Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 2: An invitation is extended...

"As a pure-blood and a Slytherin, I have been taught since birth to always be wary of the dagger in the dark. The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife, as they say. It is not paranoia when there actually are enemies everywhere, after all. However, the biggest enemy to anyone and everyone, is often of one's own making. I speak of doubt. Some will say doubt is healthy, doubt will keep you down to Earth. This is not true. Doubt is a rot which undermines your convictions and brings your confidence tumbling down like a house of cards. Doubt is not to be nurtured or tolerated. It has no place in your life. Doubt should be stamped out as quickly as possible, lest it will lead you on a path of ruination."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

Once again in her therapists' office and lain back on the comfortable sofa, Hermione closed her eyes and tried her best to relax. Zipper was draped on her stomach, snoozing softly. Hermione often stroked the wasp, causing his wings to flutter in his sleep. There was always comfort in having that wasp close to her. Zipper always seemed to sense when she needed affection. Perhaps that's why the wasp had stuck close to her today.

Keeva, her fire-haired therapist, sat there with a slightly pensive look, pencil ever pressed against her notebook. "Hermione," she spoke in her Irish accent. "There's nothing wrong with being passionate about your work, but I am concerned you might be falling back into old habits. Throwing yourself on your work to avoid dealing with your issues, I mean."

"It's…" Hermione muttered and sighed. "I am doing a lot better. My situation isn't the same as it was five years ago. It's just…"

"Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?" Keeva replied.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "I no longer have suicidal thoughts and looking back I can barely fathom that I even had them. If that isn't progress…"

"No need be defensive, Hermione," said Keeva. "I know you've come a long way, but progress is not a straight road and you've had setbacks before. Sometimes you need to be reminded of that."

Hermione nodded briefly. As much as she hated to admit it, Keeva was right. In Hermione's logical mind, B always followed A, C always followed B and it was a straight line to Z from there passing all letters in exact and proper alphabetical order. Unfortunately, when emotions came into play things were never quite that simple. Regardless of the progress she made, she still had panic attacks and she still had nightmares. These would never trying stop: Cygnus had told her as much. It just irked her that regardless of all the progress she had made to try to fix herself, her brain was still refusing to cooperate.

"It's just…" Hermione paused. "A very busy year coming up. I have a lot of experiments running, there's a conference at Castelobruxo I've been asked to give a speech at, we're getting ready to mass-grow the Narcissa flowers… Then there's the 'little thing' of our wedding coming up this summer, Trix has two books scheduled to be released this year. Oh, she still has baby-fever, by the way. She just won't shut up about all the babies she wants to have with me! Three girls with an unbreakable bond, she says. Trix, I'm going on twenty-five, you're going on twenty-three. You really think we're both ready to be parents?"

"You're not ready?"

"No! And Trix isn't either, even though she'd never admit it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Remember all that nonsense with that stalker last year? She never took that seriously. She still doesn't!"

"I remember that," said Keeva.

"He managed to get past all security, all the way into the house and into our private quarters," said Hermione. "Hid in our walk-in closet, had a large bag, a magic rope and enchanted gags! If Zipper hadn't noticed something was off, I don't want to think about what could have happened… Cygnus hexed him within an inch of his life and, by god, I almost wish he actually had. And what does Trix say after all that? After literally being three yards away from her potential kidnapper? 'Oh, well, grounds security is increased and nothing bad happened, so it's fine.' I mean…"

Keeva nodded. "We've talked about this before…"

"Yes, I know, I know," Hermione gave an irritated snort. "There's such a thing as being too worried and it's good that Trix didn't become paranoid over it, but there is such a thing as not being worried enough also! Is she going to treat having a baby with the same amount of levity?! It's a big decision, a big change in our lives, the largest commitment one can undertake! And… God, just… We're both not ready for this, not by a longshot."

"Bellatrix? Or you?"

"Both!"

Keeva leaned forward just as Zipper buzzed gently in his sleep and curled up against Hermione a little more. "Hermione," said Keeva. "I feel you are trying to rationalise your self-doubt. What has suddenly triggered it?"

Hermione thought a moment, pondering the question. "Tahki came back from her trek to the Orkneys today."

"I see."

