Author's note: I do not own anything Harry Potter, JK Rowling does.
Feel free to review!
A bit of a smaller chapter this week. I've had a really rough week.
Heads up, trigger/content warnings for mentions of self-harm in this chapter. It's not too descriptive, but still, I'd prefer to give a warning and be on the safe side.
"You're telling me you let yourself get caught, got a trial lined up, and plan on using that to get me cleared?" Isolt could hardly miss the incredulity in Sirius' voice.
"Stop being such a drama queen, Pads. They were Death Eaters, I defended us and Diagon Alley, pure and simple. I ensured that Amelia Bones was in charge, getting a trial for the both of us, so we both know she'll make sure that it's fair. You do want to be free, yeah?"
"Well, yeah, but c'mon! This is hardly a well thought out plan now, innit?"
"Eh. Gets the job done. Now eat your damn dinner, you mangy mutt." Isolt's laughter reached her eyes, which to any outside observer, looked like she had the same damn twinkle in her eye that Dumbledore did.
"Fine. So what's the agenda for tomorrow, kid?" Sirius had turned to Aster, who was watching the entire affair with a large grin on her face.
"Well, I'd like to pick Ron and Hermione up from the platform and surprise them! Do you think they can maybe hang out here for a couple of days this summer?" The hitch in Aster's voice indicating the fact Aster was hopeful that Sirius would say yes.
"Of course! Probably should let them reconnect with their families for a little bit, but we can definitely have them over."
"Awesome! Thank you so much!" Aster ran over to Sirius, giving him a toothy smile and a hug.
Laughing, Sirius ran his hand through her hair, enjoying the look of exasperation on the young witch's face as he did so.
Isolt was watching the two of them interact, and though she was smiling, it didn't reach her eyes anymore.
'Fuck. I can't believe how much I missed him. Or that I'm feeling jealous of my past self.'
While Sirius and Aster were planning out more pranks and activities to do with Ron and Hermione, Isolt quietly went back up to her room, placing her dishes in the sink. Reaching her room, she pulled out the elder wand and cast several wards on the door. Nothing permanent would stick, as she wasn't the master of the wards of the Black residence, but they'd last until the morning, maybe longer if she was fortunate.
Casting a Muffliato on the door, and several other advanced privacy charms she had picked up while on the run, Isolt pressed her back against the door, sliding down until she was sat with her knees propped up in front of her.
Glancing down at her arms, she rolled up her sleeves, grimacing at the faded lines up and down her wrists and forearms. Each one a testament to her survival, no matter the odds, but also a testament to every single abuse tossed her way, from the Dursley's, to Voldemort, and even to herself.
Without even thinking, Isolt dragged her holly wand across the skin on her wrist, hissing in pain and comfort as it was sliced open, letting the blood trickle down her arms, paving curious red rivers on her pale skin.
'Fuck I missed this. I've been so busy my entire time here. Since I can't finish my plan while Aster is still struggling, I guess I'll have to delay them. 'Mione, Ron, I'm really sorry, but you'll have to wait a bit longer for me.'
She dropped her head, letting her wand drag across her skin a few more times, relishing in the control and release it gave her. Tears had been pouring out of her eyes, leaving tracks on her face that she'd have to glamour away if someone were to come knocking.
Isolt didn't know how long she had been sat there, but it must've been a while, if the ache in her legs was anything to go by. She waved her holly wand over her arm, letting the conjured bandages wrap themselves gently over her scarred arm. Eyeing the bed, Isolt felt a twinge of guilt as she thought of how comfortable it looked. Rather quickly, the moment passed, and Isolt went about getting ready for bed, unpacking the few clothes she had managed to get earlier, before the entire Death Eater debacle had occurred. Flicking her wand, Isolt watched as all of her new possessions began packing themselves in bookshelves, closets, and on the desk in the corner of the room. Snuggling into bed, Isolt let herself drift off to sleep.
It wasn't a peaceful one.
Meanwhile, in a castle in Scotland, notably a certain aged headmaster's office, the sole occupant of the room was brooding. Albus Dumbledore had spent decades plotting, and now all of those plans were crumbling, right in front of him.
