The first time Abraxas Malfoy had seen Tom Riddle and Anastasia Donbyre after the Summer of 1940, had been at the Hogwarts Express. The first thing he noticed was how different those two were.
Nastya Donbyre had probably reached somewhere near her full height – disappointedly 5'1 feet or somewhere in between. Most of girls in their year were taller than that, except perhaps by Brianna, and Maeve Kearney, the latter hadn't reached puberty though, that was obvious. There weren't many curves there, but that wasn't unexpected for the age. The short bob she had created after becoming a heroine was just a memory. Her hair was straighten to perfection, brushed back, the tips reaching the end of her scapula. She wore the school robes, including the Slytherin green Houppelande of their house – something that he never had seen her wearing, despite Dorea's insistence. The insignia of the Order of Merit was pinned to her chest, and it was obvious she had go for a reliable image.
The face was beautiful as always nevertheless, even though the absent semblance she had carried since the Hogsmeade attack had deepened. Abraxas remembered the girl he had meet at eleven, she seemed much more decided than this witch in front of him, but the one he was in presence at the moment had a lost image that he found endearing. The one he had first seen knew what she wanted, from where she had come, to where she wished to go. This one had lost her away, her devilish lips withdrawn from reality, and her bright eyes focused in nowhere.
Abraxas smirked. This was a girl he could show the way – a girl he could lead to greatness.
Tom Riddle had changed as much as Anastasia had. But the wizard was more powerful, and he reeked of danger and ruthlessness. Even in the Slytherin colours, he was all dark, shades of shadow against his pale skin. Ink-coloured hair arranged in perfect waves elegantly crossing the head. His indigo eyes had no mercy, no pity, no affection, no emotions at all. Tom Riddle was a cold mask, and a seducing body of magic. The man in front of him had always knew what he wanted, and now he would do absolutely anything to achieve it. At 5´9 feet, the wizard was taller than every single student of their year, and ambitious than the whole school.
Abraxas shivered. That was a man who would lead the heir of Malfoys to greatness.
"Abraxas Malfoy, you have come to us. How was Switzerland in this summer?" Dorea Black inquired, when her eyes settled on his form. Dorea Lyra Black – that was a girl he had known before being able to form a word. She would become a tall woman, probably willowy as her mother, and a great witch. Not the best of the wives, of that he was rather sure. Too much like his mother.
"Provincial, but pleasant enough, I assure you." It was true, his visit to the country had been a favourable surprise. It was the first time he did not visit France in the summer – the Malfoy's country house on France had been occupied by Grindelwald. Well, occupied was not the term actually. His father's cousin had ceded the property in order to assure his allegiance to the Dark Side. His father had been furious with cousin Argon – their family did not allege themselves with Dark Lords, not when their fall of power was just a matter of time.
Abraxas admired his father's prudence and sapience, but he had to wonder what would be the reasonable course of action when facing a Dark Lord whose fate was uncertain, and whose success was possible. He did suspect what Octavius Malfoy would answer to such questioning: that all authoritarian reigns were doomed in their inability to fool opposition.
Sometimes, Abraxas had to wonder if reluctance wouldn't doom society before tyranny.
"Can you believe this is already our third year?" Dorea's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Can you believe we still have five years of school to go?" Orion groaned at her side, being immediately shushed by his aunt. The Black boy rolled his eyes and decided to search for Nott and Rowle. Good riddance, he couldn't believe someone months older than him could be that childish.
"Which electives did you choose?" Nastya questioned, resting her head on Dorea's shoulder, while Tom reached for her hand, and motioned for her head to settle on his body. Shrugging, the girl did what her fiancée asked. Weird, they hadn't been so touchy before.
"Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes." Ragnar answered, beginning a round of listing electives. Out of all of them, only Nastya, Brianna and he wouldn't be in Care of Magical Creatures. Dorea had picked Arithmancy as well, as had done Antonin, Tom and Nastya. His classmates in Ancient Runes would be Tom, Nastya, Ragnar and Brianna. Together with him in Divination would be Nastya and Brianna. It was the only class that Tom wouldn't be breathing above his fiancée neck, and Abraxas did not miss the look the dark haired wizard sent him.
