Chapter Two: First Meeting
Tylia was up before dawn, as always. Of course, this far north and in the winter as they were now, the sunrise was at almost 8:20 am, so it wasn't hard for the young hybrid to beat Her1 out of bed. Petrius was already gone from his place at the foot of her bed. Tylia smiled; the black, panther-like feline would have been up and at his rounds almost an hour before, at four-ish.
She shook the last of the trance from her mind as she rose and stretched. Three hours of trance suited her as eight hours of sleep suited humans. At night, after dinner and homework, Tylia Zauval learned Pasaelael rituals by starlight and firelight. In the early mornings, Tylandraes Windguard learned Jhondraelaer customs and legends by the moonlight that filtered through the leaves of the Dark Forest.
Checking her internal clock, Tylia swore colorfully in two dialects of Elven and in Undercommon—a dialect of Pasaelael more harsh-sounding than most. She was late by at least ten minutes; Myrdyl Windguard did not stand for tardiness.
She dressed swiftly and ran out of the Common Room, stopping only to press her hand to the blank section of the wall that was the exit, activating the spell that would open the wall. As soon as it was wide enough for her to pass, she dashed through at full tilt, headed for the Entrance Hall and the Forbidden Forest.
It was dark out and a light, misting rain fell steadily. Tylia pulled her cloak about her and kept running. She pulled up short when she saw a sputtering torch. From her father's stance, she could tell he was upset.
"You are late." It was the first time in a very long time that Tylia had heard his voice so cold. He was a kind man, and his voice normally reflected that.
"Yes, sir," Tylia replied with a light bow, her eyes never leaving his face. Another thing he despised was when a person wouldn't meet his eyes.
"Why is this?"
"I have no reason, sir," Tylia replied, knowing that this was the response he expected. Yet another of the few things that Myrdyl hated was excuses.
"Do not be late again," came the expected command, and Tylia sighed with relief, but she sighed quietly.
"Yes, sir."
"Today we will learn about one of our relatives," Myrdyl began, his voice warming as they moved into the Forest.
"Aren't they all my relatives, Papa?" Tylia asked with a mischievous tinge to her voice. Now that the lesson had started, they spoke in the Jhondraelael language.
"Most of them," the older Jhondraer agreed with a smile that warmed his eyes as much as his face. "But today we will speak of Thaeraekaes Windguard."
"Oh, I know about him," she replied with something akin to pride coloring her voice. She quickly squashed it. Myrdyl did not approve of self pride; he approved of pride in one's people, in one's culture, in one's family, but not in one's self.
"Do you indeed?" Myrdyl inquired dryly.
"Yes, Papa," Tylia replied quietly, her soft voice almost lost in the de-de de-de of the rain, which was getting harder as they walked deeper into the woods. "Thaeraekaes Windguard was a martyr. Before the Pasaelaer and Jhondraelaer were truly at war, over a millennium ago, Thaeraekaes was a Jhondraelael general and spymaster. His 'Breezes' were the best ever known and his information as well."
"However?" Myrdyl's clear voice carried through the rainfall. Tylia had fallen silent, thinking about this great-grandfather whom she admired so much.
"It was a time when Jhondraelaer were more innocent," Tylia murmured. Myrdyl pushed back the rain in a globe around them so that he could hear his daughter. "They were less willing to see the negative in anyone, even the Pasaelaer, who caused such devastation to their people. They denied that it was a Pasaelael threat and did not even try to come up with another reason for the destruction."
"And so what happened?" Again came the soft prompting when Tylia fell silent.
"Thaeraekaes put himself in the line of a Pasaelael raiding party," Tylia continued, still murmuring quietly, lost in her thoughts. "His son, who was then one of his Breezes, had a viewing spell on him, and recorded the viewing in a trance-vision. The Pasaelaer tortured and mutilated Thaeraekaes, killing him slowly. Knowing him to be Spymaster, they tried to wring him for information. The only things that they got out of him were curses and the acknowledgment that all Jhondraelaer would know what they had done."
"And what was the result of Thaeraekaes' martyrship?" Myrdyl inquired, letting the rain come back. Tylia looked up at him, as startled by the question as by the renewed rain.
"'Result?'" Tylia demanded, her deep green eyes flashing with fury. To imply that there was a single, simple result of Feathergem's death was to insult the man's sacrifice, something that Tylia would not stand for. Feathergem Windguard was one of Tylia's personal heroes. "There was no single result of his death!"
Myrdyl merely nodded, pleased by the substance—if not the delivery—of his daughter's reaction. He knew that her vehemence was partially due to her mother's blood and to her schooling in Pasaelaer tradition, and to his mistake of not bringing her up in a proper Jhondraelael society. Not that he had had a choice in the matter, and not that he would change that now if he had the chance; he loved his daughter dearly, though there were things about her that put him on edge. He gestured for Tylia to continue.
