Trust Evans to want to do a purification ritual before the Revel — not that Aster could even blame her really, she was a participant, it was respectful to get cleaned up first, and these things tended to go more smoothly if you didn't bring any traces of extraneous magic into them.

Though that hadn't stopped her deciding that she was borrowing one of the more formal dress robes Bella had insisted Aster needed (she was probably planning on trying to drag Aster to the Festa Morgana this year or something), because reasons. Those reasons being it made Evans think of a phoenix, bluish-white at the top fading through yellow, orange and red to black at the bottom hem, skirts carefully layered and slit so that they flickered like fire when she moved, the over-robe a sheer golden-orange silk embroidered with translucent flames, loose sleeves slashed into trailing, fluttering ribbons from the shoulder. Along with the protective enchantments Bella had insisted be included on all of her clothes, it was also supposedly fireproof, so you can make a really neat entrance, obviously. (If she got to literally set Society on fire, Aster might actually be interested in going to the stupid party.)

It made Aster think of the fae, like most of Bella's wardrobe. Though Bella always looked like she belonged in the Court of the Moon, and this was clearly a Court of the Sun robe. Anyway, she was sure she would never have an occasion to wear it. If Evans wanted to look like a fae princess for her date with Persephone, more power to her. Aster, as a Witness, hadn't been planning on dressing up at all. Evans had declared this highly disrespectful and decided that she would be wearing a cast-off dress Bella had commissioned when she was Aster's age, black and silver and enchanted so the skirts wouldn't foul her movements if she just so happened to get into a duel in the middle of a formal ball. (Which maybe Aster shouldn't mock since the Festa Morgana Riot had eventually happened, but it was still kind of ridiculous.)

Aster was pretty sure Evans had just never had the opportunity to wear really nice clothes, let alone an occasion to do so. It had taken her all of ten minutes after Aster shoved her things into their newly-shared wardrobe to decide that this communal property idea of Aster's should clearly go both ways. Aster's entire wardrobe was currently at school because, well, where else did she have to keep her shite anymore? Which meant Evans had been faced with literally hundreds of galleons of fancy, delicate clothing, and even Lily Evans wasn't immune to the desire to dress up and look pretty (because reasons) now and again. She was noticeably bigger than Aster, a couple inches taller and her frame was generally sturdier, wider in the hips and shoulders, but most of Aster's new clothes had been cut loosely or designed to be adjusted when (if) Aster ever managed to stop looking like a bloody skeleton. And being taller just meant she couldn't wear the high-heeled shoes that were meant to go with them. (Which would also be too small for her, anyway.)

Which was fine, Aster certainly wasn't planning on wearing any of that fancy shite any time soon, and obviously the communal property thing went both ways, that was kind of the point. The whole having to get dressed up thing just put her in a bad mood (a worse mood) because it reminded her of way too many Family functions over the years. (Though she could focus on being in a bad mood about dressing up, so there was that, she guessed...)

And ritual purification baths always made her feel naked, in a way actually being nude didn't. Which, they were supposed to, obviously, but that didn't mean that she wasn't immediately itching to cast a couple of charms on herself. She wasn't really one for cosmetic glamours (she didn't need them, really), but drying and styling her hair with magic was almost second nature, and she'd been using a charm to sharpen her sight, or rather to help her filter out the blur of ambient magic all around her, for years, now. Her eyesight was perfectly fine, but it still felt like she couldn't see shite as well as she ought to be able to, with that thin fog obscuring everything that wasn't enchanted or actively bespelled.

Bella had told her when she started using the charm that she really didn't need it. In fact, if she practised, she could probably pick out the currents in the ambient magic around her, apparently it made learning runic casting and geomancy much easier. But Aster was pretty sure that was just one of those things no one had ever told Bella that humans weren't supposed to be able to do, because she'd never heard anyone else suggest it was even possible, and she had asked around after Bella mentioned it. Even de Mort hadn't known what she was talking about, though that might have been because his own magic tended to taint the ambient magic around himself for several meters in every direction, giving it an order it didn't naturally have. Bella was kind of weirdly still and contained by comparison. Actually, in comparison to everyone, as though she had trained her magic to the same weird, vampiric stillness as she had her body.

Aster had never really noticed that before, the contrast between the two of them. It was weird, because she would have guessed de Mort was the more self-controlled one by a wide margin. She definitely wouldn't have guessed that de Mort's power would be so...quiescent, not really doing anything or apparently actively trying to get into people's minds, or that Dumbledore's magic would seem so agitated, despite the cool façade he was attempting to maintain.

