Okay... so I'm over a month late. I'm truly sorry about that but I just haven't had much time to write lately (even though I have chapters up until 22) And I've truly neglected my other stories. Kazama: the Startling Line is one of the stories I've neglected in the time since my last update (for either stories) Anyway, onwards with the show!
Chapter 18: Walpurgis Night of Insanity
Meissa wanted to help the trio try and convince Hagrid that he needed to part with the dragonling but April 30th was soon upon them, and with it Walpurgis Night, and she needed - no, she wanted - to focus on it. The magic of the dead had been building in the days leading up to it and she could scarcely breathe in the gradual build.
Hermione was probably the only one among those undecided and Light wizards that even noticed - or at least the only ones among those she associates with. Hermione couldn't feel it, not yet, but for Meissa there was a crawling sensation all across her body like someone was lightly caressing her.
The sensation unnerves her - has always unnerved her - but she knew she couldn't rebel against it.
"What's wrong," Hermione asks the day before Walpurgis and when the sensation was nearly at its' worse. They had been sitting by the lakeside for nearly ten minutes and already the Black heiress was fidgeting as if her trousers were on fire. "You've been jittery the last four days!"
"Sorry," Meissa mutters, her left hand flexing repeatedly - trying to expel the heavy sensation of what surely felt like ants in her skin. "It's - Well, it's a bit complicated to explain," she comments, finally deciding to distract herself by braiding her hair.
"Start with the basics?"
Meissa didn't know how to start with the basics. But for Hermione she could try, it was the only thing she could really do. "Well… Halloween is the time when the spirits of the dead are more likely to be seen by the living," she starts softly, forcing Hermione to lean in to better understand her. "But on Walpurgis night… the magic of the dead return to us, drawing in everyone who are sensitive with the wild magic."
Hermione made to say something but Meissa shook her head to tell her that she wanted to finish before any questions were asked.
"Walpurgis night is sacred among the Dark Wizards and Witches. The Light Wizards and Witches, they don't celebrate Walpurgis like we do because they believe that Dark magic is evil." Meissa turns her attention away from Hermione as she delves into old memories of books that spoke of distinctions between Light and Dark magic. "Magic that hurts people or is cast in a manner that only deserves to prolong their pain are considered Dark. Light magic is considered to be free will and tame in comparison to Dark Magic."
Meissa was still not looking at Hermione at this point, her memories far from her as she focused on her wand, tracing the patterns on the hilt. The design always reminded her of the skeletal hand of a person and every time she held the wand she always found her fingers overlapping the design perfectly.
"Magic, in my own opinion, depends on your will. If you intend to hurt someone then that is exactly what you will do. I hardly bother with labels because it just complicate matters." She finally turns her gaze onto Hermione, surprising the Gryffindor with the intensity of it. "There is no right or wrong when it comes to magic… Tell me, if you knew a person was suffering and the only way you could relieve them of the pain was to let them die would you cast the Killing Curse?"
Hermione had an horrified look on her face from the question but while Meissa had an intense expression she didn't sense a need to hurry her answer. But she still didn't know, truthfully, what she would do. "Couldn't I save them?" she asks softly, drawing a small smile from her friend as well as a firm headshake.
It was clear to Hermione that Meissa was trying to impart a lesson and as much as she dreads the thought she knew that Meissa wouldn't force her to think up something so cold unless she had her reasons.
"If… if the only thing that could spare them pain… and if they truly wished to die… then I… against my better judgment…" Hermione shudders briefly before Meissa touches her shoulder. The contact so soft and brief it was barely felt but just the fact the Black heiress was willing to initiate however brief touch reassured her.
"I don't mean to distress you," Meissa mutters quietly. "But you understand that the Killing Curse is one of the Unforgivables. Yet can it truly be unforgivable if the spell is used to end the pain a person is suffering through and could not be relieved in any other manner?"
"Meissa… I see what you mean about magic… but I pray that we never have to face that kind of situation. I don't think my consciousness could take it and survive." Hermione, if she had to admit, was terrified of the thought of having to do something remotely similar to what Meissa had described. And she didn't have to admit it - she said it all in her voice.
