Faraway-R: Part of the reason I showed Lily's remorse is that it needed to be said that the Potters are not evil monsters; their good intentions led to a mistake that had horrific consequences. Very few of the characters I write are purely black or white. That's a very good suggestion for the duels, and I just might do that.
magitech: Honestly, I'd be on the train back home, too. I see Lily's and Petunia's interactions progressively worsening as the horse became more of a bitch and Lily absorbed more of the "we're better because we have magic" view that Hermione displayed in book 7. Just so you know, though, I doubt the laws about Veritaserum (whatever they may be) would be written to protect Muggles.
Aealket: Glad you enjoyed the Ravenclaw Upset. Jen's still very sensitive about what happened to her, so she may have overreacted just a little ; ) The only other subjects I can think of that could have her acting like that again to her friends is them pressuring her to reconcile with the Potters (when they find out) or getting close to discovering that she uses illegal and immoral magics.
KIRA FIRE WOLF: Because the Potters never filed a birth certificate for Jen, Sirius didn't have to formally adopt her. Instead, he submitted paperwork recognizing her as a missing member of House Black, which makes it so that legally she has always been part of the family.
Guess what? We FINALLY get to see Jen use some Voodoo! Also, more Candyland talk.
Disclaimer: Was any importance given in canon to the winter solstice, even though it has been considered culturally significant for most of human history? If not, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whoever else she sold the rights to.
Chapter 22
Dark Solstice
Narcissa pulled her hand back once again as she looked at the door in front of her. Jen had been worryingly quiet over dinner the night before and still hadn't left her room today even though it was nearing noon. To say that she, Andi, and Sirius were anxious would be a severe understatement. And I was unlucky enough to draw the firecrab card to find out what's wrong. She steeled her resolve, turned the doorknob, and peeked inside.
…Of course, teenager. How could I forget? She shook her head as she looked at her niece's still-sleeping form. The girl had curled up in a ball with the bedspread covering her, only her head sticking out; the black hair laying over her face finished camouflaging her amidst the dark sheets. Narcissa's lips quirked as she took in the sight. I swear, it's almost scary how much she reminds me of Bella at that age.
Chuckling, she walked closer and gently shook Jen's shoulder. The youngest Black jerked slightly before stretching out. "Cissy?" she yawned while she wiped crust out of her milky eyes. "What is it?"
"While I'm sure you would if given the choice, there's no reason to sleep in this late. It's already time for lunch." Jen nodded and sat up, the bedspread falling to reveal bare skin that caused Narcissa to pause. While no longer knickers-drenchingly cute, Jen was still a beautiful young woman, at least in her admittedly biased eyes. "Didn't Andi buy you some pyjamas?"
Jen shook her head, a smile on her lips. "Never did I think you would had a problem with me being naked."
"That was before," she said sharply. Jen tilted her head, so she explained in a gentler tone, "Ever since Sirius found you, I've been regretting that we had sex even once, let alone weekly for three years. It was wrong, and I'm sorry."
"And I'm sorry you feel that way; I always treasured our time together, both as lovers and then as friends once I grew too old for you. Still, I…" Trailing off, Jen pursed her lips. "Aunt Cissy, what's that around your neck?"
She blushed when the necklace rose out from under the shallow dip of her dress. It was a simple thing, just a Muggle coin and some colored beads dangling from a string, but what mattered was the meaning behind it. "Lara gave it to me last night."
"She finally got out of greeter duty, huh? Good for her, only took her a year or so to learn when to keep her opinions to herself. I have to say, though, it seems a mite hypocritical for you to come in here and disparage our old relationship when you just got back from being another kid's first real roll in the sack." Jen released her magic's hold on the necklace with a frown.
Narcissa blinked in surprise, wondering what the girl meant until comprehension struck. "I think I see now. I am not – and I very much doubt I ever will be – ashamed of who I am or what my preferences are. However, not only are you a witch and therefore off-limits from a moral standpoint, you were already part of this family, even if neither of us knew at the time. In that light, our actions were highly inappropriate."
"Oh. Well, that makes more sense, I suppose. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions."
"Totally understandable under the circumstances." She sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to lay a hand on Jen's covered leg. "This wasn't wanted to talk to your about, though. Sirius, Andi, and I were worried about how quiet you were last night at dinner. Were you considering Lily's apology?"
"What? No!"