If the Slytherin princess suffered a split nail in the class, Abraxas would regret being born. Suddenly he began to wonder if Arithmancy wouldn't have been a sounder choice. Suddenly, the girl he was supposed to protect in class woke up from her slumber, her breath harsh and her eyes panicked.
Dorea reached for the other girl's knuckles. "It's alright, you had a nightmare."
Anastasia pulled away. "I need to take a bit of fresh air." She declared, not waiting for an answer while she walked out their cabin, Tom following her.
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The scenery seemed to be pulled backward as the train ran forward. The rear of the Hogwarts Express was usually a competed place to be in, but a few hexes in some Gryffindors had vacated it. Tom leaned over the door while he watched Anya shuffling her deck of cards.
"You had a vision."
"An attack on the Hogwarts Express." She answered, aware that the wizard had reached for his wand. "Not today, it was snowing." September 1st of that year was a surprisingly sunny day. She threw the cards into the air and they were taken by the wind.
"Accio." She summoned three cards to her right hand, and the remaining of the deck to her left.
"What do they mean?"
"The nine of swords is depression and nightmares. The Judgment is my card, it's always there for me, symbolizes, obviously, rebirth and inner calling . The Tower is the card of disaster and collapse." She declared. "This is my future. Want to try?"
"They are rather vague, your visions are way more precise. The attack – this year?"
"Probably, we haven't aged much. And the future is way better soaked by uncertainty." She said, throwing the cards in the railway, again. "Give it a try."
"Can you say if the train was going to London or to Hogwarts?"
"It's difficult to distinguish the landscape in the summer, with everything green and light. This land covered by white, no way in hell I will be able to tell. But it will happen, and blood will cover the snow."
"You won't tell anyone."
"What if someone of our friends dies?"
"Are we unable to prevent the future? The answer is not. If it means to happen, it will happen. We can only take advantage of it."
"Summon the cards, then."
"Accio." The cards flew to the waiting hands of Anya, who showed them to him.
"You got The Emperor in a reversed position, symbolizing excessive control and domination. Then we have The Death and The Devil. Why does this not surprise me?"
Tom did not answer her, it was a purely rhetorical question.
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The owl with the Ministry seal. Everybody had grown used to those since the beginning of the war – they were called the "M" letters, and every member of the British population dreaded the oncoming moment they would receive one of them. In the muggle world, in the first Saturday of September, London would discover that the bombing it had experienced in August had been just a preview of what was coming – in September 7, the period history would call The Blitz began.
The wizarding world, however, had already experienced a heavy lost at Tuesday's night. In the morning of the day after, the results of that were ninety-two "M" letters being carried by owls, and a compulsory delivery of the Daily Prophet to every student.
Grindelwald had simultaneously broken into Azkaban and Abakansk, the British and Russian high-confinement prisons. The servants who served him had immediately fled to the East Coast, and took over the counties of Yorkshire and Durham, using a sacrificial ritual to raise unreachable walls surrounding the area. The thing with such kind of sacrificial ritual, and the reason they were so frowned upon, was because they required magical blood to be spilled in order to be effective.
In result, almost two hundred lives had been lost in the night. To a population that didn't go over the twenty thousands, such lose could prove to be irreparable.
Anya looked over Callidora. Blackthorn State was at the west hillside of the Pennine Chain, barely in Cumbria. The fifth year hadn't received any "M" letter, but that did not mean her family was not in extreme risk. The witch caught her eyes, showing a letter in her hands. It had the Black seal, and it was obviously sent by her parents.
"They are fine; the attack did not go over the peaks. Uncle Polaris and Aunt Irma will be returning to order to seal the wards of Grimmauld Place. Then, they will restore the wards of Great Ganilly Castle to its full splendour, and make it the family home for the time. My parents refuse to leave the manor, but they will fortify the wards as well."
