For Amelie Hastings, summer was, first and foremost, a time of waiting. Where other children would spend their days riding their bicycles to football fields, meadows and water parks, Amelie's hours were spent alone and in her room, escaping the heat of daytime into the pages of her books. Holidays were for people who had somewhere to go and something to do.
While she now had the means to reach anywhere she desired, presuming a fireplace was present, Amelie still found herself where she had been every summer she could remember. On her bed, nose between the chapters.
Granted, it was not actually her bed this time around. The small room in the Leaky Cauldron was the same one she had inhabited almost exactly a year prior. The wooden chest had been shifted around, the dresser polished and the desk scrubbed, but everything else was still as it had been. Everything, except Amelie that is.
Her dark, auburn hair was a few inches longer and the sleeves of her robes a few inches shorter. She would probably need new ones before the end of summer. The old Muggle clothes she had brought along, lying somewhere at the bottom of her trunk, would last another half year at most.
Leafing through The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, Amelie's eyes kept flickering to the faded display of the small, garishly yellow wrist-watch, propped up on the night-stand. With a sigh, she stuck a piece of parchment between the pages and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She flipped the dial on her trunk and popped it open, revealing a row of text-books, stuffed away between a small cauldron and boxes half-filled with old potion ingredients.
Amelie carefully slid the The Dark Forces between her well-worn copy of The Standard Book of Spells - Grade 1 and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. Her eyes landed on a long, narrow box at the side of the trunk. An itch in her fingers urged her to open it, just to feel the smooth, dark wood between her fingers again.
It had been barely a week since she had returned from the Hogwarts Express, but without her wand, she felt strange. As if she needed to hold it again to remind herself who she was. That the last year of her life had actually happened.
Thinking back, she remembered Polly's words on the train and wondered how she was doing right now. In a way, Amelie was at least still close to magic, whereas her friend had returned to the world of washing machines, television and middle-class suburbia. Amelie had promised to write, but so far there had been little to tell. Though not for long.
Her eyes turned to the small, elegantly written letter on the desk, the seal of the school and the signature of the headmaster barely visible. Stealing another glance at the cheap watch, Amelie swiped it from the night-stand and stuffed it somewhere under the cauldron. She folded up the letter and slid it between her books, before closing the trunk for good.
Stepping up to the mirror on the dresser, Amelie took one last look at herself. Her hair had indeed grown, but remained manageable. In the absence of any particularly fancy normal clothes, she had decided to put on the school uniform she would always wear under her Hogwarts robes.
A grey, wool vest over a white dress-shirt, tucked into a black skirt, as well as a pair of long stockings. Amelie smiled as she traced along the yellow trim, the colour of her house, Hufflepuff. Hanging around her neck was a small amulet, shaped like a crescent moon and made of silver.
She carefully removed the trinket and felt the faint tingling of the spell fading. Her skin shifted back to being pale as a sheet, as the colour in her eyes intensified, turning from a normal brown to a piercing shade of yellow amber. The dark contrast around her eyes and her cheekbones, in combination with her chalk-white complexion, made her look a bit too eerie to pass for human.
Amelie brushed across her face, looking for any smudges the illusion might have hidden, before fixing the amulet back around her neck, colour returning to her cheeks as the spell took hold once more.
With only ten minutes left, she gave the room another close inspection, making sure she hadn't forgotten anything, before throwing on her travelling-cloak. The trunk seemed to barely weigh anything as she picked it up, courtesy of the built-in Feather-Light Charm. Extinguishing the small oil-lamp on the desk, Amelie grabbed her luggage and made for the door.
The upstairs corridor of the Leaky Cauldron was notably quieter, many of the guests having retreated to their rooms or sitting downstairs for a late supper. Passing by a few windows, Amelie saw the sky outside slowly turning from purple to blue, the first twinkling stars already visible.
She came to a halt outside the entrance to the parlour room and pulled the wrist-watch from her pocket again. Half past nine. Taking a deep breath, Amelie knocked on the door.
Professor Dumbledore was dressed in unusually sombre, dark red robes, when Amelie entered. Mustering her over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, he gave her a gentle smile
"Good evening."
"Good evening, professor," Amelie replied, feeling her spirits lifting as she set her trunk down.
