Chapter 26: Ronds de Sorcières

Melania looked out the window as the sun struggled to poke from behind dark clouds, further hidden by a steady curtain of rain. They'd wanted to hike around the domain, since this was Sirius' day off and they needed a common activity for all the kids – what better way than to discover what was around the manor, especially as it all stood within the protection of the domain's wall and wards?

With the downpour outside – not enough to turn everything to mud or challenge someone's close sight, but enough that they would be drenched if they stayed out too long – they'd need to do something else instead.

That was alright. Melania would have to ask for Sirius' authorization, for the children's agreement, but she had an idea. It would still take them outside – not quite as long, less than an hour, and with raincloaks and hats no one would catch a cold, except, perhaps, her – and more importantly, it would actually be good for them all, another layer of protection in these troubled times.

Witching Rings were more of a continental and medieval thing, but several families with Hufflepuff tendencies – like Melania's, the Macmillans – had taught themselves about those anyway during the seventeenth century, right during the worst of the witch hunts. It was true that witches and wizards generally didn't die from burning at the stake, but this hadn't been the only way to be killed back then. Witching Rings, if they couldn't prevent everything, at least gave a community more power to fight back against an attacker.

They relied on loyalty, community and mutual aid. It wasn't, therefore, a surprise that families with many a Hufflepuff amongst their ranks favored such rituals back then.

...Maybe she should include Sirius in the proceedings. Helga knew her grandson was the most likely to get attacked – wounded, perhaps killed – out there.

The rain outside was just the right intensity for the ritual, and it didn't look like it would abate anytime soon. In a few minutes – whenever Sirius and Arcturus finished their discussion about the young man's commitment to both the Auror Office and whatever organization he'd joined in secret against the Death Eaters, because of course Melania's husband couldn't trust their grandson with his own life and choices – they'd be eating lunch in the grand dining room.

Melania would pitch her idea then – and she didn't think anyone would object.

The sky, outside, was dark grey. No lighting, just steady rain batting against the ground, the terrace outside covered in a thin layer of water. The great dining room was only lit up thanks to the three light orbs Melania had taken out when the morning sun had failed to appear.

One wall away, Sterhn was finishing lunch – Melania usually made dinner with him, but she left the house-elf deal with lunch more often than not. For now, the children were scattered around the manor – in their own rooms, in the library, laboratory or observatory on the second floor, in the billiard room, maybe the ballroom or one of the two sitting rooms. She doubted anyone had gone to the greenhouse, not with that rain.

Behind the wall of the domain, it was easy to forget that people might be getting murdered by a Death Eater somewhere in the United Kingdom, right this instant.

With Sirius as her grandson – with Regulus as the other, with the things Melania's husband wouldn't tell her but that she could guess from his disguised worry, with the truth that this side of her family was right in the middle of it all – it was impossible to ignore for long. Melania might not have thought of conducting a Witching Ring, had the children appeared in a time of peace.

Then again, Sirius would most likely not have been caught in what had caused their apparition. Sometimes you had to do with the hand you were given, even if that meant accepting that the good wouldn't have come without the bad.

A chair moved next to her own, and Melania realized she had been so taken with the rain outside that she hadn't noticed Altair walking into the grand dining room.

The boy didn't say anything, just sat there – he spent some time with the other children, that was true, but he also had moments of silence when he'd seek out Melania, clearly uncomfortable with so many people to call family when he didn't even know them. The situation was complicated for all of them, but Altair...

Well. Melania had her suspicions. This was a boy, after all, who'd never even mentioned his absent mother, not because he missed her, not because something he wanted to talk about involved her.

Melania kept a long sigh to herself and smiled at the teen.

"So, Altair, how do you get along with the others?"

His answering smile was hesitant, a bit wobbly at the corner of the boy's mouth.

"...Procyon's alright, and Alastor is kind. Yesterday... Dana helped me with the higher books in the library. I... I want to try and speak with Elizabeth, since she's the same age as me and Procyon."

That wasn't much, for his fourth day at the manor – but it was better than nothing.

"Is there anything you'd want to do then? An activity with the others, or maybe something with Sirius alone? We're looking for more ways to spend time with you teenagers until the start of the school year, but I must admit we don't know you well enough yet..."

Altair kept silent for a moment, his eyes wandering to the floor-to-ceiling windows and the rain beyond those, his mouth half-open.

