Once again, a huge thank-you to FateRogue for allowing me the use of their OC, Carina Black. You won't see that much of her until Chapter Three but, trust me, she's well worth the wait.
As always if you have ideas, suggestions or want to see something happen then put it in a review or give me a PM. As you have seen in most of my stories I am more than happy to adapt it as we go if I find something that you've suggested helpful, useful or just plain amusing.
I still don't own Harry Potter otherwise I'd be writing all day instead of working to pay the bills.
Dylan the Rabbit. xx
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Fallen Angel.
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10. In-laws and Inner Circles.
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The Hogwarts hospital wing was as it had always been. Well, perhaps it was slightly busier than normal today, but still, it had that sterile but somehow still comforting sense of care that Angel remembered from her many visits here in her past. At least it wasn't just her in here on her own this time though. Not by a long way.
After the scores had been given out, where she and Mari had been seriously punished in the points tally by four out of the five judges for their perceived interference, the whole circus had moved up here so that Madame Pomfrey could see to the champions and their hostages 'properly'. And nobody, but nobody, said 'no' to Poppy. Not when she was in full on healer mode. So here they all were; the judges, the press, the champions, their hostages and all of their families, making the large infirmary suddenly seem a lot smaller than it really was.
Albus had cornered her for a brief word at the conclusion of which (well almost anyway) Angel had been summoned with nothing more than an imperious look and the smallest of gestures from the matriarch of the Delacour clan. The French contingent had colonised a corner of the wing and after pausing briefly to accept a shy hug and a kiss on the cheek from the delightful and now full of energy Gabrielle, she headed over to speak with them. Upon reaching the area, Angel reflexively flicked out her hand to wandlessly cast few of her more powerful and less well known privacy charms, not wanting this potentially awkward conversation with Fleur's parents to be overheard and reported in the paper. She had nothing against a bit of bad publicity for herself, indeed she often sought it out, but she drew the line when it concerned her lover's family.
Which was a new and not entirely welcomed reation on her part.
Apolline Delacour's head snapped up at the casual display of awesome spell-casting from her daughter's suitor. She wasn't unaware of the girl's power having seen all the coverage of the first task and then her performance today, but to see it up close and more importantly feel it first hand was something else entirely. The magic that fairly crackled in the air around them as it radiated off of her was at a level that she, who had hosted some of the most powerful and brilliant wizards and witches in Europe, had never felt before. And the darkness that permeated that magic was simply breath-taking in its depth and scope.
It seemed that Fleur had made a very good choice indeed with this striking goddess of a Dark witch, she thought before beginning the traditional, if now rather careful, interrogation of her daughter's lover.
"So, zis is ze famous Angel De'ath that we 'ave been 'earing so much about."
It was very clear to Angel that Fleur had gotten her distinctive and very sexy habit of using 'Franglais' from her remarkable mother.
"I'm really not that famous."
"You are in our house."
Sebastien chipped in with his much more clipped and far less accented English.
"Yes indeed, you 'ave caused quite ze commotion. Honestly, I was beginning to despair of our eldest finding anyone even remotely interesting, let alone worthy of 'er."
"And Gabrielle, as you can perhaps imagine, has been full of praise for you and your protege. This is not so surprising though since she has always had a bit of a fascination with the girl-who-lived and your rescue of her hasn't exactly diminished that."
"You do know that it wasn't really a rescue right?"
"To 'er it was. Apolline shrugged in a very French manner. "In er mind she was ze imprisoned princess rescued from 'er watery fate by, not one but two, 'andsome princes. It was all very romantic for 'er and she will not be denied 'er fantasy."
"Why did you go back for her, by the way. You had won and it seems rather an odd decision to throw away your chance to make up the ground that you lost in the first task."
Angel was rather impressed with the way that Fleur's parents were tag-teaming her to keep her off balance. Not that it would ever have worked on her but the effort was appreciated as it showed her how much they cared about their daughter. As she wasn't particularly concerned by it Angel simply smiled and shrugged.
"Well, she was far too adorable to leave down there."
"She is ma seour, of course she is adorable, it is in ze genes."