"I pray you never have to take a life, 'Mione," Meissa smiles warily. "Regardless of what happens I hope you understand what I meant about magic. Magic, for me, falls in a gray area much like most people."
Hermione nods once in agreement - if there was one thing she had to glean from her time in Hogwarts so far, magic had no logic and no morals. It all depended on the castor and with what Meissa had put in perspective she could see that the labels were wrong - or rather they were misleading.
"So… Walpurgis," she starts, unsure if the conversation was done or if they had gotten off track.
"Mm?" Meissa turns to look at Hermione before she remembers what they were originally talking about. "Ah, right. Walpurgis is our way to celebrate magic in its' purest sense - wild and free," an excited lilt appears in her voice, "It's dangerous to try and grab the magic and use it. You're supposed to feel it - embrace the memories it carries deep within. Have you ever wondered what the world has to say about the past? About the purest happiest moments it ever experienced?" Meissa smiles at her before a dark look appears on her face. "Or the most horrific moments… There is no good or bad - it just is."
"It sounds…" Hermione pauses as she tries to find a word to describe what the Slytherin was telling her. It sounded exciting and terrifying - just about everything all at once and she couldn't even begin to feel what her friend must surely be feeling.
Meissa waited patiently for Hermione, understanding in a way that she needed to find a way to describe it in her own words. Yet ultimately aware that Hermione would never be able to unless she experienced it herself. It was only due the fact that she belonged to the Black family first and foremost that she had even experienced Walpurgis - her great-grandfather insisting that she experience it and it was only due to his insistence that her godfather even allowed her to attend the celebrations.
When it became clear to both of them that Hermione could not produce a word to describe what she was trying to convoy Meissa decided that it was best to move on with the conversation.
"Hermione, I have no doubt that you're curious and perhaps even a bit scared," she eyes her friend and saw the answers in the other girl's face, "but the celebration is… cannot be experienced unless…" She pauses as she struggles to find the right phrasing. "I do not want to say that you must declare yourself as a Dark Witch in order to experience it but in truth, the only way you can even go to the location is if your magical signature has Dark magic within."
"But-"
"No buts, 'Mione." Meissa shifted around so that they were better able to see each other. "Walpurgis is a tradition honored solely by the Dark wizards - there has not been a single incident of a Light wizard attending the celebration. And I don't want you declaring for the Dark just for the opportunity to experience it." She hesitates for a second before she takes the other girl's hand. "Declaring is… it's a big thing in the Wizarding world. Neutral magic is grand and all but there's a sense of power, a boost almost, for declaring for a side. The magic… it's alive and once you've declared you're no longer just a witch, you're obligated to adhere to the fundamental aspects of the magic."
"There's a lot I don't know about magic, isn't there…"
"Part of it isn't your fault, Hermione. You didn't grow up in this world and I don't think you asked for it," she eyes the Gryffindor, wondering. "The best I can do, we can do, is just prepare you for it."
"How do you suggest that?"
"There are books on customs and laws. Reading them could give you a better idea on the state of my world. Maybe you, as a muggleborn, might see something to improve on?"
Hermione immediately saw the potential in what was suggested to her. It wasn't until later that she realized that her friend had effectively distracted her from the thoughts of Walpurgis.
~MJB~
It was just after dinner and the Meissa was just about vibrating in her seat - the Black glare fixed on her face whenever another Slytherin tries to glare her into stillness. Daphne was nearby, cloaks in hand, without the same issue her friend seemed to be suffering from.
On one hand it was amusing to see the other girl unable to hold back her excitement. On the other hand it was a bit worrying that she was constantly fidgeting. And yes, she's aware of the contradiction in her thoughts - it was a fairly normal thing now with her friend around.
In the few times she had truly seen Meissa angry she had seemed like an entirely different person. Her words clipped and acidic and the magic from her tended to make her feel like she was being overexposed by sunlight. Normally Meissa's magic felt like a warm fall day with the scent of crisp apples. But when she was angry, angrier than she had been with Ron, it changes to the feel of a raging forest fire with the thick clotting scent of ashes.