Harfang had approached her by that moment, as had done Caspar Crouch to his fiancée. Cedrella was nowhere to be seen. Harfang had grown in that summer, at two days before his fourteenth birthday, he was around the 5'7 feet, and in his letters he had talked about a sword-fighting instructor. Such training was evident in the process of removing the fat of his cheeks. The crook in the nose was also new, and probably from the same source. He gave her a kiss on forehead, and kissed Callidora's cheek.
"Master Arcturus and Madam Lysandra are headstrong couple, I must note." The Gryffindor said, eliciting a small smile from his fiancée, before touching her in the shoulder. "They will be fine, Ally, you are aware your father mastery with runes is not for show."
Dorea agreed with that. "I hope my brother dearest remembers of this fact and requests his help, while casting."
"Where is your twin sister, Callidora. Is she lowering herself once again?" Crouch questioned his future sister-in-law, his own future wife quietly resting her hand on his arm, much like a bracelet on a woman's wrist. The older sibling twitched at the sight of her sister submissiveness – a trait of younger Black sister that annoyed a lot the eldest of trio.
Suddenly, Cedrella Black walked through the doors of the Great Hall, her clothes rumpled, and Septimus Weasley following her. She saw a rumpled piece of paper at her sister's hand, and her mouth opened in shock; horror took over her face, and she retreated back to the corridors, running away.
"I must clarify this with her." Callidora announced, rising up from her seat and following her sibling. Just as she left, Charlus arrived, and one of the remaining owls went down to meet and deliver his letter.
His "M" letter.
Anya had only met with Henry and Anemone Potter once in life, and now, that would be the only time. She had envied their happiness, the love they felt for their family. She remembered his brother, the scruffy looking Gryffindor that was now in his second-year. They were orphans now.
"Oh Merlin, not with Charlie." Harfang muttered at her side. "I will go after him, find Fleamont, if you will."
Anya nodded, and both her and Dorea rose from her seats in search for the younger scion of House Potter. "They are orphans, now." Dorea spoke as she cast a locating spell to point the direction of the boy. Like you were the words she did not need to speak in order to them be understood.
"And just like me, they have no relative on his father's side. Anemone Potter was born in the Derwent family, wasn't she? What is the situation of his mother's family?"
"I believe their Madam Derwent is still alive. But Potter must assume the position as Head of the Potters. He is immature to the task, and the Derwents have no lordship, hence his mother family will be unable to guide him through the process."
"Now would be a good time for you to make peace with him, once again. I believe I wasn't around when your friendship turned sour, for the hundredth time since its beginning."
"In the Summer Break, the prat decided to make a fuss because he found me seeking for Abraxas's birthday gift in Diagon Alley. And when we meet, I hadn't bought his gift. So, because he is six days older I have to buy his gift before? Sincerely, anything related to Quidditch satisfies his tastes, Abraxas has taste."
They found Fleamont Potter trying to sneak into one of the abandoned Potions lab, his ravenclaw friend Lyall Lupin with the head buried into a book of law. Gently, they lead the younger boy back to his dorm, where his brother told him about the terrible faith that had fallen upon their family. And Dorea went to Charlus when tears stained his face, in a surprising show of affection to someone who couldn't stop to bicker with him.
But maybe, it was meant to be like that.
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They had not cancelled the classes that time. The students whose family had been murdered had been excused from them for the day, most in order to deal with their households. But the professors had learnt that cancelling the classes only increased the fear. An idle mind is the Dementor's prison, after all.
Because of that, Abraxas watched while Anastasia wrote furiously on her journal. Eoessa Cadogan had glued herself to the Slytherin side as soon they had arrived in the Divination Tower, and they were discussing the combat in Scarborough – one of the seven battles that had begun the day before. Grindelwald had gone rough on them, in ways that could not be imagined. Occupying two counties in one night could seem unbelievable. But the wizarding population of those counties was scarce, and there was only one wizarding town in the area. In Merwyn's Staff, anti-apparation wards had been erected before the beginning of the battle, and a controlled fiendfyre had stopped the arrival of the auror and hitwizard troops. The inhabitants had been slaughtered to zero, as a sacrifice to isolate both counties from Britain.
