Dawn approached Vulpecula both too soon and not soon enough. She groaned and rolled over, covering her face with the duvet she had dragged off the bed in the night. Her sleep had been plagued with nightmarish visions of snake faced men and the screams of her friends falling during the last battle.
Thankfully they did not come with the too familiar feeling of her scar burning anymore. These were proper nightmares from what she had gone through herself, and not induced by some horrific connection to Voldemort. It was oddly comforting, she realized as she moved off the too soft bed onto a particularly soft area rug to sleep on. Waking up in the gods forsaken hours of the morning without the pain was a welcome reprieve from the horrors that Voldemort had been shoving past her poor occlumency barriers every night for the past 3 years.
Her mind was her own for the first time that she could remember ever. It felt like a weight was taken off of her. She could deal with the nightmares. She would fight and grow and become the master of her own mind, and eventually the nightmares wouldn't plague her anymore. It would take time and a hell of a lot of work to process and grieve the life she never had and the people she had lost. It would be hard and painful work. It would undoubtedly get worse before it got better. Regardless, she was determined. She would fight to be able to properly live for the first time in her life.
With a frustrated sigh Vulpecula sat up and stretched. Now that she was properly awake there was no chance of falling back asleep. Leaning up against the foot of her bed she called for minnie who popped in with her breakfast. Vulpecula thanked the elf who tittered and popped away after bowing so low that her ears flopped on the ground.
It was still early, she noted as she ate. The sun was just peeking through her light curtains and illuminating the room. A wandless tempus charm confirmed that it was ten of seven in the morning on July 30th, 1944.
Vulpecula nodded, chewing slowly as she thought back upon her muggle history lessons. The World War II would be wrapping up in a bit over a year, and Dumbledore would have his legendary duel with Grindelwald. London would still be recovering from the Blitz, but would be mostly healed at this point… She paused chewing, struck with a realization. The Black's home in Grimmauld place was in London. How did it fare in the Blitz? Did the wards hold? Did they fail? Were there any family members lost at that time? With the war on and so recently potentially losing family to muggle weapons it would be no surprise that they harbored anti muggle sentiment.
Slowly, Vulpecula placed her utensils back on the tray with her half eaten breakfast, her appetite gone. Thoughts of destruction and despair ran rampant through her mind before she took a breath and steeled her nerves. Standing from the ground, she absently thanked the elves and padded in her pajamas to the study.
The letter from Orion Black was still on her desk, curled up with the prominent black satin ribbon that was so emblematic of Black family correspondence. She sank down into the plush leather chair and stared at its contents once more.
In the light of morning it felt almost friendly, but she knew better. Powerful families like the Blacks would never offer such kindness unless they hoped to gain something of the relationship. It was so ingrained into their societal structure that they impressed the importance of such connections onto their children before they could even speak. Arcturus Black's letter reeked of political posturing and prodding to see how she would respond and to see if she would make a good future political ally.
Orion's letter had a similar probing sort of feeling. Despite that, it still felt friendly. Almost spitefully clinging to the restraints of politeness. Vulpecula smiled slightly as she recognized a touch of Sirius-ish rebellion, but in an almost foreignly Slytherin way. Sirius had gotten his rebellion from somewhere, and clearly it wasn't from Walburga.
Drawing a fresh piece of parchment from the desk, Vulpecula began crafting a reply to Orion. His invitation required a more immediate answer than anything else on her agenda. Her response mirrored his once finished. She would accept his invitation, of course. Expressing the proper level of excitement at the idea of making friends her own age, and lightly teasing about their first unintentional interaction. Subtly playful, yet innocuous to the untrained eye.
Setting that aside, She moved on to the letter for Arcturus. This one was more stiffly formal, pulling on the pureblood training that Pavati and Lavender had managed to squeeze into her dense skull. She set that one aside in a separate spot to reread later. It would have to be perfect, or Lord black would take it as a sign of weakness. Inexperience would be no excuse when the sharks smell blood in the water.
