Fifteen Years Later
"Astraea, you can continue to scratch at it, but the mark will remain." She stared disinterested at the ink on her forearm. The snake tongued through the skull in a menacing nature—a mark of death. The process had been painful; the dark magic used to ink her skin left her skin bruised and blistered for two weeks. Astraea remembers feeling nauseous throughout the whole process, but willed herself to remain stoic. The Dark Lord had been impressed by her ability to withstand the pain. Snape was furious when he learned that she was to be marked, but with his facade being throughly practiced no one but her could tell. When she showed Theodore the tattoo he had thrown up; the mark was always a touchy subject for him. His father always bragged about the day Theo would be marked, but even Astraea would never wish this fate on him. Theo's father always expected too much of his son, and Theo could never live up to those expectations.
"Has Mr. Malfoy taken an interest in your mark?" Snape flipped the page of his book, Astraea could laugh at the forced question. She remembered how pale Draco looked the day she was marked. As much as he claimed to have wanted the mark, deep down it was understood that any child of a Death Eater could never fully understand the implications the mark brought. She always assumed that Draco had hated her, but that day his face showed something that could resemble respect. Although she knew under his mask there was fear. He was next after all.
Astraea lifted her eyes off the table, "Malfoy's air of arrogance seemed to die when his father was thrown into Azkaban."
"When one loses a loved one, they often remain silent," Snape countered.
"Wouldn't know the feeling," she rolled her eyes. Bringing her tea to her lips, the cold remnants slid down her throat. Taking a deep breath she blew into her cup, hot steam rising and licking her nostrils.
"Astraea, what did I say?"
"Bloody hell, Snape. My tea was cold."
"If the Dark Lord only knew…"
She cut him off quickly. "Well he doesn't, does he? Because someone does not allow me to harness this power." Astraea flexed her left hand under the table trying to keep her composure.
"You are smart enough to understand why this must remain a secret," Snape said as he brought his cup to his lips.
Astraea groaned fixing her posture and conjuring up her best Snape impression. "If the Dark Lord knew, then you would be exhausted as a weapon in this war. Your magic has not been seen for centuries. I will not allow him to use you." She smirked across the table at Severus's annoyed expression and took another sip of her tea. "I have heard the same lecture many times before Severus."
Astraea was only three when she started unknowingly using elemental magic. Unfortunately, Severus's drapes suffered from their first encounter with her fire. At first he thought that she could just use fire, but after the miniature earthquake she caused at the age of five she was immediately put into training. Severus had her reading text written by Empedocles, the man to have discovered elemental magic. Astraea always understood that she was different, living in the Wizarding World was nothing short of normal. Elemental magic though—that had not been seen for centuries. It was said that Nicolas Flammel studied elemental magic, but was never able to bend the elements. His theory was based on the wizards dependency on a wand; claiming that the wand actually limited a wizards ability to extend themselves naturally through nature. Astraea was never fond of using her wand anyways. Cantated magic always came easy to her, and under Severus's training she was already ahead of most of the students in her year.
The last known witch to harness the power of elemental magic was Morgan le Fey. The protector of King Arthur was unstoppable, but because she was a half-blood many looked down upon her. Since le Fey elemental magic simply disappeared, the Ministry deemed it as a form of theoretical magic. It was never detectable by the trace, which provided a sense of relief to both Snape and Astraea. She always knew that if the Ministry found out she would become a test subject. Snape knew that if the Dark Lord ever found out the outcome might be even worse.
Snape stood from his seat, closing the book delicately. "As long as you remain aware of the consequences of your actions." She watched as Snape flicked his wand and returned the book back to its place on the shelf. Astraea was aware that her father and Severus were quite close during their time at Hogwarts. Snape did not tell many stories of his adolescence and avoided the subject when it was brought up. Astraea only asked about her mother once. As much as she wanted to remember her she never felt a connection to her birth parents. Snape's voice brought her back into the room.
"Make sure you finish packing tonight."
"When do I leave?"
"Tomorrow, I believe Zabini will be meeting you at the Nott residence. Do the Nott boy a favor and hide your mark. I'm sure he does not need to live in any more fear than he already does." Astraea rolled her eyes at his remark. "And Draco will be joining you lot as well."