Right now though, her magic seemed fairly normal - though there was a hint of… Daphne could only allude it to spring.
While Daphne was thinking about Meissa's magic the girl in question was trying various methods her godfather had taught her to try and lessen the impact of the magic on her. All in all, it promised to be an interesting night.
By the time the clock struck nine everyone in the Slytherin common room was impatient - they were supposed to have been gone at this point yet not one had come forward with the way to leave Hogwarts.
Scarcely seconds after this thought passed through their minds in some way or form a small stone appeared before Daphne. Startling the girl before she instinctively reaches out to catch it.
Meissa turns to her friend, the hair on the back of her neck raising as she stares at the smooth black stone. The surface had a polished appearance but as she leans in she saw that there was actually some kind of design on it.
She compared it to a memory of a Walpurgis celebration long ago and realized it was different. Daphne's stone had the appearance of a carefully cut diamond yet had what seemed to be an never ending depth that called to her.
There was a low murmur among the Slytherins - some shocked, some angry, some just excited to finally go.
Meissa whispered something, dark eyes wide as she meets Daphne's confused and hesitant ones. "Go," she whispers, a near excited bounce in her movements now that everyone was standing - cloaks secured.
Daphne had been to Walpurgis celebrations all her life but never had she the honor…
With a glance to her friend she steels herself before she waves a hand over the stone, feeding her magic and prompting silver veins to appear over it as if suddenly frosted. The magic prompting it to change and begun to spin in her hand, the magic pulsing much like a heartbeat.
Faster and faster the stone spun and she threw it up high, the stone stopping high above their heads and spun even faster.
Meissa stood deadly still, her body an odd contraction of tensed and relaxed - magic rising obediently to the surface, reaching for the stone. The magic, normally invisible, could be seen by all and like always Meissa watched with transfixed eyes as her magic twirls with the colors of white and black. She could never understand the contradictions of her magic and while many had theories about her magic she knew what many thought.
It was a mystery to all that have seen her magic.
The stone was much like a black moon at this point and every one's magic reached for it, the silver veins reaching out, tangling with them. Meissa shudders at the deepest sense of Wild magic, glancing over to Daphne with wide dark eyes - a grin worthy of her mother on her face.
Instead of being focused on the stone like the others the two girls were looking at each other - the slightest bump when they arrived the only thing that severed the connection between them.
Catching Daphne when she stumbles Meissa looks around, eying their surroundings, and was decently surprised to find that they were in a forest of some kind. Like before there was a large bonfire blazing in the even larger clearing. The fire was unusual/unnatural - bathing the clearing with an eerie silver color while the flames were forever changing. One second green, another frost or a pale gray. But always changing, a true embodiment of the wild magic that was in the heart of tonight's celebration.
"Why was I chosen?" Daphne whispers softly - the only reason why she was heard at all was because she was still clinging to Meissa.
"Does it matter?" Meissa smiles broadly at the other girl, "We're here. That's all that counts."
Daphne shakes her head at the eager Black heiress, perhaps realizing that there was just no way she'd be able to hold a serious conversation with her until after the magic releases its hold on her.
"C'mon!" Meissa grins at the blonde, grabbing her wrist before yanking her along to claim the best seats in the 'house'. As if her words had prompted everyone into action there was a race to the bonfire. With a breathless laugh they hurl themselves to the ground before the bonfire and without warning Meissa thrust their joined hands into the flames, the flames licking their hands. The fire warm as the breath of a dragon or as cold as fresh snow.
They bow their heads together, laughing and giggling as if they have some great secret to share. Meissa's eyes as wild as the magic around them and her laughter tinged with hysteria and bordering the cackles Daphne dreads.
They look up only when they hear one of the Slytherins shout excitedly, seeing the approach of their families. Daphne quickly sees her mother and sister, running off to meet with them and leaving Meissa to stare into the flames.
But she didn't miss the approach of another Slytherin, his footsteps neither loud or subtle.
