Chapter Two: Family
An Auror standard issue uniform is navy blue in color with black riding boots, an outer robe, and optional black leather gloves. Rank is displayed on the cuff with stripes of black or gray, by number and color arrangement, trousers are navy, tailored to allow movement while providing a seamless look. The jacket, also navy, also tailored was high collared, usually cut in the style of a Catholic priest, and sleeves are usually slightly flared; many of the older, higher ranking officers wear gloves to hide missing fingers or scars. Outer robe is gray or navy sleeveless but many wear longer, more formal styles with full sleeves. One wand is carried inside the outer robe, near the heart, this is the spare weapon and another wand, and the one most commonly used hangs on the waist from the belt. Hair is well trimmed and usually short although long hair can be worn out of the eyes. Jewelry, especially wedding rings, is discouraged but Aurors have been known to wear lucky charms around their necks or carried inside of their coat.
An Auror is addressed by rank or assumed names. Real names are usually known among the squad but seldom used, at least in public, and the assumed name is more common and generally accepted. The Rank is the formal means of addressing an Auror and expected when surrounded civilians. An assumed name will occasionally give way to a nickname that as used as a term of endearment and while among other Aurors, first names are used.
Aurors tend to be closely knit regardless of the fake names and cold demeanors, among them there is a saying:
Once an Auror, always one.
"Cadets, attention!" Shouted Peace Cassidy, Auror Apprentice, under Gideon Mallory and 25 years old. "Auror at Arms, on the floor."
The assembled cadets, ages ranging from 17 to 26, and about 15 in number straightened as their superior officer entered the room. He was perhaps the best Auror to come out of England since Mad Eye Moody but was lesser known, having spent his almost his entire career in the shadows of other men. He was a legend among the Aurors but was invisible to anyone outside of Hecate. He was a cold man but had been trained by the best Hecate had to offer. A strong frame, well hidden under his uniform, was still trim even as the man was beginning to leave his prime. His eyes were sharp but narrowed constantly in a ever-present paranoid scowl. Scars adorned him like any other Auror; mostly on his hands and arms from various scraps and little battles and he was said to nursed a bad back. Sighing deeply, this Auror stepped into the room and gave the cadets their first view of his most prominent scar.
That of three pale lines, carved over his left eye.
"Armsman, the cadets are assembled."
And Severus Snape released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "It shouldn't be this easy, you know that, right?"
Beside him, Gideon snorted. "Welcome back."
Severus studied the people around him and thought he should feel tense or at the very least out of place. After all, he hadn't been called Armsman in almost twenty years and the last time he had, it ended with bad memories and a few scars. He could feel Gideon's eyes on him and knew the Malfoy was smiling. He sneered at Gideon but felt something inside him stirred. He was about to ask Gideon about it but something caught his attention, invoking a image of simple beauty. The sun pierced through a window and illuminated the room, where the Aurors waited at attention, and drew shadows over Gideon's face.
And he smiled, he didn't feel tense or out of place because there was no need for it. He belonged there just as much as anyone of those standing in the room.
Once an Auror, always one.
Severus Snape was home. It felt right.
"At ease, Cassidy" Gideon ordered. Cassidy nodded first to him, then to his cadets. Gideon motioned with a gloved hand Severus and began to inspect the cadets while his partner, Desmond Moody hung back behind them. "These are currently apprentices under various senior Aurors. You know of course how that works."
"Where will I be assigned?" Snape asked, folding hands behind him, walking side-by-side and staring at the fresh faces of all those Aurors. He found himself wondering which ones wouldn't be there by the time they assembled next. Times were bleak for the world. Lord Voldemort was back in full power, complete with a new set of demons and war gods and it was up to children like the ones before him to fight against monsters that Snape had helped create. Now, he had to help destroy it.
And it wasn't the Dark Prince, or even the great spy that the world needed, it was Alexander Rouge, the great Auror Miracle Maker. Only he didn't think he could be that for them…
But he would die trying.
"Last time I was here, I was under Smith for Interrogations. Who heads up that department?"
"Malachi's old student, Scott Saunders. But you won't be on that. You're assigned to the strategy and troop movements."
"Ah, I get to be a chess player." He nodded, not recognizing the name and feeling a pang of guilt for not doing so. "Anything else I should know?"
"Desmond and I will be working in the London branch, directly under Mad Eye. You'll be working here until it's safer. Not to mention, you'll need time to fall back into the routine."
"Who's my squad?"
"Phoenix Hawke, Hecate's liaison to England's Ministry. You should like him. Smart man and amazing to see at work. Other squad members are Sky Falls, and Beckett Stallens."
"Wait, stop." Severus said, fully recognizing that name. "Sky Falls, the Sky Falls, the woman whose first reaction to everything was to blow it up?"
"Ah, you remember her."
"Remember her?" Severus repeated. "I still have nightmares about her." He shifted in his coat, pulling at its buttons.
"Something wrong with your uniform?" Desmond asked, with the softest hint of amusement.
Snape met his eyes, coldly. "I miss my black and although, I never thought I'd say this…I miss Hogwarts."
"You know, I'm beginning to believe that place has a similar curse to Hecate's." Gideon mused. "Maybe we should warn Amissa."
"Van Ness? Why on earth would…"
"They never married, Severus." Gideon interrupted softly. "Sydney died before then, and she's been sent to replace the Runes Professor at Hogwarts. I arranged it. Without you at Hogwarts, I want someone with a Hecate background, to protect the place."
