Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 3: An agreement is struck...

"It is said that success or failure for any expedition to the unknown lies in its preparation and planning. It is more than simply following a treasure map to the X and, well, that is a story of its own. No, preparation lies more in the mundane. Where to travel, how to travel, which specialists to bring, which supplies and instruments to take. All of that is dependant on proper funding as well. If the funding is insufficient, the preparation and planning is compromised and the expedition is doomed to a tragic end from the start. Investors, in turn, balk at the risk: why put money towards an expedition which is likely to fail? Now, I'll be the first to say that my sister Andromeda is a notorious pinch-penny, but at least she was willing to put up all the money needed for a proper expedition with proper preparation… after being convinced to do so, of course.

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

Tahki made her way to the old coach house after sauntering across the Catterborough Woodhouse grounds. Though she had quite enjoyed her recent trek to the Orkneys tremendously, it had been weeks of long days after early rising in mostly foul weather and spending most of her nights in a tiny tent. In sharp contrast, she would also enjoy a few weeks of living in complete luxury. Fine dining, clubbing, hanging out with her cousins and generally splaying out somewhere doing nothing sound like heaven. Seriously, coming to England to explore her roots had been the best idea she'd ever had.

Despite wanting nothing more than to lazy about for a bit longer, the Native-American Black was already trying to decide where to go next. Somewhere with a more agreeable climate in winter than the Orkneys at the very least. South of England or Wales, perhaps. Cornwall or Dorset. This ancient land held many places to explore and people to converse with. She missed Montana… parts of it, at least, but some things? Nah, she was glad to have left those back there. As she felt the gravel shift underneath her boots, she reflected on conversations she had with Bellatrix; the Black family had their expectations and eccentricities. Though forced marriages were not something the Montana-Blacks did, they did, well, encourage, certain unions. As for Tahki herself, her life had been pathed out for her by fussy aunties the moment it was revealed that she was a savant. Being a savant was a very rare natural talent. For a 'regular' wizard, detecting magic and mapping ley-lines could be an exhausting, arduous affair often done with crystals and divining rods, whereas Tahki could simply see them outright. Moreover, she could 'feel' the flow of magic around persons and objects and see their auras.

As such she was expected to contribute her natural talents to the betterment of magic and the magical world, enhance understanding of magic. With a partner she would be 'strongly suggested' to make baby savants with.

Fuck. That. Noise.

She loved being a savant, she loved being able to see and feel magic around her. But she wanted to live too. She wanted her freedoms. That's what the United Fucking States of America was supposed to be all about. And as much as she loved her family, she wanted to live on her own terms. Coming to England to explore her roots was her way out. Gramps, the man who raised her after the death of her parents, was a respected savant himself and had experienced the downsides of a 'strongly suggested marriage' through a very messy divorce. Gramps was a good man who didn't want his granddaughter to be unhappy. So he allowed her to get away from Montana for a while. As it stood, aunt Andromeda had been more than welcoming as had the rest of the Manchester-Blacks. There'd been some old grudges, bridges burned being rebuilt, between their two branches of the family and perhaps her being sort of an ambassador to the Montana-Blacks would be worth more than the things she could contribute as a savant. Tahki rather liked that idea.

Honestly, she hadn't expected the UK to be this beautiful; this ancient land brimming with ancient magics. Rolling hills and haunting forests. And, well, the pubs weren't half bad either. Or the men.

Yes, she was very much considering making her extended stay more permanent. It would be a very delicate conversation though. She'd have to talk it over with both Aunt Andromeda and gramps.

Finally, she had arrived at the old coach house. Or now, their club house, where she, Nymphadora and Bellatrix, along with their friends, could hang out in peace. Once inside, she hung her coat over the rack and plopped on the sofa nearest to the roaring fire. So far their clubhouse had all sorts of amenities; A bar with drinks, a snooker table, cozy sofas surrounding the fireplace, the ever-important phone to order take-out with and some hammocks for when they were especially lazy. Some games were in the cupboard as well as some books. A doorway led to another part of the old coach house were Nymphadora had stored some of her vehicles and had set up her workshop.

Most of all this had been put together by Nymphadora. Though she might seem like a lazy stoner at the best of times, she could be surprisingly focused and driven when she put her mind to something. And, speak of the devil; Nymphadora was sprawled in one of her hammocks, her leg hanging off the side. Her cousin looked to be half asleep. Or, considering the smell in the clubhouse, completely stoned out of her mind.

Nymphadora grinned at her when she was finally lucid enough to notice her approach, brought her hand to her mouth and did a loud 'ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow'.

"Oh, you fucker," Tahki rolled her eyes before chuckling. "Aren't you supposed to be at the NHS to get your crooked Britbong teeth fixed? Cause it looks like you really need it!"

"Oi, why do Indians hate snow?" Nymphadora smiled while snapping her fingers and accio'ing a spliff which was swiftly lit.

"I don't know, Nymph," replied Tahki, already expecting the worst. "Why do Indians hate snow?"

"Because it's white and all over their land," a grin and a puff of smoke followed.

"Piece of shi…" Tahki snorted through her nose and shifted to lay on her back. She got comfortable and turned to Nymphadora. Her aura was light and puffy, as was expected from a person this mellow. But there were some traces of red; passion or love. Hah, passion for weed, perhaps. "You're lively today," said Tahki.

"Bollocks!" laughed Nymphadora. "Woke up at noon then came back here and took a bit of a kip in my hammock. As it should be, yeah?"

"Lazy fuck."

"Correct," said Nymphadora before grinning and propping herself up. "So… how many blokes have you shagged at the Orkneys, hm?"

Tahki shook her head, casual sex being one of her vices Nymphadora was quite aware of. "Let's see… There was Ewan… Clyde… Markus… and then one more whose name I can't remember."

"Four?" Nymphadora frowned. "That's a low number for you. We need to compensate and take you out clubbing and then suddenly lose track of you because you went off to the bog to shag two random blokes. Don't worry: we'll make a proper chavette out of you yet. Get you some proper Burberry keks next time we go up town, yeah?"

Tahki huffed. "That only happened once! And those two brothers were total hunks! Anyway, in a spectacular change of subject, help me decide where to go next. I'm thinking Cornwall for the sights, Dorset for the coast or Coed Felenrhyd in Wales."

