Through the mists

by Renart de Mal Herbe

Albus Dumbledore Knows Aster Potter is dead by his fault. His multiple devices monitoring her say so. However he received a response to her Hogwarts letter saying she will attend the school. How is this possible ? Is someone impersonating Aster ? He will do his best to find out.

29. Chapter 29: The ultimate choice

She tossed and turned in her sleep, and despite the softness of the sheets, the comfort of her pillows and the presence of her crocodile plush, the night was becoming unbearable. She would go from brief moments of semi-awakeness to a light, uncomfortable sleep. On her fifth awakening, or perhaps more, she couldn't say, Susan gave up on the idea of sleeping altogether. She lay on her back, hugging Snappie, the plush animal, a present from her mum... aunt, being a reassuring presence.

This kind of insomnia wasn't unknown to her, it had happened regularly since the attack on Bones Manor when she was a child... At times like this, she knew from experience that it was better to just give up on the idea of sleeping, maybe try reading a book... do something... Before arriving at Hogwarts, at times like these, she would sneak into Aunt Amelia's bed to snuggle up with her... But here, that wasn't possible... Perhaps settling down in the common room with a hot chocolate politely requested from the house elves would do her a world of good.

She sat down on the edge of her bed, taking the time to wrap one of the yellow woollen blankets around her. She glanced at Snappie, a little ashamed that she still needed a cuddly toy at her age... She struggled with herself for a moment before grabbing the crocodile and slipping it into her collar, leaving only its head sticking out. At this hour, no one would see her, and even if she did run into someone, she'd just have to quickly hide Snappie.

She stood up, slipped on her slippers silently, then picked up her wand and whispered, Lumos. She dimmed the light to make sure she didn't wake anyone. She let her gaze wander over all the beds in the dormitory, and was reassured to see only bumps under the covers, regularly raised by her friends' sleepy breathing. Except for Léandre, who had twisted herself into her blankets before adopting a starfish posture.

When her gaze fell on the bed where Aster and Hermione usually slept together, she raised an eyebrow, the bed was empty, nothing unusual she thought, those two used to explore Hogwarts at night... or maybe go and do things in an abandoned classroom, she blushed. Ever since Tonks had suggested that Aster and Hermione might be in that kind of relationship, her imagination tended to be a little overactive.

She sneaked out of the dormitory, taking care to close the door to the Hufflepuffs first years' dormitory as quietly as possible. Which wasn't very difficult, as the hinges were always well oiled. She couldn't help but smile as she imagined the Slytherin dormitory as a dark, damp cave closed by heavy, rusty metal doors, each opening of which gave off a creak capable of waking the dead. Which could well be the reason for the legendary bad mood of this quarter of the school.

She trotted down the corridor, crossed the common room where a few upper-year students were sleeping in a heap and discreetly got out of the barrel, before walking towards the kitchen. The path was short, just a few turns at most. She was walking down a corridor with walls adorned with paintings and portraits of sleeping occupants, the opposite wall featuring arched windows with small diamond-shaped panes, some tinted with various colours, when the panes shook, rattling in their jambs, as if shaken by a violent squall.

She was just about to ignore this and continue on her way, convincing herself that it was just a sudden gust of wind, such as could occur regularly in the Highlands, when she saw a rapid series of flashes of violet light coming from behind the slope at the foot of a mountain a few kilometres away. She frowned, her chest tightening with concern. What on earth was going on? It was nothing like the incident of wild magic her mother... aunt had told her about. More flashes of light highlighted the rocky outline of the mountainside, and after some of them, the windows shook again. She took a few steps back, hugging Snappie to her chest and wrapping herself even tighter in her blanket, her anxiety giving way to fear.

The voice of reason whispered to her to go and tell someone, to go and tell a teacher that there was something serious going on out there. But her curiosity, her fear, and perhaps a little her dread of having to admit to being outside the dormitory and the common room long after curfew, kept her stuck in place.

