Chapter 1) Of Mothers and Murder
Selected Listening: Fawkes the Phoenix- John Williams
Author's Note: Hello, readers! Welcome. You are starting with Book 2 of the Headmaster's Daughter, which is a fine place to start, but if at any point you feel confused, or would like to read the story from the beginning, please see Book 0 and 1. Thanks, and R&R!
Anastasia Dumbledore didn't expect to spend the Flamels' funeral under her invisibility cloak, but her father told her there would be too many onlookers and reporters for her to make an appearance as herself. She stood off to the side, where no one would bump into her, in the middle of the magical cemetery in Paris, watching as the two coffins holding Nicholas and Perenelle lowered into the ground.
Albus and Anastasia arrived in Paris two weeks prior to help the Flamels arrange their affairs and say goodbye. Anastasia remembered her last hugs with the two ancient souls, and how they passed away gently in their sleep. Since then, Albus had been finishing funeral arrangements, owling friends of the couple, and discussing the press release with Le Monde Magique. Albus and Anastasia had the Flamel household to themselves, and the house reigned over them, too quiet and too empty. While Albus did business, Anastasia holed up in her usual guest room, laying face up on the handmade quilt of the antique bed, staring at the textured plaster ceiling, listening to The Cure's new album on repeat.
It was a good thing she attended the funeral in disguise because another Hogwarts student attended, Blaise Zabini. The ebony skinned boy stood quietly beside his mother—a curvy witch decked in high fashion. Though she wore black robes, they were covered in silver embroidery and gems too flashy for funeral wear. There was a wizard too, in a plain black robe, who kept trying to put his hand on Blaise's shoulder. Blaise jerked away as subtly as he could in his suit that looked too fancy for a young man of twelve. His suit had more masculine embroidery then the stuff on his mother's robes, but it was embroidery all the same. When he realized he couldn't continue his antics without seeming disrespectful, he resigned and hung his head sadly, but not due to the deaths being honored. The man's hand settled on his shoulder.
Afterwards, in the reception hall, Anastasia snuck some cookies and lemonade and hung out in a back corner. She couldn't sit in an empty chair without risking being sat on by another witch or wizard. Eventually, after a few speeches and laughing and talking, grandad came around to stand at Anastasia's side.
"I think it's about time for me to depart," Albus said, pulling out his pocketwatch, as if he were talking to himself. But by "me" he meant "us."
"How can you see me?" Anastasia whispered. Albus didn't answer the disembodied voice. He walked forward and expected her to follow.
On the way out the door, Blaise's mother caught Albus on the elbow.
"Oh Albus, Albus," Zabini fawned in a French accent, "excuse-moi."
"Mademoiselle Zabini?" Albus asked.
"No Monsieur Dumbledore, Madame," she emphasized, and gestured to the man they were with earlier who was speaking with some other fancy looking wizards across the room.
"Again? Congratulations," Albus said. Madame Zabini looked slightly insulted at his comment but pulled Blaise forward from behind her.
The woman began speaking to Albus in rapid French, and as she did, Blaise appeared more and more annoyed. Anastasia stifled a giggle, causing Blaise to look briefly in her direction. Albus lifted his finger and Anastasia's mouth was glued shut.
"Ah, je comprends. Vous ne pouviez pas laisser l'éducation de Blaise interférer avec votre entreprise de mode," Albus said in a serious tone, but it was one Anastasia learned to recognize as dry sarcasm.
Madame Zabini looked as if she had just been struck sideways, but before she could open her mouth, Albus turned to Blaise.
"Donc, vous ne nous rejoindrez certainement pas cette année scolaire, n'est-ce pas?"
Blaise rolled his eyes.
"Afraid not," he said. His mother elbowed him. "I'm not speaking French, Mum! He knows I speak English."
"You will be required to speak it when you begin school."
Blaise crossed his arms.
"Beauxbâtons, me voilà."
"Ah, well Slytherin will miss you. Until next time," Albus nodded and continued walking to the exit. Anastasia departed with him.
