Chapter Twenty-Nine
oooP1ooo
(Neville)
Gryffindor manor was an opulent mansion of pale marble, golden woods, rubies, and atrocities some would call art depicting the deaths of serpents and snakes by lions and griffins within paintings, statues, stained glass windows, tiled mosaics, tapestries, wood carvings, and every other forms of art form possible. Godric was very tempted to burn it all down even though it was clearly built and enchanted to resist fire damage.—He couldn't afford to burn it down. Like the golden Griffin statues, it was filled with his bloody money.
At least there was plenty of room for them to stretch out and relax. There were seven floors in total—the top was the master suite followed by two floors of mini-suites for children and guests. The library was two stories, starting on the first floor. Every possible room for hosting parties and dueling matches was on the ground and first basement floor. It even had a ridiculously huge and ornate conservatory filled with fruit trees and berry bushes all magically enhanced to ripen with their bounty out of the proper season. The kitchens, laundry, and House elf quarters were on the second basement level. An old but serviceable ward stone was hidden within a final basement level.
Salazar had claimed the conservatory to hold up in when not sleeping. It was one of the few rooms without art depicting dead serpents so Godric wasn't surprised. The only real choices had been the conservatory or the kitchen. No matter how Sally seemed to know how to cook, he would always naturally end up in the nature-filled option.
Godric leaned back in his chair and watched his brother go through all the contracts of Potter Familia with a faint, crooked smile. Snow fell about them, just on the other side of the glass of the conservatory. Magic made it balmy and comfortable even as the winter storm danced about them. The smell of lemon, and what was apparently orange, flowers only enhanced the juxtaposition of their setting.
A platter of Hogwarts mascot pastries sat on the table between them.—Besides the strudel, all the treats from Queenie Kowalski had been Hogwarts themed. It left questions neither founder had bothered voicing beyond Sally explaining the woman's abilities.
It was nice to just sit still and listen to the quiet shuffle of parchment. Godric closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly as he listened quietly to it all. It reminded him of Rowena and Evander more than Sally but it was peaceful all the same. He needed to go through the postal box and all the letters that had reached him before they had gotten the postal boxes set up but for the moment he could enjoy this.
Time floated quietly about them. A moment where neither felt the need to constantly move forward, though technically Godric guessed Sally was working. His brother wasn't rushing and wasn't worried over any of it so he chose to still count the moment as a win.
His attention inevitably shifted to the faint connection with the fire at Longwood Manor. The flames had slowly weakened over the days. There was nothing to feed it anymore, not even the remnant magic of the structures it had physically consumed remained. While his core was still settling from the loss of House magicks, it was a dull ache slowly fading away as the changes settled into his being and he adjusted to the changes. It was not nearly as horrible as stories made disownment out as, though he had the distinct feeling his experience of reincarnation and its many undeniable changes had helped him adjust to a part of his very essence being ripped from him. That he only lost a little bit of himself that he hadn't fully understood or used helped also.
He felt comfortable letting the fire go. As his connection faded away, he knew the elemental fire burning most of the Longwood property had petered out. Only smoke and ash remained. The Longbottoms understood that new life could come from the ashes though. Maybe the future of the House would learn from this and grow in a way he could acknowledge without disdain.
It felt good letting it go.—Only time would really allow him to move on but this was a good step.
Godric sighed and relaxed further, truly taking this moment for what it should be, a holiday from some serious bullshit.
Eventually, the sound of a cup clicking against the table drew his gaze.
Salazar blinked lazily across the way at him.
"A day for paperwork, huh?" Godric offered.
His brother hummed and glanced back at the contracts he had gone through before he stated, "The magic on them all indicates they are in suspension, waiting for me to accept their terms and reactivate them or decline and demand they be renegotiated."
"Have you gotten to the Longbottoms'?" Godric asked quietly.
Yes." Sally paused before he pulled out a small stack of parchment and looked back to Godric. "I am ending them Godric. The Longbottom's are not gaining anything from these contracts existing right now nor will they technically lose much if I remove them but ending them will end up a public affair due to the nature of some of these. The publicity will raise questions. It won't be difficult for anyone to realize why they were ended." Slytherin's lips curled up into a tooth smirk. "It will be another round of embarrassment for them. The world will realize that The-Boy-Who-Lived didn't like the Longbottom's actions against his godbrother."
Godric frowned but nodded. Fair enough, he supposed. "So you'll end them. Today?"
"Once school starts again. I need to give Dumbledore the impression I found out about all this after I spent all break with muggles. He'll likely ask questions about how I had learned of Potter contracts in general but that's for me to deal with later." Slytherin said, as he picked up a small stack of parchment and held it out, "Don't look so down about it. We could recreate some of these between our Houses instead."
He took the stack and looked down at the contracts, intrigued. He had never actually gotten to read the contracts before. Godric glanced over the top one but didn't read the details before he looked back up at Sally. "Most of the contracts were partnering to support up-and-coming masters in various fields and research and such…I don-"
"You've plenty of money, Godric," Sally countered, "It's just all in the form of tasteless art at the moment. Though I'll accept one of the small golden griffin statues decorating this place as payment if you need money."
Godric scoffed. "You'll just use the thing against me in the future."
Sally sniffed and ignored his remark. "Anyway, I'm not saying we are going to establish contracts between our Houses now. Read them for ideas for what we can do together in the future when we're physically adults and able to do things easier. And have a bloody clue what our incomes are and all that rot."
Godric nodded and looked back down at the contracts with renewed interest. There was a great deal he and Salazar could do together, with the political clout they had and would have as the Paters of their respective Houses. He hadn't really considered what to do beyond keeping Sally alive. Part of him couldn't see that far in the future yet. There was so much to consider and deal with still but—he dug into the first contract with renewed interest.
The potential and possibilities of it all were intriguing but it also had his thoughts veer back to the various letters addressed to Pater Gryffindor. Depending on what he and Sally wanted to do, and what they wanted to do together, they each would require allies beyond each other. They had time to figure it out but it meant they couldn't just ignore those letters. (There were likely old, inactive contracts for House Gryffindor somewhere in the house. He'll have to search them out at some point too.)
So once he had read through the Longbottom contracts, Godric pulled out the postal boxes and stack of letters. Sally made an aggrieved noise at his stack of letters dropped onto his careful piles of contracts but didn't actually complain.
