He never thought it possible to find himself in this situation. Comfortably seated at the table in the small Belvedere in the large garden of Malbois Manor, having tea on this fine Sunday afternoon. Severus had many acquaintances, whether in the professional potions world, among the lesser circles of magical society, among the nobility, especially the dark families, but he had only an extremely small number of people whom he considered friends. Narcissa, Minerva and Lucius were the only ones he could put in that category. Albus had been one of them, but when he'd found out what his former mentor's decisions had inflicted on his goddaughter, any trace of affection he'd had for the old man had been permanently shattered.
And now he considered that perhaps, eventually, he could add one more person to that very short list. Since meeting Sarah Malbois when he was still looking for his goddaughter all over Europe, they had never really stopped exchanging letters, and seeing each other from time to time in this belvedere in which he was beginning to feel really comfortable, a rare thing for a place he had not warded extensively himself. Their exchange had at first been mostly professional, as Sarah had heard of him as the youngest potion master of his generation, and had therefore exchanged extensively with him on the subject. She had turned out to be a master of the art herself, and he couldn't help but feel a certain excitement at the arrival of each of her letters, curious to discover in what way she would once again surprise him on a subject in which he thought himself unchallenged. Indeed, the practice of potions in the Grand Alliance, and even more so those traditionally made by the Veela, were very different from those made in Great Britain on numerous aspects.
Their exchanges had gradually grown more personal, Severus had found himself confiding things to her that a few months earlier he would not have even considered sharing with anyone. Moreover, Sarah's advice tended to be quite wise. Her calmness and her way of appreciating moments of silence without feeling an irrepressible need to fill them with insipid chatter was also much appreciated.
Today, as more and more often on weekend afternoons, when he was not forced to stay at the castle to supervise the dunderheads he had the misfortune to be around, he had been invited to spend a few hours with her. It was always a pleasant time, away from the sometimes stifling atmosphere of Hogwarts where he felt all too often trapped. Today, their discussion had been about the best way to treat mélégneuse's root before preparing a post-scarring tincture for dark magic wounds, before drifting into the latest inane international policies of the British magical government.
The conversation had come to a standstill, both of them pensive. Only the sound of the wind in the leaves of the nearby trees and the rustling of a dove disturbed the silence. That was one of the things he liked best about Sarah, the silences were never uncomfortable with her. He took another sip of black tea, his mind wandering until it came to rest on the idea of his goddaughter. The little demoness was either brilliant or completely mad. Probably both. In any case, her plan for getting her hands on the stone this Halloween could be qualified as both. The damage that a childhood in Karrasinqi's clutches had done had been far more profound than he had expected. Many times he'd had to lower his expectations when Aster did something absurd, dangerous, or stupid.
He turned his gaze to Sarah, the Veela's eyes fixed on one of the flowerbeds, more precisely on a hummingbird hawkmoth pollinating some flowers with its long proboscis. The environmental wards of the mansion must have maintained sufficient temperature for the insect to be active. Despite the many times he had seen Sarah, she was still intimidating. Even with her large wings folded behind her back, relaxed, she inspired a natural respect.
Perhaps she could give him some suggestions on how he should act around his goddaughter. He was used to dealing with children, now with several years of experience at Hogwarts, but Aster's case was so peculiar that he was almost entirely out of his element as to how best to proceed around her.
"Sarah?" When had he started calling her by her first name again? He couldn't really remember... the change had come too... naturally.
"Yes Severus?" She asked, turning to him. Her gaze full of curiosity. It was rare for him to interrupt a moment of silence like this.
"I'd like your opinion, about Aster." He said calmly without beating around the bush.
"Oh? Is there something wrong with your goddaughter?"
Severus clenched his jaw, it was not in his nature to ask for advice, since Lily's death he had been almost alone in the world. He hesitated for a moment, but he needed... advice, and Sarah was the only one he could turn to without compromising Aster or himself. "I underestimated the damage her years with Anna Karrasinqi had done. She is... I wouldn't say traumatized, but rather that her notions of what is normal and acceptable are completely wrecked. She manipulates magics that are undoubtedly dangerous and unknown even to me, she takes completely reckless risks without even seeming to realise it. She is thirteen years old by Merlin's beard! I know I should do something, but I cannot act as an authority figure, it would only drive her away and make her suspicious. I'm afraid I'll have to admit I'm powerless." He looked into Sarah's eyes. "I need your counsel."
She took a long sip of tea, before curling and unwinding a lock of her hair around her fingers thoughtfully.
"Severus, as you know, there is no quick fix to this situation. From what you've told me, you're already coping admirably. I can only imagine what your goddaughter went through before you met, but it must have been extremely difficult. As you said, forcing her, imposing rules on her would be counterproductive. I think she needs time, for you to gain her trust, and once you have that, you can probably help her more."
"I see..." Severus said, it was pretty much the same conclusion he had come to on his own. But hearing Sarah's confirmation that to do otherwise would be unwise comforted him in a way that was both strange and fascinating.
"One thing puzzles me though, Lady Karrasinqi was a great mistress of golems and enchantress, but she was not a mage. I have a feeling your goddaughter is hiding more from you than you realize."
Severus nodded, for years now his life had been one vast chaos, and it didn't seem to be changing any time soon.
oOOOo
The room was small, its ceiling low, with only one small window letting in a thin ray of light. On the bare stone floor were scattered various tools, books and scrolls covered with notes in an unspeakable chaos. On a large black wood table lay two human forms, two faceless wooden mannequins, covered with runes interwoven with arrays. The thin, magically vibrant chiseling of the smooth wood making up the two creations gave them an almost artistic quality. In one corner of the room, a still was slowly distilling a dark red mixture, a ruby-coloured liquid, as clear as crystal, slowly flowing from the end of the still and falling drop by drop into a simmering cauldron from which wisps of strangely shaped vapour escaped, stagnating in the air for a moment before disappearing under the effect of a purifying array.