Evans, completely oblivious to the danger of approaching a furious sorcerer (even if he was outnumbered at the moment), practically floated across the clearing toward them, ignoring the perimeter all the other students had formed, watching the conflict develop from its edges. And of course she dragged Aster with her, much as she'd dragged her through the school — arms linked together as though they were off to promenade or some such nonsense, obviously enjoying the attention their overly-formal appearance attracted.

"Asteria, Asphodel, don't you two look lovely this evening."

De Mort and Bella looked good as well, but then they always kind of did. (Aster suspected that Bella dressed de Mort, because he also tended to wear shite that fell into the odd, fae, too-formal-and-also-too-casual category as her own clothes.) The flickering light of the bonfire and the fact that Aster hadn't toned down her perception of magic made them look even more striking and ethereal than usual, but the Lord and Lady of the Underground clearly hadn't gone out of their way to dress up as Evans had insisted they do. Dumbledore actually looked like he'd put more effort into his appearance at the moment, wearing the sort of formal robes she'd expect to see on him at a Wizengamot function, and positively glowing with amulets and cantrips, as though he expected this confrontation to devolve into a fight. Jamie, who was lurking in his shadow all fae-struck, like he'd never seen a girl clean herself up before, had obviously found some way to warn him after all, despite sitting about three feet away from the bitch who had just banned them from the Great Hall.

Great.

Just fucking great.

Ten galleons said Dumbles was going to be furious with her for inviting them, just like James (despite the fact that she hadn't actually done any inviting). Unlike James, however, Dumbledore could crush her like a particularly annoying insect if he so chose.

Don't be ridiculous, Asteria, we're not going to let the big bad light sorcerer hurt either of you, de Mort thought at her, definite amusement tingeing his tone. What kind of shite parents do you think we are?

The kind who weren't actually parents? "De Mort," GET OUT OF MY HEAD! "Bella." She hesitated, but if they were going to be all traditional tonight... "Mors certa memento," she added, slightly grudgingly.

Bella grinned at her, offering the response far too gleefully to meet the tone of the holiday. "Ita quoque vita, mea."

Aster ignored her delight (and the possessive endearment). Yes, it had been years since she'd played along with such ritual greetings (usually she answered "remember that death is a certainty" with something along the lines of "death can suck my dick" or "define certainty") and longer since she'd instigated one, but that didn't mean she was coming around on the fuck the House of Black and all of its traditions front. "...Headmaster, Jamie. What brings you to the Woods this fine evening?" As though she didn't already know.

"Miss Black. Miss Evans," Dumbledore said, sounding far less approving of her greeting, or perhaps their presence. "I regret to inform you that the evening's entertainment has been cancelled."

Evans looked up at him, head cocked slightly to one side, her expression completely uncomprehending. "I don't think you have the authority to cancel 'the evening's entertainment,' Professor."

"I think you will find, Miss Evans, that I am well within my rights to disallow any practice or event I please within the grounds of Hogwarts. As I am within my rights to eject uninvited guests at my pleasure."

"But...it's the Revel. You can't cancel the Revel," she said, as though the very concept made as little sense as Jamie telling Aster not to listen to him.

"He also can't kick us out. The wards might be able to remove us from the actual Castle, but we came with no ill intent, we pose no threat to the students... You may be the Lord of Hogwarts, Albus darling, but her students are her children, and not so easily disowned as you clearly wish we were." Bella gave the Headmaster a sharp smile. "And we both know you don't want to try to remove me by force. I seem to remember someone telling me that actions have consequences, once upon a time."

"You are not welcome here, Bellatrix. And yes, Miss Evans, I can cancel the Revel, and have, in fact, done so. I suggest you return to your dormitory before—"

"No. I suggest you return to your rooms, because—"

"Evans!"

"Bella was invited, Aster. He wasn't. And we will be celebrating the Deathly Power here tonight. There is no universe in which we don't — only ones wherein Death walks among us more violently than others." That tone of serene certainty sent shivers of ice down Aster's spine. It was...disturbing. Very much a priestess of Death sort of voice, rather than the faintly amused or generally annoyed attitude she expected from Evans. She had edged into sounding like that a few times over the course of the day, but she hadn't been actually giving pronouncements of imminent death while they'd been drinking and talking about exploring other universes.

She could feel de Mort's amusement on the air, which had to mean he was projecting it at her deliberately — she certainly wasn't a legilimens — but he didn't seem to have anything in particular to say about the fact that his daughter was being all necromancer-ish.

