The picture was striking. Albus Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic were walking side by side amongst the countless charred corpses of Acromentulae. The sun was still low on the horizon, and the Grand Sorcerer had an air of wisdom and power, haloed by the golden light of dawn. The two men took a few steps forward, obviously in the midst of an important discussion, before the scene began anew.
Above the large image easily taking up more than half of the front cover of the Daily Prophet was an equally striking headline. Hogwarts and its saviour, a new feat of Albus Dumbledore .
Aster had warned them that there would be an interesting article in today's edition, but she hadn't expected this. Her eyes fell on the body of the article, the first few lines of which were just below the picture.
Last night, on Halloween night, a day of celebration for all British witches and wizards, a terrible tragedy almost unfolded. For years now, unbeknownst to the staff of our beloved school, a colony of fearsome Acromentulae has been thriving in the dark depths of the infamous Forbidden Forest.
For a reason that is as yet unknown, but is thought to be either lack of food or territorial problems, yesterday the Acromentulae left their forest to descend on Hogwarts. Over a thousand of them were found at the scene of the battle.
Fortunately, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock was on the scene, at the big table for the annual Halloween feast. Once again, after ending Grindelwald's reign of terror, after battling you-know-who and his army several times, Albus Dumbledore once again proved himself worthy of his title of Hero and Living Treasure of Great Britain.
According to our reporter who went to the scene and collected several testimonies from students and teachers, as well as Albus Dumbledore himself, our hero used light magic of incredible power, not only to protect the students, but also to take several teachers to the castle gate to exterminate the Acromentulae.
Many teams of Aurors were sent to investigate and make sure that no Acromentulae remained. Dear reader, Hogwarts has once again proven itself to be an impregnable bastion, ensuring the safety of our nation's future in the wise hands of Albus Dumbledore.
Several necessary actions are already being taken to...
Mimosa closed the paper and sighed deeply. The rest of the article would surely be nothing more than a glorification of Albus Dumbledore and his new feat and assurances that Hogwarts was as safe as ever. The real question was why Karrasinqi had seen fit to create a diversion of such magnitude. She needed to get it over with quickly and get the stone in order to regain a more prominent presence at the top of the organisation.
Not that Aster's plan to put the members of the order who wanted to overthrow her in their place had failed, she had to admit. Only a madman would challenge the authority of anyone capable of being almost equal to a Matagot prince, Ethan had explained to her a few days ago. Now, no one dared to even question Aster's standing at the head of the organisation. Even the most vocal Lycans kept a low profile.
However, the problem had not gone away, far from it. It had simply changed in nature. Everyone who had attended the ceremony had burned into them the memory of the power whose blessing Karrasinqi had sought. Apparently, what Karrasinqi had done was nothing like the other ceremonies of this kind that mages were used to attending. Those who remained conscious for longer than her, said that the "thing" had manifested itself almost physically.
Mimosa did not know what to think. Yes, magic is a wonderful thing, an infinite mystery. But the existence of superior beings? Of deities? It seemed too much... It made her feel a deep existential unease in the back of her mind. Some people, especially the other muggles, were like her, or with a similar vision, and what Karrasinqi had done was for them just another powerful ritual. Something expected of the Heir to Anna Karrasinqi. But for the vampires, Nymphs, Lycans and pureblood wizards or older families of the organisation, the reaction had been quite different.
She could now regularly hear Karrasinqi being called the "Avatia potentium" in the corridors of the buildings owned by the order, and in some whispered discussions. She had asked Ethan what it meant, and he had explained with a strange reverence that it was an ancient term for a mage chosen by a deity to become its messenger, its representative in the mortal lands. The way Ethan's eyes had glowed and the fervour in his voice had not reassured her, quite the contrary.
Even Asmodeus, who until now had behaved in the most chaotic manner and seemed to have only a superficial respect for Karrasinqi, had changed radically. On the rare occasions when Karrasinqi was present at the meetings of the upper circle of the Asphodel, she observed her with a strange form of devotion.
The question that many seemed to ask was which power Aster stood for. The Asphodel, while still true to its founding values of acceptance and mutual aid, was increasingly becoming a cult centred around Karrasinqi, and she really didn't like that. The worst part was that Karrasinqi herself didn't seem to notice and was just happy to see that order was more or less restored and that the organisation was functioning properly and seemed to be stabilising.