Aster was bent over the arm of one of the mannequins, a gouge held firmly between her fingers as she traced line after line of the vast array she would need for the proper functioning of her creations. The art of golem making was far from unknown to her, Anna had been Europe's foremost expert on the subject and Aster had soaked up her mother's knowledge of it. She would never have results as perfect as those Anna could hope to achieve, for that she lacked two or three centuries of experience. But with the help of the potion, the quality of her work would normally be sufficient for what she hoped to create.
She had been working on this project for several weeks now. It would be fundamental to the success of the plan. Hermione would come in from time to time to help her, but since Aster worked mostly at night, (she thanked her vampire physiology for requiring such a limited amount of sleep). Hermione didn't come around much. Hermione was not happy that she spent so much time in the small room adjacent to Severus' lab, as it drastically reduced the time they spent together reading or chatting in their bed in the Hufflepuff dormitory.
She liked to work here, isolated from the rest of the school, perfecting her creations, in the quiet, the silence disturbed only by the sound of her little gouge carving into the wood, and the steady bubbling and gurgling of the potion. Surprisingly, Severus had taken to sitting in the room while she worked. Contrary to what she had feared, his presence was far from unpleasant. He was calm, almost always silent, respectful of her concentration. Their exchanges were limited to a few short comments or questions. He spent his time in this room correcting his papers, reading the newspaper, or watching the progress of her potion. He had asked her how such a complex potion worked and what its exact purpose was, but Aster had chosen not to answer. She didn't trust him enough to start explaining that she had a copy of the Codex Anima in her luggage and that the potion in question was a much darker and more complex soul magic than creating a horcrux. Despite his obvious loyalty to her, he was still too close to Dumbledore for her to explain such things.
Having him in the room while she worked was pleasant enough. His presence was... she lacked the word. Anyway, the steady sound of a newspaper page turning, his fountain pen scratching the parchment, to say she didn't enjoy it would have been a lie. She gritted her teeth for a moment, a pain running through her skull for a moment, all the magic and energy in the place had become unbearably bright for a short while. To the point of blinding her for a short time. Since the ceremony this had happened several times. She had suspected that calling the direct attention of one of Lagaelis' consciousnesses for a black invigoration ritual would strengthen her bond with the entity, but she had not expected this. If only she could reach Kav-deb, she needed his guidance badly. She massaged her eye with her free hand, momentarily interrupting her engraving work. There was not much more she could do about it at the moment.
The tinkling of a small bell sounded, pulling her out of her thoughts. It was time. She put down her gouge, straightened up and walked towards the cauldron. She turned off the tap on the still, lowered the heat slightly, and made seven counter-clockwise turns with a thin glass rod. Then she took a moment to clean the still, she needed it to be perfectly clean so that she could begin the next distillation.
Once the still was clean, she took the plate engraved with the prepared array, infused it with the necessary amount of magic, then took out her wand, and murmured, "translocationem de manu mea in conspectu mentis meae" as she described a spiral, three loops and a curved v with her wand. The array plate disappeared from her hand and appeared inside the still. Translocatio, a spell she had learned from a book of magical medicine in the library. It was normally used to transfer potions or food directly into the stomachs of patients unable to swallow, but she had quickly discovered that the spell could have a much wider use. She now understood why she had read in a defence book that all the robes of people rich enough to afford them were enchanted to prevent the application of minor translocation spells on their wearer. Poisoning someone with a well-placed translocation spell would otherwise have been unbelievably easy.
She poured the dream-capture potion she had prepared in advance into the still, placed it back on the flame rune stone, and turned the tap back on, the potion would now go into the second phase of refinement. It would take a day or two for the incorporation to be completed. Satisfied, she nodded and stood up. Then she met Severus' eyes, who had lowered his newspaper to watch her work. No wonder. The man seemed fascinated by the way she was incorporating arrays into the preparation of the potion. His mind and his curiosity as a master of the art must have been piqued. She gave him a small smile before picking up her gouge and getting back to work. Seeing his displeasure at her refusal to explain anything to him about the potion was infinitely amusing. At this, Severus merely raised an eyebrow and took a sip of tea. The message was clear, he would not allow her the satisfaction of seeing him so confused.
As the professor took a second sip, a genius idea occurred to her. Perhaps she could use her recent frustration with the enchanted ceiling at Hogwarts to have a little laugh. Sure, the school was built at the crossroads of some of the most powerful ley lines she had ever seen, powerful enough that she could see them as glowing lines of magic in the ground despite their unmistakable depth, but that didn't give a ceiling the right to be such a spatial twisting point! She restrained herself from gritting her teeth, and instead assumed her best curious and innocent demeanour.
"Severus? Did you know that the ceiling of the Great Hall teleports those who cross it to the sky above the lake?" she asked in the most innocent of voices.
The reaction was immediate, Severus spat out his tea in a spray, which, had she not put a barrier of minor aegis around her potion would have probably ruined him. He coughed uncontrollably as he pounded his chest with his fist to try and help himself catch his breath. "How?" he finally managed to articulate.
Seeing her laugh, he watched her for a few seconds. "I didn't expect your humour to be so childish, Miss Karrasinqi." He said in the condescending tone he reserved for insolent students. "Lying for so little? I'm disappointed."
She wiped a small tear from the corner of her eye. "Severus, it's true, I found that out the hard way."
"You... you..." he stammered before squeezing the bridge of his nose and letting out a deep sigh, before muttering something about resigning and a well-deserved retirement.
oOOOo
In the half-light of the first year Hufflepuff dormitory, behind the thick yellow canvas curtains that surrounded their four-poster bed and hid them from the world, Hermione couldn't contain the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips. Aster was snuggled up against her under the covers, nibbling her wrist playfully. For the past few weeks, she and Aster had settled into a comfortable rhythm. Aster drank a little every night, just a sip or two. At first, Aster was hesitant, but Hermione had managed to convince her that it was the right thing to do, plus, Hermione had noticed that she found it much easier to fall asleep after a little bite from Aster.