"What did you mean, Slytherin will miss him?" Anastasia asked at the dinner table. They were eating the last of a beef bourguignon stew Perenelle made before her passing. Albus wiped his beard with his napkin and took another small sip of his wine.
"Madame Zabini is moving the central office of her fashion line from London to Paris and has enrolled Blaise in Beauxbatons as a transfer student. It's easier for her to be in Paris because that is where her new husband is from."
"But why would she need to shift Blaise's school? Hogwarts is residential," Anastasia said, and took a bite of fresh baked bread.
"A reasonable alibi at the right time," Albus said, mostly to himself. Anastasia gave him a questioning look. He realized what he said and continued.
"Madame Zabini is a genius when it comes to wizarding fashion, but she is terrible at business. She is known for marrying high-powered executives, draining them of their money…and then they die unexpectedly. After Blaise's father's death of supposedly natural causes, he has known two other stepfathers, this is the third."
"Oh…" Anastasia said, not knowing that some witches were outright murderers. "Shouldn't she be in Azkaban?"
Albus shook his head.
"These men know in advance what they're doing. They see her lavish looks and think they can tame her, but Mercutia Zabini is a predator, not prey. She is aware of wizarding law and how to get around it…which, is not so great for them, but is quite beneficial for my wardrobe," he turned out the sleeve of his plum-colored robe to reveal a small silver-gold Z, embroidered in the cuff.
Anastasia raised her eyebrows.
"I feel bad for Blaise."
"Ah, don't mistake his poor attitude as disrespect. He knows his mother is a survivalist. All her actions, for good or for evil, benefit him and his family's estate in the end. No, what he's upset about is having to leave his school social status and start over again. But if I were him, I wouldn't worry."
"Why not?" Anastasia asked.
"Most likely the next husband she picks will be in London, and then Blaise will come back to Hogwarts," he chuckled with a smile full of teasing dark humor.
"Grandad!" she giggled and threw a piece of bread at him.
"You challenge me to a duel?!" Albus threw a piece of bread back at her. She dodged. They both jumped up and started running around the kitchen, throwing little crumbs of bread at each other. Anastasia, who needed to sit down, for her vision was going dark, ducked under the dining table where she thought she was safe.
"You can't catch me down here!" she shouted, still catching her breath, but when she turned she found a piece of bread hovering right in front of her face. It bopped her in the nose and fell into her lap.
"That's not fair! I can't use magic outside of school!" she yelled up to him.
"It is fair!" he called back. "I graduated 93 years ago!"
They returned home by apparition the following day. Anastasia entered her room in the headmaster's suite to find it mostly how she left it. Her cherry wood wardrobe sat behind the door next to her vanity and mirror. Her full-sized bed was centered along the righthand wall, next to which was a bookshelf nightstand decorated with a stained-glass lamp and her enamel music box. On the far wall next to the door that led to her secret exit was her project desk that she often used for crafting, potions, and experiments. On it, a single inkwell stood next to her stationary set. She had cleaned before she left for Paris.
But Anastasia's favorite part of her room was her window. It was a large window that wrapped the curve of the turret that made up the left back corner of her room. She could look out and see the forbidden forest and the Black Lake, stretching all the way to the mountains at the horizon. On a clear night, she could map out all the stars on the western hemisphere.
Crenshaw, her barn owl, sat pruning his stand next to the window.
"Did you miss me, boy?" Anastasia asked and walked over to him. She stroked his hazelnut feathers and sat on the reading nook cushions. She had left one of the windowpanes open for him to fly in and out, and on the cushion next to it lay two letters and a package.
The first was from Hermione.
Dear Anastasia,
I'm writing to follow up with you about coming with us to Australia. My dad already booked our tickets, but you'll need a passport because we'll be taking a muggle plane. Do you have one? Write me back as soon as you can.
Sincerely,
Hermione
Anastasia didn't have a passport. She didn't have any legal documents to prove she was born or belonged to a particular nation. She thought of her summer plans being dashed by muggle legal technicalities and scowled, putting the letter aside. Hopefully, grandad would have a solution.