Mimosa frowned, took a big sip of coffee and put on her dress. She was going to take action, build a file, gather evidence of the drift towards which Asphodel was turning, and then show it all to Karrasinqi in private, and maybe get some answers.
oOOOo
The citadel of Ulthar was beautiful under its thick coat of snow. The pale winter sun was low on the horizon, illuminating the ancient city, giving it a oneiric aura. Their little group descended a narrow flight of carved stone steps overlooking a small square in the middle of which stood the silhouette of a skeletal tree covered in frost. A smile played on her lips. Three small black-furred matagots were playing in the powdery snow, raising white clouds. With each step the snow crunched softly under her stuffed boots. With every breath she took, a cloud of vapour formed before dissipating into the icy air.
Hermione loved winter. Not as much as spring, its buds and flowers, its nature awakening. Or autumn, its bright colours, and the richness of the dying summer. But she loved it far more than summer and its cruel, crushing sun, its dry grass and dust.
She readjusted her thick yellow woollen scarf around her neck and glanced at Nailla and Aster a few steps ahead of her, the latter telling the former in great detail about their exploits at the beginning of the year undercover at Hogwarts. How they had managed to get past the castle's defences under Dumbledore's nose, the case of Professor Binns, before raging about Dumbledore's audacity in deceiving them and her doubts about the presence of the stone at Hogwarts.
They had just arrived in Ulthar through the doorway Aster had installed and planned to spend the holiday quietly with Nailla and Nepeta who had kindly invited them to the manor. As well as convincing Dumbledore of their bona fides as to the fact that they had been adopted by Nailla, it made for a quiet and enjoyable holiday. Aster had warned that she would have to spend time in the Asphodel's headquarters on a regular basis, but apart from that and to plan their next actions to locate the stone, It would be a few days of well-deserved rest.
Especially after the week they had just spent. The history club had used the first week of the holiday to visit the most important magical megalithic sites in Britain. Their marathon through them had been as exciting as it had been exhausting. She wondered where Aster got all her knowledge about the ancient forms of ritual magic that were used by the ancient Celtic and proto-Celtic cultures. In any case, if the stars in Susan's and Hannah's eyes were any indication, their admiration for Aster after this historic excursion had increased tenfold. At the end of the trip, Susan had managed to extort a promise from Aster to be taken to the great Library of Alexandria, and frankly, Hermione was grateful for that, for it would be a lie to say that she wasn't dying to return to the narrow dusty tunnels of the vast library next to which the one at Hogwarts paled.
Particularly since the first plan to retrieve the stone had failed miserably, Aurors had been patrolling the castle and its surroundings day and night, making access to the forbidden section of the library almost impossible, even with the invisibility array Aster was teaching her to construct.
She had to stop letting her thoughts drift when Aster took her by the hand as they entered the snowy gardens of the Cateris' mansion. She returned their greeting to the guards and allowed herself to be led further into the mansion's grounds. Oddly enough, Nepeta was waiting for them with her back to the main door, a stern look on her face. "Hello, Aster, Hermione, I'm glad to see you back. However, Aster, I'm disappointed, I knew you were doing things with your little group over there in Great Britain, but not on this scale... Your latest little public display has attracted more attention than I think you can handle. Some people have been waiting inside for a long time to meet you."
Hermione swallowed, a little frightened, and couldn't help but notice the shiver that shook Aster's shoulders. Nepeta seemed to notice because she turned to her and gave her that strange feline smile that only matagots seemed to be able to do. "Not you, Hermione. I know you're doing your best to moderate the chaotic ardour of your troublemaker friend. Come on in, you three, it wouldn't do to leave you frozen on the doorstep!"
The small group entered the hallway, leaving their coats behind, Hermione glanced desperately at Nailla, but the nymph had already begun to slip away discreetly, probably eager to avoid the encounter with the people waiting for them. Hermione feared the worst. All the members of the Asphodel had signed a contract sealing their ability to tell anyone about the existence of the organisation... She grunted in despair, she had completely forgotten the fact that they had invited a rather diverse group of people to their little festival. Hansians, matagots, veela... The matagon crown prince had been there to strengthen his ties with the Asphodel, betting on the organisation to get a foothold in the very isolationist magical society of Britain. There had been no problem with that, having support abroad was paramount.
What they might not have considered was that Aster's ritual had perhaps worked a little too well, and that this kind of magic seemed to be far less common than Aster had assured her. Now that she realised this she felt like burying her face in her hands and praying that it would turn her invisible. She should have thought of that. Surely some of the veela present would have talked about their incredible experience in Scotland of almost summoning an aspect of a power as the wizards of the order called it. Inevitably the rumour would spread and some people would be interested in them.