"Coed Fuckyfuck?! Why the bloody hell do you want to go to a forest park in sodding Wales?"

"Supposedly there's wendigos there. Tiny cute ones. Compared to the ones back at home, at least."

Nymphadora chuckled again. "You want to see wendigos? Really? Aren't you lot supposed to not even say the word 'wendigo'? And here you are seeking them out?"

"You lot?" Tahki raised an eyebrow and gave her cousin a rather huffy look. "Don't conflate me with my superstitious no-maj kin. Only people who believe saying the word 'wendigo' attracts them are the people who've never actually seen one. Trust me, wendigos are about as dumb as a bag of hammers. They're far too stupid to even understand words, let alone be attracted to someone saying the word 'wendigo' from over miles away. Now, blood from an open wound, that they can smell well over a mile away'."

"Touched a nerve I think," Nymphadora chuckled. "Oh, before I forget. I put a new blend into your hookah pipe. Very crisp and dry. I think you'll love it."

Ah yes, her second vice: cannabis filled water pipes. She'd loved it ever since Nymph had introduced them too it. Her cousin had actually thought natives smoked water-pipes until she had explained to her that that was actually more of a middle-eastern thing. But since Nymph had already bought it for her, it was a shame to let it go to waste. She lit the pipe and let it warm up. The moment she put the hose to her mouth and sucked in the smoke, she could feel her fingers start to tingle. A rather floaty sensation came over her. "Oh, wow…" she husked, blowing out the air.

"Knew you'd love it!" Nymphadora snapped her fingers.

"You really outdid yourself this time."

"Just wait for the second kick."

"Hey, Nymph."

"What?"

"How do Brit women get unwanted pregnancies?"

"I don't know?" chuckled Nymphadora. "How do Brit women get unwanted pregnancies?"

"By having a couple of bangers for breakfast."

"Hah! You're learning, yeah?"

"Speaking of bangers, have you seen Bella and Hermione this afternoon?" asked Tahki. "Or did they just go back to bed? I swear, I hope when I ever get in a relationship, it'd be like those two. Five years in and they're still at it like a couple of horny bunnies."

Nymphadora's eyes moved to the grandfather clock. "Nah, Hermione should be at her therapy session and… oh, speak of the devil…"

How on Earth Nymphadora had known Bellatrix was approaching the door Tahki would never know. The young curly haired witch burst through the door with gusto, not even bothering to hang her coat on the rack. No, there was definitely something on her mind. Bellatrix, excitable young woman as she tended to be, was more excited than a particle in a hadron collider today. Her curly hair bounced as she moved her arms animatedly and a waterfall of words came out of her mouth at such a pace that Tahki could barely keep up.

"Okay, stop, stop STOP!" Nymphadora exclaimed. "Take a deep breath, repeat what you just said and, for fuck's sake, keep it slow or I'll stuff a hash brownie down your gob."

Tahki listened in fascination as Bellatrix told her tale of meeting her childhood hero in pub and having been invited to join an expedition to the arctic of all places. An expedition to find the lost city of Hyperborea. And Bella would be chronicling the journey. It was easy to see why she was so excited.

"Hyperborea is a myth," Nymphadora said.

"I don't think so, Nymph," said Tahki. "It's been part of our oral culture since forever. We don't call it Hyperborea, though. We know it as The Frozen Mountain Where the Gods Dwell."

"You just made fun of your own oral culture no less than five minutes ago," Nymphadora chuckled. "Also, haha, oral."

"This is different," said Tahki. "We trace our magical lineage all the way back to the Frozen North. Tales tell that our people made an arduous trek down South under the guidance of the first savants and shamans to settle in what is now Montana and part of Canada; the lands promised to us by the gods."

"That fits the picture Eleanor painted," said Bellatrix. "She believes that Hyperborea was abandoned because of some sort of cataclysm. An accident, perhaps. She believes that's the most likely reason the city was abandoned by our ancient ancestors."

Nymphadora scoffed. "So it's a frozen block of bloody ice," she said, taking a draw from her spliff. "If you want to go hang out with the penguins while freezing your arse off, be my guest. I'll be staying right here next to the fire with an ale in one hand and a spliff in the other. What about you, Tahki?"

"Penguins are Antarctic, not Arctic! Don't you know anything, you Britbong dumbass? Besides which, it's intriguing," said the Native-American Black, sitting up a little straighter and before taking another hit from her water pipe. "Bella's right, you know? It's a once in a lifetime opportunity. I'd love to join. I've never been that far north and if there's a chance to see the Frozen Mountain…"

If Bellatrix had been giddy before, she was absolutely over the moon now. The young Black rushed over and grabbed her shoulder. "You should! I can ask Eleanor if there's space for you at the expedition! When she hears you're a savant, I bet she'll beg to have you join us on board!"

Upon hearing that, Tahki threw her head back, grit her teeth and groaned loudly. "Savant this, savant that? Why can I just come along because I'm Tahki and I'm interested?"

Bellatrix made a face. "You have a rare talent. You should use it to your advantage and let it work for you to open doors. Exploit your ability for your own benefit, as it were."

Tahki sighed. There was wisdom in Bellatrix' words, of course. But, if it could get her on board that ship… "Maybe I will, then. If only so I can keep making fun of Hermione and her inept attempts to be politically correct."

"Traitor!" Nymphadora shook her head. "Next time I'm putting arsenic in your hookah. Anyroad, enough of this Arctic lost city bollocks, yeah? We're all here, at least one of us is queer and we have a snooker table waiting to be played on. So how about we get to it, ladies!?"

Bellatrix clapped her hands. "Sounds ace to me!" she said. "Let's order a pizza and some kebab!"

"Sure about that?" Nymphadora grinned. "If our deliverer is a bloke, I bet Tahki will tip him by giving him a shag behind the coach house."

"Oh, fuck you, Nymph!" Tahki replied in between laughter, giving her a middle finger. Nymphadora responded by giving her a double two-fingered salute. "Since where are you such a fucking slutshamer?"

"Then stop being a slag, Hoggity-ponctas!"

"It's Pocahontas, you retarded pussy-fart! And stop calling me Pocahontas! She was Powhatan, not Blackfoot. The language structure is completely different. Tahkiwapunaki Black. Try saying it, it's not hard! And it sounds nothing like Pocahontas!"