As those two letters dried she found a small pad of lined paper for lists and started writing down names. Potter and Longbottom were first to go down on the list as families to contact. Potter because of a close(ish) familial connection, and the Longbottoms because of their courage and loyalty to their allies. Both were firmly light oriented, which would be in stark contrast to the Dark oriented Black families, as well as any families that she would be likely to meet at Orion's party. From there she went further afield. The Bones' family, historically Hufflepuff, tended to exemplify the ideals of their house. They would be key in making friends with a bunch of smaller or more tenuously connected houses. They tended to lean more on the light side, but still managed to remain generally neutral with friends scattered all across the political spectrum.
Next on the list, to her own surprise, was the Lovegoods, followed closely by the Prewetts and Patil's. The Lovegoods were well known for their different brand of reality, but were also known for their unparalleled creativity and character judgement. The Prewetts and Patils both trod that fine line of neutrality. Occasionally swaying to one side or another on certain issues, but always returning to their carefully neutral standing so as to not offend either base of support.
As she rounded out the list, scribbling a very reluctant, almost illegible 'Gaunt/riddle', she leaned back with a sigh and placed the quill back down in its stand. Rubbing her face, she felt the tension that had been building dissipate slightly. With her elbows on the desk and her face covered by both hands she muttered to herself.
"All of this planning or ideating is good and all, but how do I reach out to make contact?" The sound was garbled from between her fingers. "The potters I can weasel because they're closely related to the Peverel line. But the rest? I truly haven't a single clue how to approach them."
"Perhaps," Vulpecula jumped as a new voice reached her ears. Her wand was already out and pointed towards the sound before she could even register that it was Death who had suddenly appeared in her private office, behind wards, in an undisclosed location. Death continued speaking, acting as if nothing had just occurred. "Perhaps you should start with one?"
Death lounged in a comfortable chair in the alcove under the owl window, their legs draped unceremoniously over one of the arms as their robes flowed down to the floor. The folds of fabric seemed to writhe in the firelight, like souls made solid and woven together.
It reminded Vulpecula of her invisibility cloak she had as Harry, and her chest ached. A reminder of losing one of the few connections she had had to her parents. She had lost everything to come back here. Her friends, her world, even her wand, she noted. The weight of her new one, though warm and comforting in her hand, was still unfamiliar as it dangled from her fingers at her side.
Death placed their feet on the floor and stood, slowly approaching until they stood directly in front of Vulpecula. They held their thin hands out, palm up, and spoke softly.
"May I hug you?"
Vulpecula took a breath and forced herself to relax. "Yeah," she whispered, fighting back a sudden well of tears.
Death carefully wrapped their arms around her, enveloping her in the silky material. "I'm sorry." they whispered. "I'm sorry for scaring you just now. I should have known better. I'm sorry for all that you've lost, all that has been taken from you. You deserve so much better, and here you are, still choosing to sacrifice yourself for the good of people who will never know the difference. You've done so much in your old life and plan to do so much in your new one. I'm so proud of you, and everyone you love is proud of you too."
One of their hands came up, softly cradling her head as she finally let go of her tears that she had been holding back for way too long. For the first time in her life she let herself go, feeling safe and cared for and loved in the arms of Death.
She had no idea how long she cried, but when the tears finally stopped her nose was stuffy, her eyes were puffed up and her voice was hoarse. Despite that she finally felt in control. Her thoughts felt a bit more coherent and her emotions no longer felt like they would explode out at the slightest provocation. Vulpecula just stood there for a few more moments before she spoke, still wrapped in death's comforting embrace.
"Hey Death?" she asked softly, her voice cracking.
"Yes, my dear Mistress?" They responded, matching their tone to hers.
"What would have happened if I had chosen to go On?"
Death paused for a moment, seeming to think before responding. "You would have been greeted by those who cared for you during their life, and then beyond that it is up to what you believe. Some people wish to stay in one place forever, relaxing and enjoying what they see as heaven. Some believe that they deserve eternal torment, and the torment of their mind consumes them. Others believe it is another great adventure, be that something they choose to do as the dead, or moving on to be reborn. Very few believe in nothing at all, but we do occasionally have someone who believes in and exists within a void."
"Would I be able to rest?"