The real battles had occurred in the manors and houses of pure-blood and half-blood families. But living in isolation was not a good deal when troops of wizards began to cast against your property. Those people had put up a fight the habitants of Merwyn's Staff hadn't, but those families had perished in the end, as well.
The Slaughter in Yorkham, was how the Daily Prophet had called.
"Do you think Professor Myradd will see potential in me?" Brianna asked him in her most annoying tone, as they entered in the classroom.
The chamber was located in the top of the North Tower, the ceiling was a high dome, large bands of morning blue voile dropped from it. It seemed highly non-functional, as the pieces of fabric formed flowing columns in the middle of the chamber, and he had to guess it'd make harder watching the students. Mirrors covered the walls, amplifying the space to the infinite. They reflected the light that entered through the oculus. The round tables were covered by plum batiste tablecloths; the ottomans around those were burgundy. The chamber had a heavy scent of incense.
"Sit down, all of you. I am Violet Myradd, and you will call me Mistress Myradd. Divination is not an art that can be learn, mind you, wizards and witches that are blessed with the Inner Eye are called Seers, as you must know. I true Seer has not been born in decades, and I doubt I will find one among you." Such an encouraging speech on the beginning.
Mistress Myradd was a willowy young woman, her skin a dark ebony tone and her face angular, the tips of her black hair flowing around her jaw. She seemed hard, and her eyes were black almost. She wore fit robes with shoulder pads, made of satin in the colour of sand.
"However, many non-seers have a considerable success in their predictions, if they learn the methods correctly. That is the reason why I seem to come by new students every year. The most successful method to non-seers is astrology – we are, after all, unable to interfere with the paths of the cosmos. This is the field of divination that centaurs use in their predictions, and a field I will not broach until you have finished your fourth year studies of astronomy. Do not groan, Ms. Plunkett, because you wouldn't understand anything about it if I explained now."
"This year we will experiment with cartomancy, oneroimancy, pyromancy, heptelomogy, hydromancy and try our hands in palmistry. In your fourth year, we will study ovomancy, ornithomancy, myomancy and ichthomancy – the four pillars of animal divination. Aside that, we will have some tea at tessomancy. Aímamancy, astrology and catoptromancy will be studied at fifth year. If you achieve a noteworthy grade in the O.W.L.s, you will have the opportunity to continue this course, and dive deeply in the layers of the future. I must observe I accept only student that have reached Exceeds the Expectations in the tests – and my sixth year class has only five students. In the seventh year, I have four. Yes, Mr. Von Rheticus?"
"I don't believe I have ever heard of aímamancy, Mistress Myradd. "
"Aíma means blood, in Greek. Aímamancy is the prevision of future by human blood. I will not oblige anyone to take part in this method, however, it's a recommended area that bears many results."
Abraxas shifted in his seat, feeling very comfortable in the ottoman, the heavy scent of the burning oils was very distracting. It did not help that the room was soothingly warm, and he felt his agitation being calmed by the ambience.
"I am not a Seer, and much less an oracle. Why should I be here teaching you an area I am not able to fully exercise? Because I able to understand every nuance of it. I have studied with Cassandra Trelawney and Cassandra Vablatsky, the two only living seers in the present time – and one of them has reached her seventieth birthday while the other is nearing her fifties, I must remind you. I have studied the ways of the centaurs among them. My Inner Eye is not developed, though, and that has never stopped me of having fair success in my predictions."
"Now, I believe you must be feeling sleepy. Enjoy the moment to settle yourselves in a comfortable manner, and I want an essay on the practice of divinantion without the prophetic gifts."
And Abraxas felt his eyelids heavy as they closed to welcome sleep, it was the incense, he assumed, as he felt both Anya and Brianna slipping into dreamland with him.