Luckily they had had the intelligence, or rather, the stupidity to only invite people who were either creatures or people outside the conventional circles of magic such as the Svorakians, because otherwise it would have been only a matter of time before Dumbledore discovered that Aster Potter, under the name of Karrasinqi, was at the head of an illegal organisation aiming to unite most of the outlaws of magical Britain, especially creatures, to create an underground society with dubious ideals... it wouldn't have been pretty.
Seeing that Aster seemed to be busier grumbling in her corner about some harebrained scheme that always seemed to come back to bite her in the face, she plucked up her courage and turned to Nepeta who was waiting for them with a vaguely amused look on her face. At least that was what Hermione interpreted, the matagots' expressions were hard to read under the fur.
"Nepeta... That's a question I should have asked a while ago now... um..." she blushed, feeling really stupid. A feeling she rarely had the misfortune to experience. "A ritual invocation of a power for a blessing... isn't that something rather common in the magical world at large?"
Nepeta's whiskers stiffened and her eyes crinkled. She muttered something about immature kids before sighing and looking her straight in the eye. "If you're talking about the magical population of the ICW nations in general, no, rituals of communion with a power are almost unheard of except in the old pureblood families and through rumours of dark magic distorted to the extreme. In hidden nations, among magical religious communities, certain druid cults still existing in Britain for example, or in the Hanseatic League of Svorak, it is not unusual for covens or grand sorcerers to invoke the blessings of a power during religious or memorial ceremonies."
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, they hadn't done anything that would paint a big target in red on their backs. "However..." Hermione stiffened. "The appearance of a physical aspect of a power, deity or whatever is most unusual. Especially when the ritual is being conducted by one person, so young in appearance." Nepeta added, staring at Aster who at least had the decency to look contrite.
"Come on Hermione, we're not going to keep these people waiting who were kind enough to come and see us." She said sarcastically as she pulled her by the hand towards one of the dark corridors of the manor.
"Some people don't appreciate the existence of black mages, there's a reason their kind is so secretive," Nepeta muttered as she inspected her claws, which only made Aster speed up... " Also, you're going the wrong way, they're waiting for you in the blue room," she added as an afterthought. This had the effect of making Aster growl and Hermione feel more and more like hiding in a corner... At the time, the plan of the ritual had seemed so perfect... she just hoped that they hadn't attracted the attention of something too big to handle...
...
They had definitely attracted the attention of something too big for them. The blue room was just as she remembered it from the time they cleaned the manor as maids. A small, round, comfortable room whose walls were covered with dark blue tapestries decorated with golden floral motifs. Three large arched windows with small rectangular panes of crystal glass looked out over the snowy garden, reflecting a cold white light on the room's domed ceiling from which hung a chandelier with extinguished candles. A carved cast-iron wood-burning heater of antique aspect was set against one wall. Inside it, a few logs were gently crackling.
In the centre of the room was a large round rug on which was a coffee table surrounded by five armchairs and a beanbag. On the table was a large silver teapot, from which a thin stream of steam was coming out with a strong smell of mint tea. On a small tray were various small biscuits, shortbread, gingerbread, Turkish delight and other small delicacies.
The most striking, and the strangest, was the group of ... people assembled around the table, comfortably seated. The atmosphere was strange, almost heavy. Before they arrived they had heard hushed conversations, but now a heavy silence had settled as the... persons stared at them.
Hermione didn't know who to look at, each one was as strange and fascinating as the other. In other circumstances she would have jumped at the chance to ask the infinite number of questions that were running through her mind to each of these people, but she was more than aware that the situation was not appropriate and to do so would be most ungracious. So she just watched each of them carefully as Aster walked over to one of the two free armchairs and stopped, standing beside it with an impressive degree of casualness.
On the beanbag sat a veela of a kind she had never seen before. Her beauty was disarming. Her face had fine, regal features, framed by long, jet-black hair, and her two large grey eyes with almost silvery irises stared alternately at her and Aster with curiosity. Two huge wings of an orange-yellow ochre with a slightly golden sheen were folded behind her back, a long tail of feathers of the same colour that came out of a gap in her beautiful black tunic. It was surely one of the main reasons why she had chosen the beanbag to sit on rather than one of the comfy armchairs. Her arms and legs were covered with small, slightly fluffy feathers. The latter ended in sharp bird-like talons that reminded her of a Hawk's. Strange boots, or slippers, or something of the sort that fit her talons were attached to them, surely to help her walk for a long time without damaging her scales. She wore countless pieces of metal jewellery, necklaces, rings and earrings. In her hair hung a brooch decorated with three ash-grey feathers. Around her neck hung the skull of a small animal she couldn't recognise... At least she seemed much more curious than aggressive towards them, although she regularly frowned as she watched Aster.