Fleur patted her paramour's arm and winked just for her eliciting a small but very affectionate smile from the tall, dark haired girl.
"Also, if you 'ad left her down zere your girlfriend would 'ave probably cut you off, non?"
"She's not my ... "
Angel stopped short, half way through the well practiced statement.
She thought about it for a moment. They made out a lot. They fucked a lot. Fleur had been spending a great deal of time around her, Mari and Carina and had integrated so seamlessly and with apparently no effort at all. At this point she was basically their new Hermione, although without the often times annoying habit of constantly either harping on about rules or quoting Hogwarts a History. These incontrovertible facts along with the other small matter that Angel absolutely could not stop smiling when she was around led her to the only possible conclusion.
"Fuck me." The surprise on her face was completely genuine. "You're my girlfriend aren't you?"
The look on her face almost made Fleur burst out laughing but she somehow managed to keep her composure and instead answered very matter of factly.
"Bien sur, ma Ange."
"How long?"
"Since November."
"But ... but ... November? Really?"
The fact that her newly proclaimed, but certainly not newly acquired, girlfriend was so flustered was so at odds with her usual demeanour that it had Fleur struggling, once again, to with-hold that laughter, bubbling just below the surface of her calm features.
"You were not ready to 'ear it zen. Now you are."
"November ...huh ... well shit." She paused, processing the information before seeming to come an awkward acceptance, then leaned in and gave Fleur a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks for waiting for me to catch up babe."
"Pas de problem, sweetheart."
Apolline smiled at them, having to use every last ounce of her legendary control not to laugh out loud at the dark, dangerous English woman who her daughter had managed to ensnare so thoroughly. Although she did decide to 'help' by sharing a fact about her and her husband's own courtship.
"Do not worry Angel, 'er fazzer was just ze same."
"Oh, I don't know that I was that bad, my love."
"Really Sebastien? Per'aps you need your memory refreshed. Shall I tell ze story of ze time zat we met up at ze Palais de Versaille ... in front of your daughter and ze lovely Mademoiselle De'ath?"
Sebastien Delacour paled significantly, remembering the incident and his terrible, awkward behaviour of that day vivdly and not at all fondly. He had made quite the fool of himself on that and many other occaisions and really didn't want the details of his idiocy revealed.
"No, my love, you are correct ... as always."
His wife smirked in triumph ... and Angel sensed the opportunity for a little mischief.
"Well now I kind of want to hear it."
"Do you ma Ange? Because if we are telling stories, I zink I 'ave a few zat my parents would be simply thrilled to hear, I am sure."
Sebastien gave her a sympathetic look as Angel sighed and shook her head, shoulders slumped in resignation and defeat. Honestly, in her previous life if anyone had spoken to her like that she would not have hesitated in flaying them alive. Repeatedly. And yet somehow this haughty and entitled French girl had gotten under her skin and made her care about her so much that she was able to get away with this kind of shit pretty much any time she liked. And Fleur liked to a lot. Although the little digs and barbs were never nasty and always seemed to come from a place of genuine affection ... and love.
Love.
It had been a long time since anyone had loved her and even longer since she herself had been in love with another person. Hermione had been her first, last and only love and to say that that had ended badly would be something of a gross understatement. Indeed, it had ended so badly that Angel had refused to let anyone get emotionally close enough to hurt her like that ever again, so it was only natural that she should be a little shy of acknowledging that word. No matter that Angel could think of no better way to spend her time than being in close proximity (the closer the better) to the young woman who was now, and apparently had been for some considerable time, her girlfriend. No matter that when she was around, the sun shone a little brighter and her heart felt a little lighter. If she didn't say the word then it wasn't true.
Except that it was ... and somewhere deep, deep down, she knew it.
Apolline watched the thoughts flashing across the usually blank and expressionless visage of their daughter's mate carefully and with a great deal of interest. Her face was hard to read but Madame Delacour had long experience dealing with stoic, stubborn women. Her family were all like that. Then the older veela saw those black eyes soften from their customary onyx hardness when Angel turned slightly to look with such warmth at her eldest daughter and she smiled in approval.