"Lily!" James gasped, as the Headmaster's power flared around him, clearly offended. "You can't just threaten Dumbledore! I'm sorry, sir, she's clearly not herself—"

Evans laughed sharply, cutting him off. "Go fuck yourself, Potter — gods and Powers, it feels so good to finally say that. Go fuck yourself. You don't know me. This is very much who I am, and I'm not threatening anyone. I'm simply stating a fact. Death does not adjust Her plans at the whims of petty mortal tyrants!" That was a bit less serene.

Well, she's not wrong, the other mad ritualist in the room (...clearing, whatever) commented.

Both Jamie and Dumbledore seemed to be shocked into silence, giving Bella plenty of time to repeat, "Petty mortal tyrant?" cackling like a madwoman. "You're giving him too much credit, Princess. Tyrants have power."

"Even baby basilisks can bite, Bella," de Mort said, a positively oppressive calm falling over the lot of them as he sort of...leaned into the magic that was always there around him, even if it wasn't particularly noticeable. The subtle demonstration of power was all the more impressive because Aster could see Dumbledore trying to resist it, and getting absolutely nowhere. "Even so, Asphodel, tone it down. We both know the show will go on."

"I think this is the part where I say you're not my real father. Of course the show will go on, that's not the point!"

De Mort went all blank-faced in surprise, Dumbledore went a greyish sort of pale, and James's incomprehension took on a terrified undertone. Bella grinned like a kid seeing Honeydukes for the first time, her eyes flitting from one of them to the next very much the same way Aster's were.

She smacked her idiot roommate over the shoulder. "What happened to not telling people that de Mort's your fucking sire, Evans?!"

Evans paused for a moment as though she hadn't realised exactly what she was implying, but then shrugged. "Oops? But we all make fuck the world choices now and again, don't we? And I find I can't bring myself to care about any consequence so brief as to be able to affect me within the span of a single human lifetime, tonight. It's very...liberating."

"Wh-What is that supposed to mean?" Jamie stuttered, clearly unnerved. Probably as much by de Mort's laughter as Evans's words.

It means necromancers get a bit nihilistic around Samhain, Jamie. And possibly also a bit drunk on magic. She didn't say it, because she wasn't at all certain anything she said to Jamie wouldn't come out as I'm sorry, I don't understand what I did wrong, just tell me and I'll fix it!

"It means, Potter, that you are infinitely unimportant in the grand scheme of things, not only to me but to the universe. As are we all. And I'm tired of dealing with your constant attempts to woo a girl who does not exist. And I'm tired of pretending to give a shite, being your good little poster girl for muggleborn success." That was directed toward the still-grey-faced Dumbledore, though she quickly turned back to Jamie to continue berating him. "I'm tired of listening to insipid platitudes and holding my tongue and smiling and nodding when people spout Light idiocy at me and expect me to go along with it because I'm muggleborn, and clearly that means I don't have a fucking brain, or eyes to see all the ways Britain is completely—"

Alright, apparently no one else was going to interrupt. Aster really thought someone should, though. "Ah, just kinda spitballing, here, but — crazy idea — maybe Samhain isn't the best time to have this conversation?" Or, you know, when she wasn't standing right in front of Dumbledore? Just maybe?! Though the Chief Warlock looked too shocked to respond properly. Or at all.

I thought you wanted dear little Jamie to realise that Asphodel is hardly the paragon of goodness and Light he believes her to be.

Well, yes, but I don't want her to ruin her entire life. Dumbledore does know you're the Dark Lord, doesn't he?

He doesn't, actually. He knows Tom Riddle grew up to become the Dark Lord, but I've gone to a great deal of trouble to disassociate myself from that name, and this isn't quite the face he remembers from my school days. He believes I'm Riddle's right hand, one of his first recruits...the Albus Dumbledore to his Gellert Grindelwald, one might say. But of course there's no proof of that — a good right hand cannot be officially linked to anything so unsavoury as Dark Lordship, obviously.

That was... Well, it did explain how de Mort and Bella could still show their faces in public, she guessed. She just didn't know how he'd managed to pull it off. Clearly mind magic was cheating.

Evans grinned at her. "What better time is there to burn your life to the ground and start from scratch?"

"Okay, I'll grant you that, but—"

"But me no buts, Aster. I know what I'm doing."

—but even if Dumbledore thought she was the number two Death Eater's kid, instead of the Dark Lord's, that still didn't seem like a great move. Especially not if she was simultaneously making it very clear that she wasn't willing to be turned to the Light instead of following her biological father into the non-existent 'real' Dark Lord's forces.

I think you underestimate Dumbledore's capacity for self-delusion. He was still trying to turn Bella away from my service when she left school.