Dumbledore did not look like he was planning on staying in the parlour for long. He gave Amelie a nod and began, "Now then. If you are ready, we shall be on our way immediately. I have made arrangements for our meeting tonight. For the moment, it would be better for you to leave your luggage in this room. We will retrieve it later. Do you have everything you need, Amelie?"
Straightening up, Amelie nodded. Part of her wanted to have her wand by her side, but since Dumbledore was with her, it would probably not be necessary.
Looking up, she asked, "Will we be using the fireplace, sir?"
Dumbledore smiled. "Unfortunately that will not be possible. Our destination is not connected to a place like the Leaky Cauldron, I'm afraid. But there are other, more direct ways to travel." He stretched out his arm.
"Please place your hand on my arm, Amelie."
She complied, feeling the robust cloth of his travelling-robes under her fingers. Dumbledore gave her a nod.
"Now," he explained, "I shall Apparate close to our destination and bring you along. As a word of caution, the experience can be somewhat disorienting for those yet unfamiliar with this kind of magic."
Amelie swallowed and gave Dumbledore a nod, trying as best as she could to brace herself. For a moment, nothing happened, but then the floor fell away beneath her. A raging tornado of light and dark whirled around her, while she felt her body being pressed into a tight crevice, squeezing through the cracks.
Before she could think clearly for even a moment, the ground reappeared under her feet, slamming into the soles of her shoes hard enough to send her stumbling. A hand gripped her upper arm, holding her, while the world seemed to try and escape into a single spot somewhere at the back of her head.
"I do apologise, Amelie. Side-along Apparition can be quite tricky to get used to," Dumbledore explained, somewhere to her left, his hand gently patting her shoulder.
As the ground stopped spinning, Amelie carefully opened her eyes. They were standing on a sloping gravel path, dense trees and shrubbery behind them and the darkening sky above. The forest seemed to stretch as far as Amelie could see, with only the road ahead being visible.
Her gaze followed the winding path upwards, before taking in a large, stately manor house, dominating the crest of the hill. It was surrounded by tall hedges and stone walls, ringed with lanterns. Here and there, some of the windows appeared to be illuminated, but for the most part, it was as dark and foreboding as the night sky.
Dumbledore stretched out his hand. "Welcome to Juniper Hall."
As she was still staring up the hill, Dumbledore beckoned her along and began walking. Amelie moved to keep up, her eyes flitting between the road and their destination up ahead.
"Professor? Where are we?"
Dumbledore turned his head and replied, "Somewhere not far from Wolverhampton, I believe. There are still a few places, tucked away outside the cities, that curious eyes and municipal planning bureaus have not found."
As they were coming closer, Amelie could see the stone faces of gargoyles along the edge of the steep roof, covered in black shingles. The brick work was a deep, dark red colour, with white stone marking the edges. Several tall chimneys stuck out against the starry, black sky.
"Juniper Hall is home to the Circle of Hesperus, the coven I sought out and contacted regarding your situation," Dumbledore explained. "While every bit as reclusive as the others, the Circle has, nonetheless, retained somewhat cordial relations to the ministry and wizardkind."
Amelie's brow furrowed. "Reclusive? They don't like witches and wizards then?"
Dumbledore replied, "That might be underselling the complexity of the situation, Amelie. They are certainly more open than many of the other covens, yet I'm afraid that doesn't mean any wizard would be particularly welcome, unless invited."
He gave her a sad smile. "There is still much grief and suspicion. Vampires do not trust the ministry and vice-versa."
Nodding, she asked the obvious question. "Then what about me?"
"I believe we are about to find out."
They had arrived at the gate leading to the grounds. Up ahead, the path split and curved around a large fountain. Statues of gargoyles and ravens were placed around a central pillar. Behind it, the gravel road ended in a wide set of stairs that lead up to a pair of tall, wooden doors.
As Amelie followed Dumbledore up the steps, he turned to her and said, "It would be advisable for you to remove your enchanted necklace. I trust you won't be needing it while we are here."
Reaching up, she untied the knot and stuffed the small charm into a pocket on her skirt. With a faint tingling, the illusion faded and Amelie was left looking like a proper vampire.
"Very well." Raising his hand to the door, Dumbledore knocked three times.