Bellatrix bit her lip, trying not to laugh. "That sounded like you just tried and failed to pronounce the name of a Welsh town."

Tahki groaned, taking a hit from her water-pipe for good measure. "Son of a… why are you two Britbongs ganging up on me now? This is how you get Boston Tea Parties, you know?"

"For the record, I didn't call you anything. You just inferred," grinned Nymphadora.

"You know what you did, twat-face," Tahki shook her head and laughed.

"Yankee cuntflap," laughed Nymphadora. "Don't make me get up from this hammock and take your land again!"

"Oh?! I claim the Greater Manchester area for the Blackfoot tribe! We're going to take over all your favourite kebab shops and Manchester United? That's going to be Montana United. You steal my land? I steal your land! And all your soccer shit to boot!"

"Bobbins!"

Bellatrix shook her head and laughed. "Right, we're all horrible bitches here. This we already know. So, snooker and pizza. Let's focus on that."

"Wise words," said Tahki.

Hermione found her way to the old coach house, near the old side gate of Catterborough Woodhouse. It was a nice and secluded spot, nestled among the rows of trees in between the estate walls and the lawns surrounding the house. The stone building had been abandoned for many years since it had fallen into disuse and, for a while, Nymphadora had made plans to start living there until she decided she was too lazy to walk back and forth to the main house all day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. When Tahki came over from the States and the Terrible Trio was formed, the three of them decided to convert it in a clubhouse of sorts. God knew they spent a lot of time here.

Hermione considered she had never actually been inside ever since it had been finished three months ago. But, with Tahki back from her trek to the Orkneys, she was reasonably sure she would find Trix here. And, judging from the muffled music and the lights coming from the windows, her suspicion was confirmed. After stepping to the heavy wooden door, she took a deep breath and knocked.

"Come on in!" sounded Nymphadora from the other side. "Door's open."

Once Hermione went inside, she was quite surprised to see the whole place rather clean and cozy. The wooden floors were clean and covered with a few rugs. There was an honest to goodness bar with drink-taps and a muggle mini-fridge. A closet with all sorts of wizarding boardgames she didn't recognize, a few dartboards and a snooker table. A set of pillows and hammocks were stacked in case any of the girls wanted a kip. Posters of rockbands adorned the wall. A grandfather clock stood near the bar and, surrounding the roaring fireplace, were three leather sofas and a low table.

Hermione rubbed her chin: some if not all of this furniture matched descriptions of pieces of furniture which had mysteriously gone missing from the main house over the past few months. Nymphadora's doing, no doubt. There was a distinct odour of cannabis in the air too.

An interesting mix of junkfood, ranging from pizza to kebab rolls, was set on the table while the Terrible Trio was draped over the sofas. Nymphadora had one leg hooked over the side of her sofa and was nursing a spliff. Tahki lay on her back looking rather blissful; the Native-American girl had her lips wrapped around a hookah hose. Bellatrix, however, was sat upright, her vice of the day not being a narcotic, but a kebab roll she was chewing on.

"Hermie!" Bellatrix explained. "Grab some of this scran, it's still warm."

"Bella," sounded Nymphadora. "Remember. You lost."

Bellatrix gave her a pained look. "Ugh… really?"

"Really," Tahki confirmed with a grin.

"FINE!" Bellatrix put down her food, took a deep breath and gave her a rather pained expression. "Hermie? Why are lesbians so bad at cooking?"

Hermione blinked. "What?"

"Why are lesbians so bad at cooking?" Bellatrix repeated.

Fighting the urge to rub her temples to make the pain go away, Hermione simply sighed and spoke with a strained voice. "I don't know… why are lesbians so bad at cooking."

Bellatrix spoke with an embarrassed and tiny voice, something Hermione was not used to hearing. "Because… be… cause… they always… eat out."

While her love adopted an expression which seemed to indicated she wanted the Earth to swallow her up whole at that point, Nymphadora and Tahki burst out in laughter. Just as Hermione was wondering why on Earth they were laughing at that stupid joke, she realized they weren't laughing at the joke at all. Rather, they were laughing at Bellatrix' embarrassment.

"Oh, this is priceless," exclaimed Tahki after taking another puff from her hookah. "I could literally hear Hermione dry up from here."

"Aye!" laughed Nymphadora. "Hermione ain't never shagging you again, mate!"

"Oh, both of you, shut your cake 'oles!" Bellatrix yelled angrily. "You two rotters made me tell her that rank joke!"

Hermione shook her head, ignoring the other two. "Trix, could I talk to you for a moment? In private?"

"Oooooohhhh!" jeered both Nymphadora and Tahki. The two of them made 'o's with their hands and started smashing them together, followed by exaggerated licking motions. Hermione ignored them while she and Bellatrix walked outside and closed the heavy door behind them, muffling the laughter of the other two.

"Immature girl-children," Hermione muttered under her breath.

Stood in the cool air of the forest, Bellatrix was swift to give her an apologetic look. "What it is, right, I lost really badly at a game of snooker and there was a bet involved and… that's really not important right now. I was distracted, right, because this afternoon I had a meeting with someone and you won't believe who…"

Bellatrix interrupted herself, giving Hermione an intense look. Her voice lowered, her eyes brimmed with concern. "What's wrong?" she asked.

Bless her. Bless Trix. Hermione was so happy that she always seemed to sense when something was off with her. Hermione felt her emotions knot in her stomach as the difficult therapy session of this morning came bubbling back. "I…" Hermione stammered, her voice waived. "I just really need to feel loved right now."

The curly-haired witch didn't hesitate for a moment. She rushed forward and embraced her, brushing her lips against hers. When Hermione felt a hand rank through her hair, an arm pressing against her back and soft lips on hers, she felt her eyes start to water. She hugged her back, enjoying the smell of Bella's shampoo and the softness of her hair on her skin. When they pressed their foreheads together and she felt Bellatrix's thumb rub her cheek, she felt like the most loved person in the world.

"Come," whispered Bellatrix. "Back to the house, to the comfort of our own room. I'm going to give you a backrub."

"Y-you don't have to…"

"Bobbins!" Bellatrix exclaimed, followed up by another brush of the lips. "I'm going to give you a backrub. And while you're completely legless underneath my gentle touch, I will tell you all about the special person I met today."