"I like Tahki, I really do!" Hermione quickly added. "She's pulling my leg all the time, sure. She's intelligent, interesting, gets along with everybody…"

"But?" Keeva pressed.

Hermione sighed again. "Bellatrix, Nymphadora and Tahki. You know how Andromeda calls them the Terrible Trio? That's how close they've gotten over the past year. Whenever Tahki comes back, I lose Bellatrix for a week or two. They've converted one of the old coach houses in some sort of a clubhouse where they hang out. They go out on the town together, go clubbing, whatever they get up to. Now I've caught wind that the three of them are talking about getting a matching tattoo. An enchanted one. The three of them. They didn't ask me if I wanted a tattoo."

Hermione adopted a pouty expression and crossed her arms.

"Do you want one?"

"Do I want what?

"A matching tattoo?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed. "But that's besides the point. I'm not jealous, I really am not. It's… it's just a bond they share which I can't be a part of and I get it. A bond of blood."

That caught Keeva's attention and Hermione almost regretted saying it.

"Now that's a sore point I haven't heard you bring up in a while," said Keeva. "Did any of them mention…"

"No, not at all!" Hermione replied. "I just meant to say that they're family and I'm not. Blood is thicker than water and all that."

Keeva leaned forward. "Hermione," said Keeva. "Why do still maintain you're an outsider? You live in their house, work in their greenhouse, you've been engaged to Bellatrix for almost five years and you'll be her wife in about six months or so. If you're not family now, then at what point will you become?"

Hermione bit her lip. "It's… It's just… I… The Black family has been nothing but welcoming. I didn't mean to imply…"

"Hermione," Keeva interrupted. "You are still trying to rationalise your true feelings away. There's more this yet, I feel. We only need to dig a little deeper. Hermione, be honest, what is this about? Really about? What's really causing this much distress?"

Hermione fell silent for a moment, averting her gaze from Keeva and staring at the ceiling. She let her metallic hand lay to the side and petted Zipper with her good one. One stroke. Two strokes. The wasp buzzed contently. Nothing could be heard in the room but her own breathing and the ticking of the grandfather clock in the background. Still, she felt her heart pounding in her chest.

"Have you ever felt like, you don't belong?" Hermione started, her voice choking a little. "Not like trespassing or anything like that. I don't mean to say I don't belong at Catterborough Woodhouse or in the Black household. It goes further than that, deeper."

Hermione fell silent again.

"When it feels like… your very existence is wrong. Like you don't belong in the very universe you're in. That your existence is… fraudulent, unnatural," said Hermione. "I've tried so hard to figure out why I would think that, but it's like hitting a wall. Every time I think I'm close to the answer, it just always out of reach and slipping away from me. But the feeling never goes away. It's maddening, Keeva…"

"How long have you been having these thoughts?" asked Keeva.

"It ebbs and flows," said Hermione. "Don't know exactly when it started, but I think it's getting worse."

Keeva rubbed her chin, seemingly lost in thought. "I might have something to do with the fact that you've travelled through time, skipping years ahead of your life. That is undoubtedly a big shock, but the uniqueness of your situation means there's literally nobody else to compare your experience with, except..."

Hermione blinked. "Trix. I…"

"How does she handle it?"

"I… she doesn't seem to be bothered by it at all. Seriously, sometimes I think nothing bothers her. And I don't want to burden her with it," said Hermione. "This is one thing I am glad Trix isn't worried about."

"Hermione. She's going to be your wife in a few months. The whole idea of marriage is sharing the good times and the bad. If you can't confide in Bellatrix, then who could you confide in?" said Keeva.

Hermione sighed. "I've tried to bring it up with Cygnus. See if it's something he struggled with too, if it's in any way war trauma related. Cygnus has always been a kindred spirit in that regard, but…"

It was at that moment that the dam burst. All her inner turmoil which had been raging below the surface could no longer be held at bay by any form of rationalisation, no matter how strong. Keeva had struck right into the heart of the matter and now Hermione had no more places to hide. The brown-haired witch shot up, startling Zipper awake as she slammed her fists into the sofa. Her good hand hit the pillow while her metallic hand hit against the wood with an audible clang. Tears burst from her eyes as her body shook. "WHY THE BLOODY HELL CAN'T I BE FUCKING NORMAL?!" Hermione exclaimed. "I don't want to be broken and damaged anymore! I want a normal life! I want to share a normal life with Trix. I want a boring nine to five job with 2.4 kids, live in a suburb and go on holidays to Spain twice a year! I WANT TO STOP HAVING THESE STUPID THOUGHTS!"

