Far to the north in the brisk Scottish Highlands, Albus Dumbledore stood in his office, gazing out at the mountainous landscape as he pondered about the upcoming academic year.
Ever since Minerva had come to his office a near week ago, flapping a letter in hand, he couldn't help but think of the young author. Perhaps it was remiss of him, but he had hoped that Petunia Dursley would have remembered the information that was asked, from the time of when her sister first began her foray into the Wizarding World nearly twenty years ago.
In truth, he had been thinking more and more on the young girl in the recent months. Knowing that the protection of everyone believing her to be dead was coming to a rapid end was approaching.
As it were, he already disclosed to his staff that the daughter of James Lily Potter had not in fact died with them.
He prided himself on the thought that he was an intelligent man, however there were times when he wished he were a little denser. Or had the Sight.
When he was first told that Aster had survived, although baring a vicious curse scar, he was both relieved and at once hesitant for celebration. True, Tom had for appearances had been defeated, but he felt there was a lot more behind the surface. He was not at all certain of Tom's death, and so determined it was best for the people to focus their attentions to a young boy, who had also been targeted, who had the benefit of the protections of not just a magical family, but a well known, wealthy and pureblood line. He would be protected, and Miss Potter shall fade into obscurity.
Only a few were aware of her continued existence in the magical world. Himself, of course, his esteemed gamekeeper Rubeus Hagrid, who had stowed the infant away in the night, Severus Snape, who was in fact the first to stumble across her in the wreckage, and his deputy Minerva McGonnagall. He would include another young man, however his incarceration for a vile deed barely bore the weight of a feather in society.
It was as Albus was contemplating on the nature of Aster's journey back to Wizarding society that the door to his office banged open as someone threw it open in a fury.
Turning to look at his visitor, he took in the angry stride, the man's clenched fists and shaking shoulders. The man, normally so well put together, was all but frothing at the mouth. Behind him, Minerva was trying to calm Ifan Dylwythen down, her Scottish brogue getting stronger as he ignored her attempts. Behind her was Severus, slowly and calmly shutting the door before moving to stand by the fireplace, and settling into his usual stance of arms crossed his chest.
"A pleasure to see you, Ifan. I was not expecting you. Would you care for some tea?" Albus asked, gesturing him to sit in one of the armchairs he liked to be extra puffy. Everyone deserved to be comfortable - even wayward children who were on the cusp of suspension or expulsion.
"No! I bloody well don't want any bloody tea!" Ifan growled, his Welsh vowels doing that wonderful thing where they became almost unintelligible unless one was used to the accent. Not nearly as bad as Minerva when she was in a temper, but close enough.
"You told me she had died, Albus. And yet I am told by Goblins - Goblins, Albus! - that the last of my line is not in fact a twit of a woman, but a Child of Magic! Lily's Child! My great granddaughter! How could you, Albus?" Albus shut his eyes, he dreaded this day. Knowing how much it deeply wounded him as he brought the news that nobody survived the attack.
"I am sorry, Ifan. Truly. I thought what was best for her was for her to be hidden away, until such a time where she could come back to our world without threat."
Ifan barked a derisive laugh, scoffing, "Oh yes, the world is truly safe! I've never seen any movement which could possibly be construed as allies of the Dark Lord." His lip curled in a sneer, "and as for Aster's protection. Please! That woman doesn't have a drop of anything that could ensure the girl's safety. I just came from seeing her. She is so small she can barely finish a simple bowl of soup and simple faire!" Stalking about his office, Ifan came back to the desk, slamming his hands on the desk before he stabbed a finger into Albus' face "And don't give me the party line of Petunia being her family for protection. There are more protections on my forest than a muggle has for their own homes."
Breathing hard, he collapsed into a chair, his hair wild from how many times he had raked a hand through it. Taking a deep breath, he asked softly, "Just...tell me why, Albus. Why you would put me through what you did."
"Words cannot express my guilt at putting you through what I have, my friend. But she needed to have gone to Petunia. Lily had cast Blood Wards before she died so that Aster could live with her sister if the worst was to happen. And," he breathed, "We know that it did."
Staring at his old friend in his eyes, he could see Ifan searching for more than that as an answer. The wild gleam in his green eyes reappearing gradually.