She continued as if she hadn't heard; she needed to say this before she lost her nerve. "Because if you were debating reaching out to the Potters and giving them a second chance, we… we would understand. James is your father, after all, and Lily… well…"
"Auntie," Jen interrupted, taking her hand from the bed and gripping it gently. "The Potters threw me away because I was inconvenient and never once second-guessed themselves until the folly of that decision was shoved in their faces. You, Aunt Andi, and Sirius brought me in and accepted me immediately, uncaring that I had only the most tenuous of connections to you. James may have sired me and Lily given birth to me, but you are my family."
Narcissa perked up at that. Lily Potter had seemed genuinely remorseful; though she had hoped it wasn't the case, it would not be abnormal for Jen to want a real parental figure, something none of them were. She and Andromeda were her aunts, and Sirius alternated between uncle, cousin, and even younger brother as the mood took him. She didn't want Jen to leave, but if the girl thought returning to the Potters was for the best, she would have supported the decision. Of course, it went without saying she'd also try to persuade Jen otherwise at the same time; she had been a Slytherin, after all. Thankfully, that wasn't the case.
"Besides, why would I downgrade to being a member of a mere Noble House when I have so much more power here as an Ancient House's heiress?" Jen added with a grin.
She smirked in return. "Hush, scamp. Don't forget that there are two others who can take your place should you be too cheeky. Get dressed while I tell Kreacher to make you something to eat; we have an appointment with Moira Tattings in an hour to have your dress robe properly fitted." She rose only to be pulled to a stop when Jen refused to release her hand.
"Aunt Cissy, I have a personal question for you," Jen asked slowly, tugging her back to the bed. "It's the first day of winter holidays, and yet you're here rather than with your husband and son. I don't mind – you know I enjoy having you around – but why is that?"
Sighing, Narcissa made herself comfortable. "My relationship with Lucius is… practically nonexistent. As you might have guessed, I did not marry him because we were in love; Great-Uncle Arcturus negotiated a contract between us when I was sixteen, after a couple of quiet rumors sprang up that I had been caught in a broom closet snogging a first year."
"Were you?"
"Oh yes, not that he or the prefect who caught us remembered the next day. Still, the damage had been done. Arcturus was good friends with Cassius, Lucius's grandfather, so everything was organized exceedingly quickly. We have since come to an acceptable arrangement: he provides me a lifestyle befitting my station and heritage while I provide him an heir, a properly behaved wife for the societal functions he cannot escape, and a reasonable excuse for those he can. Beyond that, we are civil to each other but little else."
"What about Draco?" Jen prompted.
"Draco… is very much his father's son," she said sadly, "though he was not always like that. As a baby, he was so happy, always laughing and exploring. I loved him so much that I raised him entirely by myself rather than let the house elves do the dirty work as is common amongst the elite of our society. I may also have spoiled him, just a little.
"Unfortunately, Lucius began tutoring him personally when he turned eight; though I do not know for sure, I suspect Lucius believed he was too 'soft' due to his time with me. Draco has adored his father his entire life, so he saw finally being able to spend every day with his hero as an incredible gift. He constantly tried to emulate Lucius in every way, and soon that included wanting nothing to do with me."
She sighed as Jen slid close and wrapped pale arms around her. "I loved him when he was a baby, I loved him when he was a child, and even now that he treats me like a virtual stranger, I can't help but love him still, but it doesn't mean that I want to spend all my time with him, nor with Lucius." Returning her niece's hug, she whispered, "Not when I have real family again."
"You do," Jen replied equally as softly. "Draco may not appreciate you being his mother like he should, but I wouldn't give up having you as my aunt for anything."
Feeling the hands of her pocket watch, Jen growled in irritation. She had been waiting in the same spot for a while now, and winter nights were cold! The warming charm she had erected around the area surged again, chasing away the worst of the chill but slapping her with another uncomfortable rush of hot, dry air. What the bloody hell is taking so long?!
Arriving here had not been difficult; in fact, scrying for the location was the hardest part. From there, she simply snuck out of the house while everyone else was asleep and followed the route she had planned through the unfortunately empty streets to a nearby bar, one she stood across the street from. A quick walk around the building to place monitoring charms on the exits later, it was just a matter of time before her quarry revealed itself.
