Breaking the window: Expedition to Hyperborea

Chapter 34: From the void, we stab at thee…

"And here it is. I admit that our precious wizarding world had been forever changed by the things we have learned while exploring Hyperborea. It is said that ignorance is bliss and for some it would have been comforting to know that magic was a completely natural phenomenon. But a world that is blanketed with comforting lies is not world I would want to live in. Somewhere, in the future, wizards and witches will walk the halls of Hyperborea once more. Until then, let the truth be known; for we wizards and witches should be forever grateful to the sacrifices and bravery of our ancestors. We truly stand on the shoulders of giants, and that is forever humbling. Soon Hermione and I are to be married and, later this year, we will welcome our three daughters. I shall impart to them stories of old. May they inspire them as much as they have inspired me."

- Bellatrix Black, Expedition to Hyperborea, published 2006

A horse is a horse, of course. Except went it was a hyper-intelligent massive coal-hided beast with six eyes and a massive horn. Etchemin, with bucket in hand, made his way to the other side of his opulent family ranch. It was a soft Montana summer, good for ranching and tourism. The stunning sunsets tended to attract loads of people to the countryside. Fortunately, his ranch was a private area and no tourist would ever see the mutant stood in one of his pastures.

Oddly enough, the other horses didn't actually seem to mind having the black unicorn around. Still, Etchemin thought it prudent to give the creature its own corral. When he arrived, the creature was already waiting for him by its feeding trough. One side for water, one side for food and attached to the top was a good old fashioned salt lick. Like any horse, the unicorn enjoyed a nibble of salt every now and then.

"Well, good morning old man," Etchemin greeted, the unicorn's ears perking up a little. Without much of a further word, Etchemin turned the bucket over into the feeding trough. The bloody offal contained in the bucket landed into the metal trough with a resounding splat and the unicorn lowered its head to start breakfast. Not exactly quality meat, but the unicorn wasn't all that picky. For creature its size, it ate surprisingly little. But there was no reason not to keep it properly fed. Etchemin watched the creature eat for a while: its relation to the ancient enemies of his people… well, all people as it turned out… was a little disturbing, but this creature was as much an enigma as it was a potential danger. Besides, the corral was nothing but a few planks of wood. If it wanted to, it could simply smash through it. No, the creature was here by choice and he had no idea why. Perhaps it wanted to help with the coming struggle. Or maybe it just wanted a vacation.

Still, best to keep it around.

"I still think you need a name," said Etchemin. "Can't keep calling you Unicorn."

The creature looked up from its meal and gave a quick mocking snort before digging in again.

"Guess not," chuckled Etchemin. He glanced at the nearby corrals where he saw Svari and Gudrun rounding up the horses to let them out to graze and run at the greater pastures beyond. These three Neo-Viking women were, hands down, the best ranch-hands he had ever had. They were settling in quite nicely too, having exchanged their heavy armour for jeans, checkered shirts and stetson hats. However, all three refused to give up their axes and always carried them on their backs for religious and cultural reasons. Though it raised some eyebrows in town, none of the Blackfoot shamans would ever ask them to give up on their culture just to fit in. His people had had some bad history with that, after all.

"We'll make proper cowgirls out of them yet," chuckled Etchemin. "Even with axes strapped to their backs."

The unicorn whinnied softly.

"I do wish Ahanu would quit trying to bang them," Etchemin sighed. "Gudrun still finds it amusing, but Svari is getting increasingly fed up with him. I think he'll only learn his lesson by getting his nose busted. For now, both girls are too polite to break their hosts' grandson's nose, but I fear Svari will soon reach her breaking point. Literally."

His gaze turned to the distance to the land he had given to Sunniva and Tahki. Sunniva had been true to her promise of building a Viking longhouse for Tahki and herself. Construction was going surprisingly fast as most of skeletal structure of the longhouse had been built, the floor had been finished and most of the outer walls had been put in. And, by god, that longhouse was going to be ambitiously huge by the time it was finished. Thrice as long as any barn and just as tall. And Sunniva had done all this while also earning her keep by working on the ranch, unbelievably enough.