"Do you really think Hogwarts needs protection?"
"You're damn right, I think it does. Potter's there, he has to be guarded, he doesn't have the Prince as a teacher anymore."
Snape sighed. "Your right. That boy is our best hope…"
"I know," Gideon read his mind. "Sucks don't it?"
"So that's Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the boy who beat Voldemort and his Dark Prince, not to mention beat Severus in Seeking. This is the boy who was James and Lily's pride, Sirius' heart and a host of other things I can't recall right now…I'd thought he'd be taller…or tidier."
Amissa Moon folded her arms across her chest and flicked her head to push her platinum hair out of the way. She was standing at the doors of the Great Hall, watching the boy as everyone else was focused on the Sorting Hat song. Leaning and relaxed as she was, one easily assumed her simple and unassuming but those who knew her, and her history had learned to know better.
She hailed from a family that had been once considered the most powerful of those who studied the Dark Arts, and it was only with her father being raised by an Auror, that she claimed loyalty to the 'light' side. But still, her appearance seemed to have the lingering of darkness, like the ozone left after storms or ice clinging to life after a winter. She was pale and blond, as if touched by a frost that claimed her color and life, the pallor of her skin was touched only with the softness of pink under her startling blue eyes that seemed only to lend itself to her allure.
It was rumored that this had been Silas Malfoy's great love, although her heart was said to only be owned by two people on earth.
One, an Auror, now laid in rest and the other…
Well, it did not do to dwell on dreams.
A voice came from behind her, one that held age and coldness with it, and although the tone was low, measured and delicate Amissa knew better then to assume the owner was the same.
"One would think by looking at you," The voice said. "that Hecate had no class."
Amissa shifted her head, raising it and listening to the air. "That you, Satan?" She turned, and made a face of startled surprise. "Oh! Professor Wyvern, forgive me. I thought you were someone else."
Professor Julia Wyvern still held herself with all the grace and poise of a dragon about to rent a victim apart. The Slytherin House Head, and Potions Mistress raised a finely arched eyebrow, and pursed her lips together in thought.
Amissa allowed herself a measured gasp of awe. "You know, you are the original bitch. I've tried to get that look right there…can never get it down right. Severus could do a great version but you…damn, woman. I tell you, you will always be a great because of that." She bowed lightly.
"You still have that mouth on you, I see. I would have hoped Hecate taught you better."
"I was always a slow student. You know that, me being in your house and all…"
"You would have made a better Hufflepuff."
"Really? I was kind of partial to the Lions." Amissa smiled. "They had the cutest Quidditch team."
Inside the Hall, Amy Thompson had just been made a Slytherin. Amissa glanced in, and nodded. "Look, fresh bait for you torment. I bet you missed that in your retirement."
"Your insolence might have been tolerated at the Compound, because you were necessary evil but remember Moon, you still owe me a measure of respect…as your former House Head, and your peer." Wyvern brushed past her. "Remember that."
Amissa watched her go. "Bitch."
"Is that our new House Head?"
Amissa jumped, and spun around. Standing in front of her was a boy, a Slytherin and one in his final year from the looks of it. The boy was standing with a sort of frigidness and attention that reminded Amissa strongly of every Kaga, she had ever worked with. He was looking into her, not at her and when he spoke he cast his eyes downward, just like…
And Amissa knew straight off, which of those Creatures this boy reminded her of.
"Yeah," She said, warily. "That's Julia Wyvern."
"You hate her." He wasn't asking the question, merely stating the truth. "Was she really that bad?"
"She's actually worst but I'm a forgiving person." She blinked, and stared at him. "What's your name, boy?"
"They call me Angelo."
"Named after a family member, aren't we?" She prodded, getting that sort of feeling in her gut that people feared and dreaded.
"That's the rumor."
"Hey Angel!" Draco Malfoy called, exiting from the Great Hall. Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle loomed as his disfigured shadow. "We're skipping dinner, come duel with me."
"I would only beat you again." The boy returned simply.
Draco's eye flickered dangerously. "We'll see."
"If that is what you wish." The boy looked back at Amissa. "It was a pleasure meeting you, milady." He turned to follow Malfoy.
"Hey, you didn't tell me who you were named after!" Amissa called. "Who are your parents!"
"They're dead."
She watched him go, and suppressed the chill crawling up her spine. That boy was dangerous, because of his heritage. She, above all, knew of the darkness and power that traveled through bloodlines. And she knew his past even though he had never uttered his surname.
He was a Malone.
Half of what she knew about them was taken from intelligence reports, and her dealings with one of them, the rest her imagination filled in. The Malone were Kaga that had forsaken Hecate in lieu of protecting the Dark Lord. These guardians had twisted their training, corrupted their blood till they had made Lord Voldemort give them a place of power equal to his own. Unlike Voldemort, or his Prince, the Malone worked between the battles, in the shadows- watching and waiting. They were completely and utterly loyal to the Dark Lord.
And now, she knew one of them was at Hogwarts: very, very near to Harry Potter.
She wondered why Severus had never acted on this threat. One Malone was just like the other, treacherous and single-minded. He had to know about them, had to have made the connection between Angelo and his kin.
After all, he had loved one of them.
"What kind of games were you playing, Alex?" She whispered to her invisible friend but of course, she received no answer. Sighing, she pushed her hair back behind her ear, and moved to find her rooms.
Something told her she had just entered something nothing in her life had prepared her for.