A pulse running through the connection she had to her charms made her perk up, only for a second to come right on its heels. She sighed and settled back against the wall. Her plans called for a single sacrifice, and she preferred to avoid purposeless kills; that meant the couples and small groups that had been leaving the bar would not do. Selecting a victim from a group would almost certainly require silencing or stunning charms and mind control and memory modification and just more trouble than she wanted in the ungodly early hours of the morning. Far better was picking someone who was alone.
Yet another pulse hit her, but after a moment there was still not a fourth. That's what I'm talking about, she thought gleefully. Bending what little light there was around her to render herself invisible, she silently teleported to the door.
The man who had set off her alarm had not moved far away, too drunk to do more than stumble haphazardly in a rough heading toward the parking lot. Immediately she erected a field to make everyone ignore what happened inside it. Molding her will, she threw a stunner into his back and caught him with her magic before he could hit the ground. Extending her invisibility to shroud him, she dispelled her avoidance charm, grabbed him, and teleported once more.
The slightest crack heralded her arrival in a small hamlet a few miles away from Cardiff. Her prize floating behind her, she stepped onto an unkempt lawn and shivered as icy wards ripped away her invisibility and flash-froze the scant moisture on her skin. "Surely a few months can't have been long enough for him to forget me," she murmured unhappily. Letting her magic play along the defense's surface, she reached through them and reinforced her connection with the house's wardstone. The cold let up slowly at first, but soon the wards embraced her as the entirety of the house faded into her awareness; she did not even have to reach out for the door to open for her. "Aww, I missed you, too."
Jen walked through the rooms of the one-story house, vanishing the dust that had accumulated since the last time she visited. This had been Elsie's home for many years, but she had come by less and less often as her magical ability surpassed her master's; in the months following the woman's death and ownership being passed to her, she had returned only for occasional upkeep. She would never live there again – the year she had done so before joining Candyland ensured that – but no matter how demanding and borderline cruel the old Haitian had been, Jen still had too many good memories to sell it.
Well, good memories and the reason she was there to begin with.
She levitated the couch to the other side of the tiny den and revealed a door set in the wooden floor. Opening it, she walked down the stairs it hid, the utter lack of illumination not bothering her a bit. The basement below was primitive in the extreme: stone walls, dirt floor, and plain wooden shelves full of plants, books, candles, preserved organs, and other miscellanea along the far wall.
There was also a small desk in the corner next to the supplies, and it was here she headed next. Jen pulled her ritual dagger out of the belt loops of her old jeans and laid it on the surface, then added the bag of herbs Kreacher purchased for her a couple of days earlier. Removing the heavy coat she had borrowed from Sirius, albeit without his knowledge, along with her blouse revealed her naked torso; she slipped her trainers off as well, leaving only the trousers to 'preserve her modesty'. While it was not essential for her to be unclothed just yet, she preferred completing her preparations in the same outfit she would wear for the actual ritual.
She maintained that disrobing in the middle broke her concentration during the longer scripts; Elsie had always rejoined that working in the brothel had simply turned her into a shameless exhibitionist.
Grabbing her dagger from the desk, she walked to the center of the wide room and began carving in the soil, moving slowly and methodically to avoid mistakes. First came the patterned cross, four feet long and three wide, then the intricate coffin at its feet. At the head she drew two Futhark runes, an inverted uruz and a backwards hagalaz for domination and loss, respectively. Finally, she etched a shallow ring eight feet in diameter around the symbols. Satisfied at the arctic power she could already feel radiating from the designs even though no real magic had yet taken place, she turned her attention to the ritual's power source.
A brief thought lit the sconces along the walls, and then she woke the man from her stunner. He groaned. "Ugh, what the – ?"
He didn't get any further than that as she conjured a thick wad of cloth in his mouth. "As much as I would love to chat, we simply do not have the time. Suffice it to say that I have need of you at the moment." She lowered him onto the drawn cross, her magic holding his limbs spread, and then a twitch of her fingers conjured four large titanium nails. Another twitch flung them into the ground through his wrists and ankles.
"I do apologize," she said clinically, likely unheard through his muffled screams, "but this ritual works best if you are aware and in pain for its entirety. I refuse to go into a confrontation with an incubus, newly awakened or not, without some form of insurance. Between torturing you and performing this on the winter solstice, the day of the year when dark magic is at its peak, I will be able to create the most potent poupe lavi possible."