"Surely...surely you could have moved her to me later on? You know the way Lily and Petunia left things. It would have made things so much easier. Now...now Aster and I have had to greet each other as strangers." Ifan put his head in his hands briefly before shaking his away and running a hand down his face.
Albus frowned, "You mean...you have gone to see her then?"
The other man raised a brow, "I have." He confirmed with an edged voice.
"I was set to believe, from your letter, that you were waiting on my reply before you acted."
Minerva sucked in a sharp breath, and even Severus shifted his foot a bit, as Ifan bolted from his chair and in a flash leaned
over Albus, as he thundered, "You told me she had died, Albus! How could I, in all conscience, not go see her?! For ten whole years I have believed my line to be ended bar a bigoted shrew. And then, in all wonders I am informed by my fellow Fae that I have an Heir?" He shook his head in disgust, flinging himself away from Albus.
"You sit up here in the castle of your forebears, Albus and consider all your toy soldiers. Your machinations of the Greater Good suit none but yourself. And what has it brought you? Hm? A generation of Witches and Wizards all but butchered or sold off to the highest bidder in a pissing contest between yourself and the Darker families.
"Have you never thought on how the fruits of your labours may turn out to be rotten? You have played my grief like a fiddle, sending me platitudes and kind words as you knew that a Child of Mine lived each day. How would you feel if our roles were reversed? That Aster was Arianna? How then would you feel? Hm?" Tears rimmed his eyes as he glared at Albus, and the Headmaster couldn't hold his gaze, his blue eyes dropping to look at the woodgrain of his desk, closing his eyes briefly again to gather his resolve, and looked back up at him.
Silence rung in the office, the two older men staring at one another, one daring the other to assuage him of the Greater Good, the other in acknowledged horror at the idea he had made.
Minerva stood to the side, her hands clasped in front of her face at an utter loss in what to do. She had never heard the Old Fae raise his voice, had never been witness to the weight of his magic when he was in a rage. And his was a righteous fury. To be told that his family had all perished for all this time was incomprehensible. How Albus could lie to his friend's face for a decade, giving him company in times of grief... it was a manipulation that she couldn't stomach. And Albus knew what he had done, the ramifications of it. The fact that he sat there and took the vitriol spat at him confirmed, to Minerva, that Albus hated himself for such acts.
Severus, by contrast, had been staring at nothing throughout the entire ordeal, only slipping his wand into his hand as Ifan grew more incensed. The anger of a Fae was unpredictable at the best of times, and at the worst could be truly destructive.
He had not had the pleasure of meeting Ifan Dylwythen often, only a handful of times really, most of them during the War, and so his emotions were a rogue element to Severus. But if he was anything like Lily when she was in a temper...well he'd preferably be about a corridor length away to get a heads start to run.
The silence dragged on for a few more minutes before Albus sighed, took off his glasses to clean them as he offered a peace offering.
"Due to the apparent curse on our Defense position, I feel that I must inform you that the new professor is a man called Quirinus Quirrell. If it would...help...you may look into his affairs to see about his leanings. You know the rest of my staff, of course." Minerva cleared her throat, and when all three men looked to her she raised an eyebrow at them, but as all three looked to her - Severus with his usual emotionless mask, Ifan with confusion, and Albus a pursing of the lips - she rolled her eyes before brusquly clipping out the words "The Stone."
"Ah. Yes. There will also be the matter that Nicolas has asked me to...look after his and Perenelle's Stone."
Ifan blinked in astonishment. "They gave... you the Stone? And you're what? Going to just keep it in the castle?" His laughter rang out before he noticed the wince from Minerva. Oh for all the love of - " Why would you keep it in a castle that is going to be full of nosey, belligerent schoolchildren? Do they know this is where you're going to be hiding it?"
"Of course, of course! They were quite happy with the idea." They didn't actually know, Albus didn't relish the idea of bringing it to their attention that Hogwarts was the only place he could ensure he was nearby to keep it safe. Ifan looked at him, narrowing his eyes, before rolling them, clearly disbelieving him but not wanting to bring the wrath of Perenelle on to himself. The witch was wicked with her charms. Quite literally.
Ifan looked at him blankly, clearly in disbelief. He'd wash his hands off it if not for the fact Aster was going to be here and a non-coporeal megalomaniac would likely be making an attempt at stealing it. Ifan rolled his eyes, before silently telling himself to check with Nicolas if he was actually happy with this idea, before giving a warning that Albus was not to interfere with Aster, regardless of any Blood Wards. With a flare of his tailed robes he strode out the door.