"...Some of the others want to play on brooms. I know Procyon likes quidditch a lot, and Dana too. She'd gotten on the slytherin team back in her world, she told me."

That didn't answer Melania's question. Still, she took note to check the brooms in the garage, maybe buy a few more for a sunnier day. Two or three balls, too.

"But what about you, Altair? What do you want?"

The boy grimaced a bit.

"I... I don't know? Fa... Sirius already said he'd keep me a baby snake when he'd get Scallywag back, so..."

Ah, yes. Altair didn't know what he wanted to do, specifically, but he did want a pet, and that brought a few activities to mind, for when his wish would be granted. And on top of that...

"Do you want to go with Sirius, whenever he'll go to pick Scallywag and the babies up?"

"...Can I?"

Melania smiled gently.

"Of course you can. Do you want me to ask him, or will you do it yourself?"

The door on the other side of the great dining room opened, letting Arcturus' voice be indistinctly heard as he entered the room with Sirius. Melania looked up from her conversation – and heard the boy, just before he got up and headed hesitantly for the man who could have become his father:

"I'll do it. ...Thanks."

Melania was surprised for a bit – but this was good, this was spontaneity or close enough – and ended up shaking her head slightly. Maybe she should think of something that the children could call her. "Great-grandmother" was a mouthful and they might feel uneasy with using her first name.

And since the men were done with Arcturus' compulsory interrogation, the elder witch rose to ring the silver bell by the door closest to the kitchen. A clear toll propagated through the manor – stronger in the common rooms and more discreet in the private rooms – calling everyone to dinner.

The children trickled in, one after the other. Aldebaran, Elizabeth, Adrienne. Nashira, Orion. Shivansh, Varsha, Lamia, Almaric, Antares. Harfang. Hyades, Dana and Stefania, Alastor. Juliet. Procyon, Marianne. They all came in and took a seat with Melania, Altair, Sirius and Arcturus.

They were many, and so different from each other, and yet so similar. How could you even protect so many youngsters you barely knew, when spells and curses flew to kill and maim in their streets?

As the meal progressed, Melania kept an eye on the high windows and barely an ear to the chatter around her. The rain continued on, unflappable.

"Grandmother?"

The elder witch shook her head slowly to look at her grandson leaning from across her husband.

"Is something the matter? You've been silent since the beginning of lunch..."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow at her, concurring with Sirius' observation.

Melania looked back at the rain, outside.

"I was thinking that with such rain, we will not be walking the grounds this afternoon. However... I feel we could benefit from a Witching Ring ritual."

Her husband frowned, taken by surprise. Her grandson, meanwhile, looked unsure of himself.

"A what?"

"...Is that a Rond de Sorcières? I thought only the French did that..."

"Not only the French, no, a lot of other continental countries do use those with varying names. And we did learn from them during the witch hunts, at least those of us who have built our values around mutual aid and community."

Arcturus nodded to himself:

"Ah, Hufflepuffs, then."

Melania refrained from rolling her eyes – her husband wasn't wrong, but everyone could benefit from such values – and went on:

"It wouldn't prevent harm, but the ritual could stop a situation, before... or after."

Revenge for another was, after all, more often a matter of loyalty – and loyalty was a matter for Hufflepuff, as Arcturus had so eloquently put it.

Sirius' mouth became a thin line – the young man knew exactly what his grandmother was talking about, of that she was certain. Her grandson was more of a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, that was true, but when it came to loyalty – in its good and worse traits – Sirius was very much Melania's.

Regulus too, she suspected – he made his choices based more on loyalty than anything else, be it legitimity or rightness. Loyalty to his parents, loyalty to his friends, loyalty to those he cared about... and that regardless of the cost to everyone else.

Sometimes Melania wondered if Regulus wouldn't have been happier – and on a better path – if the Sorting Hat had taken a longer look at his Hufflepuff qualities, and less so at his cunning – discreet as it was, often unnoticed and all the more efficient for it. If he'd been surrounded by people with the same drive in their bonds to others, by people who could have taught him how not to fall to the weaknesses inherent to loyalty, instead of by classmates and family more likely to use it for their own gain.

Now... Melania was afraid it was much too late to talk to him, to try and teach him about the failings and dangers of loyalty, now that he'd most likely gotten caught in many a problematic association.