For almost a minute, calm returned, and she was about to convince herself that she had been dreaming, that nothing had happened, and to resume her journey towards the kitchens, when an immense dome of milky light, encompassing the entire side of the mountain, appeared above the place where the strange lights had been. Underneath it, almost immediately after its appearance, a huge, demented fire broke out, its flames overtaking the mountainside hiding the origin of all this chaos from her eyes. Her horror grew with each passing second, as she stood transfixed, unable to look away from this Maelstrom, this hurricane of magic erupting in a chaos of eerie lights. When a glow lit up the valley as if it were daylight, as if a sun had just appeared on earth, she had the presence of mind to stick her back against one of the large pillars separating each window.

A few seconds later, the shockwave hit, shattering all the windows in the corridor and sending a thousand shards of glass crashing into the opposite wall, tearing drapes and paintings. The noise was so terrible that she thought a hundred bolts of lightning had struck right next to her. Her eyes hurt, patches of colour dancing in her vision as her ears ringed and she tried to catch the breath she had lost when the shockwave had passed through her body.

Terrified, she clutched Snappie with all her might and ran towards her common room, all desire for hot chocolate having passed. Something terrible had just happened. The shards of glass on the floor shattered with every step she took, her imagination running wild, more and more awful scenarios playing out in her head, was someone or something trying to attack Hogwarts? Dark wizards? A resurgence of the servants of the one whose name must not be spoken? She had never seen magic on such a scale, it was as if a terrible battle was at the gates of Hogwarts.

She hit the code on the warm brown wooden door of the barrel that hid the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room and slipped inside as quickly as she could. The common room was full, students of all ages forming small groups and chatting in hushed tones, some still visibly drowsy. Lucy, a seventh year who had given her advice several times after her arrival, was in her yellow flowered pyjamas with a nightcap. No sooner had she entered than someone pulled her by the arm. She let out a small yelp of surprise and fear before realising that it was Hannah, pulling her towards the small group made up of the members of the history club, with the exception of Aster, Hermione and Tonks.

"Where have you been?" hissed Hannah.

"I just went to get a hot chocolate from the kitchen, what's going on?

"The castle's been locked down, a state of emergency declared, after the explosion, Professor Sprout's voice ordered everyone to gather in the common room until whatever's going on is over."

"Aster, Hermione, they weren't there when I woke up... "

Hannah was obviously as worried as she was, but she said reassuringly. "Tonks has gone to look for them, they should be back soon."

…

The next day, Tonks returned empty-handed, Aster and Hermione still missing, the castle was in a strange mood, all classes had been cancelled for the day and all the houses were confined to their dormitories and common rooms, with meals brought directly to them. Professor Sprout had come to do a headcount to make sure all was well and to repeat the absolute lockdown several times. When Susan and Hannah went to tell her their concerns about Aster and Hermione's absence, she assured them that everything was under control before quickly changing the subject. Which hadn't done much to reassure them. Everyone was anxious, with no news from outside, apart from a few vague rumours ranging from a new acromentulae attack to the destruction of the Statute of Secrecy followed by a muggle crisis, not to mention the return of "the one whose name must not be spoken". In short, a grim anxiety had spread among the Hufflepuffs, a feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

No one seemed to have any answers, not the senior pupils, not the prefects, and the teachers who came by regularly to make sure everything was fine were equally silent on the subject, their words boiling down to "everything's under control, we just have to wait".

As the evening wore on, Susan stared at her two friends' empty beds, worry twisting her throat and gnawing at her stomach. The dormitory, usually so lively, was almost plunged into a funereal atmosphere. That night, she put her pride aside and slept with Hannah and Snappie, her oldest friend's smile at the sight of her childhood cuddly toy reassuring her enough to allow her to close her eyes and fall asleep.

...

The next day, classes resumed, but the castle was still locked, with a strict prohibition on going outside. At breakfast, to everyone's astonishment, the headmaster's chair was empty, with all the teachers looking grave. Professor Flitwick's usual good humour was gone, Professor Mcgonagal's was icy, Professor Snape was terrifying, the others tried to keep up a calm front, but it wasn't hard to see how shaken they were.

The day passed as normally as it could under the circumstances, with worry gnawing at Susan's mind hour after hour. That evening, Aster and Hermione still hadn't returned, Tonks confirming that neither of them were in the castle grounds.

...