Next to the strange sort of veela, a man dressed in the colours of the Svorak Hanse Guild was seated, his face partially covered by their ominous traditional mask, the lower part of which had obviously been removed to allow him to chew on a particularly hard-looking biscuit.
On one of the armchairs sat his majesty Samarillis, dressed in rich velvet, his white fur bushy and well-brushed, his eyes glowing with barely concealed amusement. Why the Crown Prince of Ulthar saw fit to be present at this... visit, escaped her at the moment. She could only speculate, and none of it was good news for the fragile anonymity of the Asphodel.
The last and strangest character sent a shiver down her spine. The night of the attempted coup d'état suddenly came back to her memory. That had been the only time she'd met a black mage other than Aster, and she'd wanted to forgo her next encounter with one of their kind as much as possible, but luck had apparently decided otherwise. He... she... Hermione couldn't tell, was dressed in a long green cloth robe, for which she was infinitely grateful to hide most of the thing's body. It seemed to be hunchbacked, deformed, they could see resting on the ground, two large, bloated boots, from the leather of one of which a strange grey horn protruded. One of its seven "hands" was a kind of strange claw that she didn't know if she should compare it to an insect's or a crustacean's. Its other limbs... pseudopods, it was better not to be described in detail. She preferred to content herself with a few basic observations, such as the many joints, the abnormally coloured skin, a score of thin blackish tendrils holding a steaming cup of tea...
One of his hideous parody of arms held a long stick vaguely reminiscent of Aster's by the arrays of magecraft that covered it. The man, the thing, must have taken precautions because Hermione was unable to recognise any of the algeometric functions, and some of the other formulae seemed to escape her notice. At the end of the said stick hung countless small objects and other charms of which Hermione would be most foolish not to be wary.
Fortunately for what was left of her sanity, the thing wore a mask that concealed what was supposed to be its face. That said, it would have been even better if the smooth wooden mask didn't have eight holes in strange places and if a long tongue slightly similar to an insect's proboscis didn't dip itself regularly into the tea before making a quick retreat under the mask, as if burned by the liquid.
To say that this person's presence deeply disturbed Hermione would be an understatement. There was a sort of aura around it that made her want to shiver. La veela seemed to agree, as she occasionally cast a heavy glare at the... thing.
The silence lasted only a few seconds, giving her and Aster time to observe the scene before Samarillis took pity on them and spoke up. "Hello, Aster Karrasinqi, Hermione Snow. I'm glad you got here so quickly."
"Hello your highness." Aster said with a dull look on her face, her gaze focused on the black mage in the room. Hermione imitated her friend. It was best not to make a fuss.
"I'm sorry for the unannounced visit, but these fine people wanted to see you as soon as possible and I didn't get a chance to notify you. I know you have come to rest from your British business, but this meeting cannot wait. Please take a seat, I'll make the introductions."
Hermione sat down in one of the chairs, or rather on the edge of it, her back straight, relaxing seemed like the last thing to do in this situation.
"I present to you, Anais Falroe representative of the High Council of Suspicious Liaisons of Hymgaabal." Samarillis resumed, as Falroe stood up to shake their hands with a reassuring smile to both of them. Hermione, who usually prided herself on her resistance to the veela's allure, couldn't help but turn peony red despite the fact that Falroe seemed to be restraining herself greatly. She was deliciously intoxicating. She shook her head slightly to regain control. Leaping at a veela like that after just a handshake would be the worst kind of behaviour, to put it kindly, especially in such important company. Aster seemed to notice her condition as she gave her an amused glance and a smirk that made her blush even more. It wasn't her fault that Falroe was distractingly beautiful.
"This is Hjortur Sigrunson, undermaster of the Inner Branch of the Hanseatic Navigators of Svorak."
"Nice to meet you," Sigrunson said, giving them a strange hand salute that Hermione had seen Hansians do to each other before. The middle, ring and little fingers stuck together and outstretched, and the thumb and forefinger joined at the tips, almost crossed.
"Likewise," Hermione replied, imitating the strange hand movement. As for her, Aster gave a polite nod.