Godric glanced at his own pile of letters before he turned to the postal box first. He pulled out stack after stack of older Daily Prophets and Witch Weeklys and correspondence for the Truley family, which appeared to be the line that led the Gryffindor headship before Liam Weasley. Most of the mail was either personal or entirely pointless to read beyond the historical worth. Godric skimmed and then sorted it all to decide what to do with it later.—The last of the old mail revealed that the Truleys were brutally murdered while on vacation in Southern Spain. Their deaths, dated 1923, were attributed to Grindelwald.
Godric stared at the old Daily Prophet about their deaths and contemplated how many of his descendants had been targeted and killed. It was probably not a good idea to contemplate how many were killed due to being related to him specifically. Voldemort had likely killed Liam Weasley because he was related to Godric specifically, in some twisted-up fuckery of supporting the supposed Slytherin side in a non-existent conflict.—And to steal his sword.
He sighed at his depressing thoughts and snagged a little orange cream-filled badger pastry.
The blond shook his head at himself and turned to the remaining bit of mail he had pulled from the postal box. He quickly tossed any letter that was addressed to Pater Gryffindor into the existing pile for later because it was all going to be rubbish at this point and then paused. A stack of letters remained. All of them were addressed to just Neville.
He hesitated for a long moment, his gaze jumped to Sally but saw the other boy distracted. Godric flipped the letters over. The wax on most were stamped with the Hogwart's seal and so he tossed them into the pile with the Pater Gryffindor letters but one wasn't stamped with any design at all. He broke its seal and opened it.
ooo
Dear Neville,
I'm sorry to hear of your disownment but glad you've already figured out accommodations. It would please me to meet my daughter's son. If you wouldn't mind paying a visit to my apartment, I'm there most hours at the moment—holiday break and all. Any time before 4pm before your return to Hogwarts should work fine.
Westerly Apartments
Flat 53 & 3/8ths
1332 Diagon Alley
Sincerely,
Teresa Bargeworthy
ooo
Godric frowned. He thought about the letter he had sent. There had been enough happening to distract him from it all. The reincarnate had half-expected the letter returned due to there being no Bargeworthys left. He hadn't expected this.
Teresa Bargeworthy—Alice Longbottom's mother—his other grandmother—had sent him a fairly distant, almost impolite-sounding letter. It didn't leave him with the impression the woman actually wanted to meet him.
He fiddled with the edge of the letter as he considered that for a moment. The Bargeworthys had been out of his life since his mother was sent to St Mungos. They had been out of his mother's life since then too, as far as he knew. If nothing else, he wanted to know why.
Godric folded the letter up and tucked it into a pocket.
oooP2ooo
(Albus)
Albus stepped out of the floo and nearly tripped over a stack of books. He caught himself and pulled his elder wand out to banish the fine layer of soot that had coated him and the surroundings. The headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwamp of the ICW, and Chief Warlock of the Circle spun his wand nervously between his fingers as he glanced over the room utterly filled with books.
These weren't new mass-produced books either. Every single book was leather bound. The vast majority were old. Older than him.
He shuffled about various piles when he realized he was alone and slowly made his way to a door he knew existed from past visits but couldn't see due to a new, utterly stuffed, storage shelf. The smell of books and dust heightened as he shuffled about. Light defused through the room from an unclear source, though he knew it was the ceiling itself—painted with sunlight.
The room beyond was filled with proper bookshelves equally stuffed with leatherbound books. Albus wandered through the maze of shelves, which had multiplied since he had last been here. The further he wandered into the room, the more modern the books finally became. Some of them were of the mass-produced variety even—which gave him a short pause as having mass-produced books was something the couple had avoided the entire time he had known them.
Natural beams of sunlight guided him to the front where the store's windows and door revealed Paris' hidden magical quarter. All of the shops were closed. The street was empty.
"Ah, bonjour Albus. What a beautiful day for visiting!" cried out an elderly woman in French as she stepped out from an aisle with a stack of the latest Harry Potter book, Harry Potter et la fée de la nuit(1), floating at her side. She flicked her wand and sent the stack of floating books to an empty shelf before she continued to his side.
He smiled and answered back in the same language, "Perenelle, I apologize for the intrusion–"
She waved his words away and claimed his arm to drag him back into the aisles. "So formal, Albus. You know mon autre moitié(2) is always lost in his books. It is good to intrude on his endless reading."
"It has been a while…and-and I don't want to presume."
Perenelle hummed as she dragged him back through the shelves to what was technically the store's staff room but Albus had never actually seen staff beyond the couple. He had been staff, the only staff, when he had learned under Nicolas during nostalgic summers away from Hogwarts.
"Mon chéri(3), look who has finally come!" Perenelle called out as she pulled him into the small, cramped room.
There were even more books piled everywhere. It was worse than Albus had ever seen it.
An elderly man, looking for all the world like a contemporary of Albus, though with a much shorter beard, pulled his gaze from the book before him for only a second to hum out, "Oui, oui. one more moment ma coccinelle." (4)
"Albus is here. Did you not want to reassure him?" Perenelle demanded, purposely switching to English to jolt Nicolas from whatever had caught his attention to the point he had clearly lost track of the time.
Nicolas Flamel dragged his gaze to look at Albus properly. A frown turned into a beaming smile a second later and the master alchemist rose. "Mon petit bourdon!"(5)
Nicolas smirked as Albus couldn't help release a put upon sigh at the ridiculous nickname, even as its use calmed his nerves. "Yes, I know you are un jeune homme(6) now…" The old man waved his arms out to either side as if implying how little he cared for Albus' adult status, which to be fair was insignificant in comparisons to the Flamels, before he directed Albus toward a chair only to pause at the sight of the books covering the seat. "Ah, we are in the middle of cataloging…"
"Cataloging?" Albus repeated bewildered and thrilled at avoiding the reason for his visit all at once.
"Nevermind that," huffed Perenelle, "you came for a reason?"
Nicolas nodded even as he moved some books at random, "Yes, your note was most vague." Finally, he made a pleased sound as he moved a stack that revealed a few bottles of wine and glasses waiting to be filled. "A glass?"
Albus shook his head but found a glass held out all the same. He reluctantly took it. Then startled when Nicolas leaned in to sniff at him.
The alchemist frowned concernedly up at him, still leaning into his personal space. "Mon jeune homme, have you moved on to raw manipulation now? I thought you've been studying enchanting in your rare spare time?"