Still sobbing, Zipper flew back over and planted himself against her chest where Hermione swiftly hugged him. Keeva was swiftly at next to her, ready with the tissues. Hermione gratefully took them, drying her tears while her body still shook. "There's no such thing as 'normal' in my line of work, Hermione," assured Keeva. "You have no idea how broken some of those people with a boring nine to five job with 2.4 kids, who live in a suburb and go on holidays to Spain twice a year can be. We'll work on this Hermione, like we have before."

Hermione chuckled through her tears. "I suppose we will. 'Admitting there is a problem is the first step' and all that."

"Past five years I've gotten better at drilling through that thick shell of yours," Keeva chuckled. "Though only Hermione Granger would feel guilty about feeling guilty."

That made Hermione laugh in spite of herself. She sighed. "Well, if you put it that way…"

"Your homework for this week is a rather simple assignment," said Keeva. "You need to find Trix, get her to hug you and tell her you love her at least three times a day, every day. Reflect upon how grateful you are to have her in your life."

Hermione smiled broadly. "I've had worse assignments."

Being nervous was not a feeling Bellatrix was all that familiar with. Of course, she'd been nervous about meeting Hermione or anxious about seeing her again when they still had their daily chats through the Fae Mirror. But this felt different. Very different.

She was stood in front of a wizarding pub nestled neatly in the magical quarter of Manchester. The Dragon's Flagon was pretty much an upscale pub with a more defined clientele. These days, Bellatrix could go nowhere without being recognized, but the patrons here would be more likely to leave her be. Well, no time like the present: if she stood here waiting longer, she'd be late and what kind of impression would that make? Bellatrix straightened herself, took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

Bellatrix found the pub to be relatively quiet this time of day. Some older witches were chatting by the fire, some younger wizards were sat at the bar and some couples were enjoying their pub grub. The young witch took off her hat and folded her heavy cloak over her arm. Was she too early? Her eyes roved over the interior once more and then, she saw her, nestled in a quiet corner booth tucked away near the back of the pub.

Eleanor Snowbell.

She looked sprite for a witch almost aged one hundred and twenty years old, her hair as white as snow and her skin as wrinkly as crumpled paper. But she carried herself with a commanding presence and green eyes vibrant, full of life. When the older witch spotted her, Bellatrix felt her breath catch in her throat and blood rise to her cheeks. Eleanor smiled and waved her over, which only rooted Bellatrix' feet further to the ground.

Eleanor Snowbell had been her childhood hero. A witch and explorer of no equal. She had read about all her adventurers and exploits. Hell, she'd had a massive crush on her for the longest of times. And now, here she was.

Another deep breath. 'Confidence, Bella. Show confidence…' went through her mind as she forced a smile and tried to nonchalantly stride over to her table. Her footsteps felt heavier with every step taken towards her… and then she stepped on her own cloak. Rather than letting it drop to the floor, she held on to it. This had the unfortunate side-effect of her staggering forward and rather painfully slamming her chin against the wood of the table.

"Goodness!" exclaimed Snowbell with a voice full of concern. A voice full of presence and power. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes," Bellatrix said sheepishly while putting down her hat on the table and angrily tossing the cloak into the booth. She took a moment to rub her smarting chin. "Ow."

Hell of a first impression. Bellatrix sat down and cast her eyes low, unable to meet Eleanor's gaze. It took her some more time to gather enough courage to actually look her in the eye. When she finally did so, she found the older witch smiling at her. It almost made her melt into a puddle.

"Bellatrix Black," spoke Eleanor. "It is such an honour and a pleasure to finally meet you."

