Again: It's been ages. I am forever sorry but I'm now heading into grad school and things have gotten crazier than ever. But as I've said: this first book is done, and I plan to have the whole thing on here one day. And again, your comments—more than anything—inspire me immensely to publish. I just saw a new one an hour ago and decided to post this new chapter. Love you all.
Best,
Alisson.
Late June 1978
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The Black Lake was as smooth as glass, even as the enchanted boats carrying the Seventh Years cut through its waters. Everything above the waterline was mirrored nearly perfectly, and Blanche preferred to look there instead of the line of boats in front of her. Because in the stark reflections upon the water, Blanche could imagine an alternate graduation ceremony. The ceremony in which one more student sat on her boat across from her and diagonally from Sirius and perhaps next to Lily, as Blanche always thought Talbot would greatly admire Lily's optimism and that they'd be fast friends. An unwritten story made of dreams where Talbot had stuck beside Blanche through every year following the first. In her mind he graduated as a Gryffindor prefect; his thick black hair cut to his ears and his cat green eyes glittering as he admired all the years gone by. He'd be so happy he'd run his hands through the water the whole way there, even though Grindylows and Selkies infested the water and loved to nibble on extremities. He had a way of making all risks feel necessary in order to truly live.
Blanche leant across the boat and nudged Sirius' knee with her knuckle. He'd been sending sharp pellets of water at the rest of the Marauders who sat with Lily in the boat behind them. After the incident with Sirius, the Marauders had taken the news that their friend had lost them a hundred house points relatively well. It had truly warmed her heart to see the power of their friendship in overlooking these material things which gave the illusion of governing their lives; but these, in truth, only sat at the surface—just like their reflections onto the Black Lake. They had still tried to make up for the points lost; all of them assisted Hagrid in tending to the school grounds, earning them enough points to win Gryffindor the cup. Sirius had been quite glum for a good few days, but Blanche had managed to drag him back towards his normal, happy self. Although sometimes his brow dropped and eyes glazed in dark thought, whenever he was somehow reminded of what his brother really was. But whenever Blanche spotted this, she distracted him with something trivial and silly.
In the boat behind that holding Remus, Peter, James, and Lily, Blanche and Sirius had been stuck with two of Lily's friends—Holly Butters, who hated Sirius for forgetting about her after a week of dating, and Jayne Hopkins, who hated Blanche for once correcting her in Fourth Year Charms class.
"Yeah?" Sirius asked her, immediately turning his attention towards her.
"Do you think you could do something for me?" She asked and his brow raised in interest. "For Talbot?" At this, Sirius paused in surprise, but then eagerly nodded his head.
And yet, Sirius still had absolutely no idea who this mysterious character that haunted Blanche so vividly. Seeing there was no Talbot at Lavinia's funeral, he had dismissed his earlier assumptions that he was the boyfriend at home Blanche had never mentioned. This theory was further disproved by Sirius' status as 'essentially' Blanche's boyfriend, as she had so reluctantly put it. Also, when he really thought about it at night when he couldn't fall asleep and was staring up at the canopy above him with Blanche stretched across his chest and dead to the world, he knew Prongs must have been right all along. There was no way Blanche had a secret boyfriend back home. He knew for a fact, based on the way she reacted to just his hand on her thigh, that she had never been touched like that by anyone else. But Sirius had even gotten his hands on Filch's records of students who had stopped attending Hogwarts part of the way through the seven years, including those who'd only completed their First Year—as that was the only year during which he wasn't friends with Blanche. These trials had proved fruitless, however; there was no one by the name of Talbot who had attended Hogwarts in the past half-century. There had been a Talbot Stanton who graduated from Hogwarts in 1918, but Sirius could not think of a single reason to how and why Blanche would be so connected to this stranger.
Sirius and Blanche released flares of fuchsia and sunset orange into the air. The sparks came together elegantly to form words, writing against the planes of pale grey: 'Alexander Talbot Tully—you're with me in my heart!'
A glimmer of hope finally shined in Sirius' eyes, alongside a bitter frustration. All this time he should have been looking for an 'Alexander.'