Though they all lived at the guesthouse for now, Svari and Gudrun would move into the longhouse with Tahki and Sunniva when it would be finished. And why not? There'd be plenty of space and the Neo-Vikings were used to communal living.

"I've stopped reading the papers," Etchemin told the eating unicorn. "Four months since Bellatrix published her book and everybody's still talking about it. Not a day goes by without some pundit or conspiracy nut rambling on and on about Hyperborea and what was uncovered there or some government asshole trying to downplay it. I suppose it's to be expected after basically turning the entire wizarding world on its head. Little Bella has another bestseller on her hands. And thankfully everyone is looking in the wrong place for answers."

Honestly, he was relieved that despite her protests, Bellatrix had kept details about the true culprits out of the story. With all the people talking and the skin-walkers being a memetic threat, they could have done an incredible amount of damage to humanity on the whole. As it stood, everybody was talking about everything but the skin-walkers. "We haven't seen any increased activity to speak of so far," Etchemin told the unicorn. "So either they don't have the ability to or they're lying low for now. But then again, you already knew that. Right?"

The unicorn let out a brief snort.

"Don't worry," said Etchemin. "Your secret is safe with me. Somehow I just know you're different from the rest of your kind. So for now, you're just a regular run-of-the-mill bio-engineered unicorn-mutant monstrosity from beyond the realm of imagination. All perfectly normal."

The unicorn gave him a look, to which the old man patted it on the neck.

Etchemin was suddenly alerted to nearby buzzing and was pleased to see his morning mail being delivered. A Buzzpost post-wasp, little hat and all, hovered in front of him, a nametag reading 'Hello. My name is Daisy'. Though wasps used to deliver mail were a recent development, it was a welcome one. Though traditionalists balked at the use of bald eagles for wizarding mail delivery being phased out in favour of wasps, the decreasing number of eagles in the USA meant that the delivery eagles were often overworked and thus had a tendency to… go postal and attack the clientele.

The wasp named Daisy magically verified his identity and opened a tube with her mandibles to produce some letters, which Etchemin took. He then gave the wasp a small tip in the form of a piece of offal still left in the bucket before she went flying off to her next delivery.

He went through his letters for a moment and found the usual correspondence and the odd bill, but his eyes fell on one particular letter, addressed to him but not meant for him. He roved his eyes back to the longhouse where Sunniva would undoubtedly be working.

Sunniva was working up a sweat when she had been putting the finishing touch on a lovely woodcarving meant to put on the prow of their longhouse. This almost two meter tall wood carving of a dragon wouldn't look out of place on a drakkar, but would adorn their longhouse and ward off any Loki-spawn looking to invade the home. All she had to do was to even out the wood with a wood planer and then apply the lacquer. After hoisting it up, proper work on the roof could begin. This needed to be done before winter to keep the cold and wet weather out of the inner wood, so she was on the clock.

Still, as she moved the wood planer over the carving's side, she was no small measure of pride: she had built all that she saw with her own two hands. Every carving made my hand, every plank sawn, every log sourced. Of course, Tahki wanted some modern muggle conveniences such as electricity and all manner of muggle things. A TV and something called an Xbox, whatever that was. That was were her expertise stopped, but thankfully Tahki could handle the wiring just fine by herself.

But then she also wanted a modern kitchen. And running water. And plumbing. Seriously, what was wrong with a well and an outhouse? It brought her some shame that they would need to bring in contractors at some point.

"Use an electric sander already," sighed Tahki as the girl sat watching her work.

"Not needed," smirked Sunniva.

"Look," Tahki smiled. "I… like watching your muscles flex, your skin sweaty, your hair dancing, hearing your grunts. I really do. God, I do. But why not use a little bit of modern convenience?"

"Not needed," replied Sunniva.

Tahki shook her head. "Sunni… you do know what watching you work does to me, alright? Why…" she stood up and moved to stand next to Sunniva. The Neo-Viking stopped shaving the wood and she felt soft hands on her arm. "… why don't we go back inside, hm? I wanna see you flex some more."

Sunniva smiled at her. "Woman, if I were to fulfil every one of your sordid sexual whims, this longhouse will never be finished. Freyja above, I can barely keep up with you as it is!"