Death sighed as Vulpecula asked. In that moment she sounded so much like the scared child that she never got to be. She was never allowed to feel, never allowed to be less than perfect, never allowed to be wild or creative or inquisitive or scared. Death did not hate. It is not in Death's nature to care about the living until it was their Time. But in that moment Death wished nothing but suffering upon the Dursley parents and Albus too-many-fucking-names Dumbledore. The three of them knew what they did was wrong, and they didn't just hurt any human. They hurt Death's Master; and they would pay.
"Yes," Death whispered into Vulpecula's mass of curly hair. "You could rest for as long as you need." They felt the longing that Harry had. To be free of the responsibility to save the whole world for once. "I think we both know," Death continued softly. "You would never be satisfied leaving the world as it is. The fact that you chose this proves it. But if you ever need, Time and I can work together to give you time to rest and recover. Not often, but if you are in dire need..."
"Thank you," Vulpecula cut them off, kissing their cheek lightly. "I know you're right and that's frustrating. And thank you for the apology. I didn't know I needed that, so thank you."
With that she stood straight. Death's arms fell away, exposing a new, stronger Vulpecula Hariett Peverell to the world.
Stepping back, Vulpecula clapped her hands together sharply. "Now. You said something about starting with just one?"
"Yes." Death shifted to a more businesslike tone and sat in the comfy chair in front of Vulpecula's desk. "You have a familial connection with the potters that cannot be ignored. Starting with them, you should be able to reach out to more and more families as you are introduced and make in person connections first. That way you would never be seen as too forwardly presumptuous. Plus as word spreads, you will likely receive more letters asking to meet purely because of the myths surrounding the Peverell family."
Vulpecula sat at her own seat behind the desk as Death spoke, her frustration building.
"That's reasonable, but I should know this kind of thing! I'm supposed to be some sort of half french pureblood right? There's no possible way for me to pass as that as I am. Hell, I don't even know more than three words in french!"
"That," Death leaned forward, resting their elbows on the edge of her desk and cradling their pointed chin in their folded hands. "My darling Mistress, is the big reason I came to see you today."
Vulpecula raised an eyebrow in an uncertain look.
"Yes." Death continued, as though she hadn't done anything. "Today is the perfect day for it. You don't have to deal with Gringotts or your birthday until tomorrow. Tomorrow would also be a good day to get some things from Diagon Alley if you have time around the goblins. Plus your physical brain is finally healed from the jump through time, as well as your mind is finally starting to assimilate to the world and information around you. This is the perfect time to shore up your occlumency and organize the slew of information we've stashed in a secret corner of your mind."
"You just shoved a bunch of information into my brain and I can't even access it?" Vulpecula was not surprised that they had put stuff in her brain. In fact she had expected it. She didn't, however, expect to not be able to access it. Thinking back over the past couple days she did notice a couple times that some new tidbits of information leaked, but for the most part she still felt very much like the same person she was before.
"The issue," Death began slowly. "With just dumping that much information into an unorganized mind is that it could completely rupture your brain and overwrite everything that you know already. Like spilling ink on an already finished essay. The information that was already written down gets lost. And while you still get bits and pieces unaffected, the entire essay is ruined. But if you apply ink properly, with a pen or a quill in an organized way, you can reasonably add to an essay and improve it. You understand what I'm saying?"
"Yeah I get it," Vulpecula nodded, rubbing her fingers against the bottoms of her eye sockets. "I'm just not eager to do this. You know my last experience with occlumency right?"
Death visibly darkened at this. "Yes, I remember. In fact Snape is getting his ass royally handed to him by your mother for the rest of eternity. He was so desperate to see her and she was so ready to mess him up for torturing you the way that he did." Death nodded sagely as Vulpecula blanched. "Yes. what he did was torture, not teaching. That was true in all of his classes, but especially in occlumency. He was ordered to open your mind even further to the intrusions of Voldemort, by Both masters when they both were aware of his position over you. And he took way too much pleasure and vindication in doing so. He hated your father and his friends so much that he wanted to hurt them even after they had died, and the only way he thought he could do that was through hurting you. He saw you as the culmination of all his mistakes, the result of pushing your mother away and- from his warped point of view- into the arms of the man who became your father. Severus Snape was a horrible, bitter man. He never should have been allowed near children, and especially not near you."
