In a large stone room, lit by an early morning sun still halfway below the horizon, illuminating the room through three large windows overlooking the dark lake in a large Scottish castle, a motley group of people sat around a large round table. This group was known by many names, the assembly of the fried chicken, the council of the flaming flamingo, or for the more serious, the order of the phoenix. On this day the atmosphere around the table was tense. Most of the witches and wizards around the table were not dressed appropriately for this kind of gathering. Mismatched outfits, cloaks hastily thrown over nightgowns and other indoor clothing. Given the unexpected quality of the summons they had all received early that morning, asking them to go urgently to Hogwart for an emergency meeting of the order they state were not unexpected. Only Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore were properly dressed, figures of calm in the midst of their worries. But this was not enough to reassure their audience. Severus was tight-lipped, his eyes reddened and surrounded by dark circles, but fortunately none of the members of the order were foolish or suicidal enough to point out the obvious evidence of the emotional break down that the Potions Master had no doubt been through recently. Dumbledore, for the first time in his life, looked much older than his actual age, every wrinkle in his face more pronounced than usual and the dark circles under his eyes rivalling only Severus'. All traces of his usual joy and twinkle in his eyes gone. As if blown away by the nature of the news that had necessitated such an urgent summons of the entire remaining members of the order.
With a shaky sigh, Albus stood up as his friends and colleagues watched him with concern. "My friends, I am deeply sorry to have called you here so early in the day and without warning. I know you suspect it, but Severus and I have some terrible news to tell you." Dumbledore's voice twitched, but he managed to contain the emotion and continue. "As you know, five years ago I entrusted the young Aster Potter to her next of kin, in the hope of protecting her from the cult of personality, she would be subjected would she live with her peers in the magical world. And to allow her to benefit from the protection of the Bloodwards that her mother's sacrifice left her. As long as she lived under the same roof as her Aunt Petunia Evans, she was protected from Voldemort and those bearing his mark…"
Snape interrupted him, "Get to the point Albus!"
"Yes, yes... Last night the devices I was using to keep an eye on the state of the Bloodwards and the ones informing me of the well-being of Miss Potter went off. One showing that the bloodwards had collapsed, the other telling me that Aster had passed on."
At these words the assembly was plunged into a pandemonium of shouting and outrage. Words were lost, insults were hurled, some members rose to their feet and walked towards Dumbledore, others collapsed in their seats and wailed. Words flew in all directions, questioning each other and mourning the loss. "Was it Deatheaters?" "what really happened" "you promised she was safe Albus!" "the worst kind of people…" But all stopped abruptly when a bang echoed around the room followed by.a flash of white light bursting from Snape's wand and into the room. "LET DUMBLEDORE FINISH YOU FOOLS, SCREAMING AND WAILING LIKE THIS WILL GET US NOWHERE!
he room fell silent as everyone froze. A few minutes passed while everyone sat back down and regained their composure. Dumbledore spoke again after glancing around at the members of the order in dismay. "Severus and I went immediately to the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, Aster's host family, but were unable to interview them. The house had been put up for sale two days ago. The Dursleys were nowhere to be found and none of the neighbours knew where they might have gone.
"Headmaster...don't you dare." Severus said in a dull, threatening voice.
A shiver ran down Dumbledore's spine before he resumed. "Yes, my boy..."
"No such thing today, Headmaster"
"Yes, sorry Severus." Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued. "We do have an idea of what may have happened. According to our investigations, I made a grave error in placing young Aster with the Dursleys. We have good reason to believe that she was being severely abused and that a particularly powerful incident of accidental magic led her Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia to take the despicable action that has led to our current situation."
A voice rose from the audience, Emmeline Vance, recognized Severus, "You mean the Muggle boys you placed her with didn't kill her?"
Severus nodded. "We fear it, yes."
When the hubbub resumed Dumbledore pounded his fist on the table. "Don't panic! There is still hope! The device that monitors her magic didn't cease to function, the signal has become very weak and intermittent but it hasn't gone out. Maybe she was just injured badly enough to fool my life detection device but may still be alive and hiding somewhere.
Sighs of relief were heard and the audience relaxed somewhat.