It took a while for something to happen, but eventually Amelie heard footsteps approaching from the room beyond. One of the tall doors swung open and they were faced with a pale, bald man.
He was dressed in a fine, black tailcoat and matching trousers. Mustering the two of them, his features seemed oddly blank, making it hard to judge his age. There was an odd emptiness behind his eyes and his presence was far too collected to be human. She felt as if she was watching a living mannequin.
"Albus Dumbledore and Amelie Hastings," Dumbledore announced. "I believe we are expected."
The odd man-servant gave them a polite nod and stepped aside, opening the door fully and beckoning them inside.
A large chandelier was bathing the entrance hall of the manor in a soft, orange light. The floor was made of solid wood, with a thick carpet running from near the door all the way across to a wide set of stairs. The steps split as they led upwards, curving to each side.
The interior appeared old and lavish, but also gloomy and foreboding in the flickering candle-light. Here and there, Amelie could see paintings hanging on the wood-panelled walls, but it did not seem like their occupants were moving. Stone busts were lined up between the frames.
She was torn from her thoughts when the servant closed the door with a heavy thud and motioned them to follow.
They stepped into a side-corridor, which was faintly illuminated by chandeliers every dozen or so paces. The moon-light barely filtered through the thick curtains.
Soon they were led into what appeared to be a drawing-room. A low table, surrounded by several antique sofas and arm-chairs, stood not far from a tall fireplace, while another flight of stairs led to the floors above. Bathed in the flickering light of the log fire, Amelie saw two figures stand up and approach.
"Ah, welcome, welcome."
A woman, dressed in old-fashioned clothes, made of black silk, and wearing tall leather boots, stepped up to greet them. Her bright blonde, almost white hair was tied back into a braid, while a few strands hung over her piercing, azure eyes. Her sharp features made her look like a porcelain doll and her skin was pale as snow.
Amelie hardly needed to see the tips of the pointy fangs, poking past her upper lip as she smiled, to understand that the woman before them was a vampire. She was trying hard not to stare, but the woman was fascinating and just a little bit unnerving.
Standing next to her was another vampire. A tall man, wearing a white shirt with frills and a dark, pinstripe vest. His trimmed beard and hair were brown. Unlike his smirking companion, he was observing them with a calm, calculating expression, his arms held behind his back.
The woman turned to the strange man-servant and said, "Salvatore, be so good and fetch our guest a cup of tea." Salvatore left quietly, as the female vampire addressed them.
"A pleasure to meet you, Master Dumbledore. I am Arabella Knatchbull." She gave them a small bow. "And this is Christof Amarson."
Dumbledore smiled politely and returned her gesture. "Thank you for receiving us. I assume her ladyship has informed you of the reason for my visit." He placed a hand on Amelie's shoulder.
Her smile widened, looking uncomfortably cat-like, as Arabella mustered Amelie, who had to remind herself that she was not the mouse in this scenario.
"But of course. We are very grateful to you, for taking the little foundling under your wing." She stepped closer and leaned forward. "Good to meet you, Amelie."
Trying to straighten up, Amelie gave a respectful nod and muttered, "Hello."
Arabella raised an eye-brow, tapping a finger against her chin. "So it's true then. You can cast spells?"
Amelie nodded and Dumbledore spoke up, explaining, "Yes. Amelie has successfully completed her first year at Hogwarts." He smiled kindly. "I have been informed she is among the best in her class, particularly with charms."
There was something comforting in hearing Dumbledore praise her. Amelie had no idea how her magic would be received at the coven. Would they treat her like any other witch? Arabella and her friend, Christof, appeared courteous enough with the headmaster, but even she could feel an uncomfortable tension in the air.
"Well, that's a very, very rare gift you have." Arabella mustered her closely. Gesturing towards the table, she invited them to take a seat.
The sofa was not uncomfortable, but rather stiff nonetheless. It didn't appear like the room was used to host visitors very often. Salvatore returned and brought with him a tray, holding an ornate tea set.
Dumbledore thanked them and accepted the offered cup, while Christof Amarson leaned back and fixated Amelie with a calculating look.