The second letter was attached to the package. She recognized the handwriting, long and looping. It was from the midwitch who saved her life all those years ago. She hadn't heard anything from the woman since Christmas.
Anastasia ripped open the letter and started reading.
Dear Anastasia,
Happy Birthday. I am a little late, but I hoped you wouldn't mind. Attached, you will find a personal effect of your mother's. She received it from her parents for being sorted into Hufflepuff when she was in school. It is a real canary diamond, so be careful with it.
Sincerely,
Again, no name had been signed. Anastasia's birthday was on June 5th, and she hadn't really gotten to celebrate with the Philosopher's stone business going on. She and Albus and Minerva were headed for shell cottage later that week, to celebrate her 12th birthday late and Albus's 111th birthday early. Anastasia opened the package to find a black velvet jewelry box. Inside the box was a pendant necklace, square in shape. The primary stone shone bright yellow, with two smaller white diamonds bordering the loop for the chain.
Crenshaw peaked over her shoulder, bobbing his head for a good look at the item throwing rainbows around the room.
"What do you think, Crenshaw?" She asked. "Yellow really isn't my color…but I guess it's close enough to gold." She unraveled the chain from the packaging and clipped it around her neck. She walked over to her nightstand, where the only picture she had of her mother sat. In the picture, her mother was older, joyful. She had chocolate brown hair that curled down to her waist, and eyes with the same depth of color. She wore the same necklace around her neck. Anastasia smiled, although her heart panged.
A few minutes later, she went down to the headmaster's office, where her father was rifling through Defense Against the Dark Arts applications. Fawkes sat on his perch, snoozing.
"Hey, grandad?" She had called him grandad for as long as she had lived, even though it was a slight inaccuracy. Albus had only revealed himself to be her true father the previous year and shared that he felt too old to be called the normal titles.
"Yes, dear, what is it?" he asked. His eyes flickered to her necklace.
"Hermione owled. She said they have my plane ticket, but I'll need a muggle passport. Is there a way I can get one?"
"Uh…hmm. I would usually have Charity take you, but she's with her family for the break. Minerva could do it, but it most certainly requires documents that we don't have…birth certificate, IDs, ect…it will be a challenge. I can much easier fly you there by wizarding transport, but you would have to go alone and meet them there."
"I don't know about that," Anastasia said. The last time she had been to a new country, she had to fly on the back of a Zouwu to China with Newt Scamander, and it was the least comfortable four hours of her life.
"Hmm…I'll have to think about how best to do this. Give me a couple of days," he swallowed and tried to refocus his gaze to his papers, but then turned back to her.
"Where did you get that necklace?" Albus asked, "It was your mothers. I remember her wearing it."
Anastasia grabbed it and smiled.
"Isn't it beautiful? The midwitch sent it to me for my birthday. I love it." She never had any of her mother's old things before, and this was possibly the most meaningful gift she'd ever received even after the music box.
Albus nodded quietly.
"I see," he said. "Honestly, it's very bright…I'm afraid some of the faculty may recognize it if they taught Holly or knew her at all. She never took it off. Pomona will know instantly."
"Oh," Anastasia said, "what if I keep it under my collar? I'll only wear it on the outside when I'm not at school. It won't sit very well on my tie anyway."
Albus stared at his daughter for some time. As much as Anastasia appreciated the gifts, he wished the midwitch would stop. It wasn't fair for her to be giving Anastasia notable gifts when he had to constantly fight to ensure her identity remained secret. As he looked at Anastasia's face now, he knew it would be cruel to tell her otherwise.
"Fine, fine, but you must keep it hidden." Just like everything else, he thought to himself, but he supposed if the midwitch was going to break her promise of no contact then he could break his promise of don't tell anyone, if only for special circumstances.
"Thank you, grandad!" Anastasia said and ran upstairs to write letters to her friends.
At dinner, Albus informed her that Kingsley Shacklebolt would be visiting to help with the passport situation.