Dumbledore continued. "However, don't get any ideas in your head, but bear in mind that however slim the chance, there is still a chance that Aster is alive. I have gathered you here to set up search and rescue teams without alerting the Ministry and causing panic!"
After more than an hour of heated debate about what to do next, the extraordinary gathering of the Order of the Phoenix was concluded. Dumbledore and Snape were the only ones still sitting around the table.
Snape turned to Dumbeldore and said. "Are you sure it's a good idea to keep the information out of the Ministry's hands? Having the aurors with us would be a more than welcome help in the search."
Dumbledore ran his hands over his face. "You are not wrong, Severus. However, this would lead to a public announcement of Aster's disappearance and that must be avoided at all costs. Besides, there are still some of Tom's agents high up in the government, and if this information were to reach them, they would launch their own search and if Aster were to fall into their hands, it would be terrible."
In a voice trembling with emotion, weakly held back by his already heavily tested occlumency barriers, the Potions Master retorted. "It's a gamble Headmaster, there are too few of us to search her efficiently and time is against us, we don't know where she might be and if she needs urgent help! The more people on her trail the quicker we can help her!"
The old man stood up and walked to the window, letting his gaze wander over the dark waters of the lake and the edges of the forbidden forest. "There is a sad error in your reasoning Severus. You are assuming that Aster is still alive, and there is every reason to believe that she isn't. Look at the big picture, if only for the morale of the population of magical Britain. They need their heroic figure, however imaginary it is, in these troubled times. We have just come out of a war Severus."
Severus' gaze turned to ice. Cold anger coursed through his veins. Albus had already given up. This gathering was just a facade. Once the man was convinced that something was for the best, nothing could make him see reason. Severus could feel it in his gut. Aster must still be alive. No corpse had been found and as long as that remained the case, Severus would not abandon his goddaughter. Once was already one time too many. He would never make that mistake again. Severus rose slowly from the table, and walked towards the door with a determined step. "So be it Headmaster. Do what you think is right, but I will not give up."
Albus watched Severus leave the room, his robes swirling behind him dramatically, the door slammed shut behind him. Perhaps it was for the best, he thought. Severus was a man already tested by life, another bereavement would destroy him. There was no need for him to admit that his goddaughter was dead. Not now. Without this final light in his life, the man would be lost, lost to the dark lord, lost to the order of the phoenix, lost to Hogwart, lost to himself. Grief filled Albus' heart. Perhaps he too should do as Severus had done and cling to some hope, however illusory. But with all his years of experience, Albus knew. Clinging to an illusion like that would only hurt him in the end. Severus was still young, he would learn that lesson soon enough.
His gaze turned away from the door as it closed with a bang and back to the lake in which the long tentacles of the giant octopus stretched out peacefully, its cold blue eyes, rose slowly, watching the banks of the lake, the emaciated branches of the gnarled trees of the forbidden forest, rising to the rocky slopes of the mountains surrounding the Hogwart's valley to finish on the edge between earth and sky, the sun rising once more towards the firmament, nothing interrupted the course of the world, not death, not sorrow, not the worst horrors, not the greatest wonders, and the death of a little girl after a brief existence at the hands of monsters dressed in men's skins certainly would not do. Far too often he had allowed himself to be drawn into the depths of grief, far too often he had allowed himself to be distracted by the past to the point of neglecting the present and the future. Perhaps this was the source of most of the mistakes in his life. Aster, Tom, Gellert, Ariana... No, this time he would look to the future and he had to accept his mistake. The prophecy had already been fulfilled the first time Tom had "died" thanks to Lily's sacrifice. Aster would not be the hero of the story. He had made a mistake and it had once again resulted in the death of a child. His eyes filled with a new determination, regaining some of their light. No, he would take matters into his own hands. He would personally see to it that Voldemort was finished, by any means necessary.
A week later in a forest in the east of England.