"Wizard magic never manifests for us as it does for mortals," he explained, his voice deep and gravelly. "Given the scarce accounts, many even believe it's entirely impossible. The stuff of myth and embellished stories. In that sense, the girl may very well be the only blood witch the country has seen in a century or more."
"Is that... bad?" Amelie asked carefully, hands clasped in her lap. The curious looks their hosts were giving her did little to confirm or deny her fears.
Arabella waved her hand dismissively. "Not at all. Magic or no magic, you are still one of us." She regarded Amelie thoughtfully. "You're a vampire without a coven, that's all that matters for the moment. I'm sure there'll be no problem with-"
She stopped suddenly and Amelie could feel why. A tingling ran up her spine and somewhere above, she could hear footsteps approaching. Both Christof and Arabella turned towards the stairs.
"It would appear her ladyship is ready to join us," Arabella uttered.
The two vampires and Dumbledore rose to their feet, leaving Amelie to follow suit.
On the landing above, a door swung open and a tall, pale woman in an old, luxurious dress entered the drawing-room. Her attire appeared to be made of black and red silk, with fine embroidery of gold along the seams and lapels. A laced, white collar covered her neck all the way to the top. Her black hair was woven into an elaborate knot.
Amelie swallowed nervously under the gaze of the elegant, aristocratic vampire. Clear, silvery eyes were observing them.
"I must apologise," she began, descending the steps, "We have been quite busy, with the solstice coming up so soon." The vampire walked over, her smile showing her pearly, white fangs. She extended her arm towards Dumbledore, who took her hand and kissed it.
He turned to Amelie and said, "May I present, Lady Elenore Duras, Countess of Strathmore and head of the Circle of Hesperus."
Amelie gave a small bow, her eyes barely leaving the intimidating figure of their host.
Lady Duras was even taller than the headmaster and whatever presence she had felt from Arabella paled in comparison to the countess. There was no telling how old and powerful the vampire before her was. Unlike the other two, her face showed a few signs of age.
"Hello, ma'am," she managed to say, her throat closing up.
The countess eyed her closely. "Ah yes, Albus told me all about you, of course. A witch and a vampire, all alone in the world." She crossed her arms, watching her with curious interest. "Do you understand what a coven is, Amelie?"
She shook her head, fingers nervously rubbing the cloth of her travelling-cloak.
"A coven," Lady Duras began, "is more than family to a vampire. It is a community of mutual protection and respect. A house, a village, not of brick and stone but a shared sense of belonging. For us, to be alone is to be weak and vulnerable. Together, we persevere. Joining means to uphold a coven's values and honour its traditions."
She stepped closer and Amelie could feel another shiver at the back of her neck. Lady Duras looked into her eyes and offered, "If you are willing, then we shall accept you as one of our own."
While she could feel that the choice was important, there was not much for Amelie to consider. She had nowhere else to go and nobody else who could reliably explain to her the ins and outs of being a vampire. Amelie wasn't sure what being part of a coven would entail, but it wasn't going to stop her now.
Despite the knot in her stomach, she straightened up and gave a firm nod. "Yes, I do."
The countess gave Amelie a wide, satisfied smile. "Excellent. Then let me welcome you to the Circle of Hesperus."
She gestured towards the other two vampires. "For the time being, Arabella and Christof will be responsible for your induction. They will see to it that you will become acquainted with what you need to know."
Arabella seemed taken aback, but quickly replied, "As you wish."
"There is, of course, one other matter," Lady Duras began, giving Dumbledore a brief look. "The question of the girl's bloodline."
Amelie looked from the tall vampire to Dumbledore, before asking, "My what?"
"Your ancestry. Odds are, your family's lineage is recorded in the annals." The countess raised an eyebrow. "Surely you wish to know where you are truly from, right?"
Blinking, Amelie tried to keep her composure, despite the anxiety and curiosity gripping her inside. She would've never guessed that she might actually find out more about her parents.
Beckoning her to come along, Lady Duras said, "This shouldn't take long."
Next to her, Dumbledore nodded slowly and gave Amelie an encouraging smile. "We will be waiting for you right here."
Swallowing her nervousness, Amelie moved to follow the countess up the stairs and to the second floor.
The corridor was every bit as gloomy as the rest of the mansion, but Amelie had little trouble seeing in the half-dark. She quickened her pace to keep up with Lady Duras.
