For the next few days Ifan and Aster got to know one another, they would spend their time walking through Raven Path Way and occasionally venturing into other off shoots from Diagon Alley. Ifan would tell her stories of his past, battles he had fought and their shared family history.
He told Aster of his first foray into battle; he was a young man, barely thirty in Fae years, in a time not too dissimilar to the current political landscape. Tensions were rising between the Wizarding World and the Muggle. More and more sacrifices were being made across Blood Alters, ravaging livelihoods across Britain, factions were split and cracked a century of war. Muggles hid in their homesteads, nobles locked in their keeps as the Black Death swept across the kingdoms.
Due to the Statute of Secrecy in 1689, something which Ifan briefly described to her, the Muggles perception of this time was altered so that they thought it a plague of disease and not the magic it was. True, the symptoms in which grew were in fact real, however what they were unaware of was that it was a Blood Curse. And it came about due to the wailing grief of a mother.
A young Witch had come home to her family home in ashes, the bodies of her husband and children laid bare for the world to see as they were trussed up on the pillars of her porch. Muggles surrounded the place, jeering at their accomplishment of vanquishing a harmless family, guilty of nothing but having magic.
These Muggles, people who she had healed their illnesses and injury, children she had helped birth, were lost in their bloodlust. Their were rumours bandied about on the cause of this atrocious act, some turning into myth and legend, but none were lingered over, for it was the outcome of that day which captivated the masses in shared horror.
The woman wailed in despair, gaining the attention of the mob, but they were too slow. As they turned their attention to her, she brandished her wand and cursed them into oblivion, felling man, woman, and child without remorse. Bar one boy. It was said that she told him to run, to spread the word of the terror that was coming, others said he managed to hide and escape the slaughter. No matter the reason, he took his chance and fled, warning whoever he came across of the sheer power of the Wailing Woman. No-one took notice until it was too late.
News of a new plague reached the countryside, bringing blisters and boils, devastating the population as cut swathes through the Muggles. Families and settlements grew silent as one by one they succumbed, the Wailing Woman's cries to be heard for the lonely survivors.
It grew to a tipping point when Muggle philosophers theorised its cause as punishment by their Wizard neighbours. But there was little to be done, by then it had been a foothold for a decade and the nations were in a panic. It fell to Wizards and Others to rally against the Witch.
They hunted her down, but unable to kill her due to her mutation to a Creature. Her eyes were so red from weeping that no sclera could be seen, her long hair matted and stringy, her cloak in tatters. Her screams deafening all to those who heard it, making grow men fall to their knees in agony and anguish. It was decided by a Council that Mandrakes would be needed to subdue her, their cries on par with her own.
Armed with their wands, staffs and Mandrakes they faced off the Witch, encouraging the adult Mandrakes to scream. So powerful was she that she merely fell into a Sleep. Binding her in ropes and stifling her mouth, they brought her to a marsh, throwing her into the bog and Warded the land to prevent her escape.
It worked for the most part, however there were escape attempts made, and there were those even tried to free her from her bonds. It was on such a time when rumour had a Wizard had allied himself with a renegade group of Others to unleash the Banshee against society.
The Council sounded the call of war and all manners of Families, Clans and Lines declared themselves against the Renegades on a bleary and misty day in 1685. Young Ifan Dylwythen was surrounded by the sounds of blades clashing together, spellfire flashed indistinguishable from one another.
It was two days before the sound of battle extinguished. Corpses laid charred and broken on top of one another, ashes blew in the wind, and the Banshee was gone.
Raids were sent out in search of her for two years before she was found haunting the marshes of Europe. Once she was brought before the new International Wizarding Committee in 1687 she was duly banished onto another plane and the Statute of Secrecy was built and the knowledge of the origins of the Black Death became twisted for Muggles, and for the Magical World the Curse she wrought was locked away. That is not to say that others hadn't stored away the information through their own grimoires and documents, as word of outbreaks were murmured in manors and committees.
Aster was captivated. Despite the blood soaked imagery Ifan cast, she couldn't believe that here was someone who was around at the time of the foundations of this World she had stumbled into. She pestered him with questions on his experiences; how long it took to alter the memories of Muggles without it being to their detriment, how long it took for Wizardkind and Other to clash and seemingly turn on one another.
Ifan smiled fondly at her thirst for knowledge, soaking in any tidbit like a sponge, the light of curiosity sparkling in her eyes as she made connections to things she had seen and heard. It had been too long since he had a child sit by him and take in his stories. He had never been able to really do it for his own children; his son taken away from him too soon, and his daughter exiled to another country what felt like eons ago. Lily too was too old to be taken in with childlike wonder when they built their relationship, already well acquainted with the Wizarding World and the dark times which was an echo of those he himself had lived.
Shaking himself from his reverie, he watched as this young Child slept on the accompanying arm chair, huddled into a ball in a defensive position, the Guardians by her side. He was honoured she felt safe enough to fall asleep in his presence, he had seen enough maltreated people to understand that to do so was not something to take lightly.
