See Chapter 1 for disclaimer

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Chapter Two

An odd combination

Severus recalled the first time he had heard of the Order of Bren. Ancient as the magic they possessed, their membership consisted of only the most powerful of powerful wizards and witches, inducted early and trained thoroughly. Enigmatic, yet potent, their order had been responsible, directly or indirectly, for most of the celebrated victories against evil and injustice in wizarding history. Brens (wizards) and Brenas (witches) were respected and feared. Rumours of their mighty power became somewhat mythical in the wizarding world—mythical was an accurate word in Severus' mind, at least. The level and effectiveness of wandless magic they were supposedly capable of was impossible.

Severus absently stirred his cauldron and was rewarded with singed arm hair. "Damn," he cursed aloud to no one. Setting that particular project aside, knowing better than to brew with less than 100% concentration, he returned to his musing about the infuriating and entitled witch. While belonging to the Bren was more than impressive, when it was coupled with the purported gifts of the Illuminatae, the idea became fantastical. Severus knew far more Illuminatae than Bren, which until this morning had been none.

He was in his sixth year as a member of Slytherin house at Hogwarts when it was announced that a Hufflepuff house member his age would be given a gift of Illuminatae. Completely wasted on a Hufflepuff, he wagered. He struggled to remember the exact nature of the gift the boy received. Ah, yes. It was a gift of knowledge, but knowledge of what? Severus couldn't remember if it was knowledge of runes or divination. He still regarded it as a rather mundane gift in comparison to the others of which he had heard: clairvoyance, invisibility, Time Turner-less time travel, extrasensory perception.

The list was long if not a tad bit hyperbolised. But the gifts were real, Severus knew. The gifts were passed from an old and powerful wizard or witch to a younger member of the magical community with great potential. Had he not been sorted into Slytherin, Snape himself would have most likely been a recipient of a gift. As it was and, still is, most Illuminatae refuse to pass their gifts into the care of the members of a house notorious for its history of producing dark wizards and, more recently, Death Eaters.

To meet a Brena who also had a gift of Illuminatae was rare to the point of fancy. And yet, only hours ago, Severus had met one. He wondered what Brena Morganae's particular gift was. Perhaps the acerbic wit, he thought dryly. He tried to recall her appearance to see if there may have been a physical manifestation of her gift.

In his mind's eye, he began from the top of her form, noting her red hair coiled into a tight up do, held in place by ivory combs. That fiery coif was certainly no gift, he scoffed. She was tall as well even to him. Though the potions master stood at over 190 centimetres, she was able to look him in the eye without sticking her chin into the air as most women had to resort to. She was tall without being willowy and fair without looking sun deprived. While he had disliked her immediately, he was forced to admit she had been pleasing to the eye, though certainly not the ear.

He then remembered the old world cut of her dress and mentally smacked his forehead. Of course the style had seemed familiar—it was the traditional fashion of the Bren Order. The men donned Edwardian highwayman coats and culottes while the women wore elaborately brocaded dresses made from heavy silks and linens. The men's wear was almost always green and accented with gold. The women wore all shades of blue with all types of silver filigree. The modest cut and embroidery of her dress was an aristocratic symbol of status. A symbol he had failed to recognise.

"A Brena!? Teaching here at Hogwarts!?" Minerva practically screeched at Dumbledore. "Albus, I realise your affinity for the girl—and I'm certainly not denying her need to be protected—but she mustn't stay here any longer than absolutely necessary."

"And I think," Albus interrupted, "that the entire school year is necessary. Besides, she'll make a fine Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. Surely, Minerva, you cannot deny her obvious talent in that respect," the headmaster winked at the perturbed witch.

"But Albus," she began. He silenced her thought by holding up his hand. Seconds later, the office door opened to reveal the Brena in question. Griee walked further in. She bowed, stiffly due to soreness, to Minerva and greeted her warmly.

"Yes dear," Minerva answered, politely. "I am doing well. I must take my leave, however." She gave Albus a pointed look and muttered her pardon as she walked through the doorway. Griee looked back at Albus and smirked.

"She's not happy to have me here, is she?"

"You know the answer better than I," he chuckled. "Come and sit. I don't mean to rush you, of course. I would rather you didn't have to do this but…" his voice trailed off. Griee took his hand with a warm squeeze

"Albus," she smiled sadly, "we've both had to do quite a few things we'd rather not. And while we loathed the tasks, we did them pretty damn well. This is just one more test…a scary little test though, huh?" she chuckled. "Bring on the Pensieve!" The self-mocking air of her last comments brought a smile to the headmaster's lips.

"Of course," he said leading her to the table. For the next fifteen minutes she was forced to relive the most harrowing event in her life while the headmaster, her friend and mentor, looked on helpless to give comfort.