It had even become a sort of game. Aster would jump on her before playing wrestle for a few minutes, then the little vampire would invariably win and claim her reward. A reward that Hermione took great pleasure in giving as always. Especially since Aster had taken to clinging to her koala-like, or inflicting some other form of cuddle before biting her wrist. Tonight, Hermione had fought back well, and had only been defeated after a good five minute struggle. It was a good thing she had thought to put a silence spell around their bed, or the other girls might have imagined things. The thought made her cheeks flush. She knew it was normal to have these thoughts at fourteen. Teacher Helene had explained things to her when she had started to feel that way. It had been a long and embarrassing discussion, so she had preferred not to think about it for a week before reading every book on the subject she could get her hands on. She'd learned some more than useful things, it had turned out that witches had much more comfortable ways of dealing with their body issues than muggle women.
In the weeks since Aster's ceremony, she had thought long and hard, searched the library. (Not that it had been much help with her problem, but books had always been her allies.) She had replayed in her mind over and over again her reactions to Aster's presence, the burning jealousy she felt when another Hufflepuff dared to take Aster in their lap. The powerful affection during their long moments together, reading, working, talking about everything and anything, scheming... The most visceral fear that had invaded her when she had seen the evil Lycan pointing his wand at Aster while her back was turned. The fact that she was dying for Aster to bite her somewhere other than her wrist... She had to face the fact that she felt more than friendship for Aster, and had for much longer than she dared admit to herself.
Aster was still playing with her forearm, licking and nibbling around her wrist without digging her little fangs in. It almost tickled her. The fact was, she was more than certain that Aster only saw her as a friend. Her best friend, no doubt about it, but nothing more. Her heart sank at the thought, she could only hope that Aster would realise the obvious. She couldn't be too aggressive either. She knew her friend well, Aster would run away. But maybe a little push here and there would help Aster open her beautiful eyes? Suddenly bold, she grabbed Aster by the waist and lifted her above her. Not that it was difficult, Aster was far too light. Visibly surprised, Aster blinked as she watched her. "Hermione? What...?" She asked.
Aster looked terribly like a cat in that position. Especially in her black flannel pyjamas. Two large, surprised green eyes were focused on her, and Hermione couldn't hold back a small laugh before hugging Aster to her chest.
"Don't you want to bite anywhere but my wrists? It's starting to hurt a bit." It was the crudest of lies, when Aster was done, she always took great care to make sure Hermione didn't feel any discomfort. But Hermione was not above this low tactic to get her way.
"Are you sure?" She heard Aster whisper. As much as Aster could show no mercy to her enemies, she could be awfully sweet to her. Hermione could never get enough of the feeling of being pampered and appreciated whenever Aster asked that kind of question.
"Yes I'm sure, I know you're hungry. What are you waiting for to bite, little demon?"
" You asked for it!" exclaimed aster before sinking her little fangs into the skin of the junction between her neck and shoulders. Hermione couldn't hold back a small scream at this sudden attack, Aster usually took care to apply her numbing saliva before biting. She must have really pissed her off to get to this point. Perhaps lifting Aster had been unwelcome, since she hated any reference to her small size, whether explicit or implicit. Treating her like a kitten might not have been the best idea.
A few minutes later, Hermione was panting, a satisfied Aster curled against her side. It would be a lie to herself to say that she didn't appreciate being the victim of Aster's little aggressive jab, especially when she had spent a good five minutes making sure she hadn't hurt her afterward, remorse clear in her eyes.
"Aren't you going to keep working on the puppets?" Hermione asked, it had been weeks since almost every night Aster had left her to work on the final details of the stone's theft plan.
"Not tonight...the potion is finished and the final adjustments have to be made at the last minute."
"I'm glad you're finally done. I missed sleeping with you." Hermione admitted in a small voice.
"Me too." Replied Aster, Hermione couldn't help but feel a pang of joy in her heart. "You're the best pillow in the world," Aster added. Hermione groaned... romantic and Aster unfortunately did not go together.
"I don't know if I should take it well. I'm not meant to be your pillow."
"It was a compliment." Aster defended herself with an adorable pout.
"You insufferable little vampire," Hermione grumbled.
"Hermione?"
"Hm?"
"I think I made a mistake."
"What do you mean?"
"During the ritual, when i invoked an aspect of Lagaelis to cast a blessing. I think it did something to my magic, I'm not sure what's going on, but I feel like my connection to Lagaelis is growing in an unsettling way."
"How worried should I be?"
"I don't know..."
"You're not helping me, Aster. Isn't there any information about this sort of thing in any of the libraries we have access to?"
"Maybe in Alexandria, or at Miskatonic University. But I wouldn't bet on it. Black magic and the links with entities and powers is not a very studied subject in this world from what i gathered."
"Miskatonic University?"
"Anna told me about it. An American magical university that works in collaboration with muggles, all under secrecy spells or something like that. From what I know they're on the cutting edge of ritual magic, alchemy, and pretty much everything else that's considered forbidden magic in the rest of the world.
Hermione frowned. "The MACUSA, they let such a university exist?"
"Yes, in exchange for access to secret defense magics, just to give America a head start in case of war..."
"And I suppose going there is not really an option..."
"No, not while we're at Hogwarts, having a link to Miskatonic is a one-way ticket to the Ministry's Unspeakable Prisons."
"There are no other options?"
"The Imperial Khrè yujul libraries must have a lot on the arcana of dark magic, but trying to access them is a single ticket to summary execution or worse. I'm a wanted person for them, I remind you."
"And the Fahri? They seem to like you."
Aster's eyes brightened. "Excellent idea Hermione, I could try to go through them for access to the archives of the great caravan. It'll just take a long time to get an answer..."
"I don't suppose there's anything better to do?"
"No... I'll keep thinking..."
"Do you think it's dangerous?" Hermione asked, a lump of worry forming in her throat. It was true that since the ritual, Aster's magical eye tended to glow brighter than usual when she wasn't paying attention or watching something with it.