Blanche looked up at the sky and saw the words glitter in magical streaks of colour on the sky. Eventually the letters faded, but the smoke they made left a ghost of the message above them.
She heard a familiar, sharp burst shoot up into the air from behind her; she looked back and saw another line of bright colours trek across the air, eventually forming the words: 'To Marybeth Kirk, who was murdered for her blood.'
The colours began shooting upward like rogue firecrackers, building and overlapping as the students remembered those they lost to the Dark Rebellion.
'Faye Franklin, I miss you every day.'
'Geoffrey Nuttle died for his light!'
'Aurelia Clarke, I am so lucky to have known you. I wish you were here with us now.'
'I'm so sorry I couldn't save you.'
'Jamie Dougal Stewart died because he wasn't "pure," but he was the purest person I knew.'
'They stole the world from you, Mabel!'
'We miss you and love you, Odessa!'
Blanche remembered in that moment the deaths only within her year. So many Muggleborns' homes burnt beneath the Dark Mark, and lives taken for the sake of purity and absurd tradition; so many children murdered for the blood of their families. Marybeth, Faye, Geoffrey, Aurelia, Jamie, Mable, Odessa… Blanche suddenly remembered each morning she'd woken up or picked up the Daily Prophet to see these students' charmed profiles cover the 'In Memory Of…' page. And these names that shot into the sky were not even half of them.
They had all been told to sail cooperatively across the Black Lake, but in its own way this felt like the only way to cooperate with all the absent students who had crossed the lake to Hogwarts and never come back. The lights in the air were a way of coping, and by extension cooperation, with everyone who had been stolen from them.
Sirius looked up to the brightly coloured sky hanging above Blanche's upward-tilted face, and he wanted to cry as the lights crossed her face and a tear left her eye, but her mouth was turned in a smile. At least she seemed alright in that moment, because the final few months before graduation had torn her apart. But the messages seemed to sew her back together somewhat.
"What happened to him?" He asked Blanche, breaking her eyes from the lights above.
"One day I'll tell you, I promise. You deserve to know," she sniffled, wiping away a tear. "But not now. Not now when he's here with me."
Blanche looked down to the flat water and saw him just as she'd last seen him: shaggy hair hanging over his ears, freckles across his nose and cheeks, and the yellow-green eyes of a cat staring back up at her. He smiled at her—ear to ear as he did when she'd last seen him alive—and waved to her. He was only there for a moment as Blanche leant over the side of the boat, crying silently over the waters. When a drop hit the glassy surface, Talbot drifted away in a series of ringlets.
Sirius then realised how much she'd cried before him in this final year. Before this year, he'd never seen her cry. But now, by the end of their Seventh Year, he couldn't count how many times she had on one hand. He'd always been so frustrated that she wouldn't let him in and share some weight with him, but secretly—in her own quiet way—she had been. It was so slowly he couldn't even see until now, but she had been picking apart the walls that stood between them all along.
"Are you sure its not too expensive?" Lily asked, studying the brochure that was stretched at full length before them across the entire table at the Leaky Cauldron. They'd made the decision to celebrate at the pub after their graduation, but once they'd stepped off the boat they realised that they hadn't made any plans. They weren't the only ones to come up with the grand idea of a pub crawl, but it was still the early afternoon and things hadn't gotten wild just yet.
"I don't believe so, as the groups get discounts," Blanche shrugged. "I just thought it might be fun."
"It absolutely would be," Lily said, reading aloud the entry for one trip they'd become rather interested in:
TILT THE TIANZI MOUNTAINS!
All daring travellers are welcome to our most thrilling vacation spot
available: the Tianzi Mountains. Fly our Thestrals to your home in
the sky: a cabin perched atop the highest of the slender, stacked cliffs
of the Tianzi Mountains. Quidditch lovers can practice in a sea of
clouds surrounding their temporary abode, whilst adventurers can
scale the shaky stones and explore the natural wildlife; even the 'sit-
-back-and-relax' wizards and witches can enjoy themselves at the
Tea-Tray Pagoda atop the nearby Tianzi Peak. The Tianzi Mountains
are home to many magical creatures; see the many Mooncalf herds
come out at the full moon, be lucky enough to catch a Demiguise
and have it read your future, follow an Occamy through the sky all
the way to her nest, and sneak a few phoenix tears for later use.