Severus was walking along a rocky road between the trees, the snow still covered the ground and had never melted since the beginning of winter, flying in front of him were two small pine branches bound together by a strip of cloth encrusted with dried old blood. Severus had been lucky, In the cupboard were Aster lived under some bad nailed planks he had found an old, worn blanket covered in dried blood, Oh Dumbledore wouldn't like to know his methods, but Severus was prepared to resort to any form of magic forbidden by the brainless, incompetent idiots that made up the parody of government that ran magical Britain, if it would get him even remotely close to his goddaughter. Unlike him, the other members of the Order of the Phoenix were scurrying around the countryside like headless chickens, chasing one false lead after another, without even really believing in the very real and, in his opinion, probable possibility that Aster was still alive somewhere. Albus was a fool to give up before he'd even tried, but that didn't stop Severus. The man had demonstrated his own incompetence many times over. The fight against Voldemort, the total failure of the protection he had promised Potter, Lily and Aster, the placement of Aster, and now her rescue... What a fool he had been to believe in the man. And now the rest of his cronies were showing the same incompetence in their search and the lack of trust they had in Severus because of his past affiliation with The Dark Lord.
Severus was alone in his search for Aster and frankly he was not worse off. In one week he had made good progress. He'd interviewed dozens of muggles and wizards, recovered pieces of Aster's old blood, bits of her hair and nails suitable for use in charms and research rituals. Now Severus had a lead in his hands and was not about to let it slip away. With a little luck, as the snow had held for several months Severus could hope sooner or later to find traces of Aster's passage in the area. And if nothing was found, he could continue his investigation into the situation of the Dursleys. Nothing would stop a spy like him until he found Aster while she was still alive, and Severus was sure of that fact.
After about two hours of walking along the forest path, Severus came to a small clearing, probably used as a car park by nearby hikers. The tracking talisman began to glow softly. Severus's eyes lit up. Aster was here at some point. He immediately began to inspect the clearing. Many old and new footprints covered the thick layer of snow, impossible to discern with the naked eye which were Aster's tracks. He took out his wand and a piece of the blood-soaked blanket and began to cast analysis spell after analysis spell. After a while one of her blood and magic revelation spells worked and her wand pointed to small ancient tracks buried in the snow.
Severus took the time to analyse them and after a few minutes he came to a very sad conclusion. Aster had passed through here, of course, but under very grim circumstances. She had probably jumped out of the boot of a car, judging from the depth of the first tracks, and then started running at full speed towards the forest on the other side of the clearing. One detail immediately made him uneasy, larger tracks, a full-grown man, of considerable weight from the depth of the tracks, had set off in pursuit. Severus began to follow the tracks and went deeper into the forest for a few yards before his eyes widened in horror. A tree, a few inches from the track, had obvious bullet holes.
He watched the mark more closely as his blood ran cold in his veins with horror. Only a powerful shotgun could have done this. And to turn such a weapon on a child... What monster could have done such a thing. The Dursleys were not men, at most abominations. He would seek them out, find them, interrogate them, and then kill them in a way the Dark Lord would be proud of. He returned to the clearing to check his discovery, yes indeed, there in the snow not far from the footprints, barely visible remains of gunpowder and a shell casing.
Without further ado Severus set off again along the snowy trail. The further he got from the clearing the more obvious it became. More and more impact marks were found on the nearby trees and Aster's tracks showed that she had run in a zigzag pattern. Not far past a fallen log across the track Severus' blood froze in his veins. The snow here was a pinkish hue and the track was much larger. Aster had fallen into the snow after being hit by the fire of the monster's weapon. The flame of hope was almost extinguished in Severus's heart at that moment, but fortunately for him and for many people, including a Headmaster unaware of the danger he was in, at the mercy of a very angry Severus, the Potions Master looked up to see with infinite relief the trail continue. The girl had survived the shot, and she had continued her escape. Such courage, so young, in the face of such a monster. His goddaughter must have been more than exceptional already, he thought as a single tear rolled down his cheek.
The trail continued further into the woods, the snow regularly pink with large bloodstains and the trees damaged by the pellets of the monster's weapon. After a couple of hundred yards the man's tracks stopped. A deep sense of dread stirred in Severus' back as he thought in his head why the monster had turned back here. Either she had succeeded and he would soon find the corpse of his goddaughter alone cold in the snow, or the trail would continue and bless the old gods if it did. Severus continued, his throat knotting for a few yards as he noticed something odd.