Bellatrix gulped. "L… l… likewise," she finally managed to stammer. "I, uhm, I… when I was… younger… Read all your books, your adventures. Your tale of the search for the magical treasures of Songo Mnara is the stuff of legends! And dodging yetis while digging through the lost secrets of Shangri-la! Finding the crown of Nebuchadnezzar in the deserts near the Tigre, Your expedition to unearth the stolen magical tomes from the great library of Alexandria…"

A genuine warm smile formed and Bellatrix' heart almost leapt out of her mouth when the older witch gently put a hand on hers. "It's so gratifying to hear someone your age still enthralled by tales of exploration and discovery. Coming from you, that is even a greater compliment. I've read your book, Bellatrix."

A gasp. "Y-y-you have?!" Bellatrix swallowed hard. "You… you have… read… my book?"

"Bellatrix," said Eleanor. "I doubt there is a witch or wizard alive who hasn't read your book. And such an enthralling tale. Well written, well told, with passion and gusto. You painted an image with your words with such skill that I felt I was there with you. Truth is, you and your fiancee have been further than any witch or wizard, seen things nobody else has and probably ever will. You have literally travelled through time, a feat thought impossible. And yet here you are. I see in you a kindred spirit, young Bellatrix. You have the heart and soul of a true explorer."

Again, Bellatrix almost melted into a puddle. Eleanor waved over the server and the young man was ready to take their order. "I'll have a Guinness, please. What will you have, Bellatrix?"

"Huh? Oh. OH! Uhm, do you have Old Fishy Green?"

"We certainly do, miss," said the server. "Shall I bring you a pint?"

"Y-yes, please."

Eleanor chuckled. "Old Fishy Green? Interesting choice."

"It's, uhm, a Hogsmeade favourite," smiled Bellatrix. "Used to drink it all the time when I snuck out of Hogwarts late at night."

Instantly, Bellatrix couldn't kick herself: she had just admitted to her childhood hero that she'd been a rebel truant who had engaged in underage drinking. Thankfully, Eleanor didn't seem to mind. The elderly witch flipped her white hair, a move which almost made Bellatrix melt again. Their drinks were delivered swiftly; the green pint of ale stood out weirdly next to the pint of Guinness, but the fish eggs at the bottom seemed very fresh. Bellatrix took a hold of the glass and, before she knew it, had down half a pint of the cold green beverage. It certainly wet her dried throat.

"I know it's silly to ask, but would you indulge an old woman and sign my copy of your book?" said Eleanor, producing a well-read copy of 'Girl out of time' and put it down on the table. It looked to be a first-edition leather bound copy of her book, even. Bellatrix nodded and fished her pencil from her pouch. With trembling hand, she opened the book, took a moment to gather herself and swiftly signed with a flourish before her hand would start to tremble again. "Here you go," smiled Bellatrix.

Eleanor thanked her and leaned forward. "By now, you're probably wondering why I've invited you here. I assure you, it's not merely to beg you for an autograph, no, no."

Bellatrix nodded vigorously, perhaps a tad too vigorously, and inched forward in her seat, hand clutching around her ale.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of Hyperborea?" spoke Eleanor, her voice low.

What a silly question to ask, especially to a pure-blood. Still, Bellatrix' curiosity was piqued. "Of course," she said. "The legendary lost city where the first witches and wizards lived. Before it was swallowed by the frigid ice of the north and sealed away forever."

Of course Bellatrix knew the story: it was the wizarding creation myth. The highly evolved people of Hyperborea were the first witches and wizards, claiming magic as their own. From the frigid North they ruled the world, until the ice reclaimed the city forcing them to leave. The witches and wizards of today were a sad shadow of the masters of their fate they used to be, if the tales were to be believed. Rumours and speculation of the reason for the city's fall were rampant and many. Some said it was as simple as an unforeseen natural disaster, others claimed it was infighting, others claimed it was hubris. Pure-blood traditionalists claimed too much breeding with muggles weakened the magics keeping the ice at bay. More still believe the city never existed in the first place. "I've read and heard many tales," said Bellatrix. "But it's hard to tell truth from fiction."

"Oh, it definitely exists," grinned Eleanor. "I have artifacts to prove it. The city exists. I am sure of it. Hyperborea is real!"