(DISCLAIMER: The Department for the Regulation and Control
of Magical Creatures requires TerrorTours inform potential travellers
Beasts XXXXX exist in the listed region).
At the warning in parens, Lily looked at Blanche was a doubtful grimace.
"Worth it?" Lily thought aloud, hoping for Blanche to chorus her doubtful thoughts.
"Absolutely!" She cried. "I've always wanted to see a Horned Serpent! I've heard they live in the Far East—that's probably one of the 'wizard-killing' beasts they're talking about. They live in water anyway, so they can't hurt us."
"I don't know, Blanche. What if it's a Lethifold or something…?" Lily bit her lips nervously. "You know: Also known as the Living Shroud, seeing as it suffocates and inhales the souls of witches and wizards in the night?!"
"Well you certainly won't have to worry about that. Sirius and I had to take one down in our Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T.s. All you've got to use is the Patronus charm," Blanche grinned.
"Blanche," Lily lowered her voice in shame. "You know my Patronus charms don't work half the time…"
"Sirius says the Patronus charm comes very easily to Animagi. Perhaps we could give that a whirl," Blanche shrugged.
"The registration is such a long process… I don't want to wait for that just so I can run through the forests as a doe."
"Well, we technically don't have to register."
Lily looked at her with pursed lips of possible interest, her lips popping up in a mischievous smile. Blanche hoped Lily would be more of a malfeasant now that she no longer had to meet Head Girl requirements for good behaviour.
One of the Marauders' many unlawful schemes had been learning how to become Animagi without registration. Lily had always excused them for this, however, as they'd done it all along to make Remus feel less alone. In spite of her frequent straight-laced behaviour, she was never one to criticise the misbehaviour of another if it were in support of someone in need.
Sirius slammed himself down in the chair beside Blanche, playful and boyish with Butterbeer. He studied the moving pictures on the brochure silently as he finished another glass.
"I hate to be one why says this, but… what do we do now?" Remus' voice picked up from one side of the table. They all looked at him.
"I've that question as well, Mr. Lupin," a familiar yet absolutely shocking voice announced its presence in the pub. To everyone's disbelief, Professor Dumbledore himself walked across the creaking floors of the Leaky Cauldron; his blue robes dragged behind him and swept up dirt, as the bells tied around his beard jingled softly with each step. "I'd like to address this with you lot—but if you wouldn't mind, in a quieter setting?"
Blanche, Peter, Sirius, Remus, Lily, and James instantly popped out of their seats at the long table and followed Dumbledore toward the bar. "Quentin, if you wouldn't mind?" Dumbledore addressed the bartender, who was roughly forty years of age.
"'Course, Professor. You're always welcome to whatever you'd like 'ere in the Cauldron," Quentin permitted with a wide smile.
"Quentin graduated sixteen years ago. Believe it or not, I was still a Transfiguration professor then," Dumbledore smiled.
"That 'e was," Quentin grinned. "'e was brilliant. Now when you all are done, just let me know. The room's down the 'all, first door on the left. Staff meeting room, that is!"
"Much thanks, Quentin," Dumbledore nodded gratefully. They followed their headmaster with trepidation, wondering if he planned to berate them or simply ask their thoughts about the graduation. After all, their year was his fourth to be graduating under his headmastership.
"I'd like to begin by congratulating each one of you on your graduation. I'm so proud of students like yourselves, albeit sad to see you go," he said as he slowly sat in the armchair at the front of the room, where the manager of the bar—presumably Quentin—would sit and talk to his employees at the staff meetings. There was an assortment of antique chairs that were squeezed into the room, faced toward the manager's chair. Seeing how much dust had gathered on some of the chairs, Blanche assumed Quentin wasn't keeping up with his staff meetings. Blanche sat beside Sirius in a chair with a crooked back. "And also… interested in what you have planned for the future. Do any of you have any ideas?"