"Raw manipulation?" Albus repeated once more being reminded of his days studying under the older man and desperately trying to follow the leaps of logic Nicolas made. The Alchemist was brilliant but did not have the right mindset or training to be a good teacher.
"flamme éternelle?" Nicolas offered before he repeated himself in English, "The eternal flame?"
Albus flushed. He had yet to properly rest and had thrown on the first robes he could after the short nap he claimed. They were the same robes from when he visited the Longbottom manor. The House elves had been particularly slow in cleaning up his things of late but this was the first time anyone had noticed.
He rambled an explanation, "No, no. I was called in to help extinguish the fire around House Longbottom's estate. Did that make the news here? The soot and smoke and everything–well, I haven't had time since–" He slowed to a stop as he realized he had thoughtlessly switched back to English.
"I shall prepare the guest room," Perenelle announced at that.
He snapped about and called out, "You needn't–", but stopped as she was already gone. Albus turned to look helplessly at Nicolas.
Nicolas swirled his glass of wine as he frowned into the red depths. He muttered, "There is no smoke without fire." The alchemist shook his head and looked up at Albus with a kind smile and noted in English, "We know why you've come as you have. Losing the stone was part of the plan all along, my boy. You need not come so formally."
"You know–but we were to destroy it and do so years in the future," Albus helplessly answered.
Tom wasn't supposed to come for it for another year at least. It had been a while since his plans had so spectacularly failed. The whispers he had sent out about the stone's whereabouts had spread far quicker than expected. Tom had traveled from Albania too fast for an animal-possessing spirit. He had miscalculated and it had led to this, his mentors and his friends—two of the only people more senior and knowledgable than him—were on a time limit until death with the stone in Tom's possession.
His elder waved his words away. "But a blink of an eye. It only pushed our plans ahead a little sooner." Nicolas looked about the room and stated, "Hogwarts will receive a donation. I am determining what should be given to each institution. Some of our collection will be given over to the old castle, at least of our books in English. Most will go to Beauxbatons of course. It is a difficult process. I have forgotten some of these books and they are so interesting to read once more."
"That is most kind of you. They will be treasured…The modern books?" Albus asked after a moment.
"We are transitioning the store to new owners," Nicolas said with a grimace. "All part of the plan, though it was originally to happen without me here to see it. No matter, though. Perenelle has made clear that it is no matter and I cannot fight it. It must be done." His gaze then sharpened onto Albus and he asked, tone dry, "Now what is the real reason you have come?"
Albus felt like a child as he felt his face heat with a flush. "House Slytherin–"
"Ah, and House Gryffindor. Most unusual. What do you believe is the cause?"
He set his wine glass down onto a tiny space of shelf by likely priceless tomes before he explained, "I fear Voldemort has taken the stone and used it to regain a bod-"
"Non," Nicolas interrupted, tone sharp as he flicked his hands out as if to cut through Albus's explanation. A little wine swished out of the glass his elder had forgotten he was holding.
Albus frowned. "Wha-"
"The stone is no more," Nicolas explained, "It is destroyed."
He stared blankly even as his mind scattered over all his plans and assumptions this fact upheaved. The old theory of using the stone's elixir to regain a body hadn't said anything about destroying the stone in the process. Albus hesitated before he asked, "Destroyed? Are you certain? Could regaining a body have ruined it?"
Nicolas frowned back at him. "Of course. It is gone. And, non, it would still exist if this fool had used it to regain a body. "
"It has been stolen." Albus said, "It's gone, as in–as in…lost…" He trailed off from trying to make Nicolas see the truth. Truthfully, Nicolas would know better than him if it was destroyed. The stone was an artifact of great worth and power. Only a foolish creator would have let it out of sight without being able to track it. Nicolas and Perenelle were not fools. "Do you know when?"
His mentor shrugged carelessly as he took a sip of wine and glanced at the book he had been reading before picking it up. Nicolas glanced over a parchment under it before he announced, "31 octobre. Early, very early."
A breath escaped Albus. Excitement and horror rushed through him as he exclaimed, "There was an explosion on Halloween. Two magical artifacts are believed to have caused it when their magic was crossed. Could the stone have–"
"Such things are always a possibility." Nicolas answered as he set his book back down, "I would have to visit to determine if it is true or not. And I may not be able to say, depending on what the original investigation has done with the evidence…but our status spell on the stone indicated it gone on Halloween so it is likely the case."
A weight fell from Albus's shoulders. "I had thought that Voldemort had returned, that he had found a way to take over the Slytherin Patership. It would have been war."
"Strange for House Gryffindor to activate at the same time then," Nicolas noted with a touch of disdain as he took a sip of his wine, "Now, you shall stay the night and enjoy a Christmas amongst friends. We can visit later to see about this explosion."
"Only for part of the day," Albus conceded. He had ignored House Gryffindor's seat in his panic. What an obvious thing to ignore but he had been expecting Tom to return for years now. There was only so much he could do to keep the dark wizard from succeeding. He would return. It was only a matter of time.
But now, if it was not Tom, who was the Pater of Slytherin? And what did it mean that there was a Pater of Gryffindor at the same time?
Thankfully it couldn't be the same person. Albus didn't know what he'd do if that had been possible. The political upheaval of having both activate was already enough without such opposing, powerful positions consolidating into one.
oooP3ooo
(Arcturus)
Elmore had decorated the informal sitting room with a Christmas tree. Arcturus glared at the offending thing, covered in the prized ornaments his wife had collected over the years. He had no idea when Elmore had the manor decorated. It didn't feel right without Mellie but it also felt wrong to not have it decorated when his daughter, granddaughter, and many great-grandchildren were coming over to spend time with him upon his request.—Well, on his daughter's insistence when he had invited her over to discuss matters.
At least the Abbott fool had bowed out. He didn't need the man to snoop on House Black business for his siblings. Arcturus grimaced. He needed to solidify his position with the founders before Mater Hufflepuff caught on.
"Mistress Lucretia, and young Mistress Morgan with her Abbott children: Lucas, Henry, Oliver, and Hannah are here," Elmore announced with a dramatic bow, hand out to direct the crowd through the door.
Morgan swept in and gave him a careful peck on the cheek as her hazel gaze swept over him, taking in his emaciated form. "Grandfather, it has been far too long. Merry Christmas."
While his granddaughter had the Prewett color of her father, the majority of her children had the Abbott coloring—with freckles.