But...how? Wait, no, focus, Aster! You were saying a thing! "And I knew what I was doing when I fucked you. Doesn't mean there won't be consequences. And even if you don't care now, you will when you wake up tomorrow and remember you're mortal and the world is less infinite and everyone's watching you like you might turn around and start avada-ing people at any second."

"On the other hand, though, I'm probably less likely to turn around and start avada-ing people who don't expect me to be their perfect little golden girl. Openly claiming Thom as my biological father seems like an awfully good way to undercut any expectations in that direction, doesn't it?"

"Miss Evans, I..." Dumbledore trailed off, apparently still too shocked to articulate his comment.

"Maybe tone down the honesty, Evans, you're scaring the natives."

Evans gave her an odd, distant smile, much like the one she'd worn looking out on the ancient, broken circle out in the Forest. "But you said it yourself, there's no pretense in Death."

"What's wrong with her?" Jamie asked Aster, before turning bravely to de Mort. "Did— Did you do something to her?"

"Hardly. What on earth do you suspect I might have done?"

Jamie wasn't quite brave enough to suggest de Mort had turned Evans into some kind of puppet, though Aster wasn't certain whether it was de Mort's mild, knowing smirk or Evans's unnerving serenity he found more terrifying. Probably the latter.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Aster snapped, abruptly losing patience for this whole exercise. She didn't have a knife on her, because she wasn't a completely paranoid Dark Lady, and if she asked to borrow Bella's that would give away the game. It appeared that de Mort wasn't going to do it for her, either. (He also didn't bother justifying refusing to do something useful instead of just randomly dropping comments on her thoughts all the time.) But that was fine, she was perfectly capable of dealing with this unarmed. Since apparently no one else thinks Evans floating away on the tide is slightly problematic...

Still nothing. Well, Bella snorted, addressing Jamie's concern. "This has nothing to do with Thom, she's fine, she's just a little magic-high and fae because it's Samhain and Death is less temporally discrete than humans generally perceive the universe to be."

That explanation was missing at least a couple of details that James wouldn't be able to fill in, like what it meant to be an anchor in a ritual of this size and how it felt to actually participate in a real ritual. She was sure Dorea had introduced him to Magic when he was little, but probably only once, when he was three or five. He probably didn't remember. (But that was completely irrelevant.)

She grabbed Evans's left wrist and the smallest finger on that hand before she could react, pulling, twisting, and jamming the finger out of place.

"Aah! Ow! Fucking ow, Aster, what the fuck?!" Evans cried, clutching at her hand, as though that would make it hurt less.

"Miss Black!" Dumbledore snapped, his wand suddenly in his hand, immobilising Aster with some more complex version of the basic restraint charm (either that or he was still maintaining it, because it didn't break under her silent, wandless finite), despite the fact that she'd already let Evans go. "Explain yourself at once!"

Well she would, but she was fucking frozen, wasn't she?

De Mort waved a negligent hand in her general direction, breaking the spell, because he was a fucking show off like that, even as Bella explained, sniggering, "Obviously she forgot her knife."

"I didn't forget it, I deliberately didn't bring it, because why would I?! You're not dead," she informed Evans. "And you're not Death, either. Seemed like you might need reminding of that."

("I know you're not much of a ritualist, but I presume you're familiar with the concept of grounding, Albus?")

"...Oh. Well, good job, I guess. Fuck that hurts!" Evans whined. There were actually tears in her eyes.

Really? Suck it up, Evans. "It's supposed to. If you heal it, I'll do it again."

"What the hell, Sirius?! Did you just break her fucking finger?!"

("Oh, poor baby. Come here," Bella said, putting on a ridiculously overdone sympathetic voice. Evans obviously knew she was faking it, but edged a bit closer to her, anyway. "Hand.")

That one she couldn't just ignore, not when he was speaking to her directly. "No," she said, trying not to sound all wooden and hurt, or like she was trying overly-hard to make him see that she wasn't some terrible, finger-breaking monster. "I dislocated it, because when you're getting carried away by magic and the real world starts seeming awfully distant and unimportant, there's really nothing like a little pain to remind you that you're a mortal, physical being." There were other ways to ground yourself, but the problem was, when you were high enough on magic (or up enough) that you actually needed to ground yourself, you usually didn't want to. So.