A silence set over the air, but Lily raised her hand in classroom fashion. James chuckled at her instincts, and she quickly put down her hand as she realised she was no longer a student. "I thought I'd wanted to be an Auror, Headmaster… but I'm not sure I'm cut out for it. Being Muggleborn myself I've always defended myself against Darker wizards and witches, but I don't know if that means I want to chase them around the world. I'm not sure if this even is a job, but I'd like to follow a line of work that seeks to improve the safety of Muggleborn wizards and construct academic agenda styled to break down the stratification within Wizarding society."
"Always brightly put, Lily. I would say ten points to Gryffindor, but then again…" his joke sent a ripple of laughter through the air. "I can assure you there is a job that suits what you're looking for. There's always something to be done within the Ministry of Magic, but if that's too bureaucratic for you—as it is for many—there's still many options left."
"That's something I'd consider, Headmaster," Remus voiced. "I doubt I'd ever be allowed… But I'd be like my father, maybe—work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Perhaps provide an inside look," Remus said, laughing curtly to himself.
"The true experts of Dark creatures would accept you readily into the Magical Creatures department of the Ministry. In order to accept your kind, understanding must first be reached. And although many at the Ministry don't understand, there are plenty who do. They would be your allies in your trials, as would I."
"And if that didn't work, I'd hope to be a professor, maybe. Not that anyone would let me into one of their classrooms—"
"Don't be so doubtful," Dumbledore looked at him with a twinkle in his eye.
"Headmaster?" James asked Dumbledore, who looked to him in response. "If I were to be an Auror, how difficult would it be to be submitted into the training programme?"
"Not so difficult, with your recommendation letter from me," he answered. A weighty grin broke across James' face at the news. "Peter Pettigrew, what about you?" Dumbledore asked the portly boy in the corner. He leaned forward in thought, and Blanche became so disgusted by the sight of his pronounced, yellowing front teeth she had to look away. How could three-fourth of the Marauders be moderately to exceedingly handsome, whilst the fourth was as attractive as a toad?
"Nothing too exciting," Peter laughed in spite of himself. "Maybe run an apothecary—my best class was always Herbology. I'm not too sure."
"I'd say that's quite exciting. I often find the greatest thrills to be found in untimed labour and a gentle hand," he commented wisely.
"Blanche and Sirius? What are you planning?" He asked. Blanche's was oddly satisfied with at the way he asked them as though they were a single entity. It seemed out of the question to Dumbledore that she and Sirius would ever part ways, and although Blanche was confused to how he knew, she was also a bit delighted by it.
"I'd love to be an Arithmancer, but I reckon after a few years I'd go mad," Blanche shook her head. "I suppose I've always considered becoming a Curse-Breaker, because that's often to do with Arithmancy."
"I know how you love the subject—you were our most skilled Arithmancer in the school from Fifth Year onward. But I do fear… that profession is rather a dangerous one. Are you sure about that?"
"No, I'm not sure. But danger is rather inevitable in my life; the only way to avoid it would be to work at the Owl Post Office or take up some other menial labour for money, and I refuse to do that."
"Auror," Sirius spoke aloud. Dumbledore looked at him with overgrown, raised brows. "I'd like to be an Auror, too."
"You'd make an excellent Auror, Sirius. Not to mention… When your parents hear you've become one…" Dumbledore smiled knowingly, and Sirius grinned broadly in mischievous excitement. "In this moment it may seem like you all are unsure of what's next, but it seems as though you all have long-term dreams. And I support each one of them wholeheartedly, but I've come on business unrelated to being your Headmaster and advocate for following your dreams," Dumbledore's smile fell and sunk into his placid, wrinkled face.
"Then on what business?" Blanche asked.
"The business of the Order of the Phoenix."
A silence crossed the room as none of the recent graduates spoke for a while, until Lily did: "Isn't that a secret society?"
"It is. But as head of the Order, I am allowed to reveal it to recruits."
"Recruits?" James asked.
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "For a long time, the other members and I thought students your age—recent graduates—were too young to be conducted into the order. But Blanche's display during the graduation ceremony reminded me that in spite of your youth, you all have experienced tragedies beyond your years as a result of the Dark Rebellion.