"Albus has explained your situation, I take it?" the countess asked without slowing down, only turning her head to throw Amelie a glance.
"He did. Well, as much as he could at the time, ma'am," Amelie explained, wondering what exactly she was supposed to have been told.
Lady Duras nodded and after another moment, went on, "He is a particularly exceptional specimen of a human, but he is still a mortal and a wizard."
They turned a corner.
"He might wish to see you treated no differently than his other students, but his peers among wizardkind likely won't see it that way."
Amelie frowned, her lips pressed together, before uttering, "Professor Dumbledore has helped me a lot so far." She remembered their last conversation from the end of the school-year and the knot in her chest loosened.
"I don't doubt that, child," Lady Duras said. "And I am grateful that he brought you to us. If all wizards thought like him, perhaps all this could be avoided."
Turning her head, Amelie waited for her to continue, but no explanation was forthcoming. Before long, they arrived at an ornate set of wide doors. A wooden owl was carved into the frame above their heads. The countess pushed them open and led her inside.
"Here we are," she announced. "It might not compare to the library at Hogwarts, but I'm sure you will find books here that witches and wizards wouldn't dream of sticking their noses into."
The chamber was much taller than the corridor outside, large book-shelves lining every available wall. Old writing-desks, the likes of which Amelie had only ever seen in history books, stood along the carpet leading through the centre. Unlike the chandeliers and candles in the halls, there were only gas-lamps here. A few arm-chairs stood to the side of the room.
The collection of tomes appeared notably darker than Madam Pince's colourful rows of school-approved literature. What few spines showed titles at all were written in old, barely readable lettering.
Amelie noticed that Lady Duras had already crossed the room, and quickly jogged to catch up. They stopped at a large, flat desk holding a massive book. The binding appeared to be made out of black leather. The edges were reinforced with dark metal and decorated with images of vines, gargoyles and bats. A frame in the middle of the cover held a large ruby.
"These are the annals of all vampire families in Europe. Well, our copy, at least," the countess added. "The tome is, of course, enchanted, so we can have it look for information on your family through magic. Hold out your hand."
Amelie complied, and before she could ask what she was supposed to do, Lady Duras reached over and swiftly drew a sharp finger-nail across Amelie's palm. She flinched at the brief sting of pain. The cut didn't appear too deep, but it was bleeding nonetheless.
"Let a few drops fall onto the gem."
Grimacing, Amelie held her hand over the book and carefully turned her palm to let some of the blood dribble onto the ruby. As soon as the first drops landed on it, they disappeared into the dark, red jewel.
"Good, that should be enough," Lady Duras uttered. She swiped a handkerchief from the table and passed it to Amelie, who wiped the remaining blood from her palm. The wound had already begun to heal over.
Amelie cleared her throat. "So, what happens n-"
The book flew open and the pages began quickly turning over by themselves.
Crossing her arms, Lady Duras gave her a smirk. "Now we shall see."
Despite the thickness of the tome, it only took a few more moments, before the fluttering pages came to a stop. Bursting with anticipation, Amelie stepped forward to read.
She squinted at the curvy script and could barely make out 'La Lignée Ancienne de la Maison Valois' from the parchment. Below the title, the page was filled with detailed drawings of tree-branches and leaves, each one containing a name. Amelie's heart sank as she saw that they all appeared withered and dead.
"Interesting," the countess commented, her finger gliding along the page and to the next, where the family tree continued. "It would appear your house is actually from the continent. Which certainly makes it a mystery how you ended up here in Britain."
"My family is French?" Amelie asked, her head spinning as she tried to absorb all the new information. Her eyes were still trying to follow the lines of unknown ancestors.
Lady Duras gave her a pitying smile and patted her shoulder. "Don't take it too hard, child."
She pointed to a tangle of branches at the side of the page. "House Valois, hmm. It seems that some of your family came from even further east. Hungary, old Wallachia, the rest of the Ottoman Empire."
A small movement caught Amelie's eye and she looked at the bottom of the second page, where a new leaf slowly appeared on the parchment, as if growing directly from the tree. Sure enough, she could make out the words 'Amélie Isabelle Josephine'.