A young girl stepped up with a determined set to her stiffly held shoulders. "Merry Christmas, Pater Black," she stated with a curtsy.
He couldn't recall the last time he had seen his great-granddaughter. The little toddler he recalled had been one of those surprise babies. The much older men that walked into the room after her, proved that she hadn't been planned for.
Still, even with her being over a decade younger than her oldest brother, she was considerably older than he had imagined she'd be. "How old are you now…Hannah?"
"Eleven, sir."
Arcturus blinked, brows rising as he realized she went to school with two of the founders. Merlin, to be in her shoes. "Well, I imagine congratulations are in order then. What Hogwarts house have you been sorted into?"
"Hufflepuff, sir."
He nodded, not particularly surprised. Abbotts were often Hufflepuffs and with her aunt marrying Armistead Smith, so making her cousins with the Hufflepuff Mater, it was even less surprising. "Excellent decision from the sorting hat, not that any of the options are lesser than the rest. Still, I imagine you have a fair few family members in the house so you aren't alone."
Hannah relaxed as he spoke and distracted him from frowning at his daughter who was shuffling worse than him, leaning against one of the twins. (Prewetts and their bleeding magic increasing the possibility of twins make marrying one ridiculous. His daughter should have had more than the one baby survive simply for that fact alone.) The girl answered, effectively pulling his attention from his daughter, "Oh we've lots of family in Hufflepuff but there's also Harry in Slytherin and Lavender in Gryffindor–"
"And the various Goshawks in Gryffindor also. I don't think Titus's brood is old enough to go to Hogwarts yet or we'd have a few Weasley cousins too," added the eldest of the men before he held out a hand to grasp Arcturus' with, "Merry Christmas Grandfather. Lucas, sir."
"You've all certainly grown," Arcturus offered as he accepted the handshake from Lucas. The twin boys, not identical with one a redhead thankfully, nodded toward him as they helped settle his daughter onto a seat.
His daughter spoke up as she accepted a cup of tea. "Oliver has exciting news, father."
The redheaded young man straightened, pulled out a fancy folded card, and held it out to him. "I'm engaged, sir. You're invited to the wedding in Spring."
"Ah, congrats young man." Arcturus offered as he accepted the card and ignored the narrowing of his daughter's gaze when he didn't immediately accept the invite. He flipped the card open and read over it. "Yalena Beamish?" He looked up as he remarked with a faint frown, "Her name is familiar."
"She is House Beamish's heir, sir." Oliver explained, "I will be taking on the Beamish name."
Arcturus nodded even as he tried not to raise eyebrows. "So House Abbott, Hufflepuff, Goshawk, and Beamish will all be closely tied together for the next few generations."
"And the Familia of Weasley, sir." the last young man, Henry, added.
An amused smile spread across his face as he looked down at little Hannah and added also, "And Harry Potter…the Familia of Potter, perhaps? He cannot be that close of a cousin in all technicality."
She lifted her chin stubbornly. "Family is family."
"Indeed," Arcturus smirked before he stated, "Family is family—remember that when you're surprised by who you claim as family." Little Hannah frowned at him but nodded.
He clapped his hands together and looked at the room at large. He could certainly see about including Black in this little political matchfest that had happened. Slytherin and Gryffindor would be pulled into the lot by Hufflepuff at some point and he would not be left hanging if he could help it, not when he had blood present that gave him a reason to be part of it.—Might not be that simple due to political goals but it was certainly an angle to investigate.
"Now sweets should be here soon enough," he announced, "I have a few little items Mellie would have wanted the ladies in our family to have. I'm afraid I didn't wrap them properly. Then, I would like to speak with your grandmother for a few minutes before we pull out a game, chess perhaps?"
Looks were shared between the adults. Arcturus wondered if Lucas was looking at the lack of Black Heir or not. If Arcturus had to choose a non-Black heir, Lucas would be his preference simply for the blood ties. But the children truly were all Abbott. He felt no pull from the House Magicks toward any of them so he doubted one would be accepted as Pater.
Elmore delivered the jewelry Mellie had set aside for the ladies before she passed away. It was short work to hand the boxes over to each while he attempted to ignore the memories surrounding the necklaces and bracelets. It was better they were worn instead of collecting dust. Even little Hannah was gifted a few items, all with simple protection magic in place perfect for her time at Hogwarts.
When the sweets came, steam rising from them a sign they were fresh from the ovens, he rose to move the discussion to his study but Morgan and her children rose instead.
"Stay, no reason for our elders to move instead of us," Morgan explained, "You don't mind me showing them the library, do you?"
"Not at all," Arcturus agreed as he settled back into his seat. "I'll have Elmore guide you back when we're done. He can also show you the games we have."
At the click of the door, silence fell over the room. He looked over his daughter with a growing frown. Orion had taken after him but his Lucretia, beyond her height and cheekbones, was all Melania. The miscarriages had been hard on her. Birthing stillborn twins had been more than hard. She looked younger than Cassiopeia or him but she looked worn through. It was possible she needed the purification rituals more than him.
"Elmore, my pensieve."
Lucretia straightened, or at least tried, and then attempted to mask the flinch of pain. "Pensieve…I had thought…" She stared across the room at him with eyes so like Mellie's. "This isn't about the Patership."
"Not in the way you must have expected," Arcturus admitted as Elmore pop-clicked in with the ancient, shallow bowl. His memory of the meeting with Salazar Slytherin was still floating within the mist the bowl magically held. "What you will see is protected under contractual privacy. As a lady of House Black, you will not share the information.–" At his daughter's nod of understanding, he waved her to the pensieve. "–Go on."
She frowned across the way at him for a long moment but decided to take a look before questioning him. He claimed a pastry as he waited. A thought had him order an elf to take most of the sweets to the library.
Eventually, his daughter slumped back against the couch when the pensieve released her and breathed out in shock, "Merlin."
"Remember, you cannot tell–"
"Yes, yes. Contractual privacy…Who would I even tell? I'm not close with any of the Prewetts. Since Ignatius died, they've all but forgotten I exist. Pater Prewett has been on his death bed for years and that's all any of them care about," Lucretia snapped, "I've only Morgan since you and mother hide away...I want to include her and her children in this purification thing. Oliver and Yalena will be expected to have children as soon as they can and if it helps against squibs it could help against miscarriages and stillbirths–"
"We don't know that-"
"I thanked the gods daily when my baby girl didn't lose any of her own children," Lucretia ranted out over him, gaze gleaming with a manic determination, "I will do what it takes to keep that from happening to any of her children.—Do you know how terrifying it was when she found out she was having Hannah? Of course, you don't. You weren't around to see her almost bleed out!"