She diverted a bit of energy from the room into the drawn ring and felt it snap closed while expanding into three dimensions. Similar to yet totally different from wards, protective circles were essential to the Higher Magics, both black and white, and excised the space contained from the rest of the world. A simple circle like this one could not divert physical objects or spells, but there was no way for magic to passively flow from one side to the other. She hated being inside circles since she could not sense outside them, but she would rather be limited in that regard than chance a random flux interfering with the ritual.
Slipping the dagger back into her jeans, she returned to the desk and picked up the paper bag. As she turned back, she suddenly stopped. "I'm forgetting something. What?" Feeling the shelves with her sonar, she found what she was looking for. "Oh boy, that would have been bad." A flick of her wrist called four items to her, and she pushed the coat off the desk to make space. Humming lightly, she took some tobacco out of a small burlap bag and dropped it into a metal ashtray, then filled a shot glass with rum. She lit the tobacco. "There, that should do it."
With one final stop at the shelves to pick up a few more items, Jen stepped thorough the gossamer dome close to the man's legs, her nipples hardening and goosebumps breaking out at the freezing temperature inside. She carefully arranged the ritual components around her, then untied five bundles of herbs and began braiding the plants into a rough human form. "Comfrey, thyme, heal my wounds," she muttered. "Fern and lilac, protect me from harm. Jasmine, seductress, serve in my stead. Speak with my voice."
Weaving her doll did not take long thanks to the practice she had gotten with the weeds collected from Grimmauld Place's garden, and then she was ready for the next step. She vanished the man's shirt and picked up a small gem. "Garnet, stone of the heart, hold an imprint of this life." Using a silver knife to cut him lightly on the side, she coated the stone in the blood that welled up and slid it into the body of her figurine. She plucked a hair from her head and tied the top of her poppet closed.
"Now comes the fun part," she muttered sarcastically as she reached for where she had laid two shallow goblets. Leaving the golden one on the ground, she set a wonky iron cup in front of her. She then drew her dagger and slid the serrated edge along a scar on the inside of her left wrist, cutting lengthwise to avoid severing her tendons. Blood ran into the cup for a moment before she healed herself. She set her blade beside her, grabbed the goblet, and moved to straddle her victim. Dipping a finger in her blood, she drew the same runes she had carved in the ground on his chest, then added an inverted fehu right over his heart marking him as her slave, her property to do with as she wished. After laying the doll on the newest mark, she switched goblets and vanished the nail pinning his right arm down.
She caught his fist when he swung it at her. "Ah, ah, ah, none of that, now. The more you fight…" She shattered the tiny bones of his hand, then, paying close attention to the drain on the space's available magic, activated all his pain receptors simultaneously, causing him to scream even louder. "…the more I have to hurt you." Her magic held his arm still as she grabbed her dagger and slashed his wrist above the gaping hole to avoid contamination and to imbue his blood with deathly magic, made even more potent from the torment he had just suffered. She collected more of his gushing fluid than she had spilled of her own before sealing the wound and restraining his arm once more. The spike punched a new hole through the limb closer to his elbow. Again she drew runes, this time an upright uruz and hagalaz on the tops of her breasts, but just below her cleavage she added a different symbol than he was sporting: kenaz, the symbol for life and regeneration. Steeling herself for the next act, she drank the rest of the blood in the goblet.
Immediately she started choking as lightning shot down her esophagus and into her stomach. For a brief moment, she felt like she was being torn in two; that sensation faded, leaving her with an echo of a rapid heartbeat not her own. She licked her lips to get the rest of the vital liquid before finishing the ritual. Moving above the man's head, she leaned over and softly kissed the corner of his mouth. "I doubt you have any charitable thoughts about me right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I am grateful for your help. May you find peace in the afterlife."
With that epitaph, she reached out with her dagger and slit his throat.
As her fight with the dragon had recently proved, it did not take long for something to die from a severed carotid artery or jugular vein. The ritual, however, slowed down this process dramatically. Her victim's body spasmed in pain as the the vibrations signifying life reacted to the magic she had wrought on him, growing more intense at his chest while ceasing in his hands and feet. Stillness crept along his limbs, and several minutes later his chest seized, the vibrations oozing through the rune over his heart and into her figure of herbs. With a final exhalation, he slumped to the ground.