Bellatrix smiled. "I believe you. Witches and wizards had their start in some place, right? I mean, certainly magic could have evolved. Darwinian evolution is real, but after what Hermione and I have seen in the Fae Realm, I find it harder to believe wizards evolved naturally and magic is something we discovered."

"But that still raises the question of 'how' and 'why' magic was discovered," said Eleanor. "To find and explore Hyperborea is to find the birthplace of wizardkind. To find answers to questions we never thought would be answered. Hyperborea would be the ultimate capstone to the career of any explorer."

"You know where it is?" asked Bellatrix.

Eleanor looked over her shoulder and produced a scroll from her purse. She unfurled it, revealing it to be a map of the arctic region. A big red circle was drawn around a few large islands in the Canadian Arctic, west of Greenland. "Thirty years of research, painstakingly sorting through old journals of Arctic explorers, pouring over old maps, old Inuit tales, the writings of Herodotus, Celtic folk tales, the works of Otto Magnus von Stackelberg. Hell, even the more contemporary works written by more… questionable muggles such as Aleksandr Dugin contributed to a small degree if you cut through the majority of the propaganda first. But with all the evidence in hand, I am certain the cities lies within this red circle. I'd stake my life on it!"

Bellatrix studied the map and the islands within the red circle. "That's still a lot of ground of cover," said Bellatrix.

"I want to launch an expedition," said Eleanor, her mouth forming into a warm smile. "The expedition to end all expeditions. An expedition which will finally answer questions wizardkind has been searching for since time immemorial. 'Where does magic come from?'. 'How did we become magical people?'. And I want you to be a part of it. As the expedition's official chronicler."

Bellatrix blinked. Did she just hear that correctly? "Me?" she asked softly.

"You have a good eye for detail. Your writing is, skilled, lively and inspiring." said Eleanor. "Especially for someone so young as you. I see in you a kindred spirit, Bellatrix. An explorer and an adventurer at heart. You took a leap into the unknown, even though you had no idea where and when you would find yourself. And yet you still did it. Lesser women would have balked."

Bellatrix chuckled. "Hermione gave me good incentive," she grinned briefly. Meanwhile, her mind was reeling. An expedition to the arctic under the command of her childhood hero, with her as its chronicler. It was a dream come true. "Oh, Hermione must come too! She'll love it!"

"You've sung her praises in your book," said Eleanor. "She shares our adventurous spirit, there can be no doubt about that."

"When do we leave?!" Bellatrix exclaimed enthusiastically.

Eleanor's face fell a little. With a sigh, she furled her map and put it away. "I've been… trying to put the expedition together for about a decade now," she sighed. "Finding the right experts, the right ship, the right crew and, most importantly, enough funding. That last one is my biggest issue."

Bellatrix frowned. "Why is funding an issue?"

"Take your pick of reasons," Eleanor sighed. "I've heard them all. The Ministry is recovering from a war. Two now. The target of the expedition is too close to the territory of Queen Ealdwynn and her barbaric thugs of Neo-Vikings. Or just simply 'other priorities'. The sad truth of the matter is that exploration simply isn't fashionable these days, I fear. All the world is discovered, people say. People ignorant of the undiscovered beauty which is still out there simply waiting for us to find it."

"I know!" Bellatrix exclaimed as she slammed the flat of her hands on the table. "I'll go talk my sister Andromeda right now. She'll get it sorted! How much do you need?"

Eleanor seemed stricken for a moment, unsure of what to say. Then, she smiled warmly, a smile which made Bellatrix melt into a puddle again. "Well, uhm," stammered Eleanor this time. She produced a small people of paper and shifted it too Bellatrix. "That's, uhm, a rough estimate. Part of it is already covered by a private interest group, but the majority of the cost…"

"Oh, that's pocket-change!" Bellatrix chuckled as she regarded the number. "Leave it to me."

A very hopeful smile formed on Eleanor's lips, and for a moment she seemed… relieved. Elated, even. Bellatrix was happy she could help: Eleanor, her childhood hero, has been an inspiration to her from the days she'd been a tiny witchling and had done so much for her without even realizing it. To do something for Eleanor in return made her happy beyond her own ken. And to have the chance to go with her on the expedition? That was even more fantastic.