Hermione smiled. Her Trix always seemed to understand what she needed most and when. It was scant five minutes later she lay on their bed on her stomach, her torso unclothed while Bellatrix straddled and her slid her soft hands over the skin of her back. Hermione closed her eyes and groaned in contentment while her Bellatrix rhythmically rubbed her hands over the bare skin of her back. At that point, Hermione felt completely happy and boneless. That is, until she opened her eyes and found herself staring at the open door of the walk-in closet.

Memories of the stalker came back and she tensed up. Bellatrix' reaction was swift and decisive in the form of a slap on her cheek. Too soft to hurt but too hard to be comfortable. "There's nobody in the closet!" Bellatrix stressed.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, allowing herself to relax again. Trix was right. Keeva too. Perhaps she was simply too worried. Of course, Hermione being relaxed lasted only until Bellatrix told her the news she had in store for her.

"AN ARCTIC EXPEDITION?!" Hermione exclaimed, trying to rise herself and turn to look Bellatrix in the eye. Trix, being in a far better position, simply pushed her back to the bed with enhanced magical strength and started rubbing again, once more turning Hermione into putty.

"Yes!" sounded a giddy Bellatrix. "With Eleanor Snowbell herself! How fantastic is that?!"

"You're mad!" Hermione retorted. "You can't just run off. What about your books? Aren't we supposed to get married in September? Those types of expeditions can take months, years even! You could be years away from home!"

"I can write on the ship," said Bellatrix. "And I can make a deal with my publisher. Eleanor wants me to be her chronicler. Me! This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance! Besides, we can make plenty of ports of call. We won't be out at sea for months on end. Expeditions these days are run in bursts rather than a single trip."

Hermione felt Bellatrix shift and almost swooned when the smaller girl draped herself over her, gently rubbing her sides. The dress she wore tickled her bare back, sending a shudder through her body. It was then that Bellatrix whispered in her ear. "And you're coming too…"

Hermione's eyes spread open instantly. "WHAT?!" she exclaimed. "No. NO! I can't just take off! I have… experiments to run and plan! My greenhouse needs to be kept up! We'll be mass-growing the Narcissa-plants! I have a seminar to attend and speak at at Castelobruxo!"

"You can leave instructions with your assistants and with father," countered Bellatrix. "You can still go to your seminar when we have shore leave. Come on, Hermie, the expedition needs a naturalist! And it's a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

Hermione scoffed. "Precious little plants at the Arctic. Nothing to do for a herbologist."

"It's more than that," said Bellatrix. "You'd document the weather, any observations of a natural or supernatural sense, you take the photographs… and you catalogue our findings, artifacts and such, when we discover the city! Your writings and mine will be the first words reaching the wizarding world about Hyperborea!"

Well, Trix was certainly enthusiastic. Still, Hermione was less than convinced. "Isn't Hyperborea a myth?" asked Hermione.

For a moment, Bellatrix stopped rubbing and let out a sigh. Hermione let out a disappointed groan until her back rub resumed. "Not you too," said Bellatrix. "Now you sound like Andromeda. No, Hermie, is it not a myth. Don't you know the story?"

Actually, Hermione had to admit she didn't know the story. And was forced to admit that there were still so many parts of the wizarding world she wasn't familiar with. "I know it is some sort of wizarding creation myth, but…"

"It is not a myth!" Bellatrix sounded like she was getting a bit miffed now, the annoyance clear on her voice. "Hyperborea is the birthplace of magic. The wizards and witches of Hyperborea were the most powerful magic users in existence. Even the lowest of the low in Hyperborea had the power of Dumbledore squared. Now think of the power a talented Hyperborean witch would have possessed. From the frigid north, they looked down upon the world with pity for their magicless cousins. They created all manner of magical creatures in their city of splendours. Hyperborea was a city with golden streets and platinum rooftops, where fountains spewed forth the finest wine and green trees rose as high as mountains. For hundreds of years, the wizards and witches lived in opulence and wealth, until they were forced to flee the city. Theories about the reason why differ. Some say it was a natural disaster like a volcanic eruption, some say one of the most powerful wizards went mad and destroyed the city outright, some say it was the start of the last ice-age. Regardless, wizards and witches were forced to travel into the world and magical power has been on the decline ever since."

"Hm," replied Hermione. "That sounds an awful lot like the Garden of Eden, sans the concept of original sin. Or Atlantis. Or the Norse Ragnarok. None of which are real either. And it sounds like an awfully convenient excuse for wizarding elitists to claim dominion over the muggle population."

"It is real!" Bellatrix stressed. "Hyperborea exists! Eleanor Snowbell isn't wrong! There's artifacts to prove the city once stood! Stories of old have left breadcrumb trails for us to follow."

"And what if it's not?" asked Hermione. "Will you spend years in the frigid cold looking for a pipe dream?"

"Oh, you!" Bellatrix balled her fists and none-too-gently brought them down on Hermione's shoulder blades.

"OW! Hey!"

Bellatrix' fingers found herself shoulders again and started kneading. "Nobody believed the Fae Realm was real but us. What if we'd given up, hm? Where'd we be then? You'd still be moping away and I'd be dead, that's what! But we believed in the Fae Realm and each other. And now you're in my bed getting a lovely back rub. How's that for 'not real', hm?"

Hermione closed her eyes. She supposed that was true. In fact, without Trix in her life there'd be a decent chance Hermione wouldn't have been alive to see 2006. She didn't want to think about that all that much.

"You're right about one thing. It is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Oh, say you'll come," Bellatrix' voice was pouty and hopeful, like a puppy waiting for a treat. "The two of us going on an adventure again. To explore the world… together."

"Trix…"

"Say you'll come," whispered Trix, her voice a lot closer. Once again the girl had draped herself over her. She felt fingers intertwine with hers as Bellatrix grasped both her flesh and her silver hand. Hermione gasped when Bellatrix gently bit down on her ear and started rolling her tongue over her lobe rather seductively.

"T-that… t-that's… cheating…" Hermione managed to stammer through gasps. She shuddered when she felt soft curls tickle her skin. A hand snaked in between the sheets and her belly, tips of fingers finding the hem of her jeans. Her breath quickened as Bellatrix let out a throaty chuckle.