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Meanwhile on the other side of the busier than normal hospital wing, Mari Potter and Carina Black were engaged in an extremely frustrating activity that rather closely resembled herding cats. Somehow, the two fourteen year-olds had ended up being responsible for the small blonde tornado that was the youngest member of the Delacour clan and given that she had sucked two other small, flighty blondes into her orbit of destruction, this was quite the challenge. Mari, in fact, considered it to be considerably more of a challenge than the tournament task that she had just completed.
Luna Lovegood and Astoria Greengrass had both been in the infirmary being treated for completely non Tri-Wizard Tournament injuries sustained in separate but equally ridiculous incidents. These were a long and focused but still somehow absent-minded chase after invisible, fantastical (and probably fabricated) creatures and a quite spectacularly failed potions experiment, respectively. Over-exuberance and inattention had played major parts in both of these incidents and the two young witches had bonded over laughing at each others experiences as well as not being able to attend the second task. Then Gabrielle Delacour had burst into the wing, taken one look at them (obviously recognising a couple of fellow lunatics) slipped away from her parents and sister and made a bee-line for them, dragging her new prisoner with her.
The eight year old had not let go of Mari's hand since being 'rescued' by her and of course where Mari Potter went, so went Carina Black. Which was how the two Gryffindors now found themselves in this whole 'cat herding' situation, engaged in a thoroughly futile attempt at stopping the three insane blondes from crashing into everyone present as they skipped, twisted and span their way around the large room. I mean, sure they were cute and all but Gabbi on her own was a handful, with her two newly recruited cohorts she was literally unstoppable. Mari and Carina still made a truly valiant attempt at doing just that ... or at least slowing her down a bit but they were always fighting a losing battle and they knew it. They didn't get really worried, however, until the three little idiots ran full pelt at the shimmering area containing their beautiful, sexy, scary senior who was currently distracted dealing with the other Delacours.
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Angel had decided a long time ago that Luna Lovegood was clinically insane. The currently third year had literally no filter between her brain and her mouth, which Angel would have approved of had that brain not been quite so alternately haphazardly brilliant and batshit crazy. Luna also had the terrifying ability and habit of dragging other, usually sensible, people into her mad schemes that were born from that same seriously fractured psyche. Not that either of the two girls currently with her could be catagorised as exactly 'sensible'.
Astoria Greengrass was a bit of an unknown quantity as far as Angel was concerned, having died sometime during the second rise of Voldemort. She vaguely recalled hearing of the Greengrass 'wild child' and most non-slytherin Slytherin in all of Hogwarts history, but next to the prim and proper 'perfect' sister Daphne, that could just mean that she brushed her teeth for one minute instead of two. Although seeing her and Luna racing around with Gabbi on some sort of insane, dangerous variant of the game of blind man's bluff, she seriously doubted that. When the trio of hysterical lunatics finally came to rest by crashing through her privacy wards and landing in an untidy heap at her feet, Angel looked down at them and almost stopped breathing.
As she gazed down at the three giggling girls, Angel was overcome with a sudden, desperate sadness, consumed with the thoughts of the wasteful deaths of such vivacious and enthusiastic witches. Luna had met a sticky end in the north-west of the United States after the war, caught up in the middle of some kind of feud between some of the local vampires and werewolves. Gabbi, having sworn vengeance following the brutal dispatch of her treasured and admired sister found her own demise on the end of the Dark Angel's own bloody sword mere minutes later. As for Astoria, while she didn't know the details, Angel didn't expect that her death at the hands of Voldemort's followers had been any more painless or pleasant.
The depth of her abrupt and unanticipated despair caught her off guard and surprised her greatly ... but it really shouldn't have.
This was the reason that she had come back, after all.
This was the reason for all the pain of the ritual that she had endured and all the blood and the sacrifices that said ritual had required. So that these witches along with all the innocent, or at least those who had the capacity to be innocent before the madness of the second blood war and all of the horrors that were perpetrated in the name of Voldemort's false cause, would have a chance at life. At this realisation, Angel's face settled into a hard, determined, granite mask. It did not go un-noticed.
Fleur wrapped her arms around her newly admitted (privately anyway) girlfriend and held her tightly, not relaxing in the slightly awkward hug until the stiffness started to bleed away. She continued to hold onto Angel and when she judged the time to be right, leaned up and whispered gently in her ear.