"Well...that went splendidly. Tell me, Albus, do you wish to annoy every friend who is centuries older than you? Or is it just a talent?" A drawled baritone spoke for the first time. Albus peered over his half moon spectacles at him, his blue eyes twinkling.
"Severus! I'd have thought you'd know better than now... of course it's an innate talent for him." Minerva smirked, gaining a chuckle from Albus himself and a twitch of the mouth from the crabby young man which was almost equivalent of a grin from him.
The morning after Aster met her newest (oldest?) family member she woke up early, the sun barely cresting over the horizon. Deciding to have a lie in, she crawled to her stash of books, putting away the Potions textbook she fell asleep with, and digging out one of her two books she brought with her, Mort by Terry Pratchett. Slowly she melted back into the pillows, her eyes taking in the familiar words as she waited for the appropriate time for her to get ready and meet Ifan.
It was halfway through her reading that she decided to settle on the name of Binky for the Cat that was situated on her feet. Granted, he was not pure white, nor a horse, but he seemed receptive to the name. Certainly more than Clacker was at the beginning. Nodding to herself in satisfaction that she no longer had to just call him the Cat, she went back to her book.
Not knowing the time, Aster decided to wait until to wait until the flames in the wall lights went out before she got out of the bed, jumped into the shower, wrangling with the mass of curls - which some decided to argue with gravity - before calling it quits and shoving it into a low ponytail with one of her new ribbons. As she walked back into the room proper she rummaged until she found a muted green asymmetric dress that fell to her knees, with a white shirt underneath, pale tights (which were probably more akin to leggings) and dragged on a pair of soft brown leather boots which she hadn't realised been purchased. Deciding that she wouldn't get much better, she pulled the door open, staring at the door Ifan had told her he was staying in. Was it still too early to knock? Was it presumptuous of her to disturb him? Or would he prefer her do so, so he didn't have to shepherd her about?
She stood there chewing on her lip for probably around five minutes before the man himself opened the door, his face lighting up at seeing her.
"Merch i mi, why didn't you say you were standing here! I was about to come through to you. Shall we to breakfast? I'm sure Sagina has a delightful meal prepared for us." After her small nod, they moved as one down the stairs, Aster jumping off the last step.
After sitting themselves at Aster's quickly claimed table facing the room, they ate the meal Sagina swiftly brought.
"Now, if I may ask, what other supplies do you need to get? I noticed no wand was included last night. Was there anything else?" Ifan inquired after they had finished.
Aster shook her head, "Just my wand for school supplies...I did want to go browse some of the shops though." She looked at him before quickly rushing out, "But we don't have to do that! I mean, I'll be getting supplies next year, won't I?"
Ifan smiled gently at her, "I'd be happy to browse with you. I confess, it has been a long while since I've visited Diagon Alley and Raven Path Way. If you're happy for my company?" At her vigorous nod, they got up and made their way to the door, Ifan dipping his head in acknowledgement to those who greeted him.
As they got closer to the junction which separated, Aster felt her breath beginning to hitch. She scanned the streets, and once seeing their emptiness as much as they were as the early morning of the day before, her shoulders relaxed.
"How much do you know about the Ollivanders family?" Ifan asked Aster, noticing her discomfort as they neared the entrance to Diagon Alley.
"Nothing, sir. I didn't know anything about...well anything. Not 'til the letter came. Even then I thought it was a joke or something." Aster shrugged.
"Ah. Well, let me divulge a not so known fact. The Ollivander family, as you will see in a moment, has been in the wandmaking business since 382 BCE. Most in Europe, and certainly in Britain, consider them to be a prime example of wandmakers. Now, what most do not know however, is that their talents are what we call Other, or Outsider. Essentially," he continued, pulling Aster to a stop just before they stepped fully into the Alley, to ensure they were not overheard.
"Essentially, the Ollivanders aren't as pureblood as the Sacred Twenty-eight world believe. I'm fact, they have a...touch of Fae about them. Most wandmaker families have this ancestry, as it allows them to know, as it were, what is needed to create a usable wand. Of course, for the most part Fae do not use them, as we utilise our magic differently. That is not to say, we forsake the practice though; they can be most useful in channeling magic in particulary difficult or powerful spells and
rituals.