"Be that as it may," Dumbledore said sternly, seizing onto the opportunity to tell her off as though it were some sort of lifeline he could follow back to a point in the conversation where he was actually in some position of authority rather than an impotent bystander. (Aster actually approved of this strategy, because it gave her a reason to stop looking at Jamie and his perpetual expression of shock and horror at the idea that she was still a Black, no matter how much she tried to pretend she wasn't.) "Corporal punishment is not an acceptable grounding technique, and—"

He was cut off by a pained yelp from Evans as Bella popped her finger back into place. "Oh, yes," Bella drawled, "because it's so practical to convince someone to sit down and meditate with you when they're halfway out to sea." Aster snorted. She highly doubted that Bella had ever tried to convince someone to sit down and meditate when stabbing them had the same effect and was a thousand times faster. She certainly never had Aster. "And encouraging someone to focus is hardly the same thing as punishing them. Though I'm not sure how long it will last in this case — big ritual like this with her at the centre of it, she's going to keep getting bleed-through from timelines where it wasn't delayed."

"And," Dumbledore continued, as though Bella hadn't spoken, "it is certainly not Miss Black's place to ensure Miss Evans retains some semblance of awareness of her surroundings. Indeed, the most effective solution to such a problem would be to definitively remove Miss Evans from the situation. Thus I say again, return to the school, Miss Evans. We will discuss this incident — and the wisdom of delving into deep magics such as this and the consequences of associating with such persons as Miss Black—" Wait, what? They were fucking roommates, wasn't like they had a lot of say in the matter... "—and Mister de Mort—" Oh, Bella. "—in a day or two, when you are feeling more yourself."

Evans scowled at him, but it was Bella who answered, loosing the magic she had been keeping so carefully contained to surround them with roiling, furious energy. Ignoring her was one of the sure-fire ways to irk her. "You will do no such thing, Albus. Asphodel's relationship with Magic is none of your business, and the only consequence of her association with us that you need concern yourself over is the fact she now has some leverage to resist your attempts to force her into the Light. Harassing her over either of those points will result only in her removal from your sphere of influence, and you may rest assured that I will take any attempt to subvert our daughter very personally."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed dangerously at the phrase our daughter, forming an expression that bore a passing resemblance to slyness. "Why, Miss Black, can it possibly be that you actually care about Miss Evans? I must confess myself surprised, given that you have never expressed such enthusiastic support of your sisters or your young cousins."

Bella gave him a feral grin. "I raised Cissy, Aster, and Reggie. They don't need reminding that you hold no legitimate authority over them. That doesn't mean that I won't obliterate your presence from this plane and your memory from history if you threaten any one of them. If you manage to convince Asteria that yours is the morally superior position, I won't attempt to prevent her joining your forces, but they — including Asphodel — are not pawns in our little game. If you attempt to treat them as such, I think you'll find that the so-called atrocities I've allegedly committed are nothing compared to the horrors I am capable of inflicting on you and your people."

"Bella," de Mort said firmly. "This is not why we're here."

"Albus started it," Bella said, cheerful intimidation collapsing into childish sulkiness in the space of a breath.

The weight of de Mort's power all around them took on a distinctly disapproving tone as Evans volunteered, "You don't need to protect me, Bella. I am aware that Albus Dumbledore holds no more authority over me than any other mortal creature. And I've changed my mind. He can stay. He just doesn't want to."

"Wh-What is that supposed to mean?" Jamie stuttered. "Lily, you're kind of scaring me."

"I'm...not entirely sure what it means, actually. He can stay because Ariana misses him, but... I don't really know how I know he doesn't want to stay, just that he never does. And who the hell is Ariana?"

"His sister," de Mort explained, as Dumbledore went oddly grey again. "Her death is the reason Albus and Gellert broke up. I expect he's afraid to face her spirit, given that he is certainly responsible for her death in some part, even if he did not cast the fatal curse himself."

"Oh." She turned back to Dumbledore with the same serenely blank expression she'd been wearing before Aster dislocated her finger. "He needn't be. She died scared and alone. You were right there, and you didn't see, and that made her sad. But the fact of her death wasn't your fault, only the method of it. She was frail, her control weakened by mourning and the loss of the only constant in her life. Had you not been there to take her mind away from Kendra, her magic would have overwhelmed her mind and body, destroying her in the expression of her pain."

"I— Miss Evans, this conversation is not over," the Headmaster said, edging away from her slightly even as he said it, obviously unnerved. Not surprising, really, he probably didn't spend much time at all around people channeling the Powers, and especially not when they were deliberately trying to make him uncomfortable. Or at least, Aster assumed that was deliberate. He was getting in the way of Death's party, after all. "We will be discussing your behaviour tonight at a later date!"

Evans sighed. "Yes, Brian, dear, you may be excused." Yeah, that definitely wasn't Evans speaking. Maybe Dumbledore's mum? The man fled, trying very hard not to look like that was exactly what he was doing, and failing miserably. Evans smirked as he scuttled off toward the school — a verb Aster had never before associated with Albus Dumbledore. "Good. I was hoping I wouldn't have to get Percival involved. Nasty piece of work, he was."