"At last, here is Amaranth, brother of the people of the edge." The thing nodded at them and again burned its weird tongue in its tea.
Hermione bravely grabbed a cup of tea to hide behind, taking a quick sip, hoping that she would be overlooked.
Aster let out a deep sigh. "To what do we owe your visit?" she asked politely, but Hermione could easily hear in the intonation of her voice that she was more than a little irritated by the situation.
It was Falroe who spoke, while Samarillis had sunk into his chair, obviously happy to let the rest of the events take place without his intervention. Hermione couldn't help but wonder if he had come here more to enjoy the show and admire the chaos than to actually mediate. "You see, a few months ago, a rumour from Ulthar about a self-proclaimed heir to Lady Karrasinqi began to spread among the flocks of Western Europe. Not enough to attract Hymgaabal's attention. But when the connection was made with the two young people who had played a major role in preventing a coup in Ulthar and the strange new organisation making waves in Britain, our attention was quickly drawn to you. I assume that it was during this same period that your organisation was able to start making contracts with the Hanseatic League." Hjortur Sigrunson nodded at this statement. "Hymgaabal then took a stand on this matter and decided to remain an observer. Until it was reported that the head of the said organisation was a grey mage and had summoned one of her patrons in a blessing ritual."
"What are you getting at." Aster asked with a frown. Hermione already suspected what Falroe was going to say, she would bet ten Galleon that...
"Your organisation is starting to gain weight in the balance of power, you have the perfect profile of a dark lord by the British Ministry's definition. Hymgaabal needs to know where you stand in relation to the interests of the European Veela.
Had she been quicker to whisper her wager in Aster's ear, her pockets would have been ten gallons heavier. Not that she thought Falroe would say that word for word, but that that would be the general idea behind the speech. Aster gave her a slightly worried look. She hadn't really discussed how to integrate the Order of Asphodel once the other European occult powers took it into consideration. However, given who they were talking to, telling the truth seemed the best choice.
Aster stared into Falroe's eyes for a moment before speaking, leaning forward slightly. "The Order of the Asphodel has a simple purpose. To give the creatures, muggleborns, cursed, outcast wizards and oppressed practices what the British magical government will never give them. I didn't plan to create this organisation when I came to England, but when I saw the laws that vampires had to abide by... if only in memory of my mother, I couldn't stand by and watch. If Hymgaabal wishes, the Order of the Asphodel will be happy to count the veela of Europe among its allies.
Falroe swallowed, obviously surprised by Aster's speech. Nevertheless, she immediately pulled herself together. "Your organisation cannot remain secret indefinitely, what do you intend to do when it will be exposed in broad daylight? I doubt your ministry will take it well... Do you intend to wage war on them?"
Hermione and Aster exchanged glances again. Hermione nodded slightly at Aster. Talking now would be in their best interest. Appearing trustworthy to their potential allies would be paramount... She was getting a headache, she was supposed to be on holiday what the hell! She was not supposed to be helping Aster to move on the European political scene! She hadn't signed up for that, not now.
"Not if confrontation is avoidable." Hermione said. "When the Asphodel will be brought to light, the idea is to first negotiate with the government in place, to bring the weight of the organisation to bear, eventually to pass the necessary reforms. If there is a confrontation, we will not be the instigators." When Hermione had finished, Aster nodded seriously.
"I see." Falroe said with a half smile. "You two are nothing like the last three British darklords I've known. It's good to see things changing."
"I'll take it really badly. Being compared to them." Aster grumbled, pouting.
This made the very serious veela giggle. "In that case, I'll relay the results of our conversation to the council. If things go as planned, we should be in touch soon.
"I was here for similar reasons to Miss Falroe." Said Sigrunson "Your display of magic a few weeks ago has struck a nerve with some of the guild masters of the Hanse. Many already consider you the next dark lord of Great Britain. The Hanse do not hold Great Britain and its rejection of the Sylbe in favour of the elven currency monopoly in its heart. We have no problem with supporting the rise of a dark lord with less extreme ideologies than his predecessors."
Hermione nodded. Aster smiled, "I see, then I guess it's alright to continue our exchange." Her friend said.
"No, however, the rise of the Order of Asphodel is bringing up questions and concerns among our guild leaders."
Hermione frowned. "You fear a violent reaction from the ICW to the discovery that the Hanseatic League of Svorak supports an organisation considered criminal by one of their member states. With a dark lord at its head to make matters worse." She said.