"Just pick me up, carry me inside and fuck me already!" Tahki whined softly. As much as Sunniva loved her, she could be infuriatingly needy at times when work had to be done.

"Sæta…" Sunniva replied with a low growl. Unfortunately, this had the opposite of the desired effect. Two arms wrapped around her stomach and one of Tahki's hand was hovering dangerously close to the front hem of her jeans. Sunniva knew all too well Tahki was pretty adept as snaking her hand down her trousers and melting her into a puddle with those nimble fingers of hers.

"And why aren't we married yet, hm?" Tahki demanded. "You've already proven yourself to Gramps and me."

Sunniva chuckled. "We've been over this. I have not yet proven myself in the eyes of Freyja. Not only your culture matters," she replied. "When the longhouse is finished and I have carried you through the door, we can talk marriage."

"Then use the fucking power tools already so the house can be done faster!" Tahki lay her cheek against her back. And the hand definitely slipped down her trousers. Sunniva took in a deep breath as her body responded to the soft and gentle strokes of her beloved Tahki. The wood planer was swiftly set aside as she closed her eyes and steaded herself. Freyja above, her girl's sultry chuckle was almost enough to send her over the edge then and there. Seriously, if she kept this up she'd have no roof over their heads before winter.

"Ahum!" sounded behind them. Tahki let out a brief yelp and swiftly withdrew her hand, acting as if nothing had happened. Before them stood Etchemin, a letter in hand and a grin on his face. "You're going to get wanker's whiplash if you keep doing that, Tahki."

"GRAMPS!" Tahki challenged her grandfather, her cheeks bright red.

"If you're done molesting poor Sunniva here," said the old man. "A letter was delivered for her. I can't see who it's from. I can't exactly read Thulian runic script, but luckily the wasp knew what to do with it."

"Runic?" Sunniva wondered and took the letter. Curious. Though her people were staunch isolationists, their one and only embassy in Finnmark was their tie with the greater wizarding world. Her people were not exactly avid letter writers, but she could see that this letter had been crafted through this Finnmark embassy. It was sealed by blood magic and only blood would unseal it. Sunniva swiftly pricked her finger on a nail and smeared a little blood on the wax for the letter to reveal itself.

Sunniva gasped. "It's… from my mother…"

"Your mother?" asked Tahki.

Her eyes roved over the page as she unfolded.

"Sunniva,

No doubt you have many questions still running through your mind. Freyja willing, perhaps this letter will give you some closure.

Thule will fall. This I have seen. Before the year is out, the united clans will fall upon each other. Brother will shed the blood of brother. Fathers will drown their own children. Our lands, our great kingdom, will fall apart overnight. I have seen this in my visions over and over again.

You wonder why I exiled you. It is best that you are away from Thule when the storm hits. The Serpent Clan will be wiped from the face of Midgard and the gods themselves will cry out in anger. The dökkálfar have walked among us and have spread this poison among our people. For what reason I cannot see. I know only that they did and do. Thule will burn a decade and all that we have built will be cast upon the wind. Loki-spawn from beyond the realms of imagination will ravage this world.

When I saw the face of the native girl on that ship, I knew she would be the one. She will give you all the love you have craved for so long. Your children will have your strength and her zest. I do not know what is yet to come of our people or indeed our world. The visions are clouded in darkness. For now, remain with the natives. Build your longhouse and enjoy the good things in life for as long as they last.

But always keep an eye out for Loki-spawn that stalk the night. The dökkálfar are coming. And when they do, they will come for us all.

Odin preserve us all.

Your mother,

Ealdwynn Ulladottir."

Sunniva closed her eyes and sighed.

"What is it?" asked Tahki, eyes brimming with concern.

The tall blonde Neo-Viking forced a smile. "Nothing to concern yourself about," she said, placing the letter to the side and picking up the wood planer to resume her work. "Just an advert from a Drakkar shipbuilder. Not much call for sea-vessels in landlocked Montana."

"Hah," smirked Tahki. "I hope they are painted red. The red ones go faster."

"Ah, before I forget," said Etchemin. "The wedding is tomorrow. And there's a six hour time-difference between us and Manchester so we'll have to get up extra early."

