at a terrifying speed, she suddenly also realized that what she said in her previous answer could be very easily misinterpreted.

"W-Wait," Ariana near shouted in panic as she cast all her other trains of thought aside, daring to raise her head and reveal the crimson hue that coloured her once pale face, "I… I don't love him in the way you think though."

"Oh?" came the level and patient response, "In what way, then?"

A voice that was laden with hidden understanding boosted her confidence as she struggled to reveal her innermost feelings, "He's… the reason I'm standing here right now," she started with difficulty, "I would be nothing without his guidance and encouragement. The… strength he gives me, cannot be duplicated nor replicated by any other," she carried on with increasing conviction, "I love him like… like a…"

"Like a brother?" Dorea suggested abruptly, sounding bizarrely hopeful as she interrupted the girl mid-speech.

Not… quite. Ariana thought to herself as she pursed her lips, wondering where in Merlin's name was this rollercoaster of a conversation was heading.

"Something like that," she mumbled softly, casting her eyes back towards the ground once again from the one-sided awkwardness.

To her astonishment, all that reaction Dorea did in was to give a large sigh of what seemed like relief before saying only one word with a tone of finality.

"Great."

Ariana whipped her head up and stared at the middle-aged witch, bothered by the unhelpful conclusion, "What's great?" she asked in slight fervency, her burning curiosities rising up and blossoming within her.

Dorea gave a playful wink before turning heel and making for the door, "Charlus and I have something rather special to tell you," she said over her shoulder, pausing at the door to finish, "But it's best to wait until after we're back at Godric's Hollow."

Frowning from a lack of response from behind her after a few good seconds, she then turned around and noticed amusedly that the young witch's face had turned pensive and was currently staring off into space, lost in her own world as the soft glow of the morning light bathed her head in what seemed like an ethereal halo.

Her heart melted completely for the third time that morning as from the adorable, wide-eyed face her charge was displaying that could only be described as precious. Muffling a giggle with her hand as she knew full well that the girl was trying her hardest to figure out this new mystery, she spoke up after a minute after she was visually satiated from the sight.

"Ariana, dear" she gently called out, "Time to go."

Ariana's mind reconnected with her physical body and gave a small start from being addressed, blinking rapidly and shaking her head as she hastily discerned her surroundings. Quickly realizing where she was, she then obediently followed the older witch out of the door and started heading down towards her father's eighteenth birthday party.

Trying her hardest not to bump into objects or walls with her flawless and crinkle-free dress, and endeavouring to keep her face untouched for the fear of ruining her makeup as so to please her grandmother, a stray thought passed fleetingly through her head as she walked down the last set of stairs in the direction of the ever-increasing sound of polite murmurs and tinkling of expensive glasses.

Albus, you were supposed to meet with me two days ago...

…where in Merlin's name are you?