"What do you want, Zabini," she calls over her shoulder, not even bothering to turn and face him.
"It has been some time since your last visit that I thought it would be worth the time to introduce you to my mother, Arianna Zabini."
Meissa twist around to find a tall woman standing next to Blaise Zabini. Her skin - from what she could see - was smooth and darker than her son's, her dark eyes large. Her dark hair coiled in so many intricate braids around her head that it wasn't readily apparent how long it was. Realizing that she was at a disadvantage sitting she stood to face the other woman on equal footing. She had not spent much time with the other Slytherins but she knew some things about each of their families - just enough to get her out of trouble if worse comes to worse.
The Zabini family was a bit of an unknown for her but she did however know that Blaise's mother was considered to be a Black Widow by certain circles in the Wizarding community.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she bows just enough to show respect but nothing more.
"Ms. Black," she returns, offering a hand to Meissa - barely allowing her to register the fact that there was a musical quality to her voice. "My son has told me much about you."
She arches an eyebrow at the pair as she took her hand, dark eyes warily taking them in. "Good evening, Mrs. Zabini. It is a pleasure to meet you."
An amused look appears on the woman's face as Meissa took back her hand, ignoring the tingle in her hand for the magic in the air. "I wish to offer my consolation," she says, "I did not know your aunt personally but I'm sure the Wizarding World mourns for her death."
"Thank you for your consolation," Meissa dips her head ever so slightly. "I have to believe that my aunt is in a better place, with her brothers and sisters."
"Perhaps you'll be gifted with a vision of her magic," the witch suggests, her eyes dancing in the low light provided by the bonfire.
It was a valid thought - a thought that chilled Meissa to her core. Being visited by an ancestor's magic was a privilege not many could claim. It was certainly not something she wanted - past, present, or future. She counted herself lucky that she was not deemed worthy so far.
"It would be an honor if such a feat was to occur," Meissa says, refusing to let her inner thoughts show. The look in the Dark Witch's mind was clear to the young Slytherin - the Black Widow was very interested in what would happen and she had no doubt that if it was possible Arianna Zabini would arrange for it.
"Meissa!" she hears but refrained from turning towards the voice, a low hum in the back of her mind insisting - 'don't trust her!' - that she doesn't turn her back to the other woman.
"My apologies," she inclines her head slightly towards the Dark Witch, "It would seem that my attention is being demanded elsewhere."
Arianna dips her head slightly, a low twinkle of bells capturing Meissa's attention briefly. "Of course. My apologies for holding you for so long."
Meissa strengthens the mask over her expressions, "Perhaps you can sing us a song before the night's over," she suggests before walking away.
The tingling in her hand was getting annoying now - she couldn't stop flexing her fingers in an effort of chasing the sensation away - but finding Daphne in this crowd as a priority right now.
She crossed the clearing to the other side before she found Daphne Greengrass and - her entire body tensed when she realizes that she was staring at a near likeness of her friend. An older version sure but the resemblance was strong between them.
She's not sure how long she was staring at them but she's sure that it must have been long enough for Daphne to turn around and realize that she was there.
"Meissa!" the blonde smiles as she grabs the Black heiress' hands and pulled her closer to the older blonde. "Mum, this is my friend, Meissa Black. Meissa, this is my mother, Alona Greengrass."
"It's a pleasure," Meissa bows a bit more formally than she had with Zabini's mother, "to meet you, Lady Greengrass."
"My, my," Alona drawls, "A Black with manners."
"Mum!" Daphne protests while Meissa tensed under the woman's gaze.
Was this someone whom her mother offended? Or some relative of hers? Not for the first time Meissa cursed her large estranged family and its' stupid tendency to pass down the insanity gene.
She doesn't know how to react. She didn't want to give the older woman reason to hate her and she didn't want to lose Daphne - she never thought that she would come to a point where losing someone would be unbearable.
"Hush," was the woman's sharp remand towards her daughter, her eyes never leaving Meissa's blazing ones. The Black heiress was quickly finding that she did not like Daphne's mother - she reminded her too much of, no she just, no.
