A/N: To anyone who has been reading, or will be reading after this chapter - I have been in a very severe car accident. I was already suffering some depression that was keeping me from writing, but then several months ago I was t-boned by a distracted driver. I am currently bedridden, and have a little more time before I start physical therapy to try to walk again. I am not even able to be in my own home for probably several months to come. I will likely never "fully" recover. The depression, pain, and uncertainty have made it difficult to write or post. I feel it will still be some time before I feel back to my old self and ready to publish more frequently. But I'm going to try to get some things out - I have quite a few chapters written but unedited.
I hope you all can continue to hang around and give me a read when I am able to post. And please, drive safe. Don't text and drive, don't drink and drive, don't drive while under the influence of drugs.
When the owl came, early in the morning, Minerva visited the hospital wing first. Kyle was nowhere to be seen, so she stopped at Neville's office. He answered the door, hastily dressed, but played dumb and said he hadn't seen Kyle that morning. Minerva raised an eyebrow but chose not to doubt him for her own sanity and told him to pass along the message when he saw her next.
Once the door was closed and latched, he went back to his bedroom, once again melting at the sight of Kyle's sweet form draped over his bed, still flushed from their early morning affair.
"Important news?" she purred, stretching and sitting up.
"Kingsley's going to be back tomorrow morning. Things are getting dire all over the world, but no one has any information yet to explain what's going on. They're going to start informing Muggle governments about everything. Which means everyone worldwide is going to know about the Wizarding World soon." He sighed and leaned against the door frame. "We're going to have to do something to postpone that, keep things secret for a little bit longer. There's not enough Forgetfulness Potion in the world to erase 7 billion memories."
Kyle nodded, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and getting up. "In that case, you need to go find Minerva again. If you are certain you want to come with me, we need to get to my home soon. Gather some clothes, as Muggle as you can get, and whatever things you absolutely must have. Pack light, though."
Kyle stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, then threw on her dress and shoes and headed out the door. Neville could feel a headache coming on.
"Are you certain you've thought this through, Longbottom?" Minerva gave him her tight-lipped, concerned look when he explained their plan to her.
"I can't let her go alone. She'll be safer with someone with her. And I don't want to be sitting here wondering what's happening the entire time she's gone." He couldn't meet Minerva's eyes, knowing that she disapproved of these world-saving shenanigans he and his classmates had been getting into for the past two decades.
She watched him for a moment before she sighed, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I almost miss the timid boy you used to be. I'm not happy about you going on this suicide mission, but I won't stop you. I'll send an owl to Pomona, see if she can come care for the greenhouses while you're gone. But I want both of you back here in one piece. If it comes down to it, I'd rather have you two alive than to have magic back."
Neville decided that was enough of a blessing when it came from Minerva. He gave her an apologetic smile and nod, then thanked her before heading to the hospital wing. Inside, Kyle was packing a couple potions into a bag, looking determined but solemn.
"Hey," he said, snapping her out of her thoughts to look up at him.
"Hey. Are you ready to go?"
He gave his bag a couple of pats. "Well, I've got everything I expect I'll need. But I don't exactly know where we're going, so it's hard to figure out."
She gave a little twitch of her fingers, and all the open cabinets in the room creaked closed. "I have a plan for anything we need. I hope it pans out, but we'll get by if not." She tied up the bag and threw it over her shoulder, coming around to stand with Neville. "Oh, a forewarning… My mother can be a little over the top sometimes. My dad is easy to get along with, though. Ready?"
Neville took a deep breath, asking himself if he was certain this was what he wanted, and nodded before he could answer himself. "Let's go."
Kyle reached out and took his hand, and they apparated. Or, rather, some oceanic bastardization of apparation. He felt like his whole body had melted and he was being washed down a drain. It was a very 'wet' sensation, but not the least pleasant thing he had ever experienced. Just as he felt he was getting dizzy and sick from the twists and turns through this metaphorical drain, it all stopped. His body solidified again, now on a craggy shore and standing in a gentle rain.
He had to get his bearings, turning around as his eyes swam for a moment. When his vision focused again. He could see the little cottage nearby, surrounded on two sides by a rocky garden barren of any plants this time of year. There was a veranda, cluttered with antique decor and knick-knacks, an upsetting number of tinkling wind chimes, and a huge old, graying dog laying unbothered by the back door.
Kyle had already taken off towards the house, stepping carefully on the rocks. He followed much less gracefully. Up the stairs and under the shelter of the veranda, she gave him one last warning look, then opened the door enough to poke her head in.
"Mama?" she called out, and there was a crash from inside. "Don't break anything on my account!"
"Come in, my darling!"
Kyle threw the door open and they entered. The house was just as cluttered as the veranda was, packed with plush furniture, large clocks and small statues, and tons of small figures from all over the world. In what little space there was between the furniture, overlapping paintings covered the walls.
Actaea, nearly identical to Kyle herself, emerged from another room, her hands coated in some sticky white paste. Her blonde hair was an absolute mess, but her eyes were a startling blue like Kyle's.
"Oh, you brought… I'm Kyle's…. Oh, you know that!" she said breathlessly to Neville, extending her hand then retracting it when she remembered that they were covered in... whatever that was. "And you are?"
"Ah, I'm Neville. I also work at Hogwa—"
"Neville! Yes! My daughter finds you very handsome!"
"Wow."
"Mama!"