Vulpecula was speechless. She had never had anyone with a position of authority speak up against how Snape had treated her class and her in particular. All of the frustration and anger that she had felt in school felt justified. She wasn't alone.
"Now," Death leaned back in their chair and clapped their hands together. "I've had enough of this gabbing. Are you ready to start?"
"Yeah. I am. How are we supposed to do this?" Vulpecula felt nervous, flashes of Snape snarling 'clear your mind' inadvertently coming to the forefront of her mind's eye, followed by the memory of him ripping through what little mental strength she had managed to scrape together.
"We will start, if you are ok with it, with entering your mindscape. Normally this takes a bunch of meditation and truly knowing oneself to reach this visual representation of you within your own mind, but with consent and a skilled teacher guiding you we can get there a lot faster. And from there I will help you organize your mind and then we can add the new memories and knowledge into your system of organization. Does that sound ok?"
"Will it hurt?" Vulpecula asked softly, her arms wrapped around her stomach as it roiled with her heightening anxiety.
"No, it will not hurt. I promise you." Death spoke softly now, gentile confidence imbued in each word. "And if you want me out of your head I will be gone immediately. We don't have to do everything today if you're uncomfortable. Today is just a good day to get started. If you feel comfortable enough to allow me."
Vulpecula took a deep steadying breath and finally met Death's glowing eyes. "I'm ready." Her voice was steady. She wanted to excel in this. Prove Snape wrong and destroy everything he had done to her mind.
With consent given, and watching for any slight hint of her wanting them gone, death carefully entered Vulpecula's mind. They stayed at the edge of her consciousness. Essentially knocking and waiting for her to allow them in further.
The first thing that Death noticed about her mind, just from the edges, was that it was an enormous storm. Thoughts, feelings, and memories all swirled around as though they were being whipped about in a hurricane. Reaching forward, Death prodded at one of her surface level thoughts gently. This let her know exactly where they were, and that they were just standing there, waiting for her to let them in further. As soon as Vulpecula felt the intrusion she gasped and flinched, and Death withdrew immediately.
"Are you ok?" Death asked, calm and collected. It felt as though they had done this before.
"Yeah. Sorry I-"
"No. Don't 've been through some shit. I would be more concerned if you didn't have the reaction you did." Death reached across the desk and gently patted Vulpecula's clenched fist. "Defending your mind is instinctive. That you can at all means that they failed. You are stronger and we can make it so they and others can never get into your mind at all."
Progress was slow at first. It took about three hours of consistent work for Vulpecula to even allow Death into her mind. From there however, they both progressed in leaps and bounds.
Vulpecula's internal mind naturally appeared as her Gryffindor dorm room. The first place that she had ever felt safe and at home. Thoughts, emotions and memories were strewn about the place like loose papers and stray clothes, and everything that she didn't want to or couldn't deal with was shoved underneath each of the four poster beds.
"No wonder I have such a hard time sleeping," She had remarked upon seeing that for the first time. Death turned and leveled a stern look at her.
"You've been through hell since you were fifteen months old. Of course you have trouble sleeping. We will do as much as we can to help you though."
Vulpecula smiled a little bit. Death was being very patient with her today, and it made her feel cared for in a way that she hadn't felt since she had left her friends, Neville and Luna.
"Now," Death clapped their hands together and grinned. "Renovation time eh?"
"Renovation?"
"Well we can't just leave it as the Gryfindor girls dorms now can we? An entire quarter of the population knows the exact layout, and the rest can hazard a crude guess. We have to make it something different that IF someone miraculously got through the defenses that we're going to build, it'll at least be a challenge to get anything. Now. Ideas?"
Vulpecula sat on the nearest trunk. The locked one, that Death had said contained all the knowledge she would need to pass as a pureblood heiress living in France. Staring around the room, her eyes fell on what would have been Pavati's bed. It had all sorts of brightly colored clothes and gold jewelry scattered around, just as there had been in real life. Her eyes in particular were drawn to a golden cuff that had apparently fallen off the bed and halfway underneath the frame. It looked like a golden snake, with ruby red eyes that seemed to stare into her soul.