Her fingers twitched, the muscles jumping in her arms, but she bore the weight of Alona's gaze. She wanted to defend herself or to even slam some sense or respect into the other woman - but there was a strange twisting inside her guts that told her that if she did anything of the like she was likely to lose her friendship with Daphne.
"Have you not a word in your own defense?" Alona questions, nearly pushing Meissa's temper to the edge of its' limits.
"It's clear to me, Lady Greengrass, that you had plenty of time to forge your hatred for the Black family and formulate an opinion despite the fact we had never met," Meissa remarks drily. Her stance loose but not at all ignorant of the fact that she was probably one word from danger. "If you will not put aside your disregard for my family then I see no point in attempting to defend myself."
The look she got from Daphne's mother was cold but she still held her gaze, refusing to coward away from the witch. Not only did her Black pride meant that she could not, would not, bow down but her personal feelings regarding the whole situation dictated that she stay strong.
"You are much like your mother," Greengrass sneers, looking down her nose at Meissa.
She knew that it was meant to be an insult but Meissa shrugs her shoulders in the face of it, "Thank you. I thrive to be the best I can be." Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Daphne's worry clear on her face and she wanted to reassure that regardless of what happened this night she wasn't going to stop being her friend.
Alona looked like she was about to spit something at her - spiteful words not actual spit - when the bonfire flared up, stopping all conversation and grabbed the attention of everyone in the clearing.
Standing in the shadow of the bonfire was a man - Meissa couldn't name him but judging from the item in his hands she could safely say that he must have survived magic Darker than any among them. She turns fully away from the Greengrass family and watched the man bow his head to the small item in his hand, sparking alternately between green and silver.
"This is Walpurgis Night," said the man, his head lifting and his voice clear as it cuts across the crowd of witches and wizards - silencing any chatter at once. "This is the night that magic returns, the night when the magic renews… The night when the Dark cries out in its power." Meissa shivers at the words, the magic he spoke about rising in a feverish pitch. The magic creating an itch in her that made her tense and eager to get on with it.
"There is magic coming again," Meissa could hear his voice becoming clearer. "There is power coming again and we stand on the edge of change." Her breath catches in her throat, her mind thinking suddenly of the events happening in Hogwarts. There's just no way this isn't connected, it has to be connected. She was almost sure of this. "Magic bound will now be free!" the man cries suddenly, casting his hands up. Pitching the item in his hand high into the sky, dark eager eyes following it quickly as it burst and expanded. Changing into what each of them wanted to see - never the same for two or three or more.
Her breath catching as it changed quicker than she could comprehend. The shower of dust branding itself into her heart and mind.
The somber mood in the air broke into a frenzy and unheard music seizes them all into a pied piper dance. Meissa was swept up into the magic, moving and twisting, and laughing - oh she could scarcely breathe. A hand grabs her and when she whirls around, magic sparking in her, she's stunned to find Daphne smiling - no, beaming - at her. Her heart jumps to her throat and she lets herself be pulled along deep into the action. Their feet moving quickly as they moved - their hands keeping them together as they danced opposite of many different people.
They were dancing opposite of Blaise once, his usual reserved demeanor gone as he danced. His eyes dark and glittering before - with a whirl - he was gone and Meissa's mood almost darkened when she sees who's dancing opposite of them now. Pansy gave them an angry sneer that prompted Meissa to growl a curse at her- her words not meant to be a curse but genuinely spiteful. Whether the girl heard her or not was a bit questionable since she was gone as fast as the words left Meissa's lips.
The only time the girls' hands separated was when they found themselves moving in a tight ring with Arianna Zabini moving gracefully - the music shifting and Meissa could barely breathe again as the music wrapped around her.
She turned away before her heart could stop and found herself alone, eyes wide as black silhouettes of beasts loped down the hills, the shadows cutting through the air as well as raising from the ground. She stood there watching as the mass glided towards her.