"Keep this up…" Hermione managed to say. "And I very much will come…"

"Fresh," Trix said and Hermione could literally hear the smirk on her face. With one foul thrust, Bellatrix' hand shot down the front of Hermione's trousers and her knickers.

Hermione arched her back in response and let out a brief cry. "Oh… oh god…" she muttered when the first gentle strokes started. "I… I love you, Trix."

"I know!" said a rather playful Bellatrix, safe in the knowledge she had convinced Hermione to join the expedition.

The boardroom was Andromeda's battlefield and in this arena, she was one of the greatest warriors. There were reasons why heads of other families feared her, why international companies hired shrewed and experienced negotiators whenever they realized they were up against her directly. Truth be told, she relished in it. Going in and securing the best possible deal for her and hers, often at the detriment of her opponents, well, there was no rush that compared to it. And to those willing stepping into the lioness' den? Merlin had mercy on their soul.

Andromeda could crush dreams with the stroke of a pen and bring grown men to the brink of tears with a single sentence. Andromeda was not a puppet of the invisible hand, she was the invisible hand.

Again, she found herself in a similar situation and she gauged her opponent. Sat on the other side of her desk in her office was Eleanor Snowbell. The elderly witch was far older than maman, but radiated power and confidence which belied her eyes. Her long silver hair was tied in a tail and her practical attire, jacket and trousers, seemed to be far more in place for being out in the field rather than coming to a potential investor to beg for scraps. Even now she was staring her down from across the desk, but if it was out of bravery or ignorance she was yet to see.

"Thank you for inviting me," said Snowbell.

Ah, the first sword has been drawn.

"Indeed," said Andromeda, raising herself from her seat, dress and cloak swishing as she turned to look out the window with her hands folded behind her back. "My sister tells me you have been planning an expedition to Hyperborea for quite some time now…"

"Ten years," replied Snowbell, with the slight tremor of frustration in her voice. "Three decades of my life was spent on painstaking research."

Andromeda turned around without moving from her spot, looking at the still seated Snowbell, looking down at her from an elevated position. "Thirty years is a long time."

"Preparations for an undertaking such as this are lengthy."

"Thirty years, though?"

Snowbell shifted uncomfortably. "Seeking out evidence and researching possible locations takes time. With expeditions such as these you cannot simply take off and hope to find something. A destination needs to be set, however rough. Well, I believe I have narrowed down Hyperborea possible location to a searchable area."

Well, she certainly seemed sure of herself, that much was certain.

"When research is done," Eleanor continued. "Benefactors need to be found to finance the expedition. Preparations take time and need to be thorough. Experts need to be sought and hired. Instruments and supplies purchased."

Andromeda took one step closer to the desk. "Have you found many such benefactors?" she asked. It was a stab right to the heart and she knew it. Andromeda didn't miss a flash of concern on Eleanor's face for just moment.

Eleanor lowered her gaze, just a little. "Times are not what they were. Exploration and discovery is not held in the same regard as it once was. Where the Ministry or great houses once lined up to back my expeditions with coin or supplies, they now cite 'other more pressing matters'. Where the public once stood in awe of the unknown revealed, they are now mostly concerned about the latest video games instead."

Andromeda frowned. "What is a 'video' game?"

"Something my muggle grand-nieces can't stop talking about," sighed Eleanor. "Regardless, I am in search of a sponsor."

Andromeda narrowed her eyes. "My sister worships the ground you walk on. You are her hero, have been ever since her youth," she started. "And you rather brazenly manipulated her into first promising you money and then an audience with me to beg for money. She is the very reason you now sit before me and I want you to know I do not appreciate you treating my family with false flattery and empty promises of adventure!"

Eleanor closed her eyes, seemingly conflicted. She raised her head and looked Andromeda straight in the eye.

"I'm dying."

Well, that was a response Andromeda wasn't expecting. It left her at an exceedingly rare loss for words for just a moment, during which Eleanor continued to speak. "Picked up a parasite in Africa some fifty years ago. A little family of worms has been feasting on my cerebellum since then. Magic compensates for the loss of brain matter, but it will only go so far. My remaining lifespan is numbered in months rather than years."

"I'm sorry to hear that, I truly am," replied Andromeda.

"I neither want or need pity. I have explored the world, but finding Hyperborea represents what I need to finally place the capstone on my life's work. The very birthplace of wizardkind, lost to us. I have vowed to find it since I was fourteen years old and I will keep to that vow," Eleanor stressed.

Though momentarily thrown off by the mention of her impending death, Andromeda recovered quickly. Eleanor certainly was passionate, that much was true, but Andromeda still had questions. "I understand," she said. "But that still does not excuse your manipulation of Bellatrix. She is far more impressionable than she might seem."

Eleanor shook her head. "I wasn't lying to Bellatrix. I've read her book. She's got the heart of an adventurer and her writing is sublime. I meant every word of praise. I admit to manipulating her and I feel awful about it. But I'm running out of time and options. Regardless, I truly believe Bellatrix will be an asset to the expedition."

Andromeda crossed her arms. "Hermione Granger too. Bellatrix and Hermione come as a package deal, that much I guarantee. Hermione will be as much an asset, I suppose. Which brings me to my next concern. There have been many expeditions to find the lost city of Hyperborea. All of them came back empty handed. In fact, the last expedition failed so spectacularly, their ship was lost with all hands."

Eleanor gave her a pained look. "The Heimdall expedition," she sighed. "Their fault lies with an ill preparation. An expedition's outcome is often decided in the preparation phase already! The Heimdalls went in for the cheap. They cut corners they shouldn't have. They didn't have a proper plan. They didn't have enough supplies. They didn't have the right experts or experienced crew. They didn't even have a ship that was equipped for the Arctic waters. To be blunt, they died because their benefactors were pinch-pennies. I have given you a quotation. In it, you will see an account of expenditures by category and I assure you there is not a single knut frivolously spent."

Indeed, the quotation, a twenty page document, lay on her desk in front of her. Andromeda sat down on her chair, leaning back a little.