"I trust you will keep this information to yourself. Of course, if you have the chance to become well acquainted with someone you wholly trust, then I imagine the Ollivander family will not be too adversed to having this spoken of." Aster nodded seriously; from the very little exposure she has had about this new World, she could already see that there were deep rooted prejudices within the magic societies. Satisfied that the young girl understood, they walked the few remaining steps to the store in question.
The door knocked against a bell above announcing their presence as they entered. The store was rather dusty barring the front counter and the chair to the side of the room. It was a narrow shop which seemed to extend further than she thought was possible with boxes upon boxes stacked on one another, and others seemingly placed haphazardly wherever there was space.
There was curiously no smell of the dust, nor anything that overwhelmingly at the forefront of her mind. There was a distinct smell of wood, and a smoky scent Aster couldn't quite pinpoint. The closest she could think of was when fireworks were let off in the neighbours gardens back at Privet Drive.
A doddering man turned around a corner of stacked boxes, his eyes a milky colour as if he had very bad cataracts forming. He had a shock of white hair that stood every which way as if he had just put his finger into an electrical socket. His back was relatively stooped until he caught sign of Ifan, in which his back creaked into a relatively straight position, revealing him to be a tall man, emphasised by his almost skeletal thinness.
"Lord Dylwythen. An honour, a true honour!" The man nodded to himself as if confirming that he said it.
"Garrick. It has been a long time. I trust you've kept well." Ifan monotonously drawled. Aster looked at him, immediately cataloguing the difference in which he spoke compared to her. Ollivander's eyes shot to the young girl, making her jump back, as he stared almost lifelessly at her.
"Heir Dyl - no ... Miss Potter. It seems like yesterday when your parents came here getting their wands. Shame that they were lost in the wreckage." Not noticing how Ifan stiffened at this with his eyes narrowing at his blasé attitude, nor Aster's face immediately blanking over at the lack of care for the people owning said wands.
Still being externally oblivious to the faux pas he just said, he twitched out a measuring tape and sent it flying towards Aster as he went to the back of the room.
As the measuring tape began to uncoil and started to measure everything about Aster under the sun, Ifan grabbed it, and with an icy tone told Garrick to call the thing off.
"I know you don't need this. A titillating charm to be sure for the...tourists your usual customer is. But do not believe you can use such cheap tricks in front of me or mine. Do I make myself clear?" Ollivander blinked at him, before snapping his fingers and the tape appeared back on the counter, hardly the acceptance of his misstep when faced with this Old Line, but a concession all the same of his error.
The old man gently placed an array of boxes on to the counter, smoothing his hands over their lids before flicking his eyes back to the girl. With little flair, he impatiently waved his hand for her to try each one.
All of the boxes created disruptive results; one blew up a lamp, another whipped a small whirlwind into the store, another conjured wilted flowers and the last two just popped the remaining glass in the lamps out.
Ifan breathed through his nose. "Garrick. What did I just say about your...chicanery?" His jaw clenched as he said through grit teeth, watching as Ollivander seemed to slowly bend his back to its original state. "Desist with this and bring the ones you think are apt." He hissed at him, leaning forward to put his hand on the counter, his ring flashing in the light.
Without a word the wandmaker scarpered to a darkened corner of the shop, picking up two boxes. With a flick of his own wand he dispersed the boxes already on the counter and reverently put the two new ones on the surface.
With a nod of his head, Aster checked with Ifan if she should proceed, and at his nonverbal go ahead she uncovered the first box.
Inside was a long stick of dark brown wood, nestled in a silky fabric of white. It's handle appeared to be made out of another general stick stuck on the end. Overall, it was rather unremarkable.
Picking it up she felt a warmth travel into her hand and sparks sprung out from the end. It was quite comforting, however there was a distinct feeling of disjointedness which prevented the sense of belonging which was trying to press itself on to her.
Biting her lip, she gently placed it back in its box and uncovered the other. It was a singular piece, the handle had the bark smoothed over before being chipped away to the pale wood inside, carved into a point with small markings left in the original material. It wasn't terribly long, but as
Aster held it, the warmth from the other wand was nothing compared to the positive flare of heat that surrounded her entire being.
"Ah...I would have thought it to be the other. But this...this is a pleasant surprise. Willow with Thestral hair. A perfect match." Ollivander whispered.