"Hey Death?" Vulpecula asked, still staring at the snake bracelet.
"Yeah?" they answered distractedly, trying to organize some of the mess under her bed while she was occupied elsewhere.
"What about a library?"
"A library?" death paused, looking at her with a guarded expression. "That's a very neat and orderly place. People can find what they're looking for in a library pretty easily."
"Yes, but what if the books were translated into parseltongue?"
"That would be interesting, but we run into a small problem."
"Parseltongue doesn't have a written language does it?"
"Got it in one."
Vulpecula made a small humphing sound and continued to stare at the bracelet on the floor. It almost seemed to come alive as she watched the light from the windows shift from the storm of thoughts whirling around outside.
"What about the forbidden forest?"
Death paused their attempts to make room for the new memories and waited for her to explain.
"All the animals could speak parseltongue, and guide me to what I need if I give the correct guide word. They would sort of act as decoys, running away from anyone who doesn't speak the correct passwords. The real memories and everything would be the leaves on the trees. High up. Inaccessible unless you can fly or have the help of the guides."
Death and Vulpecula looked at each other. Their eyes met and they both grinned. No wizard would ever ask for help from an animal. Especially not one so arrogant that they forced their way into her head. Plenty of room for new growth and new learning. It was perfect.
It took all afternoon to finish organizing her new mindspace, but she never felt more at peace with herself. All of her traumatic and negative experiences were buried beneath the roots of the forest. Out of sight, but the lessons learned fed through the roots and helped promote new growth and served as a secondary safety measure. Should someone try to hurt one of the animals or climb or chop down the trees, the negative memories and emotions would come up and ensnare their mind, trapping them in the memories of weeks upon years of hunger, loneliness and loss. Surrounding the forest they constructed a dome, a solid barrier that was nigh impossible to get through.
The final layer was very similar to what Death first encountered as they entered her mind for the first time. A hurricane of superficial thoughts and emotions, but more solid. To a fleeting probe it would appear as though she had never developed any occlumency at all. However if they tried to push through the winds and rain they would soon find their probe 'blown' back from whence it came with a sharp jab of pain directed at the left eye socket.
They both felt satisfied with their work as they withdrew from Vulpecula's mind for the last time. It was about 5 in the evening, and Vulpecula felt a series of sharp pops as she stretched. Sitting in one position for hours on end, no matter how comfortable it starts, always ends up painful.
An elf, Minnie, popped in as she stretched, placing a hot mug of tea on her desk, and quietly chastising her mistress for missing meals.
"You is being too thin to be missing meals Miss. At least have tea. It will help, but yous best be prepared for an extra big dinner tonight Miss!"
"Yes Mistress, drink up." Death teased, as Vulpecula took a sip of the tea. It was warm and flavorful and helped soothe her aching mind. She didn't even deign to respond to Death's taunting. Instead she focused on the letters in front of her. One ready to go out, the other needing some serious work before the Lord Black would be ok with it.
Already the knowledge that death had planted in her head was making itself known, and vulpecula let out a very unladylike groan as she saw just how much work would need to go into that letter, and it really should not wait until the morning-
"Go eat," Death Interrupted softly.
"What?"
"Go. eat. I'll take care of this for you tonight. Your mind is adjusting well but it is going to hurt very soon if you don't eat and go to bed." Death glanced up at her and started shooing her away with a hand gesture. "This won't be a regular thing. Trust me. I hate politics and all that, but you need rest. You'll have plenty of time to stress over how your letters to other lords and ladies are received later. Now go."
Vulpecla stood slowly and walked around the desk towards the door. She paused part way and paused, seeing Death scribbling away at the formal letter was an amusing sight, and she was once again struck by how grateful she was to have them in her life.
"Hey Death," She called quietly.
"Hmmm?"
"Thank you."
And with that she walked out of the study and towards the dining room that the elves were no doubt piling full as though for a feast.
AN: Thank you for your patience. Please let me know what you think! Thanks