She stared at the text, thoughts spinning as she tried to take it all in. Somewhere at the back of her head a small, annoyed voice shrieked 'They've been spelling my name wrong all this time!'.
Trembling, her finger slid up the branch to where it split, followed by two withered leaves. 'Laetitia' and 'Jean Olivier'.
There they were, nothing more than a pair of names, a few lines of old, dry ink. Her father's name was connected to the ones above, while her mother's leaf was by itself. Was her family on another page?
She didn't know how long she stood there, staring at the parchment, some small part of her wishing that the leaves would come back to life, lush and full just like hers. Gritting her teeth, she wanted to will the book into telling her more, telling her anything.
Lady Duras interjected, "The book's magic is ancient and predates most of the covens themselves. I'm afraid it is, by and far, accurate. If the book says you're the only one, then that is all we know for now."
Her brows twitched into a slight frown. "Although I would love to find out what spell managed to hide your existence from it."
Heaving a sigh, Lady Duras let her fingers brush across the page. "So many of these were still with us not too long ago. Now there's withered leaves and dead branches everywhere. Looking at it now, I should've been more alert when the whole house went extinct, but their fate was hardly unique."
"What happened?" Amelie breathed, her eyes only reluctantly moving from the page, as if it might disappear as well.
The countess gave her a long look. "You are aware of the war the mortal wizards fought until recently, correct? Against the so-called 'Dark Lord' Voldemort." She scoffed. "A pathetic upstart with delusions of power and immortality."
"Sadly," she went on, "the mortals have a way of dragging us into their squabbles. Too many were lost, either caught in the fighting or getting involved with the wrong side."
Amelie felt her insides turn to ice. Prying her lips open, she asked shakily, "You're saying wizards killed my parents?"
"Not impossible, but I doubt it," Lady Duras replied. "If they were still in France, they wouldn't have been part of the trouble over here." Her expression darkened as she uttered, "But there were others. Those who threw in their lot with Voldemort and his cohorts."
Before she had a chance to dig further, the countess straightened up and closed the book.
"Anyway, we have what we came for. I hope this will give you a sense of your place in our world." She mustered Amelie closely. "Blood and names are important, whether you like it or not. Knowing your history can only strengthen you.
I'm sure you are overflowing with questions, but for the time being, this will have to suffice. There will be opportunities later to dwell on the past."
Taking a deep breath, Amelie nodded slowly, but her mind was still on the pages and the leaves.
Professor Dumbledore and the two vampires were seated at the low table in the drawing-room. The headmaster had seemingly been to the Leaky Cauldron and back, judging by the fact that Amelie's trunk was standing near the chairs. They rose to their feet, as she and the countess returned.
Arabella cocked her head, looking at them. "I take it you were successful?"
"Oh yes," Lady Duras replied, while Amelie turned to Dumbledore, trying to figure out where to start, but the headmaster held up a hand.
"I should point out," he explained calmly, "that anything you learned is yours to know and to share, if and where you choose to do so. You are under no obligation to divulge personal information. To me or anyone else out there."
Pressing her lips together, Amelie nodded slowly. Still, she offered what the book had shown her. Her name, her history, the leaves of her dead family. She wasn't sure about mentioning what the countess had said regarding the war and the Dark Lord.
He gave her a smile. "Thank you. In light of this, should I have Professor McGonagall amend the school records to reflect your given birth-name?"
She pondered this for a moment, but eventually shook her head. "I think I'd prefer to just be Amelie Hastings for now, sir."
"Very well. Then I believe my role here tonight has come to its end." He smiled and straightened his robes, before facing the countess. "It has been a great pleasure to see you again, Elenore. Perchance, we will find the opportunity to catch up, for old time's sake."
Amelie felt Lady Duras' hand on her shoulder, when she replied, "Of course, Albus. And I promise, your little witch will be safe here with us."
He gave the other vampire a respectful nod and turned to address Amelie, the mysterious twinkling appearing once again behind his half-moon spectacles. "Then I shall see you at the start-of-term feast, Amelie. Take care until then."
"Y-yes," she replied, before quickly adding, "Thank you, sir."
Dumbledore turned and Salvatore bowed, before escorting him back down the corridor, towards the entrance hall.
And then it was only her.