"I don't think so, not at the moment, but with black magic and the entities, you're never really sure. Kav-deb was the one who chose to summon Lagaelis in the first place to help me, and I don't think he'd choose an entity he didn't think was safish. It's not like he made a contract between me and Namagog the marrow eater, or Czunkillath the tracker. From what I've read, Lagaelis is one of the least crazy of the bunch."
"I don't know if I want to know about the two you just mentioned." Hermione said.
A shiver ran down Aster's spine, telling her what to think about those two examples before she even answered. Aster never shivered in fear unless it was serious, very serious. "No, you don't want to know them. If you ever come across a book that mentions them, you close it right away, and put it away where you'll never have to see it again. Promise me." Aster said as she straightened up and got on all fours over Hermione, looking her straight in the eye, her big green eyes seeming to pierce her soul.
"I promise." Hermione said as she swallowed. She couldn't help but blush, she was... enjoying the position she was in now. An idea crossed her mind, grab Aster's cheeks, and pull her towards her to... no, bad Hermione, Aster doesn't feel that way about you.
To her chagrin, Aster nodded and just lay on top of her. "Aster? You're on top of me." Hermione remarked rather unnecessarily.
"I know. This is your punishment for lifting me like that earlier."
Hermione placed a hand on Aster's back and let her gaze drift to the canvas that served as the ceiling of the four-poster bed. If this was the kind of punishment Aster was planning to inflict on her, she wasn't sure she would be able to stop herself from committing a 'mischief' or two every now and then.
oOOOo
A smile came to his lips, Halloween never failed to bring joy and colour to the ancient castle. To his amusement, some of the students had dressed up as various magical creatures. He had been unable to contain his laughter when earlier today he had come across the young Aster Potter dressed as a vampire. The disguise suited her perfectly. Swarms of enchanted bats flew through the corridors, and Hagrid's giant carved pumpkins levitated peacefully and decorated the tables in the Great Hall.
The atmosphere was most joyous, with laughter and lively discussion echoing through the hall as everyone gorged themselves on sweets and other foods prepared especially for the occasion by the castle elves. Only a few Slytherins and Ravenclaws looked glum. Albus had pushed for the integration of the muggle holiday celebrations into Hogwarts, but as much as it gave a welcome sense of familiarity to the muggle born having to deal with a new culture so different from their own, it irritated the practitioners of the old pagan celebrations. The atmosphere of Halloween and Samhain was after all radically different. He had no doubt that the students concerned would be having their own private celebration that night in their dormitory.
Unfortunately, the mood at the teacher's table was not nearly as cheerful as he would have liked. Minerva, Popy and Severus were chatting privately under a spell or ward of silence while Filius thoughtfully swirled his wine in his glass. Pomona and Poppy chatted half-heartedly about the latest edition of the Prophet and its glaring lack of any content of interest. Septima, Aurora, Filch, Sybill and Bathsheda were the only ones unaffected by the sombre mood at the table. Silvanus was absent, having been horribly scratched and bitten by the small horde of Kneazle he had wanted to show his students. He didn't know what could have triggered such a reaction from the felines (he suspected that two red-headed twins had slipped catnip into the teacher's pockets, but he had no evidence to take any disciplinary action. ) Quirinus was mumbling in a low voice, bent over one of his books, his plate forgotten. Arif was also absent, probably busy studying a new muggle artefact. Hagrid, the friendly half-giant was away too, he had reported a strange commotion in the forest and had gone to investigate.
Since Aster's return, he had completely lost the support and trust of much of the teaching staff. Minerva never missed an opportunity to let him know her displeasure with the Potter girl's situation and his past actions. Her pleasant evenings of drinking with Filius were a distant memory. Severus, though less vocal than his colleagues in his opinion of him, had proved far more acerbic. Not to mention Pomona, who seemed to take great pleasure in regularly reminding him what a happy, sweet, respectful, intelligent girl Aster was... and how surprising that was given what his actions had exposed the child to in her young years.
At least the scandal of the Potter girl's reappearance had seemingly run its course. The wizengamot's opinion of her was divided. The old dark families historically close to Tom's movement had jumped at the chance to try to discredit him further. The dark nobility, with their ideals of preserving traditions and reauthorising the use of magics recently banned by the ministry, had fortunately remained neutral so far, probably to join the faction that would take over in order to advance their own agenda. The neutral parties had fortunately remained neutral, but he had to be careful with his next actions, otherwise, the next time he made a mistake, the nobility claiming independence for their community could use his weakness to gain strength and divide Great Britain even further. Some had even approached him, hoping that he would support their cause, judging the fact that he had chosen to hide Aster Potter abroad as a lack of trust in the current institutions. The light parties had also asserted themselves against the actions of their opponents and taken more aggressive positions recently. For nearly a decade, the status quo had been maintained, with old tensions bubbling just below the surface. He feared that the Aster affair would be used as a pretext for the more extreme factions to act. He had to find a way to calm things down, sporadic clashes had already occurred between certain private militias, he couldn't let things get out of hand, he had to find a cause behind which to unite the various noble houses.
He sighed, letting his gaze drift to the Hufflepuff table, where Aster was sitting with her protective group. Hufflepuff seemed to do wonders for the young Potter. She had immediately found herself in a warm and close-knit group that had taken her under its wing. He had watched the young vampire carefully since her arrival, and he had witnessed how her group of friends had protected her from the unwanted curiosity of the other students, all of whom were eager to know more about the illusion that was the girl who lived. He was sure that such a traumatised girl would not have known how to react to the blind admiration of some, and the hatred of others. He could not, after all, be blind to the hateful looks the young Malfoy was giving Aster. She must have been unaware of his existence.
He had, of course, been informed of the creation of her little history club. An excellent initiative after the unfortunate departure of Binns. He really didn't need the work that went with recruiting a teacher on top of all his other duties. He'd also taken the time to meet Aster's guardian, Nailla, a lovely Nymph who, though unhappy with the story he'd pushed Aster to tell the media and her peers, could only be an excellent influence on the young vampire.