"Lucretia–"
"For all we know, most of the children lost is because of this-this contamination! My babies were taken from me because we failed to uphold important parts of our culture and livelihood." She hiccupped as she began to ramble. "Pater Prewett's children were all stillborns too. How many children have we failed? How many more woman have lost their children because they didn't know they needed to do this?"
Arcturus rose in panic as his daughter continued to ramble and rant and grow more distressed.
"Elmore! Elmore get Morgan!"
The door slammed open a few minutes later. His granddaughter near flew across the room and dropped onto the couch at Lucretia's side. She forced a thin flask into Lucretia's mouth. A tense moment passed before Morgan slumped back with a relieved sigh as Lucretia calmed into a drugged sleep.
Lucas knelt and picked Lucretia up.—Arcturus hadn't noticed the boys follow their mother.
It took a moment for Arcturus to realize he was being spoken to as he stared at the suddenly diminutive daughter he had failed nearly as badly as he had his son.
He shook his head free of the depressing thoughts and waved toward the door when he processed the question the young men were repeating at him. "This way. We can lay her down in one of the bedrooms nearby."
Arcturus led the crowd through the halls himself and flicked his wand to light the room's fireplace. Another flick of his wand floated a chair to the bedside where Morgan was clearly planning to stay. The boys shuffled about, helping settle their mother and grandmother.
It made Arcturus feel useless. He reluctantly stepped out of the room. A moment later the Abbott men followed.
"If you don't mind, sir, I'd like to continue looking over the library until grandmother is well enough to go home," Lucas stiffly requested. His younger brothers nodded in similar emotional restraint.
He could see the blame on their faces as they struggled to control themselves before a Pater. He had failed them too. They were all strangers to each other.
Arcturus folded his hands behind his back and nodded. "Feel free to bring your mother something to read. The books do not have to stay in the library. You can read them elsewhere if you would like to have one of the House elves guide you to the conservatory or a quiet sitting room."
His great-grandsons gave stiff nods and thanks before they headed back to the library.
Arcturus watched them go before he leaned against a wall and rubbed at his face, feeling his age settle heavily on his shoulders. His baby girl was not well. He didn't know how long she hadn't been well.
While he had plenty of years of interaction with Morgan since Lucretia insisted, he barely knew his great-grandchildren. They had a support system from birth, unlike Lucretia. He hadn't been needed. And he hadn't tried to reach out himself.
Mellie had. He vaguely recalled her pushing him to go visit with her but he had always refused.
Arcturus closed his eyes, pressed a palm to his brow, and took a moment to push all this aside. There wasn't anything he could do about it now. What was done was done. All he could do was focus on House Black's continued existence.
He frowned as a nagging sensation itched across his senses. There was something—the pensieve. The Black Pater rushed back to the sitting room.
The door was still askew when they all had rushed through earlier. He stalked in and then stilled as his gaze caught sudden movement. Little Hannah sat pale before the pensieve. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Then Arcturus silently flicked his wand at the door and let it slide close.
Hannah flinched at the sound of the door clicking shut.
"You're used to being forgotten during such moments, aren't you?" he asked with a heavy sigh as he rubbed a hand over his forehead. Merlin, he had actually allowed this to happen. It was an accident. His daughter's fit had taken his entire attention. He hadn't noticed the contracts magic pushing him to secure the information, not until it was too late.—He was officially one of the fools he always scoffed over.
Hannah choked out, "Mum said stay."
Arcturus stared at his great-granddaughter for a long moment, taking in her clammy skin, before he sank into a seat across from the girl. He waved a hand at the pensieve floating over the coffee table. Her gaze followed the motion to the item and she grimaced as he asked with forced calm, "What did you see?"
Her eyes were huge as she turned back to him and whispered, "H-Harry is Salazar Slytherin. And-and Neville is Godric Gryffindor."
"You cannot tell anyone this. Not your mother. Not your father. Certainly not your Pater."
Hannah pressed her hands over her mouth, somehow emphasizing how wide her eyes were as she continued to stare at him.
They sat in silence.
Arcturus contemplated sending Elmore to Slytherin to see if he would want to do something about this or if he should place a mild curse on his own great-granddaughter. Doing so felt distasteful. It wouldn't be near as encompassing as the contractual enforced privacy. An addendum to the contract would be a better route but involved both Slytherin and the notary on Christmas Eve. The Notary would come if he demanded it if he could get ahold of the man. It was unlikely Arcturus would get ahold of him though.
He had to at least try to contact Slytherin.
"You understand that you've viewed a private meeting between two Houses, don't you?" Arcturus said finally, tone hard. "You will keep it to yourself."
The little girl shrank back and nodded quickly, multiple times. "I shouldn't have looked. I hadn't realized what it was. I'm sorry."
"I accept your apology." Arcturus paused before he sighed and added, "But I am not the only person you need to apologize to.—Elmore." A pop-click announced his senior elf. Arcturus didn't check to see if the creature was paying attention as he requested, "Would you be able to request Pater Slytherin to visit immediately."
The elder elf bowed and announced, "I be able to send along the request."
"Do so….and," Arcturus grimaced before he reluctantly added, "give permission for Gryffindor to come through also if he insists on coming. Then check on the rest of the guests. It would be preferable they are distracted enough to stay away until Pater Slytherin has come and gone…let Cassiopeia know, I suppose."
Elmore pop-clicked from the room.
Hannah had turned white as he stated his orders.
Arcturus had more tea poured for the girl. "At least drink something, child."
oooP4ooo
(Harry)
A pop-click pulled Salazar's gaze from a contract about Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment. This one was active and so far, besides the Harry Potter book series, the primary source of income. His grandfather has sold the company but part of the selling involved a percentage of the sales for two hundred years.
"Mipsy?" Salazar said in surprise. He had assumed, clearly wrongly, that the protective magic of the manor would have restricted House elf travel. They should actually review the manor's protections properly.
Godric looked up from his own pile of work, mostly letters he had been grudgingly opening and mostly burning to ash—Salazar had yet to dare ask for the contents of the burnt correspondences.
The House elf nodded uncertainly at Salazar.