She slumped her shoulders, "Wonderful."
"Play civil with the Malfoy boy this year. I am sure he is under enough pressure from the Ministry."
"Are you telling me this as my professor, or as my guardian?"
"Whichever you see fit," he responded in a bored tone.
"Whatever." She quickly cleaned her place at the table, and made her way up to her room. The flat they shared was small, yet enough. Her room was upstairs just down the hall from Severus's living quarters. Compared to Nott's home or even Malfoy's one would assume that her and Severus were as poor as the Weasley's. Snape always said that wealth came from knowledge and the ability to prove one's self. Astraea on the other hand never cared for material things, less was always more for her.
Her room was plain. A simple twin bed surrounded by plain white walls decorated with a few photos. The desk and wardrobe took up most of her floor space. There was a full length mirror next to her desk, and she would sometimes use it to communicate with Tracey over summer holiday. Books covered the desk's mahogany surface, and atop of her copy of Advanced Potions lay a copy of The Daily Prophet. The past few issues had Potter's face splattered across the front, condemning him for claiming the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. Astraea wasn't stupid, but she was positive the media control at the Ministry and the Prophet were. Anyone would be a complete imbecile to not have noticed that the air outside was a bit thicker than usual. Clouds constantly covered London, people were quickly moving into hiding. Yet, feigning ignorance was a simpler solution to the Ministry because no one was truly prepared for what was to come.
She quickly tossed the paper into the bin under her desk and moved to her trunk at the end of her bed. Her wand lay neatly atop her pillow, a 12-inch Yew wand with a Thestral hair core. The core in itself was a rare find at Ollivander's, but Ollivander always claimed that the wand yields itself to the witch. Her wand never presented issues, but with her ability there was never a need for one.
Snape's voice broke through her mind. Pack the wand. Astraea always hated it when Severus used legilimency to relay messages to her. It was the only time he invaded her privacy. She huffed, grabbing the wand. "Yeah, I know." She turned the wand thrice in her hands remembering how Snape almost looked impressed when he learned that she could perform cantated magic. Astraea had hoped that Snape would have figured out that she was anything, but ordinary. If anything she was more of an anomaly. The sigil on the side of her wand stared back at her, she gently ran her finger over the grooves as she did whenever she felt anxious. Severus had told her that sigils were a form of ancient magic and the one on her wand helped the owner remain calm when they were troubled.
Astraea looked at the sigils etched into her palms. She was only twelve when she got the tattoos, but according to Severus and Dumbledore they would provide her with protection. On her left palm was a grounding sigil and on her right was one representing heavy release. She loved the markings on her body because they set her apart from others, like many other things about her. Pansy Parkinson on the other hand saw it differently. During their third year the comments and questions were ruthless. Pansy always asked if she got them during her time in Azkaban, and it soon mutated into a rumor that she was actually related to Sirius Black.
Moving across her room to her mirror she took a good look at her appearance. She still looked a little too thin in the face, her cheek bones protruding. Her hair in coils surrounding her face and falling down pass her shoulder blades, her lips with a tint of red settled into a frown. Lifting her shirt she looked at the new sigil she received right after the mark. Inked into the center of her diaphragm, the location was where the spirit connected the most according to Snape. It was a protection from unknown forces; Snape had said that once her purpose was fulfilled the sigil will disappear. This sigil was another request from Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix. Snape was working as a double agent for them, and now she could assume that she was as well. Severus never really gave her an explanation as to why he was a member of the Order. He had always claimed she was too young to understand, but apparently she was not young for the Dark Mark.
"Look at the mirror any longer and I will simply assume my ward has become Pansy Parkinson." Snape stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
"Parenting does not suit you Severus."
"Narcissism does not suit you either." She smirked at him through her reflection. She watched as he grabbed the handle of her door and began to shut her door. "Bed. Now." Astraea jumped into her bed and pulled the covers over her body. Although she hated summer holidays, she hoped that Draco would at least show up late to Nott's home. Hearing him complain always puts a damper on her mood.