"I will entrust beloved family members to you…"

"There will be dangers," said Eleanor. "That I will not deny. But I will promise you that all dangers are mitigated as much as possible by proper preparation and supply works. And if you're concerned about Queen Ealdwynn and her band of barbaric Neo-Vikings, well, the area I have pinpointed lies well outside of their territory. Also, I believe my track-record speaks for itself. Thirty-five successful expeditions, not a single man lost."

The next forty minutes were spent with Eleanor pouring over maps, being shown artifacts and generally listening to increasingly passionate accounts of the piecing together of the location of the lost city. Eleanor was certainly sure of herself and Andromeda was starting to see why Bellatrix admired this woman so much. Hah, back in their youth, a young Andromeda and Narcissa had often had to endure Bellatrix recounting the tales of Eleanor Snowbell's adventures. She remembered a ten year old Bellatrix stood at the foot-end of her bed, a sheet wrapped around her body like a cloak while using a yardstick as a sword to point towards the imaginary distant terrain while she and Narcissa sat on the floor in awe. The memory brought a smile to her face.

When the presentation was over, Andromeda asked Eleanor to excuse her for a moment while she withdrew to a private chamber by the side. It was here where she could relax away from work to listen to the radio, have a drink or lie on the divan to get her feet up for a moment. It was also here where she kept her most private files. Andromeda poured herself a drink and stood over to the desk. On it lay black and white pictures of Bellatrix… knocking on the door to Nymphadora's room and finding her in bed with one of the maids.

Andromeda chuckled. So, finally someone else had figured it out. Well, not so much figured it out as she had stumbled upon it.

Nymphadora and Goneril weren't even half as careful about it as they thought they were. It was hard to miss a hint of an exchanged smile at the dinner table, just as it was hard to miss the clear musk of cannabis surrounding Goneril in the early mornings.

Nymphadora wouldn't be the first Black to fall for a servant. Thing is, this was the first time it had happened to a Black who was also in the direct line of succession. Andromeda had already seen that the girl, Goneril, was a good influence. She was down to earth, dependable and smarter than she looked. Someone who could do far better than work as a maid. Her sisters were cut from the same cloth for the most part.

Of course, as was tradition, the family of the betrothed would be allowed to move into the residence or be compensated. It certainly wouldn't do to have the sisters of the new mistress of the home keep their employ as maids. The girl, Goneril, would be pleased to know that her two sisters would be well taken care of. Either to be given houses and paid for any education. It wouldn't do to have once servants be waited on by their former colleagues.

And that was the complication in this matter.

Her three maids were the Silverberry sisters. Pure-blood pedigree, not that that mattered much these days in the public eye. The Silverberries were minor family fallen onto hard times. The classical method of a minor pure-blood family to come back into prominence was to attach themselves to a more powerful family, through employment or marriage. To that end the parents of this large family had strategically placed their eleven children in service of prominent families. This all came onto Andromeda when she learned that one of their sons had bagged one of the Greengrass' girls. Another one of the Silverberry girls had managed to marry into an American pure-blood family due to a pregnancy and a subsequent shotgun marriage.

As such, she was keeping an close eye on the maids. The eldest one becoming involved with Nymphadora had certainly been a concern. Even though she was determined not to make the same mistake she had made with Hermione, she had felt scrutiny was prudent.

That's how she had concluded that the relationship and their feelings for each other were genuine. Goneril had made no moves to tell her family, not even the sisters she was very close with. Nymphadora was just as eager to keep the secret, probably thinking her nosey mother wouldn't approve.

Well, Nymphadora couldn't be more wrong. The change in Nymphadora was apparent. She'd become far more focused, far more driven. And actually working on improving her innate and long-neglected metamorphmagus skills to sneak into the servant's quarters at night or finding other clever ways to disguise her relationship.

As far as Nymphadora was concerned, Goneril was hers. Her love, her secret. Unfortunately, as Nymphadora was wont to do, things had gotten stagnant again and after two years it was about time for her to make the next move. Andromeda relished the idea of negotiating with the Silverberries for a wedding contract, that wasn't the issue here. The issue was prodding her daughter to actually make the next move. Her daughter finally had something worth fighting for. She was just going to have to give her a good fight,

Then there was Tahki, her wayward Montana-Black niece. Tahki was magically talented and driven, but also a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, arrogant hedonist who looked down on her own people. In short, she was a Black. And being a young Black often came with these inherent problems. Tahki often talked down on her muggle tribefolk. On the other side, the muggle Blackfoot considered their magical cousins to be 'aloof snobs'.

As erudite and clever as she was, Tahki certainly wasn't above shagging a random bloke in a pub bathroom. Her coming to the UK to 'explore her roots' and 'visit an ancient' land was partially a pretence to escape from the expectations her family had for her back home. Like so many young people who were away from home for the first time and had had their taste of freedom, Tahki had thrown herself on drink, drugs and sex in an excessive manner. Certainly the girl was plucky and took all necessary precautions, but it was only a matter of time before she'd mess up, especially when drink and drugs were involved.

The girl's safety and well-being had been entrusted to her and it wouldn't do to have to send her home to her grandfather pregnant.

Andromeda shifted the photographs around from Tahki in a rather compromising position at a pub loo with two Scottish brothers to the three of them at their clubhouse. The 'terrible three' as she was calling them: Nymphadora, Tahki and Bellatrix. Already she'd seen evidence of the two of them peer-pressuring Bellatrix into doing things she otherwise wouldn't do. Which was surprising: she had expected her sister to be immune to things like peer-pressure.

All in all, those two girls could learn a lesson in maturity, and this opportunity might kill two birds with one stone.

Andromeda put the pictures away and strode back into her office. "Excuse me for keeping you waiting," she said, seating herself behind her desk. "I have one more question and perhaps it's the most banal one of all. What's in this for me? Or, rather, House Black?"

Eleanor straightened her back. "The expedition will be named the Black Expedition and you will named in all to be published documentation and news articles. The prestige of being the benefactor of the expedition to find the birth cradle of wizardkind will be all yours. I do believe prestige is a currency for the great houses, is it not?"

Ah. Shrewd. And satisfying.

"Not to worry," said Andromeda. "I have no plans to turn the ancient city into a luxury hotel. However, I do have a condition."

"Oh?"

"I have two more family members that will require a place on your expedition," said Andromeda. "Two women, sound of mind and young of spirit."