"Awwwww," Tahki pouted.

Sunniva chuckled again. Tahki was nothing if a lazybones. And, if she could keep her hands to herself a bit more, she could be a lazybones in her very own longhouse.

"Hermione Granger, witch of many reputations and talents. War-hero. Celebrated researcher. Explorer. A young, ambitious witch with more achievements in her life than any person her age should have. Ask a hundred wizards about her and you will receive two hundred opinions. Some governments are still calling for Hermione Granger to be prosecuted for her actions in Hyperborea and cutting off wizardkind from its birthright, while others defend her actions with just as much zeal. With her wedding to popular and beloved public figure and influential author Bellatrix Black mere hours away, Hermione Granger will cement her status as a member of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, her influence and power will only grow. With Andromeda Black without an apparent heir, rumours have been circulating which has been making certain elements of wizarding society nervous. Much uncertainty surrounds her.

One thing, however, is quite certain. Hermione Granger, for good or for ill, will remain a controversial figure in the wizarding world for years to come."

- Galilahi Dawes, Profile on Hermione Granger; Salem Institute for Witches, published 2006

Hermione put down the magazine and found herself relieved. With yellow journalism running rampant and, once again, dragging her name through the mud, it was nice to see an honest well-researched piece that was fair and balanced. She made a mental note to write the author a nice thank-you letter for that. But for now, she had other things on her mind.

She was stood in one of the salons of Catterborough Woodhouse and, after what seemed to be endless amount of rehearsals, today was the day of the real thing. And by god, Hermione was one big bundle of nerves for all the right reasons.

Outside, in the yard of Catterborough Woodhouse, an altar at been set up adorned with many beautiful flowers. Gathered there where hundreds upon hundreds of guests, ranging from high wizarding society, friends, family and even numerous international press corps. Their wedding was literally the event of the year, which was a lot more than Hermione had ever asked for. If it was up to her, she and Bellatrix would have a quiet wedding in the countryside.

Unfortunately, it was not up to her. Bellatrix wanted a wedding for the ages and to show the entire world how much she loved her.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to keep calm.

Andromeda, clad in her hierophant robes, barefoot, covered in woad and wearing her headdress fashioned from a deer skull with massive antlers, would have looked rather comical if her expression wasn't dead serious. Today's marriage would be inter-faith, containing both CoE elements performed by reverend Frost and druidic elements performed by Andromeda. Her childhood priest was quite over the moon about the whole thing and have been bombarding the increasingly irate Andromeda with thousands of questions. Today, Andromeda was helping her prepare.

"Don't worry, darling. You look beautiful," said her mum as she was helping her with the clothes. As Bellatrix would be wearing her grandmother's wedding dress, it had fallen upon Hermione to fit the role of the groom. As such, she had been dressed in a sharp white shirt underneath a jet black snappy tuxedo with matching black trousers. As she had found the outfit a tad tomboyish, she had elected to wear tighter trousers and a well-fitted tuxedo which would accentuate her female figure. High heels, red lipstick and her long hair wore loose finished the image.

No, as it turned out the woad face paint would finish the image. Andromeda dabbed two fingers into a bowl and gently brushed stripes of purple over her cheek and fore-head. She gave Hermione the look-over and nodded in approval before giving her the headwreath to wear. Woven together from fragrant herbs, it fit rather snuggly on her head.

"So many people out there," muttered Hermione.

"There's only one girl who'll matter to you," said Andromeda. "Focus on that."

"I think I just saw Rita Skeeter down there," Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I still haven't forgotten about that fucking hitpiece she wrote on me and Bellatrix once her baby bump became apparent. '?Who is the father of Bellatrix Black's child?'"

She almost threw up in her mouth at the memory. Worse yet, she almost ruined some lives too with her suggestions that it could be Ron or Harry of all people. It had taken Hermione doing a press release complete with DNA test to prove that it was indeed she, Hermione Granger, who was the 'father' of Bellatrix' unborn children. That had silenced those wagging tongues and embarrassed Skeeter to no end.