Bella, still giggling over Dumbledore being excused by his mum via Evans, reached over and tweaked her finger, the knuckle still swollen and obviously tender.

She hissed in pain, eyes clenched against it. When they fluttered open again, she looked around as though surprised to see herself standing in the clearing before the Samhain bonfire, students cautiously approaching.

"So, um...we should do the ritual, because I'm starting not to feel so good." She didn't look so good either, swaying slightly on her feet.

De Mort rolled his eyes, throwing an arm around her shoulders to steady her. "Yes, there are reasons that one generally invokes Aspects via ritual rather than direct resonance possession."

"Shut up." Evans glared weakly up at him, before turning her attention to the figures approaching out of the dark. "Where's Evan? Rosier — he's supposed to be the Master of Ceremonies, he— Rosier!"

"Who else is supposed to be in the circle?" Bella asked.

"Ah... It's Evan, Narcissa, Flo Ainsley, Thaddeus Kronk, Amy Bones, Dierk Wilkes, Lettie Selwyn, Nic Carmichael, and me."

De Mort's magic spread throughout the clearing as she spoke, presumably seeking out the individuals she'd named to drag their arses over here, which was just... One wizard should not be able to flood that much space with their personal magic, okay? It was kind of obscene, and overwhelmingly...overwhelming, and Aster didn't want to think de Mort was hot, okay, no matter how much of a turn-on that kind of power was.

His amusement shivered through her, but he didn't otherwise comment, thankfully. He'd probably say something like, I don't need the Imperius to make you do humiliating shite, or I'm sure Bella wouldn't mind if you joined us on occasion, which—

Well, you see, I don't really need to say anything, given that you've clearly already stumbled across the more pertinent elements of my commentary of your own accord...

GET OUT OF MY HEAD, DE MORT!

"You— You're on first name terms with Black and Rosier?" Jamie sounded slightly horrified, as though that was the most disturbing thing Evans had said in the past...however long they'd been out here now.

"Yes, Potter, I am," she said coolly, emphasising his own surname ever-so-slightly, just to drive it home that she favoured Narcissa and Evan over him. It hit home, too — Aster saw him flinch as he got it. "Oh, hey, Sev," she said, glancing over his shoulder to where the Dungeon Bat was emerging from the shadows, alongside Reggie and Evan.

"Lily...why are you literally cozying up to the Dark Lord?" Snape asked, nodding slightly deferentially to both Bella and the Dark Lord in question as Reg and Evan made much more obsequious greetings.

"Er, gravity's being mean to me? Evan, we need to start the ritual, we're late."

"My question was more, why is Monsieur de Mort the person helping you fight off that evil bastard which is gravity?"

"Oh. Apparently he's my father. It's this whole thing."

"He's what?" all three of the Slytherins managed to say in concert.

"This is what happens when you skive off on Hogsmeade because I'm creeping you out."

"You go off and become even creepier?"

"Well, I was going with you miss things, but yes, that too, probably. I don't know, I can't tell. Thom, this is Severus Snape — as you may recall, he's mine, you can't have him. Also," she added, turning briefly to Jamie, "I'm stealing Aster, you don't deserve her." Which... Aster was so completely blindsided by that declaration, she barely heard the rest of the introduction. "Sev, this is Thom, though you should probably not call him that."

"Er...well met, sir."

Evans giggled, though at his calling de Mort sir or de Mort's so-grave-I'm-clearly-being-sarcastic, "Mister Snape," Aster wasn't sure.

Snape glared at Aster. "I thought you said you would stop her from doing anything mad, Black!"

Bella giggled, probably because the Blacks didn't precisely have a reputation for not doing mad shite. "She didn't get arrested, and what was I supposed to do? Go back in time and ensure that de Mort didn't rape her mum?"

"Obviously not, if you had Lily wouldn't exist!"

"Then I fail to understand your objection."

This might be a landmark event — in five years of constant insults and provocation, Aster didn't actually think she'd ever managed to render Snape speechless. As he stared at her with an expression that couldn't quite seem to decide whether it was anger, resignation, or confusion (or some degree of all three options, and probably more besides), she overheard Bella say, "Asphodel de Mort, adopted daughter of the House of Black."

"I didn't agree to be adopted, remember? I already have a family."

"They're muggles," Evan said bluntly. "They don't count."

"Evan," Reg hissed, "don't insult her! Er, I'm sorry, by the way, Miss de Mort, about, um..."

"Generally being an enormous twat?" Aster suggested.

"Er...yes, that. If there's anything I can do to make it up to you...?"