He would have preferred to place her in one of the families of his close allies, but he couldn't afford to alienate a foreign power. Aster had, after all, made an excellent impression on Ulthar. His request to visit the nation had been denied, but what Nailla had said about it had been enough to allow him to discern a fairly accurate picture of Aster's time among the matagots.
With luck, the influence of Nailla and her new friends would allow Aster to rid herself of any bad influences Karrasinqi might have had on her. True, Aster had denied that Dark Lady Karrasinqi had been anything but loving, but Albus doubted very much that the girl could be objective about her adoptive mother.
He hoped that when Alastor finally woke up completely from his coma he would be able to enlighten him about what he had seen during the battle with Karrasinqi, perhaps then he would know more about the life Aster had led with Karrasinqi. Unfortunately, even though the last he heard he was slowly coming out of his coma, the doctors had told him that it would be several months before he was able to accept visitors.
He felt a slight chill run through the castle wards. He raised an eyebrow, but when nothing else happened he took another sip from his ornate silver goblet, and returned to his thoughts. Pomona had forwarded him a request from the history club for an outing during the winter holidays to visit ancient ritual megalithic sites in Britain to learn more about the islands' early great magics. The sites of Calanais Standing Stones and Stonehenge were on the list. Frankly, Dumbledore himself was tempted to join the excursion. In his long life, he had never really been interested in ancient history, and this was a gap in his knowledges that he was very much tempted to fill. But unfortunately, he would have to stay in the castle. He had no reason to refuse, Severus, as Aster's godfather, and Nailla, her adoptive mother, were listed as escorts. Having nothing to reproach the proposal and not wanting to draw further ire from his colleagues, he had signed the form.
He couldn't contain a chuckle at the thought of Severus, which earned him a curious look from Aurora. Since he had found his goddaughter, the man had changed drastically. Where he had been an empty, sullen, angry shell for years, there was a new man. It had been years since Severus had looked so alive and involved, though visibly tired, he could swear he had seen the man smile several times. Something that a few months earlier would have seemed impossible.
His gaze drifted to the long table of Gryffindors. Always the loudest and most demonstrative of the four houses. Although he wished he could say he was impartial, it would have been a lie. The Gryffindors would always be his favourites. Not for their courage, or their honour, but for their brutal and transparent honesty. Nothing warmed her heart more than seeing all those young lions exchange more openly and sincerely than any other house. In Slytherin, and Ravenclaw, this sort of thing was unthinkable, minds, though sharp, were never left so free as in Gryffindor. Such freedom might have existed in Hufflepuff, but the Badgers were just generally too benevolent and sensitive to the opinion of the group to be as frontal in their disagreements as the Gryffindors.
Neville Longbottom, the one he had so long believed was not the object of the prophecy, was talking to young Ronald Weazley. The two youngsters had quickly grown closer, once Ronald had given up all hope of getting close to Aster, too intimidated by her cohort of Hufflepuffs accompanying her everywhere to go to her. Albus was quite pleased with young Neville. The young man, though shy, showed great courage and determination. He had already started to investigate the stone, having been put on the right track by dear Hagrid, who although he could be an exceptional friend had all the difficulties in the world to keep a secret.
The young man was already on his way to becoming the hero Britain would need to get rid of Tom once and for all. A new great hero of the light. Perhaps in his third or fourth year he would offer him personal training. He was sure that young Neville would be flattered to have the opportunity to learn under such an eminent master as himself. Perhaps even...
His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the sensation of his connection to the wards shaking alarmingly, and by the door to the great hall opening with a bang. There was immediate silence, all heads turning towards the entrance.
Hagrid stumbled and limped down the wide aisle between the tables. His thick clothes were torn, his massive body covered in a multitude of wounds and scrapes of varying depths, his eyes were agar, devoid of the glow they usually held. His lips trembled, but no sound came out, except for his ragged breathing as he moved as fast as he could towards the teachers' table.
Dumbledore leapt over the table with a grace and skill normally impossible for someone his age. As Hagrid fell to his knees, he grabbed him by the shoulders and looked into the half-giant's eyes. "Hagrid, my boy, what's going on?" he asked in the calmest voice he could muster.
A large tear rolled down the ground keeper's cheek, a deep pain distorting his features. "Aragog is dead, they're coming, they're hungry," he whispered in a broken voice.
A chill ran down his spine as his blood ran cold through his veins, it couldn't be...no..." Hagrid, look at me, I need to see."
Hagrid nodded, and opened his mind to him, vulnerable. With a flick of his wand, he plunged into the half giant's mind.
Thousands of glowing, hungry yellow eyes, the sound of endless claws pounding on the ground, a swarming multitude, devouring darkness, the forest rumbling, insatiable hunger, the light of the castle, soft and warm, pulsing, delicious flesh, they were coming.
He tore his mind away from Hagrid's as he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
He held his wand to his throat, and his voice echoed through the hall, louder than thunder, a command that could not be questioned. "No one moves, no one leaves the Great Hall. I declare the castle under siege."
He closed his eyes, letting his magic, the titanic dragon sleeping inside him that he had so long ago tamed, awaken again. His skin flushed with flashes of pure energy as the death wand twirled in his fingers, vibrating with excitement as his magic ran through that unspeakable wood. He had long ago anchored the most powerful spells in his magic, they were always ready to respond to his will, their form prepared.
With a wide arc of his wand, all the walls of the great hall glowed with a powerful golden light, infused with an impenetrable mystical glow. It had been a long time since he had used his realm spells, the last time being during his last confrontation with Tom. All the doors and windows of the great hall were covered with an impenetrable grey veil. The children would be safe, Hogwarts would see no pupil die under his watch.
"Minerva! Filius! Severus! Quirinus! Bathsheda! With me! At once! The rest of you, watch over the students, no one leaves this hall until the state of siege is lifted!"
All the colleagues he had called were already on their feet, walking quickly towards him. "What's going on?" Minerva asked, concern audible in her voice.