Severus was not particularly sensitive to magic, more precisely, he was average. He could sense the magic of Hogwart's, Diagon alley or the magical high sanctuary like any wizard, but no more. And here in the middle of the forest he could feel the magic in the air. A powerful and ancient magic. Even more so than Hogwart's. In this place a powerful natural magic ran wild and strong, free without intention or purpose. Neither good nor evil. Free from any influence. A sign of ancient ley line present since the islands existed his academic mind presented him with the answer. He stepped forward cautiously. He felt small, powerless, unable to cope with the forces of natural magic rarely encountered by modern wizards. The trees surrounding him were tall, broad, powerful. The air was pure, purer than anywhere else in England he had ever been. This was clearly a mystical place and he felt like an intruder upon in its quiet, in the midst of the pure, untouched snowy expanse except for the small footprints and scattered bloodstains in the snow.
Severus shook his head to rid himself of the strange feeling that had come over him since he entered the sanctuary. He refocused on his task, his line, his goal, to keep his mind on it. His goddaughter had been there and if Vernon had stopped pursuing her there was hope.
He continued walking but a strange feeling of unease filled him as he watched the tracks . They became shallower and shallower and the blood that had been appearing regularly near the track had not been present for some time. Soon the visible front tracks became only slight indentations in the snow and then disappeared completely.
The trail ended there. In the middle of an unknown mystical wood at the crossroads of old Ley line. The girl had flown away. Literally gone. No trace, nothing. His bloodmagic and aura magic spells indicated that her presence in the place had gradually faded until it disappeared completely.
At that moment Severus was divided. Should he be relieved, worried, panicked? Surely a little of all. But one thing was now almost certain! His goddaughter was alive. Somewhere. But where? Severus inspected the place one last time for any clues he might have missed before turning back to leave this place. He pulled his broom out of his pocket, one charm later and it was back to its normal size. He straddled it and set off in the direction of the nearest apparition point. He had an investigation to conduct, Dursleys to find and now with the confirmation that Aster had survived he was even more determined to find her. He would find her. Whatever it took, however long it took. For Lily, for his goddaughter. He would do it, that weakling Dumbledore could go fuck himself. He'd lost his loyalty the moment he'd abandoned Aster's rescue. Now, if Severus was to name his side. The choice was obvious to him. The Dark Lord and his little crusade, the Light Lord and his Order of the Hot Bird, could go to hell. Now only Aster mattered to him.
Sitting comfortably Albus was meditating in his office, distracted only by the little clatter of the dozens of small devices filling his office. Fawks was looking at him with a jaded expression as if he was disappointed in him for some reason. Albus didn't know, the phoenix could be like that sometimes. Strange birds that phoenixes are. Incomprehensible at times. He looked away from the bird to watch the flames dancing in the hearth, slowly devouring the logs brought in regularly by the house elves.
It had been eight months since the search began and nothing had been found. Albus sighed and took a sip of firewhisky before pinching the bridge of his nose. Aster was dead, now there was no doubt about it. No body had been found, of course. But that didn't mean a little girl could survive for so long in the wild while hiding from dozens of wizards searching for her all over Britain with the use of multiple tracking charms, ritual and all the means used in a liberal fashion by the Order of the Phoenix. It was now time to face the facts.
So Albus had done well not to attach himself to a foolish hope. Now he could only hope that Severus would do the same and accept. Yes, this new bereavement would break him, but he would have time to rebuild on a better and more stable foundation Albus was sure of this. The man was just acting strangely these days. Severus was distracted, immensely distracted, not enough to let his little 'Dunderheads' as he liked to affectionately call his students 'kill themselves out of sheer incompetence, stupidity or death wish' as the Potions Master liked to say, but distracted enough to have twice taken points off his own house this year. Severus had something on his mind, it was obvious. Every weekend he went off to who knows where to do who knows what research. The man had apparently not given up his mad search for Aster. Albus couldn't hope that he would ever see reason. But no, the real issue at the moment was that now Aster's death was confirmed.
What was he supposed to say to the public or if he was supposed to say anything at all.