"The results of Thaeraekaes' death were myriad," Tylia continued with a scowl for her father. "With Thaeraekaes began the Pasaelael custom of allowing captives a final recording. Also included in the recording is always a warning to other Jhondraelaer. After his death, his son—your father—became His Majesty's Chief Advisor and his Spymaster. Grandpapa took over Thaeraekaes' network and did almost as well with it as his father had done. Jhondraelaer were made more aware of the threat and many of the atrocities ceased or at least were lessened. Thaeraekaes' death marked the beginning of the Aelael2 War, a war that lasted 1200 years. ThaeraekaesWindguard still influences the lives of Jhondraelaer today."
"Very good," Myrdyl agreed easily. "But do all Pasaelaer do this?"
"At one time, Jhondraelaer were widely hated by Pasaelaer," Tylia replied, almost agreeing. "But today, it is only a small sect who calls itself the Serdyr3 in our tongue who commit these tragedies."
"Very good. Since you know the material so well, you may go early."
"Thank you, Papa!" Tylia laughed with a bow. She kissed his cheek as he chuckled.
"Tyl!" Tylia turned, surprised at the sound of her childhood nickname from his lips; Myrdyl had not called her that in almost six years.
Myrdyl looked glorious in his simple, silvery clothing, shedding rain as though covered in oil. The crystal drops slid down his finely boned face and, for the barest moment, Tylia thought he was crying. But no, he looked so happy…
"I thought you might like to know that a pair of fourth-year gentlemen came to my office yesterday afternoon." Tylia nodded; she knew that already. "The first, a young man with gray eyes—one Scorpius, I believe—wanted to know of us, of Jhondraelaer and Pasaelaer. I answered his questions gladly. The second, a blue-eyed young man I am unfamiliar with—"
"Albus Potter," Tylia supplied instantly. Her father regarded her for a moment, and then nodded, as though just remembering that he had shut Petrius out of his chambers the evening before.
"So he introduced himself, yes," the Jhondraelaer agreed, still standing full in the cold rain. Tylia had slipped under a thickly branched tree. "He was no less curious, though his topic of interest was less broad. He wanted to know of you."
"So Petrius informed me, yes," his daughter responded, mimicking her father's words and tone almost perfectly. Myrdyl grinned.
"Of course. And is my gift to you so precious as your mother's?"
"Certainly," Tylia replied, feigning injury that he would think her capable of favoring Jallil over him. "Korthus is as good a friend and companion as Petrius."
Myrdyl nodded and laughed, turning his face up to receive the rain as his daughter trotted back up to the Castle to get her breakfast from the kitchens and go to her classes, thinking about many things: about Thaeraekaes and how much she mimicked him; about how long she wanted to toy with Albus before talking to him; about her crazy Jhondraelael father, laughing in rain that would have had a human shaking from the cold.
Seven times over the next two days, Tylia met Albus' clear, light blue eyes and then vanished into the crowded halls of Hogwarts. It was quite a feat, even for her, given her unique appearance, but she managed. Each time, she paused, grinned that hunter's grin, and turned away. Each time, she heard him call her name—her 'Jhondraelael version', without her mother's Pasaelael name attached—as she hid from his sharp eyes.
The third day was a Saturday. Tylia grinned as she woke from her trance. Saturdays were free. No need to get up at five in the morning for lessons on Jhondraelael culture with Myrdyl, no staying up until two the following morning because of the old Pasaelael rituals Jallil was always teaching her about.
Granted, she got up at five in the morning anyway, out of habit.
The cold rain of the last two days had turned into steady snow overnight. Tylia loved snow. She smiled a softer sort of smile as Petrius trotted in.
"Well?" she inquired, tossing him a piece of meat.
He is awake. The feline caught the piece in midair and downed it before his pause touched the floor. He seeks you. He is frustrated, but thinks you cannot hide from him forever.
"So he thinks," Tylia agreed with that fierce, hunter's grin. The grin of a Pasaer, she thought with amusement. "I could. But I won't. I know how much torture that would be for him."
Indeed. Petrius was as amused as she.
"Where is he? What does he plan?"
He recently received a present from his father, Petrius replied, yawning and stretching. An early birthday present: his birthday is today. The present was a map of Hogwarts, a magical map.
"And he means to seek me on this map?" Tylia inquired, her mind already racing ahead. I'll need a present for him, then.
Yes. What will you give him?
Tylia laughed. Even when she kept her thoughts to herself, her friend could guess them.
"One of my talismans, I think. One of the hybrids, so like to myself, who seems to fascinate him very much." Tylia rifled through her trunk until she found the small, plain wooden box in which she kept her carved pendants. She let her fingers slide through them, feeling for one that suited Albus. Finally, she decided on a small, round pendant with melded Pasaelael and Jhondraelael symbols for luck and protection.