He had noticed quickly her reticence of making herself visible, masking her wants with only the hint of yearning in her eyes, hiding her fear behind a blank expression. It made his blood boil and his magic twitch, knowing that his kin and hurt her.
He was determined to show her what it meant to experience familial love and affection, how it felt to be looked after and protected as any family should do. He knew it would take her time to accept, to heal and to be certain of her place with him. But he would not push. If by the end of the deadline, barely a few days away, she was not ready to accept his guardianship, then he would look for alternatives - Sagina would be more than happy to continue housing her. If Aster decided she would come with him, well, he would be the happiest he had been in a long, long time.
Aster woke up nearly a week after her birthday with a renewed sense of purpose. The past week had been a dream, and she was reluctant for it to end; within a few days of meeting Ifan she already started forming an attachment, clinging to the possibility that he would take her in as he had offered. She knew she was not a particularly good child; she got jealous, disobeyed commands which she thought pointless, and muttered obscenities that were more apt for an older boy rather than a scrawny eleven year old girl. But she was bent on being enough for Ifan to become her guardian.
He had taken her to quirky stores, introducing her to his acquaintances, explained to her basic history and taught her some Fae and Other etiquette. When they walked back into Gringrotts so she could visit her Vaults and then left Griphook and Agnark with the appropriate farewell of "As kin we part, we acknowledge your erudition." Which caused said Goblins to bare their teeth in grudging acceptance that they were in company of Fae and thus not wholly their enemy. They were nasty belligerents though - and Aster called it correctly; Griphook was a smug little git.
It was as the both of them sat down for breakfast that day, when Aster kept surreptitiously glancing at Ifan as he ate with an unusual silence. Every morning he would smile at her and ask if there was an agenda for that day or if she was adverse to something which he proposed. But that grey morning he sat and slowly ate his porridge frowning into the bowl.
"Um...is - is everything alright? You're not...you don't look...er, happy." She inquired, lightly putting a hand on his arm.
He startled before clearing his throat. "Yes, yes everything is fine, little one. I'm just - just trying to think on how to...say something which is, er delicate." Oh god, she'd blown it. He was going to leave; she had been too clingy. Too ... herself. Why did she always -
"No don't look alarmed! Nothing bad...I hope. I was going to ask if you were open for a discussion on your...living arrangements today." She looked at where Sagina stood at the counter, animatedly talking to the sandy haired bloke on one of the stools. Did she want her to leave?
Ifan followed where her eyes had fallen before quirking his mouth in a gentle smile, "Sagina is happy for you to stay here as long as you wish. I imagine if she could she'd make room for you for all time. No, what I mean is - " he huffed out a breath. How was this so damned difficult? "I would like to know, if you were open to talking about on your possible agreement for me to become your guardian."
Aster blinked. He still wanted her to come with him?
"I'd - I'd like that. If, if you're...OK with that. Sir." She said to the table, missing the beaming grin that flickered on the elder Fae's face before he settled it into something not so manic.
"Oh! Of course I am alright with it! I am more so, merch i mi! I was...worried. That you'd prefer to stay here." Ifan exclaimed, before he quickly frowned. "And didn't I tell you that you don't need to bother with all that 'sir' business? I am your family, Aster. Not your master." She flickered her eyes up at him, taking in his earnest expression as he gently chided her. She nodded before quirking a small smile at him.
With that decided they fell into relative silence again, each thinking on how it would feel like to have someone they could rely on and call family.
Ifan dedicated himself in thinking of ways he could incorporate Aster's hobbies he had picked up that she would like to explore, into their home. Aster wondered if she would have an actual bedroom with an actual bed like she had here at the Inn. Even if it wouldn't be as lavish or open, anything was better than a bed roll in a cramped cupboard under the stairs.
The remainder of the day saw them remaining at their designated table, discussing how they both would like their home to look as Sagina supplied them with copious amounts of tea. Aster was content at leaving how his home would already look, after all he had it how he'd like it, and Ifan was determined to narrow down how she felt about different styles. He wasn't overly successful.
All he managed to deduce was that she liked some clutter, as evidenced by her room upstairs, to prevent it looking like something called a 'show home', she enjoyed the earthy tones of Raven Path Way, and adored the fireplaces. He had noticed her obvious love of books and had decided to leave his current library as a surprise for her.
He decided to inform Eppy of the few snippets of information he had acquired so that she could choose a room for her and design and decorate it to at least compliment the bare minimum knowledge he now had.
He told Aster all about the garden and forest that bordered their home, that it was situated in the mountains of Eryri in Wales, hidden from touristing Muggles and adventuring Wizardkind. He described who Eppy was and that her elderly father, Jospo, looked after the garden from the standard rose bush to the Wiggentree that he had planted with his wife Evira four centuries ago. The awe in her eyes provided another fragment on who she was.