On the one hand, having the news published would put an end to the cult of personality madness around 'the girl who lived' and turn Britain towards saner concerns as well as helping Severus find closure in his grief and stop his desperate search. But on the other hand, keeping Aster's death a secret was an undeniable strategic advantage. Tom is obviously still alive and willing to do anything to return to his former power. Having him and his minions chase the ghost of an imaginary enemy, I don't know ... let's say in special Dark Lord slayer training could serve as the ultimate distraction in the fight against Tom. Yes The girl who lived will serve as an effective distraction against Tom and his Deatheaters. Albus felt a little bad about using Aster after her death, but why deprive himself of such a tool? After all, what is important is not the truth but what the enemy believes. Isn't that even the basic principle of prophecies? They only have an impact on who believes them and Tom made that mistake and Albus was right to bet on it. Tom must have been in the throes of madness not to realise that acting on a prophecy, a partial one at that, is sheer stupidity.
Albus took another sip of the beverage, burning his throat. Yes, young Aster's death will remain a secret. Is that not the greatest honour he can give her? Even in death she will be of crucial use against evil. The girl who lived fighting evil in her death, was there anything more ironic in this world?
Finally!
At last! Severus had been searching for months. He had questioned countless people, he had sifted through more dirty laundry than he had ever thought possible, he had made as liberal use of legilimency as the Dark Lord.
And finally, after eight months of frantic searching, he had found them. The Dursleys were now within his grasp. A few miles away in a small isolated country house in New Zealand. Under his spell of disillusionment he flew on his broom towards the small residence. He checked his map regularly to make sure he was going in the right direction. Flying leisurely to his vengeance.
The Durleys must really be living the dream life here, Severus thought as he looked out over the landscape. A beautiful green plain, forests in the distance and a snow-capped mountain range. Such monsters did not deserve to live in the middle of such a magical landscape.
A few miles of flight over the small road and he saw the innocent little house standing not far from a small lake. Today, Severus would finally have his answers. Vernon must have seen what had happened to Aster in the forest before he turned back. After all, it didn't make sense that he'd abandoned the chase for no reason. Something must have happened.
Severus's contact who had pointed out the Dursley residence had, however, told him something strange. It had been over a week since anyone had seen the Dursleys in town. And that worried Severus slightly. Well, what could he fear anyway, he was a trained adult wizard and there were few creatures more dangerous than a wizard capable of using the killing curse.
A few minutes later he was standing in the yard in front of the small stone house with the orange tiled roof and large windows. The Dursleys' car was there, parked quietly and a balloon lay on the ground not far from a battered bicycle. Nothing strange, he thought, given the description he had been given of Dudley Dursley. A little demon, a stalker, so young and already a gang leader, beating, stealing and intimidating all those who did not bow to his reign of terror. He was hated by all but no one dared to do anything. So abandoning his toys in the garden was not surprising from such a being.
He knocked on the door and waited. Two minutes passed and there was no answer. Severus squinted and this time noticed the bell button against the wall. He pressed it several times and waited again. Several minutes and several rings later and Severus was at the end of his patience. Something was not right here. The Dursleys could only be here, their car was here and no one had seen them in town for a while. A bad feeling came over him. Something wasn't right here.
A quick Alohomora later and he had stepped through the door into a most normal entrance hall except for the layer of dust that had begun to accumulate on the floor. Coats were hung on the wall and shoes were neatly lined up against the step, a sign of the house's inhabitants, which made the experience all the more eerie by the odd silence that reigned in the house. Severus felt increasingly uneasy.
To his left was the door to the living room. He entered to find himself in a normal living room. A TV, a play area, armchairs and sofas. A warm room, well lit by the large windows, if not for the morbidly obese boy lying on the floor breathing heavily.
Swallowing, a shiver running down his spine Severus knelt down beside what he presumed to be Dudley. The boy's heart was beating but very faintly, almost imperceptibly, and his breathing was laboured. He was showing clear signs of dehydration. His eyes were wide open.
His eyes were fixed and glassy, completely dried out after being exposed to the air for so long. But worst of all was his expression. His face was distorted with intense terror. As if he had encountered one of the worst Lovecraftian horrors in the universe. Deciding to see if there was anything to salvage Severus tried to throw his legilimency at the young boy ignoring the risks for the boys mental health after such an intrusion. He looked into the boy's empty eyes and what he saw filled him with horror. Or rather what he did not see. The boy was an empty shell, still breathing by pure biological mechanism.