"I'll explain outside, no need to panic the children." He said gravely. He could feel the wards creaking, he had to act fast. With a command from his mind, the wards shifted slightly to allow what he was about to do. He frowned, space magic unsupported by the ministry's cover of apparition was always a complex thing. He hadn't fully anchored this spell in his magic, fortunately it was only one of the second tier, he could easily shorten it. He drew three large circles with his wand, then a dozen runes of light as he quickly incanted. "spatium, inane expansa, tibi mando et precipio, discerpendo ac flecto ad voluntatem meam, cognosce dominum tuum et cede eius potestati. iubeo et dilacerare." It was not the most subtle of magic, far from it, but speed was of the essence. With a wrenching scream like that of a thousand demented souls, the great hall around their little group distorted, giving way for a brief moment to an unspeakable chaos of discordant kaleidoscopic colours.
With a violent thunderous crack they appeared just outside the great door, at the top of the stairs leading to the shores of the lake and the vast forbidden forest. A chorus of horrified voices and curses, some of which he had never heard before, surrounded him. He could not blame his colleagues. The situation perfectly justified the use of such invective.
A veritable ocean of yellow eyes and vile shapes swarmed before their eyes. Pouring out from between the trees of the forbidden forest in an uninterrupted stream. A tide of clawed legs, pounding the ground in a deafening din, the last of the evening light reflecting off myriads of sharp mandibles. Some were the size of large dogs, others the size of horses. A thud drew his attention. Quirinus had collapsed to the ground, passed out. He sighed, he had had no choice but to recruit the man. The man was ill and had not long to live. No one else wanted a job that was known to kill quickly those who took it. With a flick of his wand, he sent the unconscious body of the professor inside the castle towards the infirmary.
"Albus?" Minerva said in a strangled voice.
He watched as the swarming mass approached, began to climb the walls and steps of the castle. No doubt attracted by the smell of the children in the school. There were too many of them, he had to get rid of them all at once, not allow any to escape. He needed time, the spell he needed to sweep away so many magic resistant creatures in one go was a tier four after all. With a flick of his wand, a great Phoenix of flame appeared, the form radiating a solar radiance, hurtling towards the swarm of acromentulas scaling the stairs. The air was soon saturated with the smell of charred arachnid flesh, as the flaming phoenix reduced the first wave of the creatures' onslaught to ash. He exhaled slowly. It had been far too long since he had wielded such magic.
"Push them back, I need some time, don't let them get near the door."
"The stone." Severus said worriedly. "It could be a distraction to steal the stone."
Albus frowned, Severus was right, perhaps he should be sent to guard the stone, but..." Forget the stone Severus, the children's lives are more important, I need you here." he declared. Severus nodded, looking both concerned and relieved.
He pointed his wand at the sky, making a series of movements he hadn't had to make since his duel with his former lover. Murmuring the long litany of the incantation. It would take him several minutes, he hoped his colleagues would be able to hold off the onslaught long enough.
Bathsheda had already begun to carve protective runes into the stone floor around them quickly, taking advantage of the brief respite his spell provided.
Minerva was transfiguring huge stone golems easily the size of a giant, jointed colossi glowing with bluish magic. Sending them immediatly charging into the mass of arachnids.
Filius cast spell after spell on the arachnid tide, wielding his elemental magics to char, freeze, thunder or disintegrate any acromentula that dared to come too close.
To his regret, Severus had not changed his old ways. He cast darker and darker spells on the arachnid masses, driving some of them mad, causing them to attack their fellows, conjuring clouds of acidic mist, turning the ground into quicksand... Unfortunately, he couldn't fault his method for its effectiveness.
His magic was taking shape with each new word, each new movement of his wand. The wind was picking up, thick luminescent clouds were slowly forming in the sky, swirling far above him. He could feel the air around him becoming charged with crackling energy, only a few minutes left.
Dozens of acromentulas were now crashing against the shield of runic energy Bathsheda had built around them, strengthening them with new runes. Despite Minerva's concentration, her huge golems were not enough, they were crushing, smashing, dismembering the acromentulas relentlessly, more and more were coming. A thin layer of sweat was visible on the surface of Filius' forehead as he sent spell after spell at the creatures, sending them flying by the dozens with each of his powerful battle banishment spells. Severus's breathing was ragged, the effort visible on his face, his hand trembling around his wand. He had abandoned the poisonous mists and concentrated on manipulating the minds of the acromentulas, causing dozens of them to turn on their sisters, gutting each other in unspeakable carnage.
He could feel the castle wards shuddering under the creatures' repeated assaults, it had to stop, it had to end.
Albus spoke the last words of the litany, the magic so dense around him that it had become visible as a silvery haze. The clouds in the sky had taken on the shape of a hurricane, spinning faster and faster, flashes of magic running through the dark clouds form. "ultimum lumen fulgur," he said at last, lowering his wand to the swarming masse. The ancient Roman war spell was meant to be cast by a coven, seven mages multiplying their power. But Albus wasn't a cheap wizard, this sort of thing was why he was known as one of the most powerful mortal mages in Europe after all.
The sky ripped open, revealing a second sun illuminating the valley for a brief moment, and then a thunderous sound that was so powerful that he feared Poppy would be forced to restore his eardrums afterwards. A light so bright crashed into the valley that it blinded him for a moment, making him feel as if his skin was on fire, even behind the runic shields of Bathsheda.
He blinked, a deathly silence had fallen over the valley, he could only hear a long hiss in his ears. He couldn't tell if it was his eardrums that had burst, or if it was really over. His vision was streaked with shifting patches of light, his retina surely recovering from what it had just endured. He heard Severus' voice as if through a thick layer of cotton. "It's over. I see no survivors," he was saying.
He closed his eyes and let out a long breath. Every limb ached, it had been so long since he had run such a phenomenal amount of magic through his body in such a short time. All he wanted to do was get back to his bed and throw himself a stupefy, like Alastor tended to do when he was having trouble sleeping.
"Albus, I think it's time to contact the DMLE and the hit wizards, we need to secure the school, make sure none of these... monsters are left, and investigate how the hell such a thing could have happened." Minerva said in an angry voice.