They decided, quite happily that they'd stay another two days to ensure there was nothing else needed in the City before they went home. Ifan explained that although it was relatively easy to get here through magical forms of travel, the sheer distance could cause issues such as tiredness which would be best left as it had been a long while since Ifan himself had done constant travelling and Aster was new to the idea of it.
So on the 7th August, a week after Aster's birthday, they packed away their belongings, said goodbye to Sagina with a promise from Aster to write her. She surprised the girl with a wrapped up parcel as a belated birthday gift which turned out to be her own crochet bag, apologising for its delay as it took her longer than expected. Aster immediately clutched at her in a hug about the waist thanking her profusely for the bag and the safe harbour she had given her.
Ifan inclined his head as Sagina dipped in a semi curtsy before they swirled away in a whirlwind of green flames from their fireplace and arrived at their destination: Mynydd Hall.
Aster felt herself spin in a million directions, her head a whirlwind of colours in the brief few seconds from between her stepping into the fireplace at the Inn to tumbling out the otherside. Slamming her hands down on to a wooden flooring she scrabbled to stand back up, when she caught sight of the new room she was now in.
She couldn't help but look back at the fireplace to the room several times before poking the nearby side table, just to make sure it was all real. Confirming that this was not in fact an illusion, she muttered "So cool." before taking in her surroundings.
They stood in a room that would be best described as a parlour, or whatever they used to call sitting rooms before they had tellies. The furniture looked well used, the side tables had faded varnish allowing a more natural tone to come through, the armchairs and sofa surrounded the fireplace were a soft buttery leather, with worn in cushions and throw blankets hanging off the backs. There were different sized coffee and side tables dotted about the room, with books stacked on a couple and photographs (that moved!) dotted about.
Looking closely at them there seemed to be a whole host of people, some clearly Fae hugging in a group as they threw a giggling child up in the air before catching him. Another had an older couple clinking glasses with Ifan, the woman rolling her eyes as the man with her spilled some of the drink. There was a photo of a man who looked like the stereotype of a Wizard to the point even Muggles would be able to point him out, with a long beard and garish robes posed with Ifan and nodding his head. The photo beside that had the Gandalf wannabe with the older couple and Ifan as two men jumped behind their seats grinning. One of the men had shaggy black hair, grey eyes and a wolfish grin and the other wearing a loosened tux, glasses perched wonkily on his nose and messy black hair.
Her favourite photos however were a group of three. The first was one of the messy haired man with a woman with flaming red hair, dressed in an ivory gown as they twirled about against a backdrop of blue and silver. The second was one of Ifan holding an infant with black hair and green eyes, both of them giggling as he tickled her. And the final was the baby with the twirling couple, grinning down at her as she stood up and wobbled before sitting back down again.
"Those three...they are both my most hated and favourite of the photos in this room. I would stare at them for hours, especially when I learned of their, and supposedly yours, deaths. They loved you with their entire existence." Ifan whispered, gently laying a hand on Aster's shoulder as she wiped the tears from her face.
Standing there for another few solemn minutes he lead her through the rest of the house with a brief tour, letting her know that she was free to explore further when she wanted. As they got to the last door he hesitated briefly before pushing it open and telling her, "Your room".
Inside was a room not too dissimilar to the one she stayed in at the Cloak and Wand. There was a bed in the middle seemingly made of vines, the mattress high off the ground and the bedding made of a brushed cotton in a patchwork quilt of flowers and gingham. There was a wooden wardrobe that looked liked it belonged from a century ago with brass handles and a drawer at the bottom, beside it stood a planed chest of drawers, with mismatch knobs and had a lavender plant sitting on it.
There was a blanket box placed at the end of the bed with the initials LAE in cursive script and a scrawled JFP underneath with a heart next to it. Aster walked towards it slowly, tracing her finger across the initials lovingly. Flipping the latch open she saw it had an off white eyelet blanket, a well worn book of Potions, another of Charms and a hardback tome of Transfigurations with anecdotes dotting about the margins in the same scrawl as on the box. There were two wooden chests, the first filled with more photos, although these mainly contained ones of Lily and Ifan with Aster.
As Aster transferred her attention to the second chest she found it wouldn't open. As she frowned up at Ifan he shrugged as he put his hands in his pockets.
"From my understanding it will unlock when you come of age at seventeen. Other than that, I don't know what's in it, only that your parents believed it would be best kept in my possession."
Nodding she slid the chest back in its place, keeping the first and putting it on the bed for her to look at later.
Looking around at the rest of the room she noticed an oak bookcase by the fireplace with a tartan stroll armchair, a small footstool beside it and a plush rug which looked like it had never been walked on.
Aster looked up at Ifan, blinking away the moisture in her eyes as she whispered, "It's amazing. Thank you." Before diving into his arms, embracing him with everything in her.
Ifan clung to her, feeling his own eyes tear up as the warm feeling which sparked as he read that letter from Gringrotts became a full flame. The loneliness and despair that each of them had endured for so long had finally begun to crumble and they both thought of two words:
Welcome home.