He frowned at her uncertain look and ask, "Is something the matter?"
She wrung her hands together as she explained, "Pater Black's Head House elf came to Hogwarts requesting we send an invite to Pater Slytherin for visiting Pater Black as soon as he be able."
"That doesn't sound like a request," Godric remarked as he set a letter down.
Salazar nodded with a frown. "Did the elf give any further information?"
Mipsy shook her head. "Only the floo address that be open for you and Pater Gryffindor to enter through."
"Well–" Salazar looked back at the mess of contracts. "–very well," he said as he rose, "Let him know I–"
"We," interrupted Godric.
"–will be along in…twenty minutes?" Salazar guessed at how long the hike to the public floo was with a frown.
"Probably closer to thirty," Godric countered.
Mipsy nodded. "I be doing that. The floo address be 'L'île du Sinistros noire'."(7)
The hike took closer to thirty minutes. No one was in the public floo station so it took only a moment for Godric and then Salazar to floo to the Black residence.
Godric caught Salazar from tripping down a step as he stumbled through. Thankfully, only an elderly House elf stood witness to it. Salazar pushed his glasses up and carelessly flicked his hands out to remove the ash on his and Godric's clothing.
The little creature offered a deep bow as he announced, "This way, please."
Salazar glanced over the stone courtyard they had flooed into. Decorative statues of dogs with star-crowns framed the large double doors to the rest of the manor. Another set stood on either side of wide glass doors that framed a distant beach. Expensive marble floors and and walls, and three walls of wrought iron windows with a little stainglass designs was simple but lovely. Over the giant marble fireplace was a huge painting of hunting dogs in some countryside land. It spoke of wealth and the House without attacking another House like Gryffindor's foyer did.
Grey clouds hung overhead. Wherever they were, it was slightly warmer than Godric's Hollow but was expecting cold rain soon.
Once they entered the actual manor, the House elf paused and requested, "Hats and cloaks, sirs?"
The founders shared a questioning look. Godric shrug. Salazar hummed thoughtfully before he decided there was no reason to need either. Their hats and cloaks were hung inside a fancy wardrobe beside the entry. Then the elf guided them further into the manor.
They were guided through hallways filled with paintings and tapestries displaying the wealth and history of House Black. Christmas decorations only added to the sense of wealth and sophistication. Ignoring the seasonal decor, it was reminiscent of Godric's manor except it lacked any displays of killing serpents and had more wood than marble. There were a number of dog statues and paintings of the night sky and even a couple of lovely pieces of art depicting serpents.
The elf knocked on a door before opening it with another bow and announced, "Paters Slytherin and Gryffindor."
Salazar stepped through and stopped. His gaze locked on the wide-eyed stare of Hannah Abbott.
Arcturus Black rose with a ramrod straight back. His hands were tucked behind him as he stepped between their gazes. The elder said, voice emotionless and neutral, "Thank you for coming. Please…both of you, come in and have some refreshments."
"I see we've something to discuss," Salazar finally answered as he forced himself to enter properly, allowing Godric in. He circled the room and claimed a chair across from the couch Hannah sat on. A pensieve floated over the coffee table. There was a Christmas tree and variety of sweets on a decorative platter but the pensieve kept his attention too much to pay it much mind.
Godric made a slight noise when he spotted Hannah. His brother claimed the chair Arcturus had been seated in, likely due to not seeing the old man rise. The elderly pater didn't say anything and instead claimed the remaining space on the couch beside Hannah.
Silence stretched, disrupted only by the House elf closing the door and the tea service floating about the coffee table, avoiding the pensieve and pouring cups for Salazar and Godric. Hannah glanced from one founder to the other. Her hands twisted about at her dress.
When the cups floated to each founder and they accepted them, Arcturus Black finally spoke. "Due to…unexpected circumstances, my great-granddaughter snooped into my pensieve. She witnessed our meeting."
"And why would that memory be in your pensieve?" Salazar asked.
Arcturus huffed before he explained, "Viewing the memory is easier than explaining all this to my kin expected to join us for the purification rituals."
"I see," Salazar said, his gaze turning back to his fellow first-year.
The blonde fidgeted in her seat, her gaze roving about the room as if searching for an escape. She wouldn't look at him anymore.
"Hannah…" Salazar couldn't think of what to say. This was different than with the Weasley twins. They had been a threat, minor as it was. Hannah had named him family.—She had to be regretting that now.
Godric spoke up, "Fred and George Weasley figured this out, back in November. While they didn't take it well…jumping to conclusions of us possessing these bodies instead of being reincarnated...how we've restricted their ability to speak of this could still work. It won't hurt you and can be reversed when this all comes out in the open."
"What did you do?" Hannah asked quietly, her blue eyes looking at Godric hesitantly.
His brother shrugged and looked at Salazar. "Sally did the casting."
Arcturus Black made a wounded sound. Hannah's expression twisted about as she seemed to try to decide between laughing and crying. Godric frowned. Salazar, knowing it was the nickname at this point, stifled a sigh.
There was no helping the reactions. It was easier to have people become used to hearing such a nickname for him than to attempt to change Godric's habits. As long as no one else thought they could use it, it would be fine. (Perfectly fine.)
"As I said, it's not going to hurt you," grumbled Godric, folding his arms across his chest with an affronted expression, "If you're worried about Sally casting it, you shouldn't be. The stories are grossly inaccurate."
"Right," squeaked Hannah, "I–yes…I mean, I'm fine with Ha–Sal…Pater Slytherin doing the casting. What will it do?"
Salazar sighed. "I really won't harm you, Hannah–"
"No, I know," she rushed out as her wide-eyed gaze jumped to him, "I mean…" Her gaze turned back to Godric to bounce to him and then she swiveled to stare at Pater Black for a moment before she swallowed and straightened up in her seat as she looked back at him. "You're family. And you've helped all of us at school, even the muggleborns…I believe you won't hurt me."
He slowly nodded, swallowing the relief that flickered through him. Salazar leaned forward as he explained, "Well then…I will be casting a jinx upon you. It isn't nefarious but it does technically affect you negatively."
Hannah nodded, gaze intent as she listened to him.
"You will not be able to even think of us as Godric Gryffindor or Salazar Slytherin, or founders of Hogwarts. You may be able to say I am Slytherin or Godric is Gryffindor as that is our school houses but that's it."
"So," Hannah said slowly, turning a little thoughtful, "Would I just not know who you are? Like an Obliviate?"
