How Soon Is Now? by TATU
I am the son
And the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular
January 2nd, 1979
"I have the best birthday present," Theya announced with a great deal of grandiosity, hands behind her back as she bounced in Ivy's doorway.
Grumbling under her breath at having been roused from sleep, Ivy pushed the quilt away to stretch her limbs and crack her neck. Getting to her feet, braid wild and half undone, she threw her shoulders back.
"I'm ready," Ivy declared with mocking pompousness.
"I don't think you are," Theya stepped forward, cheeks pink with eagerness as she kept her hands concealed behind her.
"Just give me the stupid thing."
She took a deep breath, then thrust out a faded, decrepit book.
Releasing a shriek of elated disbelief upon reading Ancient Divination on the maroon cover, Ivy snatched the book out of her hands with the greed of a child being presented with a long-awaited toy. Running her hands covetously over the binding, she could hardly think around her anticipation.
"Not so stupid, huh?" Theya prompted, positively glowing as she rocked between her heels and tiptoes. "You like it?"
"Of course!" She said breathlessly. "How'd you get it?"
"A Thief's Guide to Obtaining Absolute Access. A spell I found blasted the bookcase to bits, but the contents were fine."
"You've officially earned unlimited access to my Gringotts vault," Ivy yanked her into an embrace, but quickly released her to start eagerly fingering through the worn pages.
"You've got five minutes with that thing," Theya chuckled, heading for the door. "There's presents to open and food to eat. Oh, and I suggest you change or you're going to give Regulus heart palpitations."
Before she could think of a response, Theya departed with a snap of the door.
Ivy rushed to the closet, hurriedly stepping into a pair of bell bottoms and pulling a random top over her head, taking only a second to relish how her parents would have agonised over such an abomination; the new Lady Selwyn, heir to their vast fortune and other acquisitions, wearing Muggle clothing.
Practically throwing herself to the floor, she sat with her back against the dark wooded bed frame, and found the book's table of contents. Not locating any helpful chapter headings, she began flipping through the pages, scanning for any mention of Death Magic.
Caught up in the thrill, she flipped a page so ravenously that it ripped in half.
Gasping in horror, she scrambled about for her wand, wasting precious time tearing the bedroom apart just to find that the hazel wood had somehow ended up underneath her bed.
Sprawled on all fours, the door opened just as she resurfaced.
Locking eyes with Theya, they both froze.
Sparing a glance at the book on the floor, she realised her mistake too late.
Both witches lunged for Ancient Divination, each managing to get a grasp on it as they began to wrestle, rolling around on the ground in an attempt to overpower the other.
"Time's up," Theya growled, gaining the upper hand as Ivy wound up on her back.
"That was only three minutes!" She cried, furiously trying to regain control of the treasured tome.
"Liar!" She straddled Ivy's waist, hands locked in a vice grip around the book.
"Just five more minutes!" She grunted as the book began to slip from her grasp. "You would really deprive me of this on my birthday?"
"Yes!" Theya twisted Ivy's fingers and succeeded in yanking the book out of reach.
"Wanker!" She gave an unfruitful swipe.
"Prick!" Theya pinned her down by pressing her knees into Ivy's upper arms and holding her body weight there.
"Get your fanny out of my face!" Ivy yelled.
Holding the book overhead with one hand, Theya pointed defiantly to the door with her other.
"Alright, Mum," she conceded nastily. "I give."
Theya grinned triumphantly and relinquished her control, rolling off and hurrying to the other side of the bed as though Ivy was going to risk a repeat of the pinning situation.
"Thanks for that." Sulkily getting to her feet, she stretched her arms dramatically. "My biceps are spasming. Who knew you weighed so much?"
Theya growled and took a step around the bed.
Ivy made a run for it, shrieking with laughter as she skidded into the hallway. Bolting through the sitting room, kitchen, and into the large dining room, she squeezed past Severus and Reginald, making it to the far end of the room before pounding footsteps reached her ears.
"What're you doing?" Regulus snickered from the other end of the table.
Theya appeared in the archway, where she halted to blow her long hair out of her face. "You're lucky it's your birthday. Still, I may curse you."
"Do I want to know?" Reginald asked dryly.
Ivy stuck her tongue out at Theya, who started forward.
"I don't think so," Sere stepped in her way and gently forced her daughter into a chair. "You can curse her after breakfast, dear."