"What was the other?" Ifan cocked his head to the side.
"Holly and phoenix feather. In fact, only one other feather was given for a wand...I was sure this would have been a match." He murmured, stoking his chin as he gazed at Aster.
"Um...I did feel a... warmth when I held it. Sir." She said, shifting to place the willow
wand back in its box.
Ollivander hummed. "Ah! Then you shall have both. It is...rare, for two wands to choose a Wizard - or Witch - while the other is still usable." Nodding to himself again, he bound the two boxes together with ribbon before handing them over to Aster, staring at her again as Ifan handed over the total.
Beginning to really feel unnerved, Ifan placed a hand on her shoulder and guided her out the store and into the warmth of the sun.
"Well. At least that's sorted. I've never been particularly keen on that one. His grandfather, on the other hand, was a lovely man. Didn't succumb to mummery or show." Ifan sniffed before smiling down
at the girl. "Come, direct me where you would like to venture."
Aster beamed before winding her way down to the Junk Shop she had spotted the past two days.
Opening the door, a smell of something akin to a charity shop greeted them. Smells of tarnished brass, musty clothes that hadn't been washed since being put away, old books and dried flowers.
Aster relaxed further; the few times that she was taken to a shop for clothes by Aunt Petunia smelled similar, and while her aunt went and picked out the cheapest essentials, Aster would be in the corner with the books, scanning all the titles and blurbs and briefly reading what she could. When the old woman behind the counter asked if her aunt was going to get any of the books, she had to relent (she didn't want to be thought badly of), and picked two. She had those two books for a month before they were given to the library.
Feeling like she could explore openly, Aster broke away from Ifan and poked her nose in anything and everything. She found a canvas bag that seemed big enough for school, spools of thread and a tub of needles which she rummaged through so that she could try a hand at sewing on the bag. She found a book on the Intricacies and Potency of Potions which she snatched up, hearing that man from yesterday in her head. Another book on household charms (after all the heavy cleaning she did at her aunt's she was intrigued how things were different in the Wizarding World). She found a brushed brown leather coat, which would be too big for her now, which she decided she'll keep for when she was older, and a beat up old trunk which would be easier for her to transfer all her school things and clothes on the train.
Shuffling all her goods to the front where she noticed her grandfather and the shopkeeper having a genial conversation, a nice change from the tension in Ollivanders.
Once all the items were rung up, Ifan flicked his fingers and disappeared with a pop back to the Cloak and Wand. As they went back outside, the sky darkened with grey clouds, the people dotted about casting dubious looks at the sky and hurrying to their destinations so they could get away before the rain would begin.
The two of them ventured in and out of a variety of stores, watching amusedly as the crowds grew thinner as the first drops of a drizzle began.
"Now...for our next stops where I need to go, I'm afraid I'll need to be...forward...and ask if you could hold my hand so that you stick close. The stores in question are in Knockturn Alley - over there - where the more, er, unsavoury Wizards tend to frequent.
"There's nothing to be overly worried about. The people won't bother you when you're with me, and as you grow older - if you will do me the great pleasure of looking after you - they too will come to, for all intents and purposes, ignore you.
"Right, the stores are Borgins and Burkes - its similar to the Junk Shop in that it holds all types of odds and ends. And the ritual shop down there, which doesn't actually seem to have a name." Aster clasped his hand tightly, surprised at how calloused it felt when it appeared to be so soft.
Ifan lead the way, keeping step with Aster, as they wound their way down to a darkened street where there were a few Witches who leant in doorways, with shawls dropping off their bare shoulders, Wizards in rags and coarse clothing scuttled about, diving out of the way as they saw the extinguished man and young girl. Rats, mice and cats chased each other across the way, tripping up many of the patrons.
They came across Borgin and Burkes first, and entered a dank room filled to the brim with objects. There was a coldness that hung in the air, and an oozing sensation seemed to crawl on Aster's skin, making her wrinkle her nose. They didn't linger in the store, Ifan striding to the counter, banging on the bell until a scruffy and bearded man slunk out from behind what looked like a blanket hung on a door frame.
No words were exchanged, the assistant bent to the side and picked up a cardboard box which clunked and held out a grimy hand in which Ifan placed three galleons while staring at him dead in the eye. Ifan turned away, snapping the box away like he did at the Junk Shop, and missing the curious gaze of the other man as he stared at the girl beside him. The girl who blinked her blank expression into a narrow eyed challenge before she turned with Lord Dylwythen and out the door.
