The Visage family patriarch let his nieces settle down over a few goblets of butterbeer at the Leaky Cauldron before a cab arrived to take them across Tower Bridge. Knowing the twins' affinity for the dark and odd, Altair planned a calm stroll through the Tower of London. He always hated that back in America, there was ever only talk of the revolution and the colonies. No discussions of where they might've grown up. When Ion pleaded with him to take the girls, he tried to find ways to teach them about their heritage. The town they might have lived in. The language their parents spoke, both seaside natives who planned on taking their daughters to the south of France every summer when they were old enough. The little jokes the brothers shared in their youth.
The Visage family were pure-bloods, some of the oldest from the French country-side before making their way to Paris as all of their children had been marked to attend Beauxbaton Academy of Magic even before they'd received their names. Of the wealthy and notorious pure-blood families who attended Beauxbaton, the Visages were the most discrete, quietly contributing to the wizarding community with their research on potions.
Altair was the eldest of the brothers, and the wrangler of the dueling club at school. He was in detention at least once a month for experimenting with new potions, but their parents didn't mind. They used his mishaps for their research, perfecting the potion before submitting it to the French Ministry of Magic. Ion was the youngest, and always the most doted on by their parents. He had no interest in potions, instead focusing on charms and transfiguration. Immediately after graduating, Altair traveled to their cousin school, the Durmstrang Institute, to learn more about the Dark Arts, always with the intention of teaching students how to defend themselves. No one expected that during Altair's time away that Ion would make the trip to London to work for the Ministry of Magic or to be the first one to marry. Relocating to London convinced Altair to apply to work at Hogwarts.
The brothers were always very close, only separated by a few years. Altair was always very naturally protective of Ion, but he felt comforted when Ion met Aeris. She was no doubt the most charming young witch he'd ever met. Her hair was frost white which Aster inherited, and her eyes were as pale as a cloudy day - a trait she passed on to Io.
Every time Altair looked at the twins, he saw Aeris, but more importantly, he always saw Ion. His sapphire hair, just dark enough to be black but appeared blue in the sunlight. His hazel eyes, narrow and intimidating. Both of the girls had his smile, and every time they laughed, Altair thought of his brother.
Altair followed closely behind Aster and Io through the streets of London. It wasn't very busy as most have already purchased Christmas gifts for their loved ones. He kept a close eye on them as they both peered into the windows of different shops, all decorated with red and gold. They laughed and pointed to every Christmas tree in sight. Every now and then, they'd duck into a store and come out with a small purchase.
Despite the cheerful mood, he was distracted.
When he'd arrived at Hogwarts, he knew Albus wanted to speak with him. They hadn't spoken much since their last owl.
Dumbledore greeted him with a large, familiar grin. "Good to see you, old friend."
"And you, Albus."
"I'm afraid I have news about Voldemort. Mr. Potter and I have been looking through some memories I have collected, but unfortunately they were very difficult to find. It seems very few people who are alive today paid enough attention to Tom Riddle."
"What have you found so far?"
"It's difficult to be sure. Mr. Potter is trying to obtain the last and most important memory, but it involves Horcruxes."
"Horcruxes? My God, Albus, this is serious."
Dumbledore picked up a gold bowl, holding these squirming black candies. "Indeed. I think it's time we discuss how your nieces are to approach this situation moving forward. Licorice snap?"
"No," Altair winced, seeing the little candies reveal small teeth. "Thank you. And how are they to be involved? I know you asked me to assist in the war going forward, but I still don't understand what Aster and Io are to do. They're still young girls, they can't -"
"I'm sure you know as well as I do that they are very gifted. I don't know very many young Animagi who are also Legilimens. Or young witches who can duel the way they do."
"Yes, of course, but this is war, Albus. It's nothing like dueling club or Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Dumbledore was now helping himself to the vicious sweets, swallowing one before continuing. "Darkness can hide under the cloak of midnight just as a raging fire can hide in the light. Their gifts and connection to Voldemort and his war will be exposed to them, and then they'll understand. Did you do as I suggested?"
"I did. The girls both have the trinkets, and I told them to keep them close at all times."
"Was it difficult, placing the memories in those gemstones?"
The moonstone and the jade - they weren't just little treasures. They were memories that, when shattered, would release a silver liquid meant for a pensive. Altair slaved over research, trying to figure out the best way to encase the memories, so they wouldn't be lost.
"Admittedly, yes. And they didn't pry too hard." Altair felt frustration bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He reached for a decanter of brandy on one of the tables, not waiting any longer for an invitation to drink. Tipping a heavy pour into a glass, he sipped carefully, trying to steady himself. "I did not prepare them for what they will see, Albus. Everything I've done since they've been in my charge was to protect them. Shield them from all of this and from what they are."
"Shield them from what they are?"
"And from what became of their parents."
"How did you manage to hide it from them -" Dumbledore refilled Altair's glass. "- that Ion and Aeris were Death Eaters?"
Those trinkets might as well have held nightmares. Altair threw back the brandy, letting it hit the back of his throat and burn all the way down to his stomach. Sometimes he swore he could still smell the ash that wafted through his home, the fireplace filled with any piece of paper mentioning Ion and Aeris. The newspapers announcing they'd been sent to Azkaban, Aeris's letters, Ion's letters, notices from St. Mungo's notating Aeris's condition. It all went in the fire, never to be seen again.
At times, he could hear Ion's pleads to him, as fresh as the moment it happened. He could still feel the fear in his little brother, pushing the two babies into his arms before running out the door, never to be seen again.
"I did the best I could." Altair tried to pour himself another glass, but Dumbledore corked the decanter before he could. "It was not without fault. Io found the one newspaper I'd forgotten. There was mention of deaths at Azkaban, and I -" Taking deep breaths, Altair let his chest rest. "I had to obliviate her memory. She was only 7, and I've been afraid that I tampered with her a little more than I meant to ever since."
Dumbledore took the glass from his friend, placing them down on the table. "You did well, Altair. They grew up very well. I'm sure you've taken notice of their success."
"Yes, but for it to come to this? Involved in the very war that made their parents give them up? If Ion were alive, he'd kill me himself."
"They will learn of their parents, and when the time comes, they will understand."
"But at what cost?"
The sound of Io's voice brought Altair back from his daze. They were at a new hotel now in the center of London. The hotel staff decorated the lobby with Christmas trees and garland. Aster conjured a small tree for their room, and the girls happily decorated it until they were satisfied. He sat in the corner of the room, pretending he was reading the Daily Prophet.
"Merry Christmas, Uncle!" Io ran over, holding out a bag of candy floss and treacles.
"From the both of us!" Aster cawed from the bathroom.
Altair accepted the gifts then reached into his bag for two small boxes for them. A gold necklace for Io, and a silver bracelet for Aster.
His eyes set on Io who held her hair up as Aster helped with the necklace.
The guilt never went away. Obliviating someone requires so much focus. When little Io found the newspaper, asking why her parents' names were mentioned in a section about Azkaban Prison, Altair's reaction was less than friendly. He snatched the paper from her hands, immediately setting it ablaze. He could still remember the look on her face. She was huddled in a corner. He could never expect her to understand why he reacted that way, and instead of explaining it, he chose to erase that memory. Within seconds, she was back to her cheerful self, running off to play with Aster in the yard.
Aster made a call to room service, and before the end of the night, the room was filled with the smell of roast chicken and mashed potatoes with rich butter. The family, now together for however much longer, toasted to a Merry Christmas as the snow fell just outside the window.