Perhaps young Master Malfoy would appreciate one as well, Petrius suggested sleepily. As interested as he is in magical cultures.
"I'll give him three," Tylia replied, slipping her fingers through the myriad pendants again. She had carved each one herself and knew each by feel. "One of each sort."
Petrius nodded his approval as she selected three more pendants. The first, carved with Jhondraelael symbols, was for good luck. The second was Pasaelael and would bring the young man protection from magical harm. The last, another of her hybrids, was a ward against the bad luck brought on by past misdeeds, the misdeeds of the family.
"Where was he when you left him?"
He thought to look for you in the Library. He has seen you there often in the past.
"Thanks, Pet." Tylia scratched the large carnivore just at the base of his ear, where he liked it most. She loved the resulting soft rumble that was his purr. "I'll bring you another steak for your trouble."
That will be pleasant, Petrius replied sleepily. He had been up all night, which was unusual for him. Thank you, Tylia. You are kinder to me than most are to their pa'das.
"You deserve it," Tylia countered gruffly, touched by his words. "You work hard for me. You're the best Breeze a girl could ask for. And the best friend."
Tylia meandered toward the Library. As it was a Saturday, she was out of uniform. Today she wore a dark silvery cloak over a white sleeveless shirt with a tall collar and silvery breeches not quite as dark as her cloak. Notably, she wore no shoes and no socks even on the cold flagstones.
Her bare feet made no sound on the stone floors as she wandered toward the Library. Surely Albus would have seen her on his pretty new map by now. After five minutes or so, she heard booted steps in the hallway up ahead. With a grin, she turned down a different hall, still not moving very quickly. She was rewarded as her sharp ears picked up the sounds of a soft curse and quickened steps.
With the ease born of long practice, she slipped into a secret passage—which would take her up to the fifth floor—without making the tapestry that concealed it so much as flutter.
Idly, she wondered if Albus' map showed the secret passageways and how well he himself knew them. Headed up the stairs, she heard the thud of his boots and the ruffle of the tapestry as he followed. She nodded satisfaction as she made her way out the other side of the dark shortcut.
Here she paused, as though puzzled. She was in an apparently dead-end corridor. She wandered down to the end, and then started back toward the other side. As she passed the tapestry, Albus emerged. She paid him no mind, but continued.
"Tylandraes Windguard." Tylia could hear the barely controlled frustration in the younger student's voice and it amused her. She turned to face him, her eyes and face flat, clear of emotion.
"You've been following me. Why?" Her voice was not accusatory, merely curious.
"Don't play the innocent with me, Elfling," Albus retorted. The tag was not even necessarily untruthful, either. She was a 'little Elf', regardless of which of her ancestries she was claiming at the moment. "You know I have been, and I'm sure you know why. You've met my eyes more than once over the last three days. And that cursed telepathic cat of yours has been follo—"
He fell silent very very suddenly as Tylia slammed him against the wall of the corridor, her once calm eyes bright and furious.
"I will not hear of a single word against Petrius," she growled, her voice low and harsh. Her arm across his throat and shoulders, but she applied no pressure. "He is a fine creature, and a better person than many two-leggers I've met."
Albus nodded and she released him. Far from being frightened, he looked thoughtful.
I can defend myself, you know, Tylia, a dry voice commented to both two-leggers.
Albus turned quickly to face Petrius, who had sauntered up behind her. Tylia turned more slowly, noting with wry amusement that the blue-eyed Gryffindor had sacrificed balance for speed; he was no fighter.
"I didn't know you were here, Petrius," she replied easily, raising skeptical brows to him. "Last time I saw you, you were half asleep in my dorm."
"It is a pleasure to meet you at last," Albus commented with a light bow, so like the ones that Tylia often gave to friends and family. "You've been following me for four days now. How you got into the Gryffindor Common Room, I'll never know."
The pleasure is mine, Master Potter, Petrius replied, giving a feline bow in return. That you knew I was with you is impressive. Most cannot track a pa'das when he is scouting. As for the room with red and gold furnishings, no such room is closed to me, though I may take nothing from the rooms. None of these rooms are barred to me: not the silver and green room, not the yellow and black one and not the blue and black one, either.
"You have access to all of the Common Rooms?" Albus marveled, thinking of the implications. "Do you know the passwords?"
No, Master Potter. The Guardians are instructed to let me pass. I may take none with me when I enter.
"Don't call me 'Master,'" Albus requested absently, going over what he had just learned as Tylia waited patiently. "Just 'Albus' will do for me."
As you say, Albus, the feline agreed easily. And I am Petrius, a Pasaelael pa'das bonded to Tylandraes Windguard-Zauval.