"You are perceptive, young lady. Indeed, I am here to begin negotiating a mutually acceptable term to guarantee the Hanseatic League's anonymity to the ICW in its dealings with the Order of the Asphodel. He replied, pulling a sheaf of documents from his bag and handing them to Aster.
"I understand. I assume these are the Hanse proposals?" Aster said, patting the pile of documents.
"Indeed, I would ask you to discreetly send a reply to Svön's free affairs office."
Hermione glanced at Amaranth. The strange... person had stopped burning its weird tongue like thing in the tea, and seemed to find it to his liking as he drank it greedily, finishing his glass in a split second, before pouring himself another cup and burning itself with it again. Meanwhile, Falroe and Sigrunson were getting up and giving them polite greetings. Hermione looked back at them, finding it hard to take her eyes off the veela's beautiful plumage as she shook her hand. Was it normal to want to stroke feathers so much? She felt as if she was on the verge of spontaneous combustion when the veela winked at her before leaving the room.
Soon, only Samarillis and Amaranth were left in the room with them. The presence of the matagot prince reassured her. Even if she knew that with Aster, she was safe, the fact that the pri... She hadn't said anything, Samarillis was getting up.
"It was a pleasure to see you again, Aster, Hermione." He said with that strange feline smile that only matagots seemed capable of. "I must leave you. Amaranth has made a special request to speak to you alone.
"Goodbye Samarillis." Aster said politely, not taking her eyes off the black mage in the room. Hermione bowed politely as Samarillis closed the door to the blue room without a sound.
The atmosphere had become most eerie. Aster was staring at Amaranth, her eyes seeming to see things that Hermione could not. The silence was heavy, only disturbed by the sound of the thing's strange thin insectoid proboscis dipping into the tea before quickly retreating, fleeing the scalding liquid.
Hermione cleared her throat, unable to bear the strange tension any longer. "Amaranth, I am pleased to make your acquaintance." She began, unable to stop herself from wincing as the way she addressed the creature was forced and unnatural. "Shall we call you... madam? Sir?" Only silence answered her, a deep sense of embarrassment settling over her.
After a long, painful moment, one of the long pseudopods buried itself under the thing's long robe. Aster visibly stiffened, Hermione clutched the void shield array she always kept on her hand. After a moment of rummaging through the folds of the cloth, the thing pulled out a letter closed with a green wax seal. Hermione could only watch in amazement, it didn't make sense. The long, strange appendage reached out to Aster, and gently placed the letter in her hand. She stood up and walked over, bending down to observe the envelope. There was nothing written on it, no symbol on the wax sealing the envelope. She straightened up to ask what was going on with the thing, a dull anger rising in her. They were made fun off. "Sir, Madam, Amaranth, or whatever. What is this joke? I..." She paused, stunned. The chair was empty, she and Aster were alone in the room. The only evidence of Amaranth's presence in the room was an empty glass of tea on the table.
oOOOo
Aster swayed dangerously on her wooden office chair. She held a grey pencil between her upper lip and the underside of her nose. Raised above her head, she held the strange letter at arm's length. The paper was overflowing with magic, she could see the countless spells vibrating peacefully, as if in a dormant state. She had run it through six arrays of analysis and magic detection with no result other than the assurance that the thing, whatever it was, was safe. She had then tried to open it, but without success, as some of the magic in the letter prevented her from doing so. She let her arm fall limply.
Their reception in Ulthar had not been the most pleasant. Being thrown directly into the clutches of diplomats was not how she had imagined the beginning of the holiday. After this unpleasant encounter, she and Hermione had spent the day in the company of Nepeta and Nailla. Their hosts had tried to get them to talk about what had happened in the blue room, but neither she nor Hermione had been in the mood. Nailla had saved them by offering to visit the great Solstice Market in Ulthar. It was still a bit early and the real party would be on the actual day, but there had already been a lot to see. She had bought a silver medallion of a cat sitting in a crescent moon from Hermione and the latter had been delighted and had offered her a big hug. A great success...
At the end of the day they had said goodbye to Nepeta and Nailla and gone to their townhouse, where after a quick debate, the decision had been made to do nothing the following day. They deserved a break, damn it! Which had led to her current situation, cogitating about the bloody letter while her Hermione was sprawled out on the bed, the huge fur ball that was more Nundu than Kneazle called Crookshanks purring louder than an aeroplane engine in response to Hermione's hands running over his thick fur. She was reading a book levitating above her head, the pages turning by themselves. A slight smile formed on Aster's lips. Of course Hermione had finally found a spell specifically dedicated to making reading more comfortable...