"No, there's not, really. I mean, now I know you can't get Bella to kill my muggle family — who definitely count, Rosier — there's no reason not to repay all the shite you've done trying to recruit Sev, is there? Also, it's still Evans. And Thom's right, we should do the ritual, you can grovel for mercy later."

Amy Bones approached cautiously, clearly not keen to interrupt — Aster would bet anything she was fully aware who Bella and de Mort were — but eager to get on with their night. "So, we are doing the ritual then? The Headmaster okayed it?"

"Yes," Evans declared, stepping toward the fire very decisively, only to stagger to one side as though completely trashed. "Fucking gravity! Come on, Amy, Evan. You have everything set up?"

Amy and Evan led her — and the pack of other amateur ritualists — off to do whatever they actually needed to do still. It wasn't like there was a whole lot of preparation, beyond starting the fire and making sure everyone had their sacrifice to hand. Water, wine, honey, bread, meat, life, feeling, and...she couldn't remember the other two off the top of her head. In her defense, she usually didn't come down until the rite was well under way. She usually tried to resist the pull of the magic but she very rarely managed it.

Creation — specifically toolmaking, generally represented by an enchanted artefact or a complex potion or alchemical product — and expression — generally some form of artwork. They're the other two anchors.

Right. She knew that. So is it just me, or is this really awkward? she wondered, casting a glance at Reggie, awkwardly trying to suss out through Bella's teasing how angry Evans was with him and what degree of grovelling would be necessary; to Snape, who obviously thought this situation called for some degree of...something, and was therefore awkwardly apologising for Evans claiming him like that...or possibly for the assumption that de Mort would want to recruit him, because that was presumptive...or something; to Jamie, looking around slightly wild-eyed, as though he was desperately hoping that this was a nightmare or everyone collectively fucking with him.

Not that Aster would be particularly disappointed herself to find out that this entire surreal, disturbing, painful day had been a particularly vivid nightmare, but it definitely wasn't.

Without any conscious decision to do so, she found herself drifting over to him. "You alright, Jamie?"

He glared at her. "No! No, Sirius, I'm not alright! I don't— How— What the hell is going on here? De Mort is Lily's father?! And what– what was wrong with her? Why did she say those things to Dumbledore? How did she even know— I mean, she didn't know what she was saying...did she?"

Aster sighed. "Of course she knew what she was saying. She didn't know how she knew it, there's a difference. And yes, he's her sire, I can't believe I didn't see it before, they're eerily similar in some ways—" Though, come to think of it, part of that might be because today was Samhain. Standing too close to Death would make it a bit difficult to care about shite like him and Bella raping and torturing into catatonia (respectively) the mother Evans never knew. Yes, she was a cold bitch, but that was a bit much even for her, Aster thought. "—and I could spend days telling you what's wrong with her. Pretty sure I have, actually. But tonight? Mostly just, she was raised by muggles. No one taught her how to do ritual magic and she's obviously a necromancer, so—"

"Necromancer?!"

"Er...yeah? Not formally, with the sacrifices and the veils and shite, obviously, but..." Formal necromancy was kind of rare, these days. Aster had met exactly one proper necromancer (other than Evans), one of the positively ancient Boneses, he had to be getting on two-hundred and fifty (and wasn't a metamorph or something, so actually looked it). He was still sharp, though. She didn't actually remember why she'd been over to theirs in the first place (she'd been all of six at the time). The part of that day that really stood out in her memory was asking "Grandfather" why he was wearing a veil, even though it wasn't a funeral, and hearing more about formal necromancy, the sacrifices they made and their traditions of removing themselves from humanity in order to become closer to Death, than she'd ever expected to hear.

From what she remembered, it had sounded terrible.

She distinctly recalled not understanding why anyone would choose to live like that, never touching another human being, never eating tasty things or doing anything exciting — not really living, as far as she was concerned — but he hadn't seemed unhappy about it. In hindsight, he actually seemed a little absent, like he wasn't really paying much attention to the world around him at all, maybe because he was already mostly on the other side of the Veil (he'd died not long after, she thought). But not the point. Evans clearly wasn't that kind of necromancer.

"But nothing, Sirius! I think I would've noticed if Lily went around doing bloody death rituals and killing people and shite!"

...Maybe... Yes, Jamie did spend an awful lot of time stalking Evans, but she could be a sneaky bitch. And he'd clearly managed (somehow) to avoid noticing that she was a bloody dark ritualist regardless of Aster literally telling him as much, on multiple occasions.

Besides, she knew she was right.