"That damnable woman, who the hell is she? Ordering me around, removing Harry's horcrux, the nerve! I've spent years molding him into someone dependent on me, reliant even, and here she comes, claiming the Peverell Headship! There's no damn way she's a Peverell, they're all dead!"
Fawkes the phoenix was watching Dumbledore's tantrum, watching him throw objects and banish books across the room, before letting out a trill to calm the wizard down.
"Thanks Fawkes. Now, what to do about Peverell? A Wizengamot session should do nicely. I can de-legitimize her claim to Peverell, accuse her of harboring Sirius Black, and use that to get Harry back under control! Three birds, one Flipendo! Now, I won't be able to call an emergency session this week, but one next week should suffice!"
Sitting down at his desk, Dumbledore began writing several letters to his allies in the Wizengamot, to clue them in on his plans.
Voldemort was fuming. He had sent eight of his newest Death Eaters to Diagon, in an effort to draw out the witch who had prevented Lucius from tricking the Potter brat into getting the prophecy for him. All but one had returned, and the tale he gave was only getting him angrier.
"Is there anything else you'd like to admit your failure about?" Voldemort nearly yelled at the junior Death Eater, who was currently groveling on his knees a few feet before his throne's dais.
"N-no, my Lord. She wiped the floor with us, and gave me and Evan Robinson a choice. I chose to return here to you. I don't know what happened to Robinson, my Lord."
"And she told you to tell me House Peverell is back? Unlikely, most likely a lie to instill fear. Whoever she is, she is smart."
Pointing his wand at the young man, Voldemort entered his mind, shredding any shields and defenses he might have had. He quickly located the memory he was looking for, smiling in satisfaction and victory as he found it and viewed it.
'Yes, seems the idiot was telling the truth. Now, how do I draw her out? This will require more careful planning than I previously thought. Maybe Severus will have some ideas.'
Leaving the man's mind, Voldemort noticed that the young Death Eater was nothing more than a drooling mess. Pointing his wand, a green light sped its way to the man before he slumped, lifeless.
"Let this be a lesson to all who fail me. Unless you are still useful, you will experience great pain and death. You're dismissed. Malfoy, bring me Snape."
The Death Eater nodded, before hurrying out of the room. It hadn't been that long since he had been under the Dark Lord's Cruciatus and he was not eager to undergo that pain again.
Hurrying through the halls of the Malfoy estate, Lucius made his way to the dungeon, where the greasy bat known as Severus Snape was most likely preparing potions for the Death Eaters.
The cold stone floor reverberated the sounds of his footsteps, and a brief moment later found Lucius opening the door to Snape's makeshift potions laboratory, the man himself hunched over a cauldron, stirring a pewter rod in a clockwise fashion.
Lucius waited for Snape to get to a stage where his potion could simmer, so that Snape wouldn't yell at him for "nearly cocking up a perfect potion". Again.
It was only a few more minutes of waiting before Snape looked up, spotting Lucius in his lab.
"Lucius, to what do I owe the displeasure?"
"Our Lord requests your presence."
In return, Snape just stared at the pale figure before him, before flicking his wand over the potion he was brewing, keeping it in stasis until he returned.
Leaving the room, he made sure to billow his cloak into Malfoy's face, to show his displeasure at being disturbed.
'Fuck you too, Snape. At least it wasn't a verbal assault this time. He knows how to cut deep.'
Having finished the task set before him by his Lord, Malfoy retired to his room on the second floor, collapsing on the bed, and wondering if this was even worth it anymore.
Unlike Malfoy, who's stress levels were declining, Snape's were only rising. Being summoned to a private audience with the Dark Lord was hardly ever a good sign.
Opening the doors to Voldemort's throne room, Snape made his way across the room, prostrating himself before Lord Voldemort.
"You called for me, master?"
"Ah, Snape. I have a task for you." Voldemort's voice was smooth, not betraying the anger laying in wait just beneath the surface. "I need you to learn as much as you can about this new Lady Peverell. Anything and everything, I want to know what makes her tick. She shows a lot of power, and if she can be swayed to our side, would surely be a huge boon to us."