Doubling over when one particular one phases through her, the memory of some long forgotten time searing itself into her soul. Breathless she absorbs the memory - I loved her she loved me so why is this the only way why do I have to kill them to get to her and why was she dead before I could hold her in my arms like a wife - before she straightens her body.
She looks around her - the shadows of the Dark wizards and witches' magic large and small danced among the gathered and she barely even moved when a large dragon that looked half rotted touched her shadow - Stun them you have to stun them but why is it that every time I look into their eyes I feel this profound connection? There's more to them than what meets the eye and I just can't bring myself to stun them - the connection breaks and she's left gutted by the experience.
She felt as if her heart was just ripped out and felt a sense of familiarity with the memory despite the fact that she knew she had never encountered this rotted dragon. But before she could think much of it her shadow was struck by a twisted Basilisk shadow. She gasps out - Fools the lot of them! I know this will work! I know it! - as the world turned sideways - NO! IT HAS TO WORK! IT CANNOT NOT WORK! - while the memory of trying and yet failing to revive a loved one tore through her.
All around her witches and wizards each experienced the memories of those long since gone and she ignored them all as she stood at the edge of the clearing. The occasional shadows would find her and show her its' memories before flouncing off to find another victim.
But the loss of the love one from the basilisk had struck a chord much like the memory of the dragon tamer and she found that she couldn't bear the thought of mingling with the other wizards once the shadows were gone. On her knees she turned her face up towards the skies, closing her eyes as she reached deep inside herself and sorted the memories and the feelings invoked by them.
She doesn't know how much time had passed, the only thing she was aware of was the tangle of memories and emotions inside her. Her mind hardly registering the tell tale signs of magic being woven into the music that has started up again - barely registering the story being told until she heard the crisp applauds and cheers from those gathered around the bonfire.
When she looks up she found Zabini's mother curtsying and looking rather pleased with herself - it left Meissa wondering what she missed while trying to fix what was broken inside. Forcing herself to her feet she searches the ground for Daphne or her mother - though she really hopes she finds Daphne first.
Though, it was just her luck that she found Alona first and judging from the look on her face she was not happy to have been found by a Black. She also looked like she was crying so that was the only reason why Meissa found herself willingly approaching the woman.
Well, one of the two. The other one has something to do with the woman being Daphne's mother and she couldn't in good conscious leave the woman to her misery.
She also didn't know how to comfort someone so she went with what she knew best.
"What did my mother do to you for you to project it onto her only child?" she asks bluntly and to the point.
"She lived," was Alona's retort but before she could say anything else Daphne found them and hooked her arm with Meissa's. Prompting the other girl looks at her friend in confusion, seeing the stubborn set in the blonde's jaw and wondered what she had seen to make her stand up to her own mother.
"Meissa," Daphne starts in a tone that sent a chill down the Black heiress' back, "They're starting the next ceremony already. Do you want to join?"
Meissa looks over her shoulder to find that it has begun like Daphne said - the bonfire surrounded by a circle of absolute darkness that turned into a wall as she looked on. By all rights the light given off by the bonfire should be blocked by the circle but there was an eerie glow radiating from the circle.
She remembered what it's supposed to do and the meaning of the circle but like always she knew she could not, would not enter it. Not even for one second.
"No," she answers her friend simply and to the point. She knew that if she steps into the circle and allowed the magic to take her apart she wouldn't want to be put back together.
"Okay, let's go back then," Daphne suggests, ignoring her mother and the angry glare her friend was being given. Meissa, glancing between the two, could only nod her agreement and just like that they were walking away from Daphne's mother.
"Are you sure it's wise to just leave?" she asks the blonde, glancing over her shoulder.
"You're my friend, Meissa, I'm not going to just abandon you because my mum has an issue with your family." The Black heiress looks at her for a long moment before she wraps an arm around the other girl, silently expressing her thanks.
~MJB~
So I've been thinking about something. Do you guys have a preference for who to pair Meissa with? (Also, since most if not all of First Years are 11, if ya'll have a preference for who to pair her up with it'll happen... fourth year at the earliest probably) For that matter, I wonder how many of ya'll know what is going on with her in general.