I founded the Order of the Phoenix in 1971, recruiting old friends and Aurors from the Ministry—all who shared my thoughts regarding the inexhaustible growth of the Dark Lord's rebellion. Whilst Voldemort began growing to power several years ago, the Ministry's wheels of action moved even slower than they do now. Most of the ministry officials, including Eugenia Jenkins—the Minister preceding Minchum—insufficiently dealt with the rising of the Dark Rebellion. You see, the workings of Voldemort are nearly untraceable: his lackeys are anonymous, his affiliation with each of his attacks is indirect, and he takes advantage of those who dwell in the shadows—the marginalised creatures of the Wizarding world. The Ministry of Magic cannot rival this: its ministers and employees are well-known and always in the papers, it's the touchstone of all major developments in Wizarding society, and it serves as a shared root between every witch and wizard. The Ministry of Magic takes advantage of normality and demands attention. The differences between these two forces, the Dark Rebellion and the Ministry, are so opposite it would be impossible for one to ever crush the other. Overpower—yes. But erase… No.
There had to be a force that could fight the Dark Rebellion with the same anonymity and urgency with which Voldemort fights. There had to be sharp and fast attacks—and I'll be honest, many of them were not approved by nor run through Ministry agenda. This is why our secrecy is of the utmost importance. What we're doing is not officially permitted by the Ministry. That doesn't mean they're out searching for us—in fact, some of its members quietly support what we're doing. But nonetheless, they cannot publicly approve of our attacks.
The Order believes it is time to begin recruiting heavily again, especially with the climbing number of Muggleborn family annihilations this year. This is why I am here with you today. I do not wish to cause you any great trouble, and I admire each and every one of your professional ambitions. But I ask you to remember every time the Dark Mark covered the front pages of the Daily Prophet during your time at Hogwarts—during this year alone. I should, of course, give you time to think about it, but I want you to know that for your academic excellence, dedication to goodness, and distress by the Dark movements in the Wizarding world, you have officially been recruited by the Order of the Phoenix."
Lily raised her hand slowly, and didn't even stop to blush at the instinct this time. "Headmaster?" She asked.
"Yes, Lily?"
"I'll join."
Dumbledore's face contorted in thought at Lily's immediate decision. Blanche was unsure if he wanted them to think about it or decide right there in the staff meeting room. "You will make an extraordinary contribution, Lily. But I want you to take time and think about it. I know, more than anyone, that we need recruits right now, but I won't pull you into this without your thinking on it," he shook his head. "I've been on a TerrorTours trip myself—I believe back in 1955, give or take, during the summer. I didn't go for leisure, really, but to study Yeti habitat in Thailand. It was quite nice."
"TerrorTours?" Remus repeated with a lowered brow.
"Why yes, hasn't Blanche told you yet? About the Tianzi Mountains?" Dumbledore asked. All but Lily shook their heads. "Oh, it seems I've been caught dropping eaves. Well, Blanche?" He looked to her.
"Um," she paused. "I was thinking about a trip for us all. Lily and I were looking at the Tianzi Mountains in China. But, if there's someplace else…"
"Oh, was that what I was looking at?" Sirius asked and Blanche nodded.
"Yes, so why don't you do that. Go on that trip for a bit—a month, perhaps. When you come back, give me your answer."
And then Albus Dumbledore stood and left the room in his peculiar manner.
Mid July 1978
Tianzi Mountains, Zhangjiajie, Hunan Province, China
Blanche sat alone under the full moon on the ground floor of the mountain range. This verdant flatness was difficult to access by broom, so Blanche had left it on a mountain ridge that was as high as the treetops, then climbed her way down the trunks. It was quite a difficult journey, and Lily—who'd originally accompanied her—her backed out long ago. So now it was just Blanche who sat on the forest floor between the star-reaching stacks of rocks that formed the Tianzi Mountains.
Under the full moon, many animals crawled from their dark shadows. There was Remus, of course, who had been on a steady diet of Blanche's wolfsbane potion and was now playing with Sirius—or, more likely, Padfoot—at the top of another mountain. The wolfsbane left him man in the mind and only werewolf in form. Blanche had been observing the way the past two weeks of their trip had lightened his spirit considerably; out in the true wilds, Remus did not feel as much an anomaly.