He grunted and let out a long, painful sigh. It was going to be a long, long evening.
oOOOo
The long corridors of the castle were deserted, the sounds of the party in the great hall could be heard in the distance, like a murmur carried through the vast empty spaces of the endless halls. Even the paintings seemed to have joined in this day of Samhain or Halloween, depending on one's sensibilities. Most of the frames had indeed been deserted.
In the depths of the dungeons, where the carved stone walls had given way to rock-cut passages, where the icy dampness of this late autumn was becoming more and more prevalent, Aster and Hermione walked, hidden under their invisibility array. Their goal was near. Aster clasped Hermione's hand in hers, she was ready, their alibi was perfect, the diversion would soon begin, she had her battle staff with her and enough array to turn anyone who tried to stop them into a black smudge against a wall. If all went well, she would have the stone in her hands within the hour.
Voldemort and his puppet would soon join them, she didn't like to admit, but the suggestions and amendments to their plan that the man had offered had been most helpful. Without him, their alibi would surely have been shattered. The information he had on Dumbledore was invaluable.
They continued to move forward, ever lower, their steps perfectly silent, the arrays etched into the soles of their shoes guaranteed it. Hermione's hand tightened around hers. They had arrived, Aster could see the distorted magic coiled in the wall to their right. The secret entrance leading directly into the stone room Severus had shown them. Aster gritted her teeth, the security of the secret passage lock was far greater than she would have expected. Dumbledore had been particularly careful. She would need time. Under any other circumstances, she would have offered to help Hermione teach her how to operate the lock-pick arrays, but she could see at least a dozen alarm links. Triggering just one would immediately alert Dumbledore. If he ever realized that the secret entrance to the stone room was compromised, she hoped that the size of the diversion would be enough to give them enough time to take the stone and disappear.
She shook Hermione's hand in return and stood on tiptoe and tugged lightly on her friend's sleeve to get her to lean in a little. "Hermione, I need you to stand guard. Dumbledore has locked the entrance more securely than I expected. I'll need all my concentration. When Quirrell arrives, I need you to keep an eye on him."
"Was it really necessary to include him in the plan?" Hermione asked. She had been skeptical from the beginning about including the monster possessing their teacher in their plan to get the stone. And frankly, Aster couldn't really disagree with her.
Yes," she confessed, "his basic plan was to sneak a mountain troll into Hogwarts as a diversion, before entering the forbidden corridor and doing Dumbledore's little obstacle course. Imagine the horror if both our plans had been executed at the same time without coordination."
Hermione looked as if she had bitten into a lemon. "Granted, I don't know if the teachers could have handled a troll and the spiders at the same time, it would have put the other students in unnecessary danger.
"Um, besides, I can imagine running into a pissed off Dark Lord in the middle of the stone room. That would have gone badly." Concluded Aster before stepping up to the wall. Her Lagaelis eye was certainly sore these days, but she could see the other side of the magic with far more accuracy. And given the complexity of the magical lock she was facing, that was more than welcome.
She pulled out her unlocking array, and set to work. It would have been more convenient if Severus had opened the door for them using his personal entry code granted by Dumbledore, but that would have put them in direct danger of being discovered, Dumbledore would have known that someone had entered using Severus's code, and that would have led him directly to suspect Severus, and Hermione and her by extension. Dumbledore was aware that Severus was her godfather after all.
Her concentration was intense, the locking magic was vicious, she had come close to setting off a concealed alarm several times before. The magical energy required was also great enough that she was forced to extract the imperial khrè golem's powerstone from her arm just to maintain enough magic flow to not cause a chain reaction collapse that would wipe out all her efforts. She didn't like the feeling of having her arm hanging lifelessly against her side, but she didn't really have a choice.
Her magic was slowly working its way through the labyrinthine mechanism of Dumbledore's creation. The faint green light from the interface generated by the lock-picking array let her see the ever-increasing complexity of what she was facing. She gritted her teeth. It had to pass. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Quirrell approaching. She must not lose her concentration. She ignored the man, continuing to concentrate on the hidden door, which was still offering fierce resistance.
A good thirty seconds of effort later, a click sounded in the dark and damp corridor. The illusion on the wall lifted, revealing a thick iron door. Aster sighed, deactivated her array, and tucked it away in her pocket. She reinserted the power stone into her arm, and shuddered with relief at the sensation of life returning to her golemic limb. She grabbed her battle staff again and turned to face Quirrell, watching for a moment in fascination as the wraith's magic intertwined with her host's and slowly devoured it.
"You're late." She said simply.
"The old fool insisted on taking all the teachers with combat experience to face the acromentulas. Why he saw fit to include the small, weak, stammering Quirrell to his side is a mystery." Voldemort replied in a mocking tone. Those eyes flashing red for a moment.
"The door is open. After you." Aster stated simply.
Voldemort glared at her for a moment longer, before turning to the door and looking at it for a moment before pointing his wand at it. Aster reacted instantly, pressing her battle staff against his arm to force it down. "I didn't destroy the locking spell. I'm just making it think the door is still closed. A detection spell would set off the alarms."
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. And Aster grumbled about paranoid darklords as she pushed the door open.
The small group entered a large, round, high-ceilinged room with a vault supported by large, clearly Gothic arches. A diaphanous light filtered through high stained glass windows depicting strange scenes, fairy landscapes, vortexes of shimmering colours, mythical creatures of changing appearances seemingly moving within the coloured glass. Given the age of this room, which from its position must have predated the surface construction of the castle, Aster wondered if it was not the mages who had taught the principles of gothic architecture to the muggles centuries later.