Refocus, Aster! Being distracted by Hermione wasn't going to help her solve the problem of that damn letter! That Amaranth... there hadn't been an ounce of human in him for a long time... In its magic she'd seen nothing but an endless tangle of curses and entity contracts, minor deities and whatnot, a terrifying amalgam of unspeakable horrors. Just thinking about it made her shudder. So much so that she had noticed that by his mere existence, he seemed to passively drain the magic around him... She had not expected to come across such a... black mage. Even Kav-deb didn't seem to have gone that far into black magic.
She had vaguely heard Kav-deb talk about the people of the edge, but only in passing. From what she remembered it was a kind of group, a strange cult gathering just about anything and everything and congregating in some kind of enclave on the edge between the main plane and the Asphodel Plain, in the mists themselves... What this kind of... group? Sect? Could want with her, she didn't know, but she suspected it had something to do with the fact that she had called upon Lagaelis during the ritual... she must have aroused the unwanted interest of more people than she expected...
She sighed, she wouldn't get anything out of that damn letter, not today, not in the near future. She leaned forward, pulling her chair out of its more than precarious position and stuffed the letter into the double bottom of one of the desk drawers. The problem would be addressed in due course, and the time was not yet right.
No, the most pressing question was where the bloody stone could be found. Their search after the Halloween fiasco had turned up nothing, so the assumption that Dumbledore had tricked them to the end and that the stone was definitely not in the castle was becoming more and more likely. And that was not to her liking. It was better that the stone was in Dumbledore's hands than to have no clue at all. There was still the possibility of just gathering enough power stones, which would be insanely costy, finding a crossroads of telluric lines and doing some sacrificial rituals to bring Anna back, but that would take years and years... Getting her hands on the Philosopher's Stone was just a much, much better option. Moreover, the option of sacrificial rituals would run a high risk of damaging Anna's soul because of the countless impurities and structural remnants that the magic used would retain. Aster could not afford this. Not for Anna.
She was getting a headache, she needed help, she and Hermione had discussed it before, but had never come up with a plan that seemed to work to be sure once and for all if the stone was in the castle or not. "Hermione?!" She said in a plaintive voice as she jumped onto the bed, causing Crookshanks to mewl angrily.
"What is it Aster?" Hermione asked without taking her eyes off her book.
"You really have no idea how to be sure the stone is at Hogwarts?" She asked as she slipped her head between the book and Hermione's face, looking into her friend's eyes and interrupting her reading.
Hermione grunted. "No more than before yesterday. Apart from tying Dumbledore to a chair and making him drink a pint of veritaserum, I have no idea."
"Really?" Aster asked with a pout, causing Hermione to roll her eyes at her.
"You're the one who knows the most about magic, isn't there a ritual or array that would allow you to determine the presence of such a powerful artefact within the castle walls?"
"There is, yes, but the problem is the Hogwarts wards! They're far too powerful for any scrying, even one based on an obscure form of magecraft, to be effective!"
"Are these wards really that bad?" Hermione asked curiously.
"Yes, they are based far below the castle. At a crossing of a dozen telluric lines. I think they were made from mass human sacrifices. They are monstrous. They look more like a living thing than anything else. Aster fell forward, burying her face in Hermione's neck. One of her friend's hands must have slipped out of Crookshanks' fur, because she felt Hermione's fingers rubbing the back of her head.
"Could you... I don't know... spy on the wards? See what they perceive from the castle? An artefact as powerful as a Riftstone shouldn't go unnoticed by them, right?" Hermione offered jokingly. Aster laughed softly at the funny idea. Hermione seemed proud of her joke. Suddenly, Aster sat up, banging the back of her head against the still levitating book.
"Hermione, you're a genius." She said excitedly! How could she not have thought of that! It would be dangerous, but with Voldemort's support, it would be possible! A Riftstone would definitely leave a strong imprint in wards as fine and complex as Hogwarts! They could even pinpoint the stone's location! Without thinking, ignoring the dull ache in the back of her head, she placed a quick peck on Hermione's lips. She got up immediately, her mind already miles away, running at a hundred miles an hour, grabbing a sheet of paper from her desk and starting to write down the outline of the plan to infiltrate the core room of the Hogwarts wards and the list of arrays she would need to prepare.