"Not today ma Ange ... but one day ... promise zat you will tell me about it ... d'accord?"
Angel rested her forehead against the other girl, taking comfort in the pleasing, vanilla perfumed scent given off by her hair that was distinctly Fleur. Her response was automatic and surprising. To them both.
"Je promet, ma bebe."
Unfortunately, this private little moment also did not go un-noticed.
.
The breach of Angel's privacy wards by the young blondes had the inadvertent and extremely unhappy consequence of alerting the still hovering international press corps to the presence of the two most gossiped about champions in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. They descended like a pack of hyenas on those that some considered to be their weakened prey. Angel De'ath however, seeing the approaching reporters, quickly shook off her brief moment of what she perceived to be weakness and gathered herself. It had been a long time since she had been regarded by anyone as prey and she wasn't about to regress to that state now.
"Miss De'ath, Rita Skeeter of the Daily Prophet. Is it true that you colluded with the French champion, is that why you went back to retrieve her hostage ... was it part of the deal?"
"Well Ms Scat-turd." Angel smirked at the noticeable twitch of her least favourite muck-raker's eye. "I am so sure that no collusion took place that I am more than happy to give a binding, magical oath to that effect."
A different reporter, who had much less of a death-wish than the hapless Ms Skeeter posed the next question.
"Then why did you go back in? It seems like an odd choice to basically forfeit your chance to catch up in points simply to give comfort to another champion."
"Because she's my girlfriend ..." There was a stunned silence at the bald, very public admission from the official Hogwarts champion. "... and as such her comfort, both physical and mental are very much my concern."
She had made a point of knowing all about every member of the tournament's multifarious press corps that spanned and represented the entirety of magical Europe and was not surprised who it was that recovered first. Jules Gaspard of Le Journal Magique was a sensible, middle-aged man who had seen the very best and very worst of people. He was a solid, reliable journalist and was rarely shocked or surprised by anything or anyone. He was also a bit of a romantic.
"So you went back so that your 'tresor' would not be afraid for her sister?"
Angel sighed and fixed the French journalist with a weary expression.
"Are you married Monsieur Gaspard?"
"Yes."
"Then I'm sure that you understand ... there is nothing that I would not do to ensure the safety and security and well being of my significant other or any of those that she cares about. That includes sacrificing a few points in a friendly tournament between allied nations. Her family is my family and family must always look out for each other, n'est pas?"
The French correspondent smiled and nodded to himself while writing furiously in his notebook.
"Are you at all upset that most of the judges marked you down for your magnificently brave, romantic gesture?"
"Not at all Fraulein Schmidt, as I said before, losing a few measly points in a competition pales into insignificance when you consider that I am sure to be rewarded in a much more personal and pleasurable manner for my ... how did you put it ... ah yes ... my magnificently brave, romantic gesture."
There were a good few chuckles mixed in with the shocked gasps and tutting that followed Angel's statement. Mainly from the French and German contingent it had to be said. They held none of the silly, outdated prejudices towards homosexuality that the overwhelmingly traditional and repressed Brits did. Speaking of repressed Brits, Rita chose that moment to stir the pot once again.
"But Miss De'ath, what ... urk ... nngh."
Rita's likely nasty follow up question was brought to an abrupt end by her having some kind of sudden choking fit. Angel smiled in entirely false sympathy at her red faced efforts to get that question out.
"I'm sorry Ms Scat-turd, I didn't quite catch that."
The coughing and spluttering of the bottle blonde gossip monger worsened to the point that Poppy Pomfrey was forced to intervene and led her away to a quiet corner for some treatment. That it was rather rougher than strictly necessary was noticed but not commented upon as nobody was terribly fond of the Daily Prophet's correspondent and her deplorable methods. Angel herself, was full of concern for her.
"Oh I do hope she's alright."
"Tu est terrible, ma tigre."