"Absolutely not!" Andromeda crossed her arms angrily, her face contorted in an angry glare.

"WHY NOT?!" Bellatrix all but shrieked in her face.

Only a few moments ago, Bellatrix had stormed into Andromeda's office and bombarded her flabbergasted younger older sister with an cacophony of words. Once Andromeda had interrupted her enthused sister and asked her to repeat herself slowly, she had reacted swiftly and decisively.

"Bella, Bella, Bella," Andie leaned back in the chair behind her desk, the grandfather clock near the desk ticking away as Bellatrix gave her that all-too-familiar stricken look of harsh indignation. "You were obviously being manipulated and rather than calling her out, you promised to give her enough money to entirely fund her expedition!"

"It's pocket change for us!" Bellatrix crossed her arms. "I could pay it myself if you open up my trust fund."

Andromeda shook her head slowly. "Things like this are the very reason your trust fund is still locked! And will remain so until the day of your wedding, as we discussed!"

Bellatrix huffed. "It's my money. I'm an adult!"

"Are you really?" Andromeda chuckled. "Could have fooled me."

Steam was about to blow out of Bellatrix' ears as she balled her fists and grit her teeth. "You're just going to let this slip through your fingers? An expedition to Hyperborea? The long-lost city of wizardkind? The origin of magic?! Are you going to let the Malfoys get the glory instead? Or the Greengrass family? Or Merlin forbid the Crabbes?" Bellatrix crossed her arms. Andromeda scoffed. It was obvious that Bellatrix was trying to appeal to her sense of pride by naming the families they were rivalled with, ranging from friendly rivalry like with the Malfoys or all-out war like with the Crabbes. Well, it wouldn't work. Andromeda would not be so easily played.

Andromeda rose from her seat, glaring at Bellatrix. "Hyperborea is nothing but a myth!"

"No it's not!" Bellatrix retorted. "Eleanor has proof! She's delved through old maps, stories, accounts and has artifacts!"

"And… has she actually shown you any of this proof?!" Andromeda asked. The look on Bellatrix' face and her slight blush confirmed it: she had her now. Andromeda's frown became a smirk.

"Well…" Bellatrix muttered, her eyes downcast as she sheepishly rolled on the balls of the feet. "No."

"Of course she hasn't," Andromeda chuckled.

Bellatrix eyes' lit up with fury. "What do you expect? It was in a pub! In public! You don't expect her to flaunt her evidence right then again there. Why, unscrupulous sorts might try to steal it from her!"

"And do what with it, exactly?!" laughed Andromeda. "Go on another fruitless expedition?! Wizards have been trying to find that city for centuries. I remember there was an another expedition some ten years ago. I also remember that everybody on that ship died!"

Bellatrix raised her chin imperiously. "But that expedition wasn't led by Eleanor Snowbell!" she stressed. "Just… talk to her."

"Talk to her?!" exclaimed Andromeda. "I have a business to run, Bella. I don't have time to talk to every Tom, Dick and Eleanor who wants me to fund some hare-brained scheme…"

"Give it a chance. Please?"

That made Andromeda's jaw almost hit the floor. She cocked her head sideways, narrowing her eyes. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

Bellatrix bit her lip. "Please," she repeated, in a tone far more demure than before.

"Well…" said Andromeda calmly, crossing her arms. "That's a first."

"Don't make me beg," Bellatrix pressed.

Andromeda sighed, walked around the desk and embraced her sister. Her older younger sister eagerly hugged her back. These moments always brought Andromeda back to the old days, playing in the yard, singing along with Beatles albums, running around Hogwarts getting into trouble. Back when it was the three of them against the world. A world which had become endlessly more complex. In a way Bellatrix was still a relic of the past, still mentally living in an era of naive possibilities. Perhaps Bellatrix was the lucky one.

"So, you'll talk to her?" Bellatrix asked.

"I'll consider it," replied Andromeda.

"But…"

"I'll consider it," Andromeda pressed, lying her hand on Bellatrix' cheek for a moment. The two sisters shared a smile. It was the best Bellatrix was going to get out of this today.

Bellatrix snorted. "Should I consider myself dismissed now?"