Eleanor cocked her head sideways. "With respect, an Arctic expedition is no place for the nouveau riche nor a daycare center for scions of a great house. It is a potentially dangerous expedition where there is no room for liabilities. That puts everyone in the expedition at risk."

Andromeda nodded. "That is the right answer, of course," she muttered, tenting her hands as she thought a moment. "Let me put it this way. You are already receiving Bellatrix and Hermione. Though both have no experience exploring the Arctic, you will not deny their skill or their ability to adapt to changing situations, yes?"

"Yes," nodded Eleanor. "Their account of their exploration of the Fae Realm proves as much."

"Tahki Black is a savant," said Andromeda. "It is a rare form of magic found almost exclusively in Native-American practitioners. She can literally see and feel the flow of magic around her. Surely she could be an asset to the expedition."

"A savant!" said Eleanor. "I have, in fact, been looking for one."

"And now you have one thrown in your lap," said Andromeda. "As for my daughter, she, well… she's skilled at… uhm… I… Look, surely you have a place for her on board where she won't be a burden to anyone. Have her swab the deck or something."

Eleanor nodded. "I would need to talk to them, but…" she hesitated for a moment, as if gauging the risks in her mind. "I can… see the possibilities."

"Good," said Andromeda, a smile on her face. She reached for the quotation document, opened it and, with a flick of the wrist, signed it with her favourite quill unread.

Eleanor simply sat there for a moment, mouth agape before a bright smile and twinkling eyes met hers. "I… You won't regret this, Madame Black!"

Andromeda fixed intense eyes on Snowbell. "See that I don't."

Hermione sat in her office, the room which had once been Andromeda's in her youth and Nymphadora's until five years ago. Now converted to Hermione's workspace, there were several desks, filing cabinets, books and ledgers were strewn across those many desks or some of the book cases. Papers and drawings lay here and there. The books themselves were works on herbology for the most part, but also had books on historic lore and legends which had been checked out from the Black family library for more… personal reasons. The slanted roof above her gave the office a cozy feel and the recently installed espresso machine had been a stroke of genius. In fact, she might take a short break to fetch a cup later.

She was focused on inputting the growth results of the day into her spreadsheet. For on her desk was an honest to goodness computer, with one of those modern flat screens. Of course, it was hell to actually get it to work inside Catterborough Woodhouse. Too magic in the air for the delicate electronics to work properly until Hermione had constructed a faraday cage around the desktop tower on the floor. It had changed her life. In the spreadsheet, she could input the data and instantly make graphs and comparisons. It was so much easier to keep track of water levels, soil quality, growth patterns or whatever part of her research was relevant in the moment. It also allowed her to quickly churn out reports, keep notes and print everything out at the end of the day to share with her assistants. It had made everything so much more efficient.

A rattle sounded next to her from the desk: Zipper had decided to keep her company today and was playing with his rattle-ring. The wasp was easily amused and while he was rolling around on the desk, she took a moment to pat the wasp with her good hand. Unfortunately, she could not be distracted for long as there was still so much data to put into her spreadsheet.

She almost let out an annoyed grunt when there was a knock on the door, but quickly relented when she heard the voice of Cygnus from the other side of the door. "Hermione, my girl, may I come in?" sounded his voice.

"Of course," she said, only now realizing just what a mess her office was. The older man had already hobbled in, his cane placed on the ground. The very littered ground. It was a minefield of strewn papers and stacks of books, as well as the occasional empty pot for planting. Embarrassment raced to her cheeks, as she was normally so much more organized. "Cygnus, I'm sorry. I've been meaning to tidy up, but… well, I've been a bit busy as of late."

For an old wizard like Cygnus, the man was certainly adapt at dodging flower pots. Cygnus was rather amused and found a seat near Hermione's desk. Next to her, the rattle-ring was shook once before Zipper teleported with a crack, to end up sat on top of Cygnus' head.

"Well, yes," said Cygnus. "That is what I wanted to talk to you about. Bella is worried about you and asked me to check up on you. She mentioned you being a tad… high-strung as of late."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. "It's just… a very busy time. Lots of research projects running at once... a conference to prepare for…"

"Are you sure you aren't falling back into old habits?" Cygnus said.

Right to the point, as usual. By asking that question, Cygnus diplomatically confirmed that Hermione indeed was falling back into old habits.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. "Is it that obvious?"

"That machine of yours, for example," said Cygnus pointing at the computer. "When you first mentioned wanting to set one up in the house, you sold it to us as something that could cut your workload in half. More than half, even. You told me that rather than drawing graphs and doing calculations yourself, you would have the machine do it for you. It could even print out scrolls in multiple colours. So, pray tell, why are you spending more hours in your office rather than less, hm?"

Well. He had her there. "I…" she started to say, but failed to formulate a satisfying answer. Instead, she simply rubbed her temples.

"Your assistants are happy to be in your employ, honoured even, but in private conversations they complain that you leave them little to do. Do you want to talk?" asked Cygnus. "I am no therapist, but I know a thing or two about dealing with trauma."

"It's just… all these things that are going on! There's a talk I have to prepare for, experiments to run. Then there's all the personal stuff. Wedding rehearsals coming up, the wedding itself coming up. Tahki and Nymphadora are constantly grinding my gears. Bellatrix acting like a stalker hiding in our closet in our bedroom with rope and chloroform is nothing and now she wants both of us to run off on an expedition to a frozen wasteland to find a lost city of which it's not even certain if it even exists or is where Snowbell thinks it is! Meanwhile, I've got reports to write, a research paper to finish! I can't just take off and leave whenever my whims get the better of me! Unlike Trix, I have schedules to keep!" Hermione huffed, realizing she had perhaps been a little too forceful. If the old man was offended, he didn't show it.

"When I was your age, I was in the middle of a war and already had a lot of untreated traumas under my belt. And when it was over…" he said. "Like you, I threw myself on my work. 70 hours. 80 hours. Anything to keep the mind from wandering. For years I was hyper-focused. After Bellatrix had been born, I had missed her first steps. I had missed her first words. I had missed the first years of her childhood. I had been so busy that I forgot how to live for a time, and I missed things I could never experience again. Hermione, you have been doing so well for almost five years… and then something changed. What is it?"