She picked up her newest toy with a smile. While not a 'Voodoo doll' in the stereotypical sense, this was far more useful at the moment. It was a poupe lavi, a life doll, housing the vitality she had stolen from the corpse. Should she be severely hurt, it would automatically draw energy from the garnet and heal her injuries. Even lethal wounds could be reversed so long as there was power stored inside.
There was also the nice benefit that it would serve as a second reserve of life-force if her discussion with Zabini ended poorly and he tried to drain her on instinct. A girl could never be too careful, after all.
Of course, there were disadvantages to a poupe lavi, just as with all magics. For one, she could only use a single augmentation doll at a time, which meant no poupe zam or poupe bèt to increase her resilience or physical abilities. Dolls also 'leaked' their magic, meaning that even if she had no need for it, it would still be useless in nine months. There was also the fact that poupe were just as easy to destroy as the plants that they were made of, which was why Voodoo practitioners commonly coated completed dolls in mud they could ensorcel with defensive charms as it dried.
Jen, however, had a better method to protect her doll. Rising from her kneeling position next to the corpse, she scuffed a heel through the circle to break it and let the relative warmth from the rest of the room rush in, then she walked to the corner of the basement closest to the stairs. A flick of her wrist pulled off the fake wall covering the little alcove. She laid the hand not holding her doll on her hip and in a stern tone asked, "Just what did you think you were doing earlier, trying to keep me out of the house?"
If someone had seen Elsie walking down the street in the past few years, they would have presumed her to be just a frail old grandmother; they would also have made a terrible mistake. She was not a powerful witch, nor was she physically imposing, but what she was was ruthless, amoral, and diabolically clever. She had finally passed away at the extraordinary age of one-hundred and seventy, and in those years she had conducted numerous experiments, including the one currently in front of Jen. The withered body inside the closet shook lightly as the magic bound to its bones circulated faster. It gave a pitiful whine and projected a feeling of regret.
"Sorry's not going to cut it this time, Alain. Elsie is dead; this house belongs to me now. I didn't take umbrage when you hustled me out all those times, but never bar me from entering again, understand?" The mummified remains whimpered again and gave a minute nod. She smiled at the acquiescence and patted his head gently.
Alain was surely Elsie's greatest achievement. Examining the unrelated theories of soul jars and zombies, she had devised a way to bind an individual's soul to his still-living body, creating an effective – if flawed – form of immortality. The problem was that of the two people she had done this to, neither had come out with their minds intact. The first, a stranger she had chosen at random, had to be destroyed a few days later due to its constant rages. The second was Alain, a great-nephew who had been devoted to her in life and only became more so when she altered him. The woman had used him for physical protection and manual labor for many years until he began to weaken, then tied his mind to the house's wardstone in an attempt to give the building intelligence; unfortunately, that had shattered most of what was left of the man's psyche. Now, he was little more than an interface to the wards that was also a major pain in Jen's arse nine times out of ten. If only he weren't one of the few legacies Elsie left to her.
"I do have something you can do to make it up to me, though." She uncurled the stiff hand that wasn't resting on the football-sized wardstone and put her doll in it. "Keep this safe. If someone unknown breaches the wards and manages to discover the basement, bring it along with Elsie's journals and the stone when you ride the portkey to safety." Knowing that Alain was incapable of disobeying a direct order, she replaced the entrance to his alcove.
Walking back to the center of the room, she vanished the nails from her sacrifice's body and levitated it. She then added the clumps of soil that had absorbed the spilled blood; with a surge of aimless hatred, she set the corpse ablaze with cursed fire. While that burned to nothing at a far faster pace than any natural flame would be capable of, she smoothed the dirt floor to erase her veve and disperse any lingering energy. She moved back to the desk so she could vanish the ashes from the tobacco and return the dish and the empty glass to the shelves, then vanished what blood was left in the goblets and on the knife before replacing them as well. She dressed herself and grabbed a handful of sage, igniting it with normal fire; the smoke from this herb had exorcism properties that would force the dead man's angry spirit to depart in case it had decided to stick around and haunt her.
She pulled out her pocket watch to check the time; already three-thirty. Good, I still have enough time to return home and get a few hours' sleep. It's been a long day.
I hope none of you forgot that as likable as Jen is, she is not a nice person. Out of curiosity, does anyone pay attention to the runes and meanings I give, or should I just say she drew/carved runes on whatever and save myself the trouble?
Silently Watches out.