Angel merely smiled beatifically at her newly publicly acknowledged girlfriend and gave her a soft chaste kiss on the lips. With the beautiful witch in her arms she allowed herself the indulgence of slipping back into her thoughts about her reasons for returning to this time and place and made a mental check-list of how things were going in respect of her plans for this world. It had been a slow start but that was only to be expected considering her slight 'miss' with the ritual. She was not Mari Potter after all but Angel De'ath. This, however, was not the major disadvantage that she had at first feared it might be, since she was able to do things and go places that the 'girl-who-lived' could not.
Her grand plan had been changing. Not massively, she still wanted to save as many as possible but now there was an honest to Morgana opportunity to not just save people but actually effect some real change in the stagnant pool of magical Britain.
Things were always subject to change, her relationships with Hermione and Fleur were a testament to that. A woman that she had once loved with all her heart was now no more than a mere acquaintance while a woman she had loathed with a passion had become her near constant companion, lover and trusted confidante. Neither of those things had been in her original plans but Angel found that they were working out splendidly none-the-less. Perhaps it was time then for her to change more of her approach and to take advantage of how different everything was now by using a more multi-headed, hydra like approach rather than her original 'one woman army' plan. Perhaps it was time to bring her most trusted on board. To build a team that would be capable of of utilising every angle, social and political, light and dark to change the landscape of the world forever. Or at least their small corner of it.
And so a new resolve was born in Angel De'ath, a far deeper one than she had previously imagined. It was time to tell the truth to those that she trusted the most. Well, some of the truth, anyway. Straightening from the close embrace, Angel pushed her girlfriend to an arms length from her own body, looked her straight in the eye and intoned as seriously as she could.
"Tomorrow."
"Que?"
"Tomorrow ... I'll tell all of you who are involved tomorrow."
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Albus Dumbledore had been rather surprised last night by his time-travelling friend's request for an early meeting to be held the next morning. Though not nearly as surprised as he was when she showed up for what he had believed to be another planning session with four other people in tow. The Headmaster looked quizically at Angel, his brow creasing as he nodded imperceptibly at the figures of Sirius, Mari, Carina and Fleur while they were distracted getting themselves seated comfortably. His expression was then matched by these unexpected guests when the former Dark Lady conjured herself a second chair behind the desk next to his and sat down.
She was clearly signaling to everyone present that a; she and Albus were equals and b; that this was going to be a very important and very interesting meeting.
"I've asked you all here because I have something to tell you, something that some of you are probably going to have a bit of a hard time with, both in terms of belief and morality. The Headmaster is here because he already knows all of it and has been helping me with a few things so can set your minds at ease ... hopefully on both counts."
"Angel ... are you sure?"
Albus Dumbledore's gravelly old voice was almost at the point of wavering and held more than a hint of warning.
"Albus, it's okay ... It's time."
She laid a comforting hand on the old man's arm attempting to convey her intentions and the reasons behind this big reveal without words. To his credit, the Headmaster got most of it right. He knew from their previous conversations and his own bitter experience how his tendancy to hoard secrets and only give out information to others when they were 'ready' to hear it had led to much more misery and death than he had ever imagined possible. He was ashamed of this and saw, once again, Angel's light credentials in clearly not wanting to repeat his mistakes and bringing those who could help and who needed to know into the loop.
"Perhaps you are correct, my dear."
"I hope I am, Albus ... I really do."
Angel drew herself up, mentally preparing for the best and worst of out-comes ... and then she began.
"The Angel of Death, that's what they called me at the end ... I had another name once. Several actually; The girl who lived ... the woman who won ... Champion of the Light ... Warmage of the Order of Nephilim ... Lady Protectress of the Magical United Kingdom ... The Defiler. Oh yes, and one more; Marigold Lily Potter.
I was a heroine, beloved of my people. For a brief while, anyway ..."
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Her tale took the best part of an hour to tell and the aged Headmaster noted how the expressions of those listening so intently to this fascinating but terrible story changed as it progressed. He wondered if his own face had held the same mix of wonder, disgust and sadness as theirs the first time he had heard it and knew without a doubt that it had. Albus also noted how, in a move that he thoroughly approved of, Angel glossed over certain details and out-right skipped others entirely. While none of her audience were exactly innocent as such, they really didn't need to know just how savagely their friend and mentor had dispatched her new girlfriend in a previous life. Or for that matter the details of some of the less palatable rituals that she had performed to get to the awesome level of magnificence that she had. And in the end it was the wonder and gratitude at her power and final self sacrifice that had won out over the disgust at her more un-necessarily violent actions.