With a snort, Ivy made to take a seat as far away from Theya as possible. However, Reginald was at her side in seconds, seating her at the head of the table beside his daughter. Ignoring Theya as she muttered insults under her breath, she noticed the rest of her surroundings for the first time.
The table had a myriad of breakfast options available: eggs, biscuits, bacon, baked beans, sausages, fried bread, plus several drink options, many of which were alcoholic. Dark blue canaries twittered as they flew around the modest chandelier above the table. They bobbed to the beat of energetic jazz music, which came from a record player that had been placed in the bay window directly behind her.
Seated in the sun, she was already sweating. "What're the birds for?"
"They're birthday birds," Reginald said proudly from his seat at the other end of the table between Regulus and Severus.
To her right, Sere shook her head and sipped her glass of orange juice.
"I've been telling him for years that it's odd," Theya began helping herself to the feast.
Before Ivy could make a move to join her, Sere reached beneath the table, procuring a massive, very old, pointed hat. Per Annum Fortuna had been written all over it in faded silver letters. Every now and then, silver ribbons spewed out the top like oversized confetti, and the hat shrieked in a gravelly singsong voice: "Happy birthday!"
As Sere placed the hat on her head, Ivy glared at Theya, who was unflinchingly smug.
Regulus and Severus didn't bother stifling their laughter as ribbons popped out the top again, landing in everyone's hair and breakfast.
"The best part," Theya said under her breath. "Is that it goes off at random. Just when you think you're safe, it'll shout in your ear and your drink will go flying. Not to mention, Mum and Dad are gonna make you wear it all morning. Happy birthday, Iv."
"Your Gringotts access has been revoked," Ivy said flatly.
January 4th, 1979
Curled up on the sofa beneath a grey fleece blanket, Ivy stared at a page of Ancient Divination, hoping to glean something new from the words. Having obsessively combed through the book for two days, she could find no mention of Death Magic or anything seemingly related to it, except in one paragraph:
The realm of Death Magic, however, is an all but forgotten branch of sorcery. The rare few who still know of the practice have called it wicked and unnecessary for the contemporary witch or wizard's magical education. Bartemius Bagshot, a world-renowned antiquarian, disagrees. He possesses one of three still existing copies of That Which Is Natural and That Which Is Not, a book that contains the only explicit record of Death Magic. Bagshot insists that studying Omens of Death, Anima Vases, and Horcruxes is crucial for a thorough magical education. In 1803, he brought forth this radical perspective to wizarding schools across the world. While Castelobruxo and Durmstrang considered his proposition, scrutiny and governmental pressure eventually led to their refusal. Bagshot has since quieted his views, and thus, public discussions of the taboo sorcery.
Ancient Divination had been released for print in 1826. From this, she surmised that the copy of That Which Is Natural and That Which Is Not at Hogwarts was likely the last in existence. It was possible that the book was in the junk room on the seventh floor, bound by some form of magic that repelled Summoning Charms. If that was the case, she would have to manually dig through centuries of rubbish to find it.
Frustrated, she closed the book and tried to focus on the task at hand.
Eyeing the grandfather clock as it neared two in the afternoon, she left the warmth of her blanket in favour of the loo, where her supplies were waiting: a flask of Polyjuice Potion and a vial containing a single hair. Dropping the hair into the mixture, she knocked it back, surprised at the pleasant minty aftertaste.
Watching in the mirror, she shrunk fifteen centimetres. White hair retracted into her skull until it was chin-length. At the same time, it turned reddish from her scalp down to the ends. Blinking, her silver eyes turned blue, as the rest of her features meshed into those of Dorcas Meadowes.
When she left the lavatory, it took her a few steps to get used to the shorter limbs and different body shape. Sure she looked ridiculous, she was continually grateful that the Greengrasses had taken Theya and Regulus shopping. Of course, it had been at her insistence that they all go without her, since her appointment was at two and she wanted them out of the house during her transformation.
Faking sick was not only easy but also somewhat fun, as all four of them had fawned over her.
Entering the sitting room once more, she swung her cloak around her deep red robes and tucked the collar beneath a scarf. A pointed hat followed and she stuffed Doe's hair beneath it for extra anonymity.
Then, wand in hand, she pictured her destination and turned on the spot.
After a few moments of nausea, she was eyeing a coastal stretch of land she'd only seen in pictures. Having landed in the sand at the foot of a pier, she sank into the ground a bit as she took in the sandbar, which was connected to the shoreline by the pier. Turning round, she gazed about the cliff-lined seaside, which was marked by mossy stones, clumps of trees, and patches of long grass that blew in the freezing wind.