See, the point of making those sacrifices, foregoing all the things that made life interesting and fun in favour of priestly abstinence, was...basically turning your entire life into a ritual to attract Death's attention. Living in emulation of Death and the Dead and forcing people to consider the reality of death whether they liked to or not, and asking in exchange that Death gift you with knowledge, usually of the nature of the soul or Magic or whatever. Which ironically meant Death probably didn't like them much, that they didn't have much natural resonance with It — if they did, they wouldn't need to go to that much effort to catch Its eye (metaphorically). Dark necromancers, ones who went about attracting Death's attention with human sacrifices and begging Its favour in war and such, were similar in that way.

"People Death likes don't need to do anything special to get Its attention. Doesn't mean she's not a necromancer. Death talks to her. They have an established thing outside of this ritual, too, so she's getting more bleed-through than Amy and Evan, even though they're anchors, too. And because she hasn't been doing rituals since she was a little kid, she never learned how to focus on the mundane world when magic's running away with you."

De Mort, apparently having finally gotten Snape to shut up and stop apologising, gave a sort of considering hum as he turned to their conversation. "It's not just that. I presume you're familiar with the concept of soul resonance?"

Aster was. Jamie clearly wasn't. Unless he was just so uncomfortable with the Dark Lord speaking to him directly that he couldn't form a response.

A bit of both, de Mort informed her, amusement accompanying the thought.

"The gods favour those mortals in whom they see themselves reflected, humans who, by simply living their lives, reinforce the reality of the existence of the gods their souls echo. Their souls resonate naturally with some aspect of magic, strongly enough that they're easily influenced, especially in the shadow of a major working such as this."

"And– and Lily is...that? So it wasn't really her, saying those things?"

De Mort gave Jamie a sinister smile. "It was and it wasn't. Regardless of the degree of influence Persephone might hold over Asphodel at any given moment, however, I assure you she is very much my daughter. You may wish to keep that in mind, if you intend to persist in your asinine pursuit of her affections."

"What is that supposed to mean?" James demanded, momentarily forgetting, it appeared, that he was speaking to the Dark Lord.

Bella ghosted up behind him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in an apparently casual gesture, though when he flinched away Aster had the distinct impression she was preventing him from moving, fingers digging into his upper arm. "It means, Cousin, that Asphodel's tolerance for your idiocy is finite. And if you continue to press her after her patience is exhausted, she will eat you alive. Metaphorically. Probably."

"Bella," Aster snapped. "Leave him alone."

"Are you forgetting this little piece of shite made you cry earlier this evening?"

Aster found herself inhaling rather sharply. Fuck you, de Mort. And not in a sexy way! (Because him creeping into her head to catch up on what they'd missed in the past few hours was the only way Bella could know that, fucker.)

Nonsense. I simply asked Asphodel how precisely Mister Potter managed to prove himself unworthy of your affections when she decided to claim you as well as this shy young man.

(Snape, presumably, who was edging carefully away from de Mort, muttering something to a very disturbed Reggie, the two of them probably trying to work through the sudden revelation that Evans was the Dark Lord's daughter. Not important.)

Fine, I stand corrected. Fuck you, Evans! "Are you forgetting I don't need you to protect me? If you want to help, you can explain how the fuck I'm supposed to take Jamie's word for it that taking his word for what's right and wrong is, in fact, wrong."

Bella shrugged. "Sure. Your precious Jamie is an idiot, and doesn't have the necessary degree of confidence in his own beliefs and their internal consistency to support your reliance on his guidance in lieu of developing your own. He knows he's going to fail you, so it's not in your best interests to rely on him, which makes it wrong. Not morally, for you — it could be morally wrong for him, I suppose, to encourage your reliance on him, knowing he's weak and unworthy — but for you it's just practically wrong. Disadvantageous, not discordant," she added, slipping into Gobbledygook to make the distinction clearer. Which...that actually kind of made sense. Still hurt, she had to tell him that he wasn't going to fail her — she trusted him, his judgment, even if he didn't trust himself — but not now, in front of Bella and de Mort. "Though it could also just be that he's scared that a few simple questions and observations can so easily undermine his perfect, light little world." She let go of the petrified James to ruffle Aster's loose, unstyled curls. "Honestly, it's good Asphodel's stealing you, because at this rate the Old Goat isn't going to want you on his side."

"Well I don't want to be on your side. Not if you're going to keep killing innocent civilians and bloody muggles to provoke the Aurors."

"Yes, well, you know what you can do about that, don't you?" de Mort interjected,

Before Aster could snap back something along the lines of their taking the Isle of Man and buggering off to let the government collapse in the wake of their secession being even worse than actually taking over Britain and running it properly, Evan called for their attention, beginning the ritual, an unnatural hush falling over the clearing.