Then there were the Mooncalves that had come from their burrows and snuggled into the plush, grassy hills upon which Blanche sat. They had finished their mating dances earlier in the night, and now their long necks were tucked into their stomachs. Blanche had one sitting quite near, and when she reached to pet it the fur was like fresh-picked bulbs of cotton. She had not come across any other magical creatures in her daily adventures in and out of the mountains, but she did believe she was on the trail of a Demiguise. No one believed her when she'd confessed to her suspicions several nights ago before bed, but that day she'd come across a long strand of pale, silken hair that disappeared from her eyes when she held it in her hands.
Between exploring the forests and recording all her sightings and discoveries in a journal she kept on her, Blanche had also been dedicating her time to something new. In her rucksack was a book Dumbledore had silently left her the evening before their departure from the United Kingdom called Minds in Magic. The copy was old, but a recently written note was etched in navy ink on the inside cover:
To Blanche Greengrass,
I give this treasured book to you, in the hope that it will assist you in discovering the full potential of your magical abilities. If the political climate were not as it is now, I would surely implore you to pursue your studies at the finest specialised schools the Wizarding world has to offer. Alas, you are more urgently needed elsewhere. Be that as it may, you should never be deprived of your capacities; this book is your new teacher, should you decide to make use of it as I and many of my greatest students have before you. In spite of the many tricks and japes with which you tormented Filch over the years, you have always been one of the brightest and strongest witches to have ever been produced by Hogwarts.
Safe travels and kindest of regards,
Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore
P.S. — Do try and keep this book out of harm's way. If it is hurt or damaged, it tends to bring bad luck to whomever's hands it next lands in.
It had taken Blanche quite a while to get past the first few chapters, which were intended to erase the foundation of spells, hexes, jinxes, and curses she had learned in Charms class the past seven years. The first page of the first chapter asked her to wipe all of what she knew of incantations from her mind. The next chapter asked her to put down her wand and forget she even had one. And the next asked her to break every charm she knew down to its barest of bones: the imagination.
In order to create spells, she had to work backwards with old material and forwards with new material. Once she got to the imagination, that was when the creation began. No wands or words to start with—only the idea of a spell. She had to ask herself—per the book's request—'what do I want to change?'. Blanche began with a blue sweetgrass that covered many of the hills at the ground floor upon which she sat. The grass was harmless to anything else except yellow grasses, which it thoroughly devoured. She decided that all she wanted to do was make it grow a bit taller.
It had taken her a week to make any difference at all, but on one frustrated morning she had managed to do something to a small square of grass at the foot of a hill. She'd taken several deep breaths—again at the book's request—and focused on nothing but the grass. In fact—standing there under the cloud-obscured shine of the sun, Blanche had imagined being the blue grass. She imagined the nocturnal animals that had scurried over it during the night and the wind that carried its fresh scent high into the fog that engulfed the foliage whose hands stretched against the cliffs of the rock towers. As she imagined being the grass, she wished in her head that she were taller. And whilst she stared at that square of grass in a focus that was almost agonising and with a desire that felt absolutely absurd, the grass had grown nigh on three inches.
She'd spent the next few days trying over and over again; sometimes she failed but, after getting the hang of it, it eventually began feeling like second nature. Once she was able to raise an entire hill of grass into a metre-long thicket of navy grasses, Blanche tried with a swell of luminous orange flowers that curled around tree trunks. She even tried with the stretching arm of a red-leaved tree that climbed up the slanted rock of one of the mountains. Each worked after a long but worthwhile trial.
Blanche then followed the book onto the next step. This was the step that pushed beyond the spell creation; this set of chapters taught her how to make the spell immediate and available to the rest of the world. Blanche began writing in her little journal about her own first incantation.
Incantation: Herbaltius
Effect: enlarges and elongates plants
Before long, Blanche's book was as dense with her own spells as it was dense with records of her adventures. As her familiarity with Dumbledore's book and the spell-creation steps increased, her spells became more daunting.