With a pop, a tall, thin man with a head of salt and pepper hair and a bowler hat appeared a few metres from her. He lifted a hand in greeting and walked to meet her.
"Miss Chiola," Mister Harther held out his hand. "It is very good to finally meet you."
"And you," she shook his sweaty palm with a polite smile, putting on her best snooty adult voice, which sounded rather like Narcissa - who, according to that morning's letter, was still having no luck with her new fertility treatment.
"Now having seen the land, are you still interested?"
"Indeed. I'm pleased with what I've seen so far."
"Happy to hear it," he motioned for her to follow him down the beach. "I believe we've already been through the property details by owl, so what other questions might I answer for you?"
"First, I did wonder how secure that pier is."
"Oh, quite, quite," Mister Harther assured her. "I daresay a giant could walk across it; magical enhancements have been placed to keep it sturdy even through the worst of weather. Granted, the magic would be taken down before you sign for the property, but we would be delighted to inform you of which spells were used to keep it erect."
"Mm," she forced down laughter at his use of the word erect. "What about neighbours? I enjoy my privacy, you see."
"The only other privately owned property nearby was recently vacated. Even if someone were to move into the home -which I highly doubt considering the state of it- the sheer size of this property would keep them well out of your way."
"In our correspondence, you mentioned a village nearby?" Ivy inquired.
"Falmouth. A few kilometres north of here, you'll find a mix of magical folk and Muggles."
Nodding slowly, she was certain this would be to her benefit. Not a single member of pureblood society would be caught dead in a town full of Muggles and blood traitors.
"My wife and I have visited a few times," he added. "It's a beautiful town with plenty to do."
"It sounds lovely."
"Indeed. I can give you a tour if you'd like."
"Thank you, but I've another engagement scheduled directly after ours," she lied. "Perhaps another time."
Mister Harther gave an understanding, if not disappointed, nod.
All in all, the land seemed perfect for her purposes; secluded, peaceful, and bright. If she put it under her fake credentials, not a single other soul would know it was her who owned it, making it the perfect safe house. Additionally, she could arrange for Apparition onto the sandbar, which was a location hardly anyone would know existed.
She had debated using Selwyn Estate as a safe house, but there were too many memories associated with the manor and her fellow Death Eaters were all too used to popping in whenever they felt like it. Not only that, but having placed the jar of Nundu breath in the ballroom as Could bade her, she was wary of stepping foot in the place.
"I think my mind is made," Ivy finally said. "How might I go about making the purchase?"
"I can have the paperwork owl'd over this afternoon," Mister Harther said with the brightness of a man who had just made a fortune off commission.
February 10th, 1979
Ivy stepped into the Owlery, letter clutched tight in hand as the circular, windowless room blasted her with icy air. Her boots crunched on the straw and squished in the owl droppings as she hurriedly located the least windy spot in the place.
Ducking behind a stone column for shelter, she thought to cast a Warming Charm before recalling what had happened the last time. Having forgotten to take it off for three days, she sweated through all her robes in record time. Not only that, but four different blokes had hit on her, the last of which cited her orgasm face. Regulus, who had been eavesdropping, swiftly broke the Hufflepuff's nose, earning him a month of detention.
Locating a small scops owl, she gave his feathers a gentle ruffle of appreciation and passed over the letter, which contained her approval of architectural plans. She wasn't thrilled about corresponding by owl while at school, but if anyone intercepted a letter discussing property, it was an easy thing to write off as owl incompetence.
She was about to flee in favour of the indoors when she heard a sharp chirp. Looking left, she found Fernando, her brown and white barn owl, holding a package out to her. Taking it eagerly, she stroked his feathers, murmuring a thank you.
From Severus Snape was scrawled on the brown packaging, which she ripped off and stuffed into her pocket. Grinning down at the pale blue perfume bottle, she made to say another thank you, but Fernando had already flown off, so she rushed out of the Owlery.
Slipping on the stairs as she went, she let out a squeal of surprise, but managed to regain her bearings and moved on with a bit more caution.
Once she was indoors again, she broke into a sprint.
Paying no mind as she nearly ran over a group of first years, she shoved her way past a sixth year Ravenclaw, whose enormous stack of books and parchment went flying.
"Tosser!" Amelia Bones yelled after her.