"Dismissed!" Andromeda spoke with a twinkle in her eye and watched her sister leave her office, considerably more deflated than when she had come in. No doubt Bella would run off to Nymphadora and Tahki and complain to them just how much of a gigantically massive bitch she had been to her. Well, no matter.

Merlin, she still loved the bones of her sister, but if she really wanted to be treated like an adult it was time to act like one. Offering money to fund an expedition to the Frozen North, running off for Merlin knows how long while she was supposed to be getting married in September. Andromeda wondered why Hermione would think of all this and made a mental note to bring it up to her. Perhaps the more grounded Hermione could talk some sense into that thick skull of hers.

Well, Andromeda had bigger concerns to contend with than a senseless expedition to a mythical lost city. She sauntered over to a maquette in the middle of the room, the result of a project she had been pushing for the past ten years: the Diagon Alley Renewal Project. Since the Black family owned all the buildings, she could push Diagon Alley into the 21st century. All buildings would be torn down and in its place would be build a modern era multi-story magical shopping plaza. Larger and grander than ever before with plenty of room for even more shops and facilities than ever before. An additional benefit would be to finally clean up the excesses of Knockturn Alley, which were getting worse and worse.

The project was not without its controversies. Wizards and witches were a traditional lot and seeing a lot 'iconic old buildings'… their description for old barely inhabitable ruins… being torn down to make place for a modern building. Well, they were going to have to deal with it. Far more legitimate concerns they had were, of course, keeping shops open during the construction and increasing rent-prices. Andromeda had addressed those by announcing the construction would take place in phases and gave assurances that rent-prices would stay the same while also citing additional benefits of cleaning services and proper security.

Still, her detractors were fierce and they were winning over the public. Even though she had the Daily Prophet in her pocket, it was a lot harder to deal with more grass-roots protests and not to mention that rabble-rouser running InfoWizards who'd been putting her on blast ever since he caught wind of the plan. A 'conscious and malicious effort of an out-of-touch wealthy elitist to strike at the very heart of wizarding culture', as he had put it. Well, the man certainly had a way with words.

Andromeda put a finger to her lips. Perhaps funding this expedition wouldn't be that bad of an idea. Brits did love their heroic tales of exploration; it spoke to their spirit. And even though Hyperborea was a myth, it was well and truly alive in the hearts of many a witch or wizard. If she would fund this expedition it would serve as an adequate distraction for the angry populace at the very least and bring some glory to the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black merely through the act of funding it.

A smirk crossed her lips. Oh, her smarter detractors would see right through the ruse, no doubt, but with the state of wizarding UK journalism being decidedly yellow they would simply be drowned out by the cheers.

Yes. Andromeda was starting to like this idea more and more. The least she could do was to talk with the woman. Though the manipulation of her younger older sister would have to be addressed.

There was a tapping on her window. Ah, of course, it would be the post-wasp. Regular as clockwork and right on time. Andromeda snapped her fingers and the window magically opened. Wearing a small hat and carrying a parcel and some letters, the post-wasp of the day flew towards her, magically confirming her identity before flying to her desk to place the post on the inbox on her desk.

Andromeda couldn't help but frown when she read the post-wasp's name-tag. 'Hello, my name is Liminal Space'.

Alright. She knew that wasps picked their own names and tended to base it on if it sounded pleasing for them rather than actual meaning behind the words. She also knew that wasps living in the same hive never picked a name already taken. Combine these two facts and it cloud lead to rather interesting wasp-names, but at this point it was getting rather ridiculous.

"There's sugars in the bowl. Feel free to eat as many as you like," she told the wasp. The wasp needn't be told twice and dug in, crunching up the sugar with gusto. "Actually, could you wait a bit before picking up the post? I need to write a quick note."

The post-wasp seemed to understand and dug into the bowl to consume some more sugar while Andromeda wrote a quick invitation to this Snowbell woman to discuss the particulars. After she closed the scroll with a wax seal stamped with the Black family crest, she put the scroll with the rest of the post in the outbox. When 'Liminal Space' was done eating, the wasp gathered up the scrolls and letters into the leather quiver and picked up the lone parcel with its legs before flying out the window which magically closed behind it.

Certainly an interesting conversation was ahead of her. Now, to see what had been delivered…