The room was entirely empty, except for a large wooden door on the other side of the room that surely led to the corridor of trials prepared by Dumbledore. Frankly, Aster was grateful to Severus for pointing out the hidden entrance and sparing her from participating in this farce. The other thing of interest in the room was a large metal-framed mirror engraved with strange designs. Voldemort had already stepped forward to face it, his gaze lost in the cold depths of the glass. At the top of the mirror was engraved "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi" The mirror was heavily enchanted, she could see that, but the rather simple riddle engraved at the top was not. Given that it was engraved in modern English, either the engraving had been added afterwards by the current owner of the mirror, or the mirror itself had been created recently. Given the obvious antiquity of the enchantments intertwined beneath the cold surface, she leaned more towards the former explanation.
Hermione appeared at her side, catching Voldemort's eye for only a brief moment before he looked back at the surface of the mirror.
"What do you see?" Aster asked Voldemort as she came to stand beside him, her hand clenched around her battle staff.
"Nothing that concerns you." Voldemort hissed with barely concealed anger.
"Hmm." was Aster's reply as she looked into the mirror. Her eyes widened. In the mirror she was standing in the middle of a vast expanse of flowering Asphodel. She was tall, powerful, at least seven feet tall, dressed in a large grey dress with a silver sheen, her face adorned with a confident, mischievous smile, her large green eyes shining with power, her left eye almost literally coated in green flame. In her hand she held a staff covered with more arrays than she had ever seen. Beside her stood Anna, alive and happy, Kav-deb, pride radiating from its being, Sonya, looking at her with unconcealed affection. Hermione, grown and strong, holding her other hand. Nailla and Nepeta not far away. Her free hand automatically tightened around the small, warm vial hanging around her neck.
It was then that she noticed the Mirror Aster pull a small, crystalline red stone, similar to a large ruby, from her pocket before looking her straight in the eye, giving her a feral smile before shaking her head no and holding the stone tightly in her hand. Aster blinked, trying to keep her cool. The mirror... He dared to show her... that. Before denying her the stone. She was forced to stifle a scream of rage before she turned away from the mirror and began pacing the room, muttering to herself.
Voldemort also quickly stopped staring at the smooth, cold surface before walking towards her. "I think Dumbledore has given us a most difficult riddle, thing." He said with a cold calm, akin to the eye of a cyclone.
Aster nodded thoughtfully, trying to bury her rage at what the mirror had dared to show her, to make her hope. "Trying to take the stone by force will do no good. I can feel powerful space magics at work. Breaking the mirror, trying to get the force stone from it will lose it to us forever, wraith."
"Knowing Dumbledore, there must be a condition, something necessary to obtain the stone that he is certain neither I nor any of my servants would be able to fulfill." Voldemort thought aloud.
For several minutes they exchanged ideas and theories of increasing complexity and depth. Aster began to theorise that a summoning ritual with the mirror as a focus might be a solution, and Voldemort wondered if the mirror was aware enough of its own existence that an imperio spell could force it to return the stone. An idea soon forgotten, Dumbledore would have thought of it too. Both of them were getting tenser and tenser, their time was running out, the distraction would not last forever against someone like Dumbledore. His aim was clear, to hold them up to the mirror long enough to catch them red-handed. And neither she nor the wraith wanted that.
They both turned simultaneously to the mirror when they heard Hermione clear her throat. "Aster? Come here."
She and the wraith stepped forward stopping to Hermione's left and right respectively. Hermione was flushed with embarrassment and... something else, her eyes glued to the mirror, as if unable to look away. In her hand, palm facing the ceiling, was the stone, glowing in the light of the stained glass.
Aster and the wraith exchanged glances for a moment before staring at the stone. A large red crystal sitting in the centre of Hermione's delicate hand.
Aster swallowed, her eyebrows furrowing in rage. "Wraith, Dumbledore played us. It's not the stone." There was no energy emanating from it, if it was a real Riftstone, the stone should have appeared like a sun to her magical vision. But nothing, it was just a piece of red glassware.
"Give it to me." the wraith ordered Hermione. Hermione turned to her, and Aster nodded. Hermione then dropped the piece of glassware into Voldemort's extended hand. For a moment he examined it.
With terrifying calm, his face devoid of expression, Voldemort pressed the chunk of glasswork against the surface of the mirror, letting it disappear into the depths of it, before leaving the room without looking back.
Hermione's gaze was lost in the depths of the mirror again, her face flushed as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. As if uncomfortable in her clothes. Aster was beginning to worry. She had to leave quickly. Dumbledore could be here any minute. She grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door. She didn't miss the strange last look Hermione gave the mirror.
Aster closed the iron door, reapplied her lock-picking array, and returned Dumbledore's locking spell to its original position. Careful not to rush it. Then she reapplied her invisibility array, motioning to Hermione to do the same.
Aster was eager to break something, preferably Dumbledore's legs. The old fox had got them! Months of preparation for nothing! She was too angry to notice the strange look Hermione was giving her. And now she had to find a way to verify that the stone was in the castle, whether it was really there, or whether it was still in the hands of the Flamels and Dumbledore had completely fooled them. Her mind was racing. She needed a new plan. Fortunately, they had managed to get into the trap room without setting it off. Dumbledore would continue to believe that the wraith agent was still focused on the forbidden corridor and nothing else. This would give them the advantage. Besides, if all went according to plan, the Acromentula attack would only be connected to the natural death of their old patriarch who had so far kept them in check. And Dumbledore would not discover that it was a diversion. After all, she had made sure that she had left no trace around the trap room.
Now she and Hermione had to hide somewhere and wait for an opportunity to swap places with the puppets again.
...
Later, in a silent alcove in one of the abandoned towers, Aster and Hermione were huddled together, waiting for the night to end. As Aster was going over the events of the day for the umpteenth time, Hermione's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
"Aster? What did you see in the mirror?"
Aster's gaze was lost in the darkness of the night she could see through the window nearby. "Anna, alive, all those dear to me. In the first level of the edges. I was tall, very tall."
Hermione leaned her head against her shoulder and Aster turned to watch her friend's face. "And you?"
"We were both happy, together..." She said, blushing so hard that Aster noticed despite the darkness. She sighed, she knew that insisting that Hermione tell her everything would be pointless. She leaned her head against Hermione's, she hoped that the night would bring some guidance. She would need it badly.