"She is a parasite. A gnat. Do not concern yourself with the opinions of low-lives," said Andromeda coldly. "They are as useless as they are irrelevant."

"Easier said than done," said Hermione. Eager for a change of subject, she raised her eyes to the forest just beyond the walled gate. There, a massive feat of construction was taking place. "Nest is coming along nicely. The spire is reaching above the tree-line now."

"Yes," Andromeda said as she stood next to her. "I wonder who could have told all his friends in Antwerp that this was a nice place for a group of wasps to settle in a new colony."

"Look at it on the bright said," said Hermione with a slight twinkle in her eye. "We'd be very close to the new Buzz-post distribution centre. We'll get our post first."

"We already did," Andromeda snorted. "I pay for premium delivery, remember?"

Outside the walls, about three-hundred wasps were diligently working around the clock to make their new hive livable before the winter months. One group was constantly flying around to find forest detritus, a second group was constantly chewing said detritus into pulp and a third group was using that pulp to build. In a few more months the House of Black would have an impressive new wasp-manor as new neighbours. It was impressive to see the wasp migrating, making a long and arduous trek across the English channel from Belgium to settle here.

"They'd better not start stealing our blankets again, or I swear…" Andromeda started. It made Hermione giggle, reminding her of the time the wasps had swarmed the manor and made off with just about every blanket, sheet and duvet in the manor.

"I remember a certain woman being touched to tears when she found out that the newly-arrived wasps used those blankets to make shelters for them to huddle together to keep warm in the unpredictable and cold English weather until they could start building a home of their own," Hermione smiled briefly. "So much that it melted her ice-cold heart and ordered a lot more blankets and building materials for them."

"Yes, well," chuckled Andromeda. "Don't spread that rumour around, please."

The Black matriarch picked up the magazine and flipped through it. "Speaking of rumours, this writer is far too clever for her own good," Andromeda muttered.

"In what way?" Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Once again, Andromeda's expression was serious and severe. Which looked rather comical when covered with brightly coloured face-paint. "I have… an offer to make. One I would like you to consider carefully."

"Oh?" asked Hermione, slightly intrigued.

"I have given a lot of thought lately towards the future of House Black," said Andromeda, pacing around with her arms behind her back. "I am not getting any younger and now that Nymphadora has taken to the high seas rather than to follow in my footsteps, I am left without an heir and a rather interesting dilemma. Bellatrix would be next in line, but she has no interest either. So, after a lot of thinking, I know of one perfectly suited candidate to take over leadership of our great and noble house."

"Who?" asked Hermione.

Andromeda blinked. "Was I that obtuse?" muttered Andromeda. "You, of course."

"Me?!" Hermione blinked. "The head of House Black?"

"You have what it takes to run this house, its fortune and its intrigues," said Andromeda. "You are clever, cunning and strong-willed. And you won't stand alone. You will have me and father to help you."

"I…" Hermione muttered. "What about my research? What about my family? I'm about to become a mother! And I don't know the first thing about business!"

"You think I did?" Andromeda smirked. "You'll learn while doing. And, like I said, you'll have plenty of help. As for your research, well, I would be happy to help you set up a proper institute so you could hire qualified successors. I think managing such an institute for a year or three would be a good practice arena for you to develop your managerial skills too. Yes, I rather like this idea"

Hermione swallowed hard: honestly, as if she hadn't had enough to deal with on her wedding day. Still, little Hermione Granger, the muggle-born from Hampstead Heath, to rise to become one of the most powerful women in the wizarding world… the entire world. That was more than a little alluring. Hermione looked Andromeda. "I always thought joining Ministry would be where I would make my mark on the world," said Hermione.

Andromeda chuckled. "Become my apprentice and you'll own the Ministry. Like I do."

Well, that didn't sound delightfully sinister at all. "Always two there are. The master and the apprentice," Hermione muttered. When she saw Andromeda's confusion, she quickly added. "Something my dad loves to say. It's from Star Wars. And… you have idea what Star Wars is, so never mind."

"It's a big decision," said Andromeda. "Give it some thought. Talk it over with father and Bellatrix. But only after your honeymoon."

"I will," smiled Hermione.