She hoped to be wrong, of course. Maybe she and Arcturus could convince her youngest grandson to stop by more often, to watch and consider his loyalties.

A bit further down the dining table, a boy's voice rose to ask:

"What's a Witching Ring?"

...Alastor again, Melania noticed. It wasn't the first time the boy – fourteen, Hufflepuff – intervened from across the table to ask a question. Curious, then, and at ease with attention, but not to the point of seeking it for himself only.

Melania answered – after all, she wanted them all to participate in this ritual, they should as well know what it was about:

"The Witching Ring is a protective community ritual, where an older witch, a matriarch, links her strength to the wellbeing of the members of her community. Once the ritual is finished, if anyone injures, magically or physically, one of the people under the matriarch's protection, the matriarch's magic against that particular person will grow in strength to ensure either intervention or retribution. Fleeting injuries only amplify power for a short while, permanent injuries and death however bring everlasting power."

Sirius pointed his fork – and its beef square – towards his grandmother, his eyes on Alastor:

"Only against the one who did hurt or kill a member of the community, not against everyone. It also has to be intentional, or at least due to a lack of care, a will to let harm happen. Responsibility, I mean, not accidents. Of course, if several members of the community are hurt by the same individual, the power boosts do stack up. Also, the amount of power granted is entirely dependent on the level of trust the protectee has in the matriarch."

Sirius helpfully didn't point out that for now, none of the children had that much trust in Melania – of course they didn't, they barely knew her. They didn't distrust her, generally speaking, but trust would be a big word for what they felt towards their common great-grandmother.

However, trust could grow and offering a protection entirely dependent on the bonds shared might encourage the teens to get to know their hostess better.

Melania's grandson pursed his lips and shook his head.

The Ronds de Sorcières had assured true protection for thousands of people in history, it was a ritual worth trying. There weren't even any downsides.

"I know the French tended to do that ritual back before they had a working wizarding government, when some dark wizard or other tried to take over one of their magical hamlets for their own fortress, or when a local lord wanted to abuse his power. They even included muggles within the protection ring, entire villages and non-magical family members, back then, before the Statute of Secrecy. I've actually read somewhere that some of the wizarding nobility in France did get their titles because they were strong defensors of their lands..."

Melania concurred:

"The Rosier family is a typical example. Their French branch is headed by a countess, and they, at least, haven't forgotten about their roots. Their ancestral domain's grounds are littered with what's left of hundreds of Ronds de Sorcières, some big enough to protect hundreds under a matriarch."

Alastor looked thoughtful and mostly convinced by their explanations.

"So... You want us all to put ourselves under your protection, right? Something to grant you the power to defend us if anything happens?"

"Essentially, yes. I'm offering, and I hope to grow closer to each of you not only for the sake of the protection I could grant you, but also through the ritual itself."

The teenager looked at his siblings – and at the others, at the half-siblings he barely knew at all but who shared his circumstances:

"What do you guys think?"

A few shrugged – Dana, Harfang, Almaric – some seemed cautiously interested – Elizabeth, Altair – and the rest looked more confused than anything, but still positively impressed with the offer.

Lamia, however, had her head tilted and a speculating look on her face:

"...Who's invited into this Witching Ring, exactly?"

Melania frowned, unsure of where this was leading, her eyes wandering over the assembled lunch party. Her offer had been for the children, of course, and perhaps Sirius if he didn't get uncharacteristically pig-headed about not needing anyone's help – she didn't expect that to happen, because Sirius didn't do prideful refusals, her grandson had other defaults but that wasn't one of them – and Melania didn't see how anyone might be excluded from that... Oh.

"The offer is open to anyone here, of course. You children, Sirius himself, after all, he is the one running around with the highest chance to get cursed, Juliet too. I know Arcturus wouldn't take it, but otherwise..."

The old wizard by her side snorted – somewhere between "and who will protect you while you protect everyone else?" and "I don't need protection!", because Arcturus did do prideful refusals on occasion – and Lamia looked mollified enough.

If Melania remembered right, she was one of the children who had known Juliet in their time. It only made sense for her to make sure that the offer for the Witching Ring included the girl who wasn't related to them all by blood.

Marianne, the further down the dining table with her brother and sister, spoke up then:

"I think it's a good idea. There's no cost past performing the ritual itself, not to us and not to the matriarch of the Witching Ring, and down the line... It might save a life."