Actaea grinned and wriggled her hands in the air. The white paste dissolved, and she once again extended her hand to Neville, which he took and shook. "Things are kind of a mess—they always are—but come join Duncan and me in the kitchen. We just sat down to have a late breakfast."
Actaea led them from the living room, through a very awkwardly placed bedroom, and into the kitchen where the floor sloped towards the back. Kyle's father—much larger in person—was reading the paper with a look of disgust on his face. Kyle approached him and gave him a kiss on his hairy cheek.
"Good to see you, lovebug," he grunted, reaching up to give her a pat on the head.
"Papa, this is Neville," she said softly, gesturing towards him as he stood in the doorway, feeling very out of place.
Duncan gave Neville a long look, then smiled a great, beaming smile at him. "Hi, Neville. Tea? Juice? We're having eggs and toast with jam this morning."
Neville came forward, sitting uncomfortably across from Duncan in the wobbly chair. "Oh, tea, please. It's nice to meet you both." He looked up to Actaea, standing at the sink and prodding at some… large, sticky, white blob in the sink. He chose to not ask, thinking ignorance was bliss. Kyle seemed to immediately fall into place, cracking eggs into a pan on the stove.
"So," Duncan boomed, sniffling as he folded the paper up and tossed it on a nearby shelf. "What brings you two here this morning?"
"I need to ask Mama about some things. We're trying to find out what's going on with human magic, and we can't find any answers anywhere. I figured she would—"
"That depends on what exactly the question is," Actaea said, and when Neville looked back to her, the mystery blob was gone. "Like I told you, my time with the gods has ended; I have severed the lines to my own heritage."
"Let's get through breakfast first before she has to deal with your riddles, 'Taea." Duncan called out, his back still turned to the women. He looked up to Neville again. "My wife, lovely as she is, needs to come with a translation book sometimes. Don't be too offended if she says something batshit."
Actaea flicked a stray nut at the back of his head.
Of course, Neville had to spend breakfast entertaining Duncan and Actaea's questions, but he got to know them quite well—including the level of batshit Actaea was dishing out. She bounced between terrifying and sweet, rattling the table as she slammed her hands down to emphasize her words. Duncan, on the other hand, was joyful and loud. He was still high energy but much less intimidating than his tiny wife.
When breakfast finished, Kyle waved all the dishes to the sink, but no one spoke. There was an air of apprehension that Neville didn't quite understand. Eventually, Actaea sighed and leaned onto the table.
"I know you wouldn't be coming to ask for my thoughts if this wasn't important to you."
Kyle watched her mother for a moment, then nodded. "I'm part of this community, now. They're hurting and it's looking more and more likely that they'll have to give up everything they've ever known if something isn't done."
"Do you think that is your responsibility?"
Kyle's jaw clenched, then relaxed. "No. But it's my choice."
Actaea's sad expression aged her somehow as she continued to look lovingly at her child. "I can only do so much. What would you like to know?"
Kyle closed her eyes, and underneath the table, her fingertips found his hand and took it, intertwining their fingers. "I guess we're going to have to go way back for this one. What is magic?"
At this, Duncan stood up, excusing himself and mentioning that this wasn't his conversation. He kissed his wife on the top of her head and left, the back door creaking open then falling shut with a bang. Once out of the house, Actaea began to tell a story.
At the beginning of time, the first primordial beings were born of Chaos. When they came together to create the earth, they began to fight and wage war against each other. To prevent the earth, their prized creation, from being destroyed in their battles, they made an agreement. The gods split apart into families, taking lands for their own to govern. They would meet together in a grand, celestial meeting every so often to make decisions, promising to keep the peace. And so, they began to populate the earth with animals, vegetation, and humans, who were made in their image.
Eventually, every family present at the hall agreed that any creature with a soul would be given the gift of magic. There was a god chosen for every type of creature to control their flow of magic. Heka, the first of the Egyptian gods, was given reign over humans. But humans proved to be the most destructive, hateful creatures, using magic to cause pain and strife, war and death.
Some gods wanted to destroy the humans. Some wanted only to take magic from humans. There was much arguing and fighting. Eventually, they turned to Chaos, and told her to make the choice for them. She came to the decision to change the souls of humans, so that they were no longer compatible with Heka's power. However, she chose certain families to retain the old souls; those few were given the responsibility to protect all the rest of the Earth and every creature on it to the best of their ability. To maintain a balance, some babies born to nonmagical families were given old souls, and some babies born to magical families had their magic stripped.
Neville, still clasping hands under the table with Kyle, listened as Actaea retold them this abridged tale that was missing from A History of Magic. It was a lot to take in, answering some questions and leaving more. It was almost turning Neville's stomach.
"So, how can magic be taken away from us?" Kyle asked, her eyes wide.
Actaea took a drink of her now tepid tea and shrugged. "That I don't know. It's the work of a god, nothing else is powerful enough."
Kyle furrowed her brow as she thought hard about everything, mumbling as she repeated things to herself. "If they can change our souls, maybe? Give everyone the 'new' souls that can't learn magic. Or maybe—"
"Maybe they took the god, instead," Neville mused aloud, mimicking Kyle's expression.
"Either could be a possibility. I can't answer that."
Kyle snapped her eyes up to her mother. "Who can?"
Her mother's lips tightened, and she crossed her arms over her chest. It took her longer to answer this question, as if she really didn't want to. "My sister, maybe. Amphitrite."
"Amphitrite? Poseidon's wife?" Kyle questioned. "As in, lives-in-Atlantis-Amphitrite?"
"That's the bitch."