Then came time for the fathers to have their time with groom. The mothers were with the bride. It was doing Hermione's head in a little. Cygnus, Jack and Etchemin stood in the room trying to talk some courage into her and she very much needed it. Not for the wedding, but just being out there… in front of all those people. "My little girl is going to be a father!" said Jack before embracing her.

"You see…" Hermione sighed. "I have some issues with that terminology."

"Issues with being a father?" Cygnus raised an eyebrow.

"No! It's just that… what's wrong with two mums!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Nothing," said Cygnus. "But that's not the situation you're in."

"But…" Hermione grit her teeth. "This is doing my head in! I am not a man!"

"Perhaps not," chuckled Cygnus. "But according to the official documents, you will be listed as the father of your children due to the potion used. That particular potion magically seeded one of Bellatrix' eggs with your genetic material. You have, for all intents and purposes, fathered your children."

Hermione closed her eyes. "I am not hearing this! I am not hearing any of this. I was a joke that I called myself the father of Bellatrix' children in that press conference! I never intended it to stick! I don't have a knob!"

"With magic," chuckled Cygnus. "You don't need a knob to father children."

"In either case," said Etchemin. "You are about to be the father of three girls. Should be more concerned about that and not being called mum or dad. Because girls are a complete pain."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "And what's that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh," Cygnus laughed. "You sweet summer-child. You'll find out soon enough."

"Fathers will do anything to protect their girls," Jack winked. "I did. Cygnus did. Etchemin did. And so will you."

They spent some more time chatting and bickering. Generally, Hermione was glad to have the three of them around to talk some courage into her. It was courage which almost left her the moment two of the three men left. It was curious that Etchemin remained, even more obvious that he wanted to talk to her.

"How are you?" asked Etchemin. "How are you really?"

Hermione shrugged. "Fine?"

His reaction was to cock his head slightly sideways, eyes boring right into her very soul. It was then when she realized what he was asking. Hermione closed her eyes and suppressed a shudder. The young witch stepped over the sofa and pressed her hands into the headrest as she pressed her hands into the soft leather. "I can hear them," Hermione said, her voice low. "Whispers at the edge of hearing, flashes that come in the night. I sometimes see glimpses of the future they have in store for us. A world in chains, our flesh playthings for them to mold as they see fit. They want us to suffer. They want all of us to suffer. A night which lasts until the end of time. It's different every time, like… a window in thousands of possible futures, all ending in our demise. And sometimes… I think I can see them. I look at a person, in a crowd or even in a picture and… there's this brief flash of red, only for a moment… and I know… I just know… God, Etchemin, that monster was right. They really are everywhere. I… I don't know if that monster that was inside of me left something behind or… or perhaps took something from me, but…"

"You have seen my people's burden," said Etchemin. "It's why we always tried to stay one step ahead. To innovate magic. To keep the threat at bay."

"Your people are all heroes," Hermione whispered. "Unsung ones. You deserve better."

"The skin-walkers have grown bolder and more clever. A lot of my people live in denial, but the events at Hyperborea is evidence that they've escaped our attempts to contain them. Measures will have to be taken. Fact remains," said Etchemin. "You are the only person on the planet who has laid eyes upon the true form of a skin-walker and lived to tell the tale. A lot of shamans would like to pick your brain."

"Literally I would think," Hermione snorted, the mental image of being dissected in a stark morgue coming to mind.

"There was talk of that," Etchemin admitted. "But those voices are silence now, I made sure of that. After I gave them a stark reminder that you saved our world and they did not."

"Well," Hermione replied. "In all fairness to your braves, they didn't have access to a 145 Khramphstar reactor to do all the heavy lifting for them."

Etchemin chuckled at that. "That was just a tool. A tool you were brave enough to use while staring certain death in the face. Worse than death, even."

There was clear respect on Etchemin's voice. Respect she wasn't sure she deserved. "Do you agree with what I did at Hyperborea? Flooding the place with radiation for the next ten thousand years, I mean?"