Interestingly, the Delacour girl had abandoned her cool, calm and collected, stoic persona within a few minutes and spent the rest of the time squirming in her chair in obvious excitement. Fleur's eyes had first darkened in lust and then receded a little to merely shine in adoration as Angel spun her sorry (to some at least) tale. The power, the darkness, the sheer balls and domineering nature of her lover was clearly causing the French champion to fall even more deeply for her erstwhile paramour. Albus thought, not for the first time, that the veela really were a very strange race. Wonderful but strange.
He emerged from these thoughts as his young (to him) friend wound up her story and sat back in her chair, still and silent, awaiting the judgement of her chosen family.
"Why?"
It was Carina, the forthright, unapologetic, wild girl who took no shit from anyone that was the first to question.
"Why us, why now?"
"Because everyone in this office died before their time."
"Not that I don't believe you because I do ... I really do ... but ... if what you're saying about your future is true, then didn't a lot of people die before their time?"
"Yes ... yes they did ... but the ones in here, they are the ones I care about the most. As for the 'why now' part, well, you guys are too close now ... closer than I ever intended you to get ... and keeping this secret was becoming more difficult and more annoying. Much more annoying." Angel shrugged and smiled to take the sting from her words. "Also, it was really fucking tedious so I figured it would just be easier to bring you all in to the inner circle now."
"Inner circle? You do realise that makes you sound like a Dark Lord ... er ... Lady?"
Sirius' interjection was unsurprising. He had always been unwaveringly light, a likely consequence of his Black up-bringing with that awful fucking harridan Walburga, she supposed.
"That's exactly what the Malfoys think that I am, actually." She paused and chuckled lightly to herself. "I will admit that I may have encouraged that misconception ... just a little."
"Why on Merlin's green Earth would you have done that?"
Fleur got it first and answered for her.
"Because they are useful as followers, minions and spies. They can work in places that we cannot, among ze traditionalists and purists, changing attitudes and pushing ze agenda of their 'Dark Lady', non?"
"Exactement, ma puce." Fleur was rewarded for her insight with a searing kiss. "You're so clever."
"Oui, c'est vrai."
"Okay, I kind of get that, but ... Malfoy ... really?"
"Look Sirius, they're cunning and clever enough to do what I need them to do but they have a very large blind-spot when it comes to powerful practitioners of the Dark arts. A blind-spot that I intend to exploit for all its worth ... and by the time that they do finally figure out that I'm not actually a Dark Lady, it will be far too late. They'll be in too deep to back out."
"What about Draco though, won't he become a problem in the future?"
"Actually I thought that your friend Neville might be able to help out with that."
Mari, at whom the comment was directed, took a moment before realising what Angel was saying here.
"Wait, Draco's gay?"
"If he's not outright gay then he's at least bi-sexual." A wicked smile made it's way to her lips. "You don't really think he keeps those two strapping great lads around for their sparkling wit and scintillating conversation do you?"
"Eeuww ... Angel! ... er ... I mean ... Mari?"
Young Mari looked very confused as she tried to work out what to call the person who was technically her older self.
"Angel." She said firmly but with an encouraging smile. "No matter who I was in the past, Angel is who I am now."
The smile faded quickly.
"The things that I've been through, the things that I've done ... all of that made me Angel De'ath."
Now she gestured for Mari to come to her and pulled the red-head into her lap before continuing.
"Things that you will never have to go through if I have anything to say about it, things that you will never have to do."
Carina, tired of all the drama, decided to bring them all back to the point of this meeting.
"So what now?"
"Now we plan. But first we really ought to take care of what's behind that scar."
"What's behind my scar?"
With a sideways nod Angel indicated that the Headmaster should take over for this part.
"When he attacked you that night Marigold, Voldemort left something behind that I don't think he intended to. A piece of his soul."
"A horcrux!" Sirius spat out the word in disgust.
"Yes, I am afraid so."
"Are there more?"
"Yes."
"How many?"