"My Lord, I will not fail you. Though I must report that I meet a Lady Peverell earlier. If I had known you were looking for her, I would have mentioned it sooner."
"CRUCIO!"
Snape's world vanished into blurs of color, mostly white if he was honest with himself. It seems the Dark Lord was most angry about this information being held from him.
A few moments later, he felt the effects of the curse fade, and his vision restored, staring at the furious face of his master.
"My apologies, my Lord. B-b-but please, allow me to provide you with what I know."
"Very well. Fail me again, Snape, and I will kill you."
Snape then began to profess everything about his meeting earlier, not leaving any detail out, lest he incur Voldemort's wrath once more.
"Hmm. An old friend of the Potter's, then. Your task remains the same, Snape. Find out as much as you can. Succeed, and I may just forget your mishap tonight."
"Y-yes, my Lord." Snape bowed deeply, then mustering what little remained of his Occlumency shields for the night, he pulled together his dignity and walked out of the room. Only when the doors closed did he allow the pain of his meeting to show, snarling at any who crossed his path back to his dungeon.
'It seems that fortune does indeed shine upon Severus Tobias Snape every once in a blue moon, as I'm lucky to leave that room alive.'
Returning to his potion, Snape dismissed the stasis charm and resumed his brewing, even more glad he had begun brewing a pain-numbing potion before he had been summoned.
It was sure to be a long night ahead, and he would most certainly need the pain relief.
Sirius and Aster hadn't even notice Isolt leave, having carried on their conversation about their plans for the summer. Sirius, deciding to take a more parental role, ensured that Aster would be studying every day this summer, unless that day had a major event, like the trial, or Aster's birthday.
"Fine, I'll study every day, but you have to go see a mind healer when you're free, Sirius." Aster exclaimed, with a determined look on her face.
"You are so like your mother: incredibly stubborn, you know that?" Sirius laughed.
Aster's face dropped for a moment, but not before Sirius had caught it.
"Hey, what was with that face?
"Er, it's nothing. I'm feeling tired, Sirius. I'm glad you're okay, but I'm beat. Talk to you tomorrow, yeah?" Aster made to leave the room as quick as possible, but a sturdy hand on her shoulder prevented her from leaving just yet.
"Hold it, kid. What's bothering you? You know you can tell me."
Aster looked at Sirius, who for once was actually acting serious. 'Guess I won't be getting out of this, unless I tell him.'
"Fine, but I'm only telling because I know you won't let me leave until I tell you." Sirius nodded, before Aster continued.
"I'm tired of constantly being compared to my parents. It's always 'You look just like James, except your eyes' or 'You're just like your father' and so on so forth. I'm tired of it. Don't get me wrong, I love hearing about them, but I want to be seen as me, as Aster. Not my parents, not the former Boy Who Lived, just Aster."
Sirius listened, watching as Aster's face started off confident and sure, but by the end of her admission, was downcast and nearly broken.
"Aster, kid, I'm so sorry. I should have realized. I was constantly compared to my parents, just because I share a last name with them, and I hated it. I should have realized I was doing the same to you. I promise to do better. Can you forgive me?"
Aster muttered something under her breath that Sirius didn't quite catch.
"What was that? I'm getting old, Aster, you're gonna have to speak up." Sirius said, a grin emerging on his face.
"I said there's nothing for you to apologize for. It was my fault for not bringing it up sooner. I'll do better, I promise." With that, Aster shuffled out of the room before Sirius could regain his composure.
'What the fuck was that?' Sirius stared at the door Aster had just left through. 'Looks like Aster is getting a mind healer too. Jeez, all of us in this house are fucked in the head, aren't we?'
Aster quickly made her way back to her room, stopping in front of Isolt's, considering knocking, before she decided to leave her future self alone, and ran to her room, closing and locking the door behind her.
She sank onto her bed, eyes wet with tears, and curled into a fetal position. For the first time since meeting Isolt, Aster wished she had her razor. There was no way she was going to be able to have the energy to grab it now, as her only movements were caused by her sobs.
Eventually, Aster passed out, dreaming of comforting release and the only ounce of control she had ever seemed to have.