Etchemin thought a moment. "That machine would have been a powerful weapon to use against our ancient enemy, but also a far more powerful weapon for them to use against us if they'd gotten their claws into it. It would have enabled them to enslave the entire world, wizard and no-maj alike. Besides, I shudder to think what would happen if the likes of Grindelwald would control the device and the harm he could have done with it…"

"… or me," said Hermione, lowering her gaze as she remembered what she had almost done. "Even the best intentions could have had catastrophic results."

A hand was placed on her shoulder. "Don't be so hard on yourself, Hermione," said Etchemin. "Though some certainly will condemn for it, that device was too dangerous for humanity to possess. Locking it away from everyone was the only reasonable decision."

'Disgraced Hermione Granger unilaterally decides to seal away wizarding heritage site', muttered Hermione, a headline from the Daily Prophet some months back. It wasn't until the publications of Bellatrix' book that her actions started to be viewed in a more positive light. "And what about the skin-walkers still on the planet?"

Etchemin looked thoughtful for a moment. "Ever since your confrontation at Hyperborea, abductions and sightings have all but stopped. I have no illusions that we've seen the last of them. They're laying low and regrouping now that their main avenue of attacking us as been cut off, I'd stake my life on it. But now knowing what they do, that being abducting people to create monstrous foot-soldiers and infiltrating high places, I fully expect them to step up their activities as soon as they have a new plan of action."

"We should be ready," said Hermione, her voice resolute. "Knowledge is power and we now know what they are, what they want and what they can do."

Etchemin shook his head. "You already know far too much," said Etchemin. "Lest you forget, they are a memetic threat. Hermione, my girl, you have painted a cross-hair on your forehead. The best course of action would be selective obliviation."

Hermione shook her head. "No," she said. "Don't you see, their greatest advantage is that nobody on our side has a clear picture. It allows them to divide us and misguide us."

"Having a clear picture does nothing if all the holders of knowledge get abducted by our ancient enemy," said Etchemin.

"But if you know enough," Hermione said. "We can have the advantage instead. We have their own library and a machine to read it. I've been going through it for the past months and there's a staggering amount of data to sift through. Yes, they created us and now we can use the skin-walkers' own knowledge and power against them. We've never been in a better position to permanently kick them off our planet."

Etchemin stood next to Hermione, looking over the guests outside with her. "Those people have no idea what's hanging over their heads," he said. "And you'd best be ready for the fight that is ahead of you."

Hermione chuckled wryly. "Etchemin," said Hermione. "I've been fighting my entire life. And I will keep fighting. For Trix. For my family. And for my three unborn daughters. So that nobody will have to live in a world where they can be randomly taken by a monster in the night or enslaved to become a host. I will fight. For this place, where I belong."

"You won't have to do it alone," said Etchemin. "Remember that."

"You're right," sniffed Hermione. "I am not alone any more. I will never be alone again. I know who I am now. I have fought for and earned my place in this universe, at Bellatrix' side. And I'll fight tooth and nail to keep it. You were right: fathers should do anything to protect their children."

"Good girl," smiled Etchemin. "Now, I do believe we have a wedding today."

Hermione smirked. "Almost forgot about that with all the world-ending nonsense going around!"

It was time for the wedding to start. With her mother and father on one side, she found herself stood right outside the garden, trying to catch her nerves. She didn't want to step outside and face that crowd. Not yet.

Hermione gave another look to the set-up. Several boughs to cross under, a long red carpet passing hundreds upon hundreds of seats. The altar was especially crafted and reverend Frost was waiting there in full CoE regalia. Next to him stood Andromeda, now having donned her antler-laden hood. Around the alter was constructed a sacred circle. As the wedding contained elements of both their family religions, both Frost and Andromeda would play their role. Endlessly rehearsed ad nauseum. So, should be easy, right?

Well. Time to face the music.

Hermione let her father guide her to the altar, over the carpet and passed all those hundreds of people. She felt all eyes upon her, she cringed at the sound of every camera flash and she had to endure this walk of shame which seemed to take an eternity. Once she stood at the altar, her father grasped and gently squeezed her shoulder. When she turned around and opened her eyes, she roved over the crowd. So many friends had come, but also so many people she had no idea who they even were.