"He made six of them I believe ... plus the unintentional and probably partially formed one in Marigold's scar."
"Why are we only just learning about this now ... how could you not tell us?"
"Sirius, my boy I am truly sorry but we thought that ..."
"Albus stop."
Angel laid her hand on the old man's arm as she gave her quiet but insistent command before turning to Sirius and the others.
"I made the decision not to tell you then, just as I made the decision to tell you now. Albus is my advisor and my friend but make no mistake Sirius, the plans, the time-frame, all the decisions are mine and mine alone."
She pinned them with that black eyed stare.
"This is why I'm back. To make the choices that need to be made in order to save as many people as possible, to take the blows that need to be taken so that others in my position don't have to. To kill Voldemort and end the prejudice and bigotry that will eat this country from the inside out ... and I will use any method available to me to achieve those goals."
Angel looked each of them in the eye in turn and allowed some of that extremely useful Dark aura of hers to leak out and assist in the task of conveying to them all just how serious she was about this.
"If you don't want to be involved, I will understand and respect your decision but anybody who doesn't want to be a part of this needs to say so now."
Nobody said a word. Though they all agreed with Angel's agenda, each of them had their own private reservations and the silence in the office was starting to become heavy and oppressive. It didn't last long though.
Mari, who had spent much of the meeting with her jaw on the floor at revelation after revelation came out, had been rather quiet as she tried to work through her feelings about Angel and the knowledge that she brought with her. Now the 'girl-who-lived' had a sudden epiphany. As much as the time-travelling version of her claimed to have come back to save everyone, it was glaringly obvious to her that Mari and her happiness was the driving factor behind this drastic and dreadful gamble. It made her feel all gooey and warm inside knowing that someone cared so much about her that they would risk everything like that. Even if it was technically herself doing it.
And besides, the terrifying war witch was right. After all that she had been through, Angel no longer bore much resemblance, physically, emotionally or mentally to Mari and because of her actions Mari would never turn into Angel. Which actually sucked a fair bit when she thought about it since she would never look nearly as good as Miss tall, dark and gorgeous sitting over there.
Then Mari, being Mari, just opened her mouth and spewed out, what was to her, the most important question that she could think of at the moment without a single pause for rational cogitation.
"So how do I get to be that tall and ... you know ... that you."
Serious part of the meeting clearly over, Angel laughed and gathered her family up, hooking an arm across the red-head's shoulders as she walked her out of the office.
"Mari, the thing about rituals is that, as useful as they are for giving you some decent power ups and a few awesome new toys, they're really fucking messy and really fucking painful. Trust me sweetie you don't want to go getting involved with them just to gain a few inches in height ... "
Angel stopped them at the now open office door and looked down at her younger self with a faux sympathetic look.
"Or I suppose a few feet in your case ... short-arse."
.
Albus Dumbledore heard the laughter from his departing visitors as they headed down the spiral staircase and truly relaxed for the first time since their meeting had started. Long before it if he were being honest. He knew that the things that had been said here today were necessary but had been worried for Angel about how her 'family' would react to the truth of her presence and purpose.
Marigold was not really a surprise, she had always been such a sweet girl in spite of her terrible home life. Sirius had done as he always had, baulked at the very thought of anything dark before brooding for a while, posing a few relevant questions, building a bridge and getting the fuck over himself. Carina had worried him the most. If any of them had the potential to blow up over any one of the things that they had heard today it was the young Black heiress, but she had stayed solid and followed Mari's lead. Thank Merlin, it appeared as if her relationship with the 'girl-who-lived' was mellowing the wild tempered teenager. Well, one could only hope.
And then there was Mademoiselle Fleur Delacour, the veela heiress to one of the most powerful political dynasties on the continent of Europe and potentially their most useful ally. Far from being scared or appalled, her interest and adoration were, if anything, increased by this whole grand reveal. Albus was left with little doubt that she would never leave or betray 'her Ange'. Especially not when the little French minx had the perfect and powerful Mistress of Death wrapped so tightly around her little finger ... and vise-versa actually. They really were very good for each other. Something that made his old heart very happy indeed.
They might just be able to do this and come out the other side unscathed.
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