In the end, everyone agreed to the ritual – even Sirius, since no matter how unlikely he thought his grandmother to be able to help him in battle, he also recognized that if something did happen to him, it would be better to arm the ones left behind with more power to defend themselves, even if it was only against the culprit for his own fall.

Sometimes, her grandson's disregard for what should be horrifying to think about and his ability to sail past and only care about the consequences of horrors worried Melania. Sirius was very much like the rest of his family on this point – but more so than the others, more than her husband, more than anyone else.

Except maybe Bellatrix, and that wasn't exactly a comforting comparison.

They finished eating in quiet whispers, then Melania asked everyone to fetch a raincloak from the cloakroom and wait for her in the entrance hall. She, herself, went to find the necessary ingredients for the rituals – some were common in a wizarding household, and the most important one she'd brought with her from her childhood home, though she hadn't believed she would use it one day.

When the elder witch joined the others in the entrance hall, her husband took the waterproof bag of blue mud from her hands, his large rain hat full of stars hiding most of his features.

"You'll be doing most of the work today, I can carry this for you."

His tone – matter-of-fact yet quiet and discreet, evidence that he didn't want the children to witness – was enough to drag a sincere smile out of Melania.

The elder witch turned to the protectees she was planning to take under her wing and distributed a small pebble coated in syrup of hellebore, essence of rue and octopus powder to each of them.

"Hold onto those firmly, right over your heart. Come on, everyone. We need a large expense of grass under the rain for this ritual, and fortunately we have a lot of that around the manor. It shouldn't take more than a handful of minutes to reach a good spot. When I stop, you will form a circle around me and wait standing. Dana, you'll keep your sister in your arms, and make sure she holds onto that pebble."

Melania didn't bother with a raincloak, as she was playing the role of matriarch here: she was supposed to get drenched with the rain or it wouldn't work.

They stopped their procession about fifteen hundred feet away from the manor, their footsteps sloshing in the wet grass. As requested, all the children – and Sirius, but in many ways the boy would always be one, barely past a quarter of her own time on Earth – stood in a circle around her.

Arcturus put the bag of blue mud by his wife's feet. He backed out of the circle, watching in wet silence, out of the ritual itself. Melania nodded at him, and then at all the protectees she'd soon be claiming as her own.

Once that was done, the elder witch dropped to her knees and started working. She opened the waterproof bag and took a clump of dried mud. The blueish soil leaked through her fingers almost as soon as the rain touched it, rolling down her arms and into the grass as it became more waterlogged, leaving trails of cobalt on her skin.

It was time to start humming, Melania knew. The rain would first cover the sounds, but it didn't matter: if she was doing this right, the ring of children around her would find themselves humming back without even meaning to.

She laid what was left of the blue clump in the grass, right in the middle of the circle and closed the bag – there was no need for more mud. The soggy soil spread out from the center, pushed by the rain and the magic in Melania's humming, seeking the protectees to link with the matriarch.

Blue stopped at the feet of each child – and the humming grew stronger with it, their lips opening slightly to reveal the same tune as the elder witch's.

Melania could now sing the incantations – long, low and repetitive, a true aria of promise and commitment. She stood back up, slowly, and walked to one of the members of the Witching Ring, her white hair pushed down her face by the falling water.

The matriarch stopped in front of Dana and Stefania, her hands cupped open for a token of trust. The humming girls in front of her barely hesitated – Fania, small and ignorant of what was going on, was the first to offer her great-grandmother her pebble.

It turned to blue water in a few seconds, as it came to rest into the matriarch's palm. The liquid ran down her fingers and arms – once again – and disappeared – once more – in the grass.

It happened again with Dana's pebble, with Altair's, with everyone until Melania reached Sirius – and after him Dana and Stefania, with whom Melania had started it all.

She could stop singing, then – she could check the back of her hands, then, and yes, she now had a circle of cobalt dots inked in the skin of both hands. The Witching Ring ritual had worked.

Melania threw a last look at the circle around her: soon, blueish mushrooms would sprout out where the protectees had been standing, and the magic would be complete. Soon, the protection she'd sought for these children would be hers to guarantee.

The elder witch felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see her husband by her side, while the children and Sirius moved back to the manor.

"Let's get back in, Melania. We'll get everyone dried off and ask Sterhn for something hot to drink."