"Was that the man from the ministry the poachers contacted?" Only a year ago, before Anastasia even became a Hogwarts student, she was held captive by magical creature poachers in China during her trip with Newt. She still bore a scar on her neck from the cursed knife, but it had faded to a pale brown and only bothered her once a day when she looked herself in the mirror to brush her teeth.
"Oh, yes, that was him. He is Cornelius Fudge's second, and a previous member of the Order of the Phoenix. Very trusted friend. Since he's already met you, it will be easiest to explain things to him. Plus, he's excellent with forging muggle documents."
Anastasia nodded.
"Okay…you know you're lucky you've never had to take me to St. Mungo's or something?"
"Yes, well, we are lucky Madam Pomfrey knows what she is doing in most situations."
A few days later, Kingsley Shaklebolt arrived at the headmaster's office. He found Albus sitting behind the desk.
"Albus, what did you need to see me for so urgently?" he asked, but then a young girl with ginger pigtails popped her head out from behind one of the chairs in front of the desk.
"You're the little girl who was kidnapped last year!" Kingsley said, pointing at Anastasia. "Albus, who is this? And why is she wearing…"
The man fell into the chair beside Anastasia in a state of astonishment when he examined her appearance a second time, his eyes always going back to the necklace. Albus gave Anastasia a What did I tell you? look.
"She looks like a younger you and she looks like Holly. What gives?" Kingsley asked. Albus took a deep breath.
"As you know, Holly and her husband were members of the order when Francis was killed by a death eater. Desperate for a child, Holly went to a midwitch who was experimenting with new methods for magical birth. The same witch came to me asking for me to participate in the experiment, due to my pedigree. I had no idea that my donation had been used until Anastasia showed up as an infant on the castle doorstep three weeks after Holly's murder by Lord Voldemort. The witch left a note explaining things and asked me to keep Anastasia's identity a secret for her safety."
All the while, Anastasia did her best to look kind and pleasant and overall deserving of a muggle passport.
"Oh my…oh my," Kingsley said and rubbed his bald head. "That was why…oh no."
"I know you were very close to Francis, and I know that this is difficult for you. But our problem now is, she doesn't have any documentation, and she'll need to take muggle transport soon for a trip with a schoolmate. Could you—oh how do the children say it—hook us up?"
Kingsley had gone quiet. He stared at the desk in front of him unmoving. Thinking the problem was her own, Anastasia piped up.
"I promise I won't be any trouble. I won't get kidnapped like last time. I'll stay with the group. I'll follow instructions," she said, searching for the words that would get him to say yes, but his eyes only became sadder as she spoke.
"Albus this is serious…the rest of us in the Order thought Holly had been unfaithful to Francis right after his death and that Holly died before she could deliver the child." Kingsley kept looking back to Anastasia as if she might disappear.
"I thought that as well, before she showed up. I know this is a bit of a shock…it really is in her best interest though, to keep her in hiding."
Kingsley stared Albus down as if he had more words, but they weren't polite to say in front of a child. He stood.
"I'll need a picture of her, and I will make the documents, but as an apology to Holly's memory. Not you. You have been selfish, my friend, in more ways than one." Kingsley turned to Anastasia and held out his hand.
"Pleasure to meet you in person, Anastasia. Write me if you need anything else," he said gently, and then glared at Albus as he walked towards the door.
"Kingsley," Albus said, "I'll need you to keep this quiet. In all seriousness, I know you are upset, but it is absolutely necessary."
Kingsley paused and looked over his shoulder.
"I will do as you ask…but you should ask yourself who's safety you are really protecting. The girl's or your own?"
Kingsley departed.
"He didn't like me?" Anastasia asked quietly, staring at her knees. She wasn't used to people not liking her. Albus took a deep breath and smiled.
"Kingsley liked you fine. He's angry with me, and rightly so. I lied to him to many years about what happened concerning your mother, only at the request of…well—" he gestured vaguely to her necklace.
Anastasia clung to the pendant.