Ignoring her, she found herself grateful that she was taller than every girl she knew, as she got to the Dungeons in mere minutes. Bustling through the Commons, which were empty except for a few seventh years who were using their free period studiously, she hurried to the Girls Dormitory.
Finding it empty aside from Theya, who remained exactly where she had left her forty-five minutes ago, Ivy shut the door and flopped onto her bed, breathing hard with the perfume bottle still in hand. Skin sweaty and damp, she gave herself a moment to recover.
"I take it you've forgotten to undo the Warming Charm again?" Theya asked without looking up from her Arithmancy book.
"Not a Warming Charm," she said between breaths, holding up the perfume bottle. "Veritaserum."
"Finally," she tossed aside her textbook and joined Ivy on the bed, jostling her and hastily seizing the bottle to peer at it from all angles. "Think we should test it first?"
"Severus made it," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but we should know how quick the effects are and how long they last. Slughorn might be a bit of a tosspot, but I think any Potions Professor is going to figure out they've been drugged pretty damn quick… Why are you insisting on doing this alone again?"
"We've been over this," Ivy whined, moved into a sitting position.
"Yes, but you did a poor job of convincing me," Theya said dryly, unscrewing the perfume bottle to peer at the liquid inside. "It's daft to not at least have a lookout."
"No," she said firmly. "What it comes down to is that if we're caught, we wouldn't be getting detention or restricted from Hogsmeade weekends; we'd be kicked out of school at the very least. At the very most, we'd be thrown into Azkaban. Do you want to go to Azkaban?"
"They wouldn't throw us in Azkaban," she rescrewed the perfume bottle. "We're underage."
"You're underage."
"Then I should be the one doing it, don't you think?"
Ivy opened her mouth, then closed it again.
"Logic hurts, doesn't it?" Theya smirked.
" I'm doing it," she scowled. "And I'm doing it alone."
"What if I say no?"
Ivy laughed. "You can't say no."
"Why not?"
"Because… Because…" She scrambled to think of a reason. "Because I want to be the one to do it. Do you?"
Theya narrowed her eyes and was still for a moment. "You have me there. Do I want to drug a Professor that can provide me with an already perfectly curated network once I graduate? Not really, no."
"Always comes down to likability with you, doesn't it?" Ivy teased.
"Of course," she grinned. "Except when it comes to you. You're not very well liked."
"Piss off," she giggled, eyes drawn to the perfume bottle, which elicited a stroke of apprehension.
Theya glanced down at the Veritaserum. "Why do you want to do this?"
"Drugging Slughorn is the first thing in years that makes me feel like I'm helping."
"That's fucked up," she pointed out. "We're fucked up."
"I know," Ivy sighed, not wanting to think too hard on the morality of their plan.
"Alright," Theya ran a hand through her hair. "I'll let you do it alone."
She gave a nod. "Let's crack on then and see what Severus cooked up."
"Right," Theya straightened and opened the perfume bottle, which had a dropper on the inside. She squirted a drop of the clear liquid onto her tongue.
"How do you feel?"
"Worried," she said immediately.
"Why are you worried?" Ivy leaned forward.
"If you get expelled," she blurted out rapidly. "You could be exposed, which would get you killed. Plus I didn't do well on my O.W.L.s so I might absolutely bugger my N.E.W.T.s. As if that's not enough, Damocles Belby hired an assistant who's really pretty and Severus spends a lot of time with her so any day now he could write me to say that he and Bertha are eloping. Oh, and my hair's flat."
"Uh," she blinked, taken aback. "You really think Severus would run out on you like that?"
"No, not would, could."
"Why?"
"He's so far away," Theya seemed incapable of shutting herself up, much as she looked like she wanted to. "And so busy with work that he doesn't owl me as often as he promised."
"What about that assistant, Bertha?" Ivy bit back laughter. "Are you worried that she's prettier than you or something?"
"Of course not," she scoffed. "No one's prettier than me."
"Hey," Ivy scrunched her nose. "You think you're prettier than me?"
"Yes," Theya cringed.
"Rude," she scowled. "What makes you prettier than me?"
"Your hair's dull," she screwed up her face like she was trying to resist. "And your tits are small."
"Well," Ivy huffed, flopping onto her back. "I've had quite enough of this conversation."
"Me too," she offered an apologetic smile and returned to her own bed. "I wasn't trying to be mean."
"I know," she pouted. "I'm still mad though."
"Would it help if I told you your eyes are prettier than mine?"
"Not really. Go back to your Arithmancy before I hurt my own feelings again."