Salazar shook his head. "No, you'll still know but it would be something that is passive knowledge, kept in the back of your mind. Similar to other knowledge where it is there but you barely, actively think of it. Like…reading, you know how letters string together to form words, and you don't have to actively think to read most of them. Technically that knowledge is coming to you but it comes and goes with no effort.—Of course, that's due to practice but its similar in concept."
She slowly nodded, her gaze twitched toward Godric but she stopped herself. Salazar couldn't help but guess that she was looking for confirmation, her instinct looking to the 'good' founder for support as she made a deal with the 'bad' one.
"It's for the best, Hannah. You have too many important family members to leave you free with this knowledge," Arcturus said before he added, his pale gaze turning to Salazar, "Include the details of the meeting in this jinx's protection."
He frowned, annoyed at the demand. "And why should I do that? You're the one that caused all this–"
"She was the one that snooped where she shouldn't have!" Arcturus snapped back.
Salazar stared unimpressed back at his apparent elder.
The old man flushed and snapped again, "I had to inform the family involved in the purification ritual of the details…The memory does not include the entire details of the agreement, of course, but enough that it is concerning. Hannah is the niece of the Abbott Pater, cousin to Hufflepuff Mater, and an in-law to the Beamish House heir, Weasley Familia heir, and a member–"
"Speaking of the matter should have sufficed," Salazar countered, interrupting the old man.
"No one would believe that Salazar Slytherin had returned and agreed to do purification rituals for the family!" Arcturus cried out in disagreement, "Cassiopeia saw the full memory due to her aid in finding the woman needed–" He cut off and glanced at Hannah before he snapped his gaze back to Salazar.
Salazar scoffed, "You had no need to tell anyone of our return. You could have easily explained it away as The-Boy-Who-Lived nonsense. Everyone does."
"The-Boy-Who-Lived would never use a ritual! You're supposed to be the paradigm of good! The moment they came to the meeting and saw you were doing the ritual, answers would have been required–"
"And I would have explained the matter ssuccinctly then!" Salazar snarled before he redirected back to the point of the matter, "Hannah sshould know better than to look into a penssieve in general but ssuch artifactss are rare and ssecured away from ssnooping children sso I doubt sshe even knew what sshe was doing when sshe leaned over it."
Arcturus Black glared, face flushed in outrage and magic shimmering about him but said nothing. Salazar couldn't think of any reasonable excuse the man could give and glared back in an attempt to cow the man from making more stupid excuses for his mistake.
Salazar spied Hannah shrink back from the outraged Arcturus and him, eyes round as magic shimmered through the air around the old man. He forced himself to sit back, putting distance between him and Arcturus—and Hannah.
"This doesn't look like a particularly secure room either," Godric helpfully noted, tone dry. His calm words cut through the heated exchange.
Salazar glanced over the sitting room and nodded in agreement. "It does not."
Arcturus hissed out, "Including the memory is required in the jinx because you'll be completing illegal rituals and that is not something to spread around!"
His emerald gaze snapped back to the old man. "Are you threatening me?" Salazar hissed back, allowing his parsel accent and a hint of his magic to escape more than before as he rose and stared at the old man. The air around Black shimmered in a similar threatening effect as Black's magic continued to shimmer through the air.
"You would blame a child for your negligencce? Thiss entire ssituation would not have occurred if you had taken more care with thiss memory. An adult sshould not put blame on a child when their actionss or lack there of were the true causse for the ssituation."
The scent of ozone filled the room as the two Paters stared at each other. Their magicks flickered in the air, clashing in a flicker of midnight blue and emerald green and sparks of static. A hint of stars around Arcturus and a black dog snarling at his side began to shimmer into existence. The weight of something slowly settled on Salazar's shoulders and the head of a viper began to appear, fangs displayed threateningly at Arcturus, near Salazar's head.
"Please just include it," said Hannah, voice high-pitched.
Salazar frowned over at her, took in her shaken form, and slowly nodded as he forced his magical display to fade away. He hadn't expected the House magicks to rise up but emotions could cause interesting responses from magick. He had seen such a display at a Council meeting or two when the Seven had heated discussions. He had never expected to be in a similar position.
"Very well," he said, "You are the one being jinxed."
Arcturus also relaxed, relief clear. Salazar glanced over at Godric and found his brother looking very unimpressed by them. The parselmouth sighed. He probably could have handled that better.
He settled back into his chair and looked across the way to Hannah. His distant cousin stared back, looking a little relieved now that it was all decided. Unlike with the Weasleys where he distracted them with flashy displays while he explained some basics of magic to them, he simply focused on the jinx and mentally reached out as he kept eye contact with her. A tug of his magic and a twist of his intent and the jinx settled over her.
The Black Pater frowned between them and glanced at the door before he said worriedly, "Well, aren't you–"
"It's done," Salazar interrupted even as he blinked away the odd echo of something shifting against his forehead. For a second he thought he could feel a throbbing ache start to spread across his brow but then it was gone.
Arcturus snapped his gaze back at him. Hannah's blue eyes widened once more. The two showed their relationship by their mouths dropping into a gape of surprise, the similar expressions enhancing the various physical features they shared. House Black's cheekbones must be a dominant trait. Cassiopeia also had them.
Salazar rose, even as he fought the desire to touch his forehead to see if he was bleeding or if it would start aching at a physical touch. Godric followed suit as he set a teacup down. Salazar's gaze dropped to the empty cup, curiosity sparking at the thought of what he would see in the leaves now. It would not be a bumblebee turning into a lion, or vis versa, anymore.
Godric spoke up as Hannah sprang up to her feet, and Arcturus slowly rose. "If that's all, we'll be hea–"
The door flew open. A redheaded woman rushed in and stilled when she spied them. Her gaze jumped to Hannah even as Arcturus stiffened.
"Is Lucretia–"
The woman shook her head, "No, Mother is still sleeping." She flushed as she explained, "I just realized I had told Hannah to stay here. I didn't want her to go wandering where she shouldn't…and…and all that, grandfather."
"Of course," Arcturus said, relaxing, "Since you are all still here, I'll have the elves make dinner for us." The old man paused and turned sharply toward Salazar and Godric. "Ah…you both are welcome also."
Salazar stared, feeling more than a little incredulous. Their goals were tied together right now but Salazar had no desire to dine with the man after his insistence on blaming a little girl for this entire affair.