"What's that word? 'Padas?'" Albus asked, coming out of his reverie. "You've said it twice now."
"Pa'das," Tylia corrected, pronouncing the Pasaelael word carefully for Albus' benefit.
"Pa'das," Albus repeated, getting the pronunciation correct the second time. Petrius came to sit next to Tylia wrapping his tail possessively around her bare ankles.
"They are Pasaelael-bred felines," Tylia continued, in answer to his question. "They are telepathic and friendly, at least to those favored by their Bonds."
"'Bonds?'" Albus inquired quickly, earning himself a glare from Tylia for interrupting.
"Each Pasaer is telepathically Bonded to a pa'das at birth." Tylia continued as though Albus had not spoken. It was a trick she had picked up from her mother. "The pa'das, itself newborn, is the size of a housecat's kitten when Bonded. The two grow together. When the Pasaer is fully mature, the pa'das is as well."
A fully-grown pa'das is the size of what you would call a Bengal tiger, Petrius added, stretching so that his already large, sharp teeth and fore claws showed.
Show off, Tylia drawled for him alone.
So? It suits me to show off now and again, Petrius replied, his voice full of amusement.
She shook her head at him as Albus gaped at the panther-sized feline. He was still not to his full size yet.
"But you never answered my question," Tylia reminded the Gryffindor in the resulting stillness. "Why were you following me?"
"You interest me." Albus shrugged, looking and sounding much as Tylia herself did often enough. "Ever since I first saw you, watching me with those emerald eyes from the Ravenclaw table at the Welcoming Feast my first day here. You've a unique look, and I like uniqueness. From what I've heard of you, you've a unique way of doing things, too. Would you believe that Teddy had never heard of someone like you?"
"Yes, I can believe it," Tylia shrugged just as he had done. "I'm the only recorded hybrid, the only Orondralas4, ever. Jhondraelaer and Pasaelaer generally do not get along, even now, when the Aelael War is long over."
"It seems that Professors Jallil and Windguard are exceptions to many things," Albus murmured, looking thoughtful again. "Does your mother have a pa'das?"
"No. My mother does not own her companion, as you imply," Tylia replied easily, used to the confusion that humans found in such a relationship. Petrius, growing bored, rose and trotted away. "However, my mother's companion pa'das is called Verzak. She is less kind and less intelligent than Petrius—some are so—and Mother keeps her out of the classroom."
"So Jallil is your mother," Albus said, those clear blue eyes caught on Tylia's deep green. "Professor Windguard was very fuzzy about that. It was the only thing that he wouldn't give me a straight answer to."
"Think about it, Albus," Tylia replied, sounding slightly exasperated. "There are no other couples among the staff. Your father works here; your mother at the Ministry. It is the same with Professors Longbottom, Weasley and Smith. A couple at the same business is bad business. It's one reason Father goes by his original name and not 'Zauval.'"
"In Pasaelael marriages, the wife's name is taken?"
"Yes, Pasaelaer are matriarchal," Tylia agreed. His curiosity pleased her. "The female always has more status. Jhondraelaer are patriarchal, or as close as a society can come to being equiarchal, with male and female on the same level. Jhondraelael marriages take the husband's name."
A sharp cry echoed through the hallway, the high, shrieking cry of a hawk. Albus jumped, but Tylia merely looked up and through a window over Albus' head.
"Yes?" she inquired of the small bird of prey fluttering there.
The bird gave voice to a string of shrieks, caws and other avian sounds that made no sense to Albus.
"Alright, meet me there," Tylia replied, turning back to the human in front of her, who was staring.
"Did you just have a conversation with a hawk?" he demanded.
"Yes, and she expects me in my dorm shortly, so I need to go." Tylia pulled the four pendants out of her pocket, separating Albus' one from Scorpius' three. This one's for you. Happy birthday. These three are for that gray-eyed Slytherin friend of yours. Tell him that they're a gift from one culture lover to another."
"Is the hawk your…"
"Companion, yes, her name is Korthus," Tylia agreed just before slipping into another alcove. A statuette stood there. She slipped behind it and whispered: "Odael iar5."
It was Jhondraelael slang for 'open up,' and the password to a little-known passage. Headmistress McGonnagal had used the Jhondraelael word on Myrdyl's recommendation.
Just as Albus turned into the alcove, the wall slid shut behind Tylia's fluttering silver cloak.
1All Elvish peoples save the Pasaelaer refer to the sun as a female. The Pasaelaer, given their penchant for darkness and nightfall, reverse this, calling the moon female and the sun male.
2Elven
3Literally 'realblood;' a cult of Pasaelaer who continue the tragedies of the past
4Literally 'of light and dark;' Tylia's word for herself, which has become the commonly accepted term for her in Jhondraelael society
5Open up