The two of them walked further into the Alley until they got to a shadowed corner where an innocuous building stood with peeling black paint on a blank wooden plank where a store name would usually reside. The windows were dotted with mould and the door creaked loudly as they entered a narrow hallway where cobwebs dangled from the ceiling.
Ifan went through the archway hidden in the dark, and slipped into the next room. This too was overly dark, with a few candles dotted about for light, and the fireplace burned low in its hearth. Bundle of herbs were hung on hooks on the walls, bowls of clay and chipped porcelain were disorganised and slung into one corner on a long rough hewn wood table. Wicked looking athames and daggers blinked dully in the low lighting. Despite its rather grim appearance, Aster loved it. It was almost refreshing after the sick feeling of being in Borgin and Burkes.
A frizzy haired witch sat in a back corner, crocheting something intricately, barely glancing up at her visitors. Ifan walked around the store with Aster, pointing out the different names of instruments and plants, until the Witch came to the end of a line on her project, clipped something on, then stood.
"Ahh, Ifan Dylwythen. It's been too long since I saw you. I've missed you. Letters just don't do you justice, love."
Ifan grinned at her, "My utmost apologies, Mita. I must confess, my desire for peace has allowed me to put off from coming to the City. I thank you for your constant supplies however, and your constantly supreme produce." Ifan bowed and winked at her.
Mita smirked, putting her hands on her hips, "I like to keep my customers... satisfied." Ifan snorted as she changed last word from what she was clearly thinking. "I must thank you for not interrupting my pattern. Its a real bitch to do and messing it up won't help." Her silver eyes flicked to the young girl clinging to the man's hand, taking in her Elfin appearance, complete with Fae made robes, and the bright green eyes marking her as Dylwythen blood.
Ifan subtly nodded at the Witch. "Of course, it looks like Black Magic to me so I'm not about to disturb such a practice." He laughed, gaining a quiet giggle from Aster making Mita wink at her.
"Now, my dear Mita, I wish you to meet Aster. As you've no doubt deducted, she is of my Line, and though we only met yesterday, she is already dear to me." Aster looked up at him, her eyes shining and smiling beatifically.
Mita's face softened, dropped her arms and held her hand out to the girl, asking her to step forwards with Ifan's consent.
Mita put a hand on her cheek while another was on her shoulder. Her eyes flickered over her appearance, seeming taking in every freckle, ever small scald burn on her hands.
"Hm. You certainly have a treasure here, Ifan." She murmured, Seeing all the things she had already done and things she would do. And underneath that power thrummed beneath her skin, twining with Mita's own magic playfully in silver strands. Blinking away her vision, she focused on the Aster.
"Ungadh an bháis. It is sublime to meet you, Aster."
The girl frowned, "How'd you know my name?" And what was with that other title again?
Mita smiled playfully, "I Saw it of course. I'm clever like that." She giggled, before stroking Aster's hair lovingly.
She has a gift, Ifan. She will be magnificent, but she must be protected. He will hunt her. Mita thought to the man, projecting a taste of the power she experienced. The only sign of his surprise was a slight widening of his eyes before he turned his gaze to his granddaughter who was oblivious to the private conversation and looking delightedly at the woman in front of her and the jewellery on display.
After a moment of silence as they amusedly watched Aster look about, Mita brought out two packages wrapped in brown paper.
"You're lucky I hadn't already sent them out. I was going to do it later on today. As such, you can knock two knuts off the usual price as don't need to deliver." Ifan rolled his eyes before flicking over the standard three galleons at her who frowned in return before smirking and looking at him beneath her lashes before spinning to Aster.
"Here, love. I want you to have this. For free." She dangled a necklace, the chain silver and wound with a rose gold, and the pendant an oval about an inch and a small moonstone shard placed in the middle.
"Oh, I c-couldn't possibly just take it. How- how much?" She stammered, although her fingers itched to hold the pendant.
Mita rolled her eyes at the response. "Course you can. It's been sitting here a while so, honestly you'll be taking it off my hands. Turn around love so I can put it on you. See? Beautiful." She grinned at the girl who smiled shyly at the older Witch.