Anya woke up feeling she had had a vision, and knowing she could not remember it – which was frustrating, because she had trained her brain to always retain her dreams. As she opened her eyes, she recognised the weight she was feeling at her side was an actual person – blonde and long haired, and it was Abraxas Malfoy sleeping soundly. There were many people around her sleeping soundly, and she was sure she had not taken part in an org-
That scent. Right, the Divination class.
"Interesting." A voice called, and Anya turned to see Mistress Myradd, sipping a large cup of coffee. "Did you drink coffee on the last hours?"
Anya shook her head.
"I thought you hadn't, otherwise you would have not been affected by the incense at all. I have never someone waking before the right moment. And you obviously had a prophetic dream. Which would mean that you are a seer. Interesting enough, seers are never affected by the incense – which is why I always test it on my new class, you never know when the next gifted one will be born. But you, Ms. Donbyre, were affected – and not only that, but you had an induced vision with it. I don't know what you are, but you have gifts." The woman sipped her coffee again. "Am I wrong?"
"You are not wrong, Mistress Myradd."
"So, visions. Unusual visions. I remember you. The masses called you the Hestia of People, the Girl-Who-Protected. An Order of Merit, eh? My colleagues comment about you and Riddle. The most famous pair Slytherin produced since Morgana and Merlin." The professor said with a bit of mockery, and that was evident by her rolling of eyes. "Did you see the attack on Hogsmeade?"
"No."
"Good, good. Seers who are tormented by views of despair and destruction usually descent into madness. There is no use in seeing suffering that you cannot prevent happening."
"So, it's true? None of what I see can be prevented?"
The older witch gave her a pitying look. "So, you see some of it." She sighed, taking a sip of her coffee once again and inviting her closer. "The gift of divination is very ambiguous e complex, duplicity and treachery are its weapons. Sometimes, you will find yourself in the ability of preventing something of happening – and most of the times you manage to interfere, you will regret it. At least, this is how Cassandra Trelawney descripted to me. Cassandra Vablatsky once told me her gift gave her choices between courses of actions, and that she was tortured by her choices. Both Cassandras eventually chose to ignore those aspects of their gifts. It's a choice that can only be done by you, however. And your gift seems to work in different manners than both of them. Trelawney is an oracle and Vablatsky is a clairvoyant. "
The gift of divination could be manifested in several different ways. All seers had success in the usage of divination methods to predict the future, but those methods were vague, and most usually used to induce the manifestation of one's gift. An oracle or a sybil was someone capable of making prophetic speeches, called prophecies. Prophecies had several interpretations usually, and there is where they could be manipulated, they were also self-fulfilling, which could be frustrating. Clairvoyants had the capability of knowledge, with one glance, they could tell what someone or something could do in the future – such ability was much based of probability and paths – most clairvoyants were tempted to lead their object of analysis to one path in order to achieve a certain future, however such process was incredible fragile, and it was considered impossible to calculate every result. Anya's gift didn't manifest in those ways, however. Her gift was much similar to the gift that had created the idea that Divination allowed you to see the future. She had less knowledge on how things had turned into her vision, and more knowledge about what the future reserved.
"I am a visionary."
"I thought so. Not my field of specialization either, I lean more towards the interpretation. Nevertheless, you may count with me to guidance and further experiment with your gifts, if that is your wish. Now, I should recommend you to feign sleep, as all the other will wake up at the same time – a moment which is approaching."
"Mistress Myradd?"
"Yes, Ms. Donbyre?"
"You realise, of course, that in the middle of this war, the knowledge of my position as a seer being public-"
"-puts you in grave danger." The woman took a last sip of her coffee before reaching for her wand. "I swear upon my magic that I shall not speak or allude to Anastasia Donbyre's prophetic gifts to anyone she does not give me permission to do. So mote it be."
Anya feel the magic settling in and smiling in thanks to her professor., positioning herself back in place between Abraxas and Laws. "Thank you, Mistress Myradd."
"You are an interesting person, Miss Donbyre."