But, a smile came to her face when her eyes fell upon the crew of the Kingfisher. They were boisterous and loud, standing out amid the sea of high society twat-faces. Nymphadora stood there, looking like a proper dapper captain wearing dress regalia and a silly tricorn hat. Her wife sat next to her looking rather bemused. Copperhead gave her an encouraging cheer. Tahki and Sunniva were there as well, clad in a cowboy hat, just like Etchemin sat next to them. Svari and Gudrun had broken into the drinks prematurely, apparently thinking this was a Viking wedding. It looked as if they were already on their third ale and the wedding had yet to properly start. Ron and Harry sat among them to, preferring the company of boisterous sailors over boring stiffs. Ron was chatting with old Engrim, while Daelia and Irrena gave her encouraging smiles. Eliam and Oswald were trying to pry away from drinks from the Neo-Vikings. Big-Mouth was braving the sun wearing a full on leather coat and a wide-brimmed hat over black goggles. Haema was having a whale of a time, while Beodul was loudly berating two pure-blood pearl-clutchers for balking at a free elf attending the wedding of a friend. A row in front of them was Narcissa, who looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but there after hearing the words 'bone-dry scabrous cuntflaps' spoken in a single sentence at a high-society wedding. Meanwhile, Fo'c'sle, Infinite Corridor and Anchor were hovering above them, already eyeing the food at the nearby snack table.

Hermione was so happy that all of them had attended. It calmed and warmed her heart.

And then, it was time for Bellatrix to appear.

And god, she was so beautiful.

Clad in her grandmother's wedding dress, Bellatrix struck the figure of the blushing bride. Cygnus had her arm locked with hers as the two of them strode over the red carpet, Bellatrix dragging a long white train behind her. Bellatrix' baby bump was on display here too and it made her look radiantly maternal. In a way, it saddened Hermione that their children would never be born. Their vision of the future led to a rare magical malady which would only reveal itself during childbirth. As such, Bellatrix was being watched around the clock by expensive private healers, but all of them thought it best that in a day or two, the three baby girls would apparated from Bellatrix' womb and placed into special magical incubators to finish the last months of gestation. It was the safest way to avoid the possible tragedy she had seen at the lost city, as one child was risky enough, three would be certainly deadly.

Bellatrix stood next to her at the altar, smiling warmly at her. Frost started off with his part of the ceremony, mostly CoE stuff Hermione had seen and heard before. However, when it was Andromeda's turn, it came to do what was rehearsed. Andromeda recited her blessing and then handed Hermione the ceremonial dagger. Hermione took the razor-sharp dagger and pricked her palm with the tip. Bellatrix did the same.

They then pressed their palms together and entwined their fingers, allowing the blood to mix.

"We gift each other our blood. We gift each other our lives. Let our blood flow together as one. For now and for ever more," both girls spoke together. "Blessed be Lord Cernunnos. May he watch over us and give us his approval. May our children grow strong, May our lands bear the sweetest of fruit."

Time for the rings. Zipper had been given the honour of being the ring-bearer and this was the moment he had been waiting for. The wasp was clad in a dapper little tuxedo, complete with bow-tie around his neck. Tied to his thorax was a small tube which contained the rings. Hermione went first, placing the ring around Bellatrix' finger. Bellatrix did the same to her.

Frost and Andromeda pronounced them wife and wife, giving them leave to kiss.

And kiss they did.

It was a snog for the ages, pouring all their passion and zeal into it, not caring it was right in front of a crowd. On and on it went, deeper and deeper it went.

"Merlin, don't they need to breathe?!" sounded Ron at some point.

After some minutes, they finally broke the kiss and pressed their foreheads together. Bellatrix looked even happier than Hermione felt.

Memories came flooding back to that single night in the forest, that fantastic moment of happenstance when the both of them came across that mysterious pool in the forest. That one moment which changed their lives forever and for the better.

Today was the first day of the rest of their lives.

"I love you," Bellatrix whispered.

"I love you too," Hermione returned. And kissed her again.

At Facility 001, things went on as they had for the last ten thousand years. The only difference being that the place was now flooded with the most deadly of radiation. There was, however, one small difference.

On one screen, floating above the main control panel, one had message started blinking.

"Alert. Facility 003 is now active."