She didn't even realise how deeply shocked Hermione looked, how she had flushed like a peony, or how she had brought her fingers to her lips, eyes wide, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.
oOOOo
Hermione couldn't take her eyes off Aster. She had been writing and scribbling the details of the plan on countless papers for half an hour now. As for her, she was frozen. Crookshanks had been asleep on top of her for a while now. She could hardly believe what had just happened. Aster had kissed her... on the mouth... that... that was... she couldn't realise, let alone comprehend. Did Aster even understand the meaning of what she had just done? Knowing her friend, nothing was less certain. Was there something deeper? Or had her lips been the easiest surface to kiss at the time? Had it even happened? Or had she dreamed it?
Never before had she been in a situation where her mind was simultaneously overheated and in a strangely lethargic state. How was she supposed to interpret this? Her fingers touched her lips for the umpteenth time, trying to bring back the memory of that all too brief, wonderful contact. She felt hot... did she have a fever? Or... She felt herself blushing... She would have to tell Aster, eventually... especially if this kind of thing happened again. She stood up with difficulty, asking Crookshanks to cooperate. She needed a shower. Cold, preferably.
oOOOo
The holidays had been far too short for her liking. She and Aster had spent half their time plotting how to get into the heart of the Hogwarts wards to steal the information they needed. The other half was spent in Nailla's company, mainly enjoying the solstice festivities taking place in Ulthar. Hermione remembered going to a large London Christmas market a long time ago, the atmosphere had reminded her strongly of it. Except that instead of humans, there was a vast majority of matagots and a few other species. Moreover... the festivities had been a bit more violent. Duels had been organised in honour of the solstice, including horseback jousting. Of course, within ten minutes of learning of the activity, she had found Aster in full armour, astride a horse far too big for her, with a spear in her hand. She should have known that the vampire would jump at the first opportunity to play fight... That said, the sight of little Aster on a huge black percheron, easily three metres high at the shoulder, had been most comical. Even more amusing had been to see her knock out three competitors despite her size disadvantage, before she herself ended up tasting the snow. She would have preferred that Aster didn't act like a fool like that... but frankly, she had expected that when she saw the kind of activity that was practised at the Ulthar Solstice Festival...
Their plan was almost ready to be put into action, they just needed Voldemort's assistance, to make sure they could get around any potential defences around the heart of the wards. She still didn't like the idea of cooperating with that monster, but she couldn't find any holes in Aster's logic. Better to include him and use him to their advantage than to have him as an unpredictable chaotic agent around.
They had arrived at Hogwarts a few hours ago, and after a quick dinner had gone to the dormitory. Aster was thirsty, and it was starting to show. The way she was staring at Hermione's wrists and neck with longing was becoming more and more apparent. She almost dragged the little vampire to the dormitory. Frankly... It had brought her to her current situation. Fully dressed, lying on their bed, the curtains hastily closed, Aster on top of her nibbling on the junction between her neck and shoulder. Hermione really liked these... intimate moments. It was always a chance for a long cuddle. Though she was a little frustrated with Aster these days. She'd waited days, but Aster hadn't said anything at all about the fact that she'd suddenly kissed her on the mouth over a week earlier. As if nothing had happened. Had she just misinterpreted something? Maybe she should confront Aster about it...
She let out a groan, Aster had just sunk her little fangs into her skin and had begun to quench her thirst. Hermione clenched her fist in Aster's hair. Was it just her? Or was she just enjoying being bitten more and more these days? It was... strange. A good strange.
She let out another little cry, Aster had just bitten playfully again... Did Aster want her dead? She hugged Aster tighter, feeling like she was on cloud nine. In the heaven of a cuddle.
Suddenly, the clanking of curtains being quickly drawn along their rods made them both jump. Hermione let out a small yelp of pain as she felt Aster's tiny fangs pinching her. She opened her eyes in a daze, her gaze immediately meeting Tonks', the seventh year's cheeks were flushed and her hair an intense red, her eyes fixed on the point of contact between Aster's fangs and her skin. Behind her were Susan and Hannah. Susan had put a hand over Hannah's eyes, presumably to preserve her friend's innocence, while she herself seemed to enjoy the view.
Aster sat up, also visibly dazed. With a flick of her tongue, she licked the blood from her lips, turning her head to look alternately at Hermione and the group of girls. "Er..." she began.
Tonks buried her face in her hands and sighed deeply. "I was prepared to catch you two having sex... to scold you and give you the talk... Hermione being fourteen... I thought this sort of thing might happen... but I didn't expect... this." She frowned and stared at Aster. "Potter, when were you planning on telling us that you're a vampire?"