"I…" Hermione closed her eyes and suddenly slammed her fists on the table, squeezing her eyes closed to fight away the tears. "I don't know what's wrong with me! Every time I think I am close to understanding, it slithers away from me. It's… It's so close I feel I can almost reach out and grab it, but then… It's just gone and forever our of my reach. Again… and again… and again!"

Zipper teleported back to the desk and swiftly walked over to Hermione. He nudged her with his forelegs and held out his rattle-ring for her to take from his mandibles. Instead, Hermione scooped up the wasp and clutched him to her chest. Meanwhile, Cygnus seemed rather torn about something, as if deciding if he should say anything.

"Hermione," he started cautiously. "Over four years ago, you shared a secret with Andromeda. This prompted the both of you to take the Water of Lethe potion. I only know because I helped Andromeda brew both potions."

Hermione's eyes spread wide. "Waters of Lethe?!" she exclaimed. "I wanted to forget something?"

"Yes," said Cygnus. "Whatever it was, it was severe enough that Andromeda felt the need to forget as well."

Hermione frowned. "What… could it be?" asked Hermione, more to herself than of Cygnus. "You'd think being beaten to an inch of my life with a poker or horrible war traumas would be number one on that list. And why was Andromeda so disturbed?"

"Unfortunately," said Cygnus. "I was not privy to any details. Thing is, Waters of Lethe works fine on most people to let them live in blissful ignorance, but those of genius level intelligence with a very logical mind will eventually figure out that there's a hole in their mind. As you seem to have. Your memories are there, they are simply blocked. Permanently."

She let out a sigh. "Is there no way to…"

"No," interrupted Cygnus. "That would defeat the purpose of the potion. The change is permanent. You will never remember and you should stop trying. Stop trying and stop working yourself to death because you are frustrated with trying to achieve the impossible."

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. He was right of course. Hermione had heard of this potion and its effects on memory. At least now she knew why she couldn't remember. The block in her head might as well mean she'd been obliviated. It was… both frustrating and a relief to know the truth. "I don't know…"

"Don't miss out on the chance of a lifetime just because you think you're too busy," said Cygnus. "Don't let life pass you by. I know for a fact my daughter will be very persistent to have to you join her."

"I can't just… take off," said Hermione.

"Why not?" asked Cygnus. "Your assistants are more than capable of running the greenhouse and doing most experiments in you absence. And if they run into trouble, they could always ask me or Ella for help."

"Castelobruxo will expect me to… I need to prepare…"

"Improvise!" Cygnus chuckled.

Hermione blinked. "I beg your pardon."

"My girl, you are the foremost world authority on the Fae Realm plants," he smirked. "You could tell those people that your vines are dancing the Watusi every day when the clock strikes twelve and they would have no reason to doubt you. Stop making excuses."

"The wedding…" Hermione started to say.

"Only reason we set the date is because Bellatrix demanded it," Cygnus shrugged. "When push comes to shove, we could easily postpone."

Hermione petting the happily buzzing wasp in her arms, her silver hand sliding over his carapace. "I'm being difficult, am I?" Hermione smiled briefly in spite of herself.

"Very," there was a twinkle in Cygnus' eye, just as he seemed to notice a package of books on her desk. These books looked distinctly out of place: wizarding books were almost always leather bound. Proper grimoires were almost a cultural thing in the wizarding world, but the recently delivered books from amazon had floppy covers, identifying them as muggle works. Curious wizard as he was, Cygnus picked up one of the books and studied the cover and title.

Hermione sighed. "That's the second thing I'll never be able to unlock," she said, producing the necklace and pulling it over her clothes. The crystal in her necklace shone a very subtle purple inner light, just as bright as it had shone when she had fished it from the machine in the Fae Realm, some four years ago. For four years, she had become obsessed with this unknowable thing. It was so close to her body every single day, to the point that she never took it off for any reason, and yet it was so far away.

"5D optical data storage," Cygnus read the title, but from his tone of voice it was easy to tell he no idea what any of the words he had read meant.

Hermione nodded, putting Zipper on the desk where he continued to play with his rattle-ring. "It's a new technology, very early in development to a point where it's mostly theoretical. It involves writing data to a fused quartz crystal with a laser. Theoretically it can store up to 360 terabytes of data for billions of years and be read with an optical microscope and a polarizer beam… And you don't have a clue what I'm actually saying, hm?" Hermione bit her lip and thought on how to best phrase it for his benefit. "Imagine… not just the entirety of the Black family library, but every single library in the world. Every book, every magazine, every record, the total of it all squished together on a single crystal where it will be stored and available for future generations. That's what I think this crystal around my neck is."

"… and entire world's worth of library in a single crystal," said Cygnus. "I can see why you're so interested in cracking the secret behind your necklace."

Hermione nodded. "I've been scouring the Black family library for any sign or description of the crystal around my neck," she said. " The Fae Realm is utterly alien. Most of the animals and plants contained were completely new discoveries we're only now documenting. I came to the disappointing conclusion that there actually is nothing to find in books on this crystal. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So I had to look into other avenues. Other fields."

"Intriguing," said Cygnus. "I suppose you want to order one of those polarizing microscopes, then?"

Hermione shook her head. "That would be pointless. Like I said, the technique is still in development, and even if we could read the crystal, there's no way to actually interpret the data. That machine in the Fae Realm, whoever built it, is technology lightyears ahead of anything on this planet. Sadly… I was born too soon. It's frustrating, yes, that all the knowledge is there just waiting to be unlocked, but instead hangs decorating a witch's neck. But, perhaps I can lay the groundwork for me and Trix' daughters or granddaughters or even great-granddaughters to build upon."

"Good," smiled Cygnus. "No more obsessions, hm? Or I will have to hit you over the head with my cane. Or better yet, have Bella hit you over the head with my cane."

Cygnus got up from his chair and hobbled towards the door. "Remember," he said, turning around once more. "Don't miss out on the chance of the lifetime because you're too focused on things that are out of your reach…"

"… and then try to overcompensate by throwing myself on my work," Hermione finished. The young witch stared at her computer screen for a moment, before saving her work and shutting it down. Perhaps it was time to relax for a bit.

"And I pray don't mention to Ella that you can play Solitaire on your machine," winked Cygnus. "Or she will want one installed in every parlour."