"That's alright," Godric answered brightly, a little too bright but the redheaded woman didn't seem to realize, "We should be headed back, actually…Thank you for your time."
The woman blinked a few times and then frowned. "Aren't you Neville Long–uh…You're…"
"Mum!" gasped Hannah, utterly horrified.
Hannah's mother flushed and rushed out, "I mean…obviously you are." Her gaze jumped to Arcturus, utter confusion crossing her face as she asked before she could help herself, "But why is he here?"
"He isn't here for much longer, Morgan," grumbled Arcturus, "The boys are leaving."
She frowned but nodded. "Well," she turned back to Godric and offered a bright, rather fake, smile, "I hope you are doing alright, Neville. House business can be nasty. I have always been glad I didn't marry a pater and the Prewett's are a Patership!"
"Thank you, ma'am. I'll be alright." Godric offered politely as he shuffled past the coffee table and made for the door. Salazar silently followed.
Morgan moved out of their way. Her gaze flicked to Salazar and she offered a distracted nod before her attention returned to Godric. Then she did a double take at Salazar, gaze jumping to his forehead and scar. Before she could say anything about his presence, They were past the door and headed through the halls to the exit.
That didn't stop them from overhearing Hannah's mother exclaim, "Harry Potter and the disowned boy?! Both here at the same time, together?!"
The same House elf that had guided them before pop clicked into the hallway just ahead of them and bowed before silently leading them back to the entrance. Cassiopeia was pulling a cloak off as they reached it. She beamed at them, took in their less than thrilled expressions, and proceeded to flick her cloak back over her shoulders, "Dinner, gentlemen?"
Salazar raised an eyebrow and pointed out, "It's Christmas Eve."
"So it is," she agreed. The woman looked thoughtful before she decided, "I require you for the tailors—I sent a letter but since you're here we should complete it sooner than later. They will come no matter what day or time it is. I'll make it worth their while and they don't celebrate Christmas either way." Her gaze flicked to Godric. "Dressing both of you and eventually being able to take credit for it will be icing on the cake for them. So dinner at my…little estate, then robe fittings until you both have something fit for a ball and less formal events as Paters. Deal?"
"If you're footing the bill for it," groused Godric, "Sal does have what–" His brother glanced back at him. "–three parties to attend?"
Salazar nodded with a slight frown. He hadn't considered clothing for them beyond what Cassiopeia had insisted on for the Ball.
She smiled as she stated dryly, "Certainly, as long as you both don't take Arcturus being an idiot or an ass to heart for whatever must have occurred this evening."
"Ah," Salazar noted, feeling suddenly very amused, "bribery. I can't say anyone has bribed me with clothing before."
A snort from Godric pulled Salazar's attention. His brother pointed out, "There was that time in…oh, what was that village called? Somewhere in Africa."
"Those muggles were bribing us with their daughters, not their daughters' clothing," Salazar sighed out.
His brother smirked, unrepentant, "I'm just saying, it involved clothing.—The removal of their clothing but still clothing."
He looked skyward with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, you were propositioned? By muggles?" the Black woman demanded with a wrinkle of her nose as if she had smelled something distasteful.
Salazar heaved a heavier sigh.
Godric helpfully explained, "They overheard Sally speak parseltongue and decided he was a god or a messenger of a god or something—We didn't exactly speak the same language so it's a bit of a guess work. Terribly entertaining though…until we tried to leave because they apparently wanted to free us of our mortal bodies and help us return to our place with the other gods."
"They thought you were my servant," Salazar countered.
"A godly servant."
Salazar closed his eyes for a moment, now feeling a headache coming on and not certain if it was from utilizing mental arts to place the jinx or from Godric being ridiculous.
He took his cloak and hat before turning back to Cassiopeia Black. His brother was trying to get a rise out of the woman but she looked more amused than insulted now.
"So where are we headed?"
The blonde smiled and waved them to the exit as she said, "My home is on Rue Janus le chien-de-chasse."(8)
Salazar stared. The founder of House Black was a Janus. (He was also an ass.)
At their expressions, Cassiopeia explained, "It's in Le Havre. In Normandy. Our oldest estate." She paused at the huge fireplace and waved out at the dark waters in the distance. "That way."
Salazar blinked and looked out at the dark view with more interest.
"Huh," Godric offered, "so this is somewhere in the Channel?"
"Yes," Black offered before she popped open a tin of floo powder and offered it to them. "My floo address is L'étoile filante."(9)
Salazar couldn't help it, he asked, "Stars and dogs due to your House totem?"
"Of course," Cassiopeia stated proudly, "It is said that Janus was one of the first animagus. At least in this part of the world."
Godric scoffed, "The man would have shown it off if that was true."
She made a helpless noise as her gaze snapped back to Godric and widened slightly, clearly realizing they had known her ancestor. The poor woman promptly turned and fled through the floo. Salazar shared a look with Godric, guessing that there were more than a few tall tales about Janus she might be avoiding having corrected.
They gave her a moment before they each took their turn to follow.
oooPooo
House Black is originally from Normandy and they have kept alive at least a little of their heritage so I tried to show it in little ways.
I also have tried to give balance to the founders' language knowledge against modern forms of the languages they know. Godric is fluent in Old French while Salazar knows some of it. (If Salazar had lived past the Norman invasion he would have become fluent in Old French also.) There is no way to know if someone that only knew Old French could potentially understand Modern French. Some online conversations indicate that it might be possible. Others I've talked to don't think it is likely. As the founders know way more than just Old French I'm going to leave their accurate guess of the password and street name but they won't magically know modern French…unless they do some actual magic to learn it.
**Thanks to siana191, Tessy-y, AllieGlace, FreeSpirit_14, Shortsandramblings, esk95, Dragonfly_Dream, and others for their suggestions and help in making the French more accurate.
1. Harry Potter et la fée de la nuit - Harry Potter and the fairy of the night
2. mon autre moitié = my other half - a French endearment for a loved one.
3. Mon chéri = my darling or my sweetheart
4. Oui, oui. = yes, yes ma coccinelle= by ladybug
5. Mon petit bourdon = my little bumblebee, in reference to Dumbledore meaning bumblebee in Old English
6. un jeune homme - a young man
7.L'île du Sinistros noire = the island of the black grim
8. rue de Janus le chien de chasse= street of Janus the hound which is a reference to House Black's founder.
9. L'étoile filante - the shooting star