It was amazing that he could survive without food and water for so long. But one thing was certain. Something terrible had happened here and taken, devoured, or destroyed the boy's soul. Only one creature came to Severus' mind at that moment. Dementors. But he hadn't heard of Dementors running free in New Zealand.
This case was more than strange. He should go and warn the magical authorities of the Southern Isles Kingdom on his way out. He got up and decided to leave the scene as it was to help the S.I.K when they would arrive to investigate. He explored the rest of the ground floor but found nothing of note except that the scene was particularly disturbing and unsettling. It was as if life had suddenly stopped in the house. Kitchen utensils and various ingredients were laid out on the table. A set of small cars surrounded Dudley's living remains and a newspaper lay casually on the arm of one of the living room armchairs. It was as if time had stood still. He glanced to the clock on the wall to see the hand motionless. He shivered but shrugged it off.
Severus went upstairs and found himself in a normal corridor, except for the door at the end of it, which was wide open, unlike all the others. Not wanting to spend any more time in this frightening place Severus went straight to the open door. He found himself in a very normal bedroom, except for the furniture that had been hastily moved behind the door in what must have been a makeshift barricade. And on the floor, lying, still breathing heavily, was Petunia Dursley, in the same state as her son. The same expression of absolute terror etched on her face. Severus didn't even bother to use his legilimency on her before turning to the rest of the room.
Against the wall, head bent forward, was Vernon Dursley in the same state as his son and wife, a loaded shotgun clutched in his hands with an expression of unspeakable horror etched on his face as well.
Severus was feeling worse to worse. He had seen horror at the Dark Lord's side. He'd seen rape, torture, abject murder. But he had never seen such a frightening scene in the middle of such a normal and innocent environment. The soullessness in its empty shells, the expression of terror. The house with no sign of forced entry. The scenes of daily life subtly interrupted, as if in this place time was interrupted, but above all the silence, that perfect blue sky, without a cloud, not a breath of wind, not the slightest breeze, no birds singing, no animal cries, only the sound of his breathing disturbed the strange supernatural atmosphere of this place. It was as if the world was holding its breath waiting for something to happen. Something terrible. A violent shiver ran down Severus's spine and without really knowing why he panicked.
The atmosphere of the place weighed on him, the empty eyes of the not dead, their expression of unspeakable terror, the feeling of being... watched. The immobility total of each blade of grass he could see by the the window. Suddenly he noticed something, everything seemed a little of, all colours were wrong by a few shade, the sun didn't warm his skin, the sound of his breath felt distant, muted. This place was not meant to be. Without thinking or really knowing why, Severus started to run. His instincts were screaming at him to leave, to leave this cursed place and never return. Severus knew he was brave, braver than any Griffindors, but here. He was nothing, some- something much bigger was at work. He was lost in a nightmare. In the midst of the false normality of daily life, he had been there for over an hour, searching the house thoroughly, but the sun, the blinding fucking sun, had not moved a millimeter in the sky.
Severus had to leave and NOW. Before he knew it he was outside, in the not-so-innocent courtyard. Now the even the ball and the bike seemed out of place, He straddled his broom, cast a disillusionment spell on himself again, and sped off towards the city, as far away from this cursed place as possible. He immediately went to the local peacekeeper branch of the S.I.K force to warn them that something was at work.
A week later, still not over the experience and the deep existential terror he had felt, he returned to the S.I.K forces to get to the bottom of the investigation that had been launched after his statement about Dementors being at large in the area. But he was only met with the odd look of the Secretary of Security telling him that he had never found the house he had mentioned and that no Dursley had ever lived in New Zealand. Puzzled, Severus returned to his contact who had informed him of the Dursleys' presence and address, but who had apparently never heard of them. A quick check later Severus detected no alteration in the man's memory. Intrigued he looked at the map but were was the little black square showing the Dursleys house was nothing, not even the road he followed to get there. He wisely decided that something beyond him was at work and returned to England determined NEVER to mention the Dursleys ever again. Severus was no fool, he knew when something no man should meddle with occurred, and this case clearly was one of those. He decided to follow another trail after Aster. He would be no good to her by being dead and it was obvious that following the trail of the Dursley was a bad idea if one wished to stay alive.