"Now. This pendant is special...no, it really is! See this stone here? It's a moonstone which keeps you protected, especially when you're away from home. It can also help soothe your worries. All you need to do after feeling its effects, which you will, is to place it under moonlight, the fuller the moon the better. Hence the name." She smiled at her, watching as Aster drank in the new information.
"Now, I would love if you could write me when you're at Hogwarts and whatnot. If you're interested, I can teach you all about how to use crystals, and let you in on trade secrets too." Aster nodded immediately. Having another person other than Ifan to write to meant everything; she would have someone to talk to, someone else willing to take her under their wing. After all, perhaps Ifan was just exaggerating that she was already dear to him - he did after all think his Line had ended before.
"Perfect." Mita purred, "Just address it to Mita Everwith, 176 Dart Street, Knockturn Alley, and it'll get to me." Aster nodded again and whispered a small thanks before she and Ifan made their way out the room, seeing Mita gently smile at her before she set up back on the chair to continue her crochet.
Aster was silent as they made their way back out Knockturn Alley and to Diagon proper. The clouds had burst and a deluge of rain was currently drenching any of the brave patrons running about for their errands. They both made their way back down to Raven Path Way and to the Inn.
Once they entered Sagina clucked at them both before ushering them to their table and lighting the fire and a promise of tea. Aster was silent, playing with her new necklace and tilting it to watch the light play against the stone.
"I meant what I said you know, merch i mi. It has been...too long since I've had family. I know you don't remember, but I was rather fond of you as an infant - you used to climb all over me! But...meeting you again, I wish...hmm. I wish to be family to you again. Not just a relative." Ifan said to the table, his thumb tapping out a random rhythm as he stammered his way through.
"That - I've never really had that. Not that I remember. But. Um. I'd- I think I'd like that. Being family I mean..." Aster trailed off, looking around the room and not at the older gentleman sitting to her left.
"Good. That's - that's good. I don't expect it to happen immediately, after all we both have much to discuss." Aster nodded jerkily, swiping her nose and sniffling before Sagina swooped down on them with a pile of dishes. There was the slabs of fresh bread, a bowl of colourful salad with tomatoes, peppers, cucumber and red onion. A plate of sliced roast chicken was placed down along with drumsticks and thighs, a bowl of something akin to rice was sat down along with it.
Aster stared at the feast before her, shocked at the sheer amount of food which was given to two people. Of course she had served similar portions to her gigantic uncle and cousin, but they tended towards bland beige foods. This however, even the chicken had the aroma of herbs wafting off it, the skin on the grey meat crisp and golden. She still had no idea what the rice looking stuff was but it was bloody delicious.
The two of them gorged themselves, leaving only a smattering of each dish left. Sagina appeared smug when she came to their table and seeing how sleepy they looked after having their fill and sitting beside the fire. With a flick of her wrist the dishes disappeared and she brought over a pot of steeping tea for them to talk over.
Ifan and Aster continued to talk over inconsequential things for the rest of the afternoon, each filing away small tidbit facts about one another. Their favourite seasons (spring and autumn respectively), their favourite colours (blue for Ifan and yellow for Aster) and a whole other list of things.
Ifan spoke of the times he met up with Lily and how their relationship grew. He spoke of when he was a boy and how things have changed in those six centuries. He described his home and how it compared to Hogwarts.
Aster had a lot less to say, due to not only her age but her reluctance in talking of how she was treated at the Dursleys. When she did speak, she spoke of how she came to love books, and how she would spend entire lunch breaks at school huddled in the library. She proudly explained how she kept her aunt's garden flourishing no matter the weather.
She laughed her way through telling the story of how she met her first snake as it was cursing the small children running about the park and disturbing its sleep. She kept hearing muffled exclamations in a bush, muttering about "small ones" trampling and screaming about, bumping into the brush that creatures were inhabiting.
It was only when she pulled the branches of the bush back that she saw a small grass snake flicking its tongue about, and when she responded to it, it was so happy and started to follow her about. The snake was with her for years before it seemingly disappeared when she was eight. Of course, now she was older she could imagine the reason for his vanishing act.
When it was time that Aster began to yawn, Sagina appeared and ushered the girl up the stairs and into bed, finding a random book from her pile and pressing it into her hands as she requested.
For the next hour or so, Aster sleepily read about runes and how to best use them. Most of it went over her head, especially in her foggy state, but as she drifted off, she couldn't help but think:
This was the best birthday ever.