Susan couldn't take her eyes off Dumbledore, this morning Hogwarts and the surrounding area had been declared safe enough for owls to enter and exit and for pupils to go out into the valley, but the cause of the deathly silence hanging over the Great Hall was the appearance of Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in Britain. He was dressed in dark purple and looked extremely tired, but what she couldn't take her eyes off of was the empty sleeve hanging against the headmaster's left flank, the absence of his legendary beard, and the terrible burn mark on the left half of his face, the reddened and twisted skin surrounding an extinguished eye. By the elder gods, what had happened?

...

The answer didn't arrive until a few days later, and although she had sent letters to her mum... aunt, Susan hadn't received any answers until today, the Prophet and just about everyone else who might know anything about what had happened remained silent. But it seemed that today they would finally have the answer to more than one question.

No sooner had they finished their breakfast, made gloomy by the absence of Aster and Hermione, than Professor Mcgonagall came to collect all the members of the history club, including Tonks. Susan was dying to ask what it was all about, but the professor's closed face and barely contained anger discouraged her from even asking the slightest question.

Once past the gargoyles and up the spiral staircase, when Professor Mcgonagall opened the door, Susan's heart, already racing with worry, quickened, her stomach knotted and her throat tightened. In the Principal's chaotic office were not only Dumbledore and all the Heads of House, but also several Aurors and her aunt.

Neville was terrified, Tonks was uncomfortable, Hannah was squeezing her hand a little too tightly, and Léane and Sophia were pressed up against each other.

"Aunty, what's going on?" Susan asked in terror.

"I'm here as the head of the DMLE, Susan. Don't worry, you're not being charged with anything." Said her aunt, her voice hard, professional. Susan shuddered, her aunt had never used that tone with her before, even on official occasions.

"Please be seated." Dumbledore said, indicating a group of chairs opposite his desk.

Once everyone was seated, too worried to dare say a word, Amelia stepped forward, staring sternly at them one by one. She pulled out a parchment and a black quill which levitated beside her, Susan immediately recognising the procedure, everything that was said in this room would be transcribed exactly and inalterably, the kind of thing used during official DMLE interrogations, the kind of document that could be used as evidence in a trial. What on earth was going on?

Amelia Bones spoke, her voice deep, clinical, white, all emotion absent from her flat, neutral tone. "9 May 1991, 9.15am. Questioning of witnesses in the Potter case begins..."

She was interrupted by Léane who exclaimed, "Do you know what happened to Aster? Where's Hermione?" The moment the young girl opened her mouth, Amelia grabbed the quill, preventing her from writing down what had just been said.

"Calm down Miss Maywind, I can't tell you the details of the case, you're here as witnesses because you were close friends of Miss Potter and Miss Snow. Keep quiet unless you are asked to speak." Amelia said before releasing the quill, leaving Léane's cheeks pink with embarrassment and her eyebrows furrowed.

Susan stared apprehensively at her aunt, her cold, professional tone capable of making her appear emotionless to most people, but not to her own niece. The disgust and horror she had seen in her eyes when she had uttered Aster's name was plain to her. While her friend(s) seemed to believe that the purpose of this questioning was to help find their missing friends, Susan doubted it more and more.

The interrogation took place as her aunt had explained, each member of their group saying their name in turn so that each could be assigned a colour of ink, and when Amelia specified aloud that the interrogation would take place without the use of veritaserum, given that they were all minors, a shiver ran down her spine, she remembered only too well what her aunt had told her when she had asked her lots of questions about her work and the subject of this potion had been raised. Amelia had said: "Susan, you must remember that veritaserum is a highly restricted potion which is only used in the most serious cases and only with a warrant from the Ministry, in the presence of a healer, and may not be administered to a minor under any circumstances..." before going on at length about the dangers of this potion and the restrictions on its use. For Amelia to have to specify that the lack of administration of the potion was only due to their age was an additional indicator of the gravity of the situation.

There followed a series of questions for each of them about their relationship with Aster and Hermione, what she knew about the two girls, their relationships, interests, activities, what exactly the history club consisted of, what they had visited with Aster, the books she had recommended to them... One point on which the questioning focused a great deal and which only increased Susan's concern was the large number of questions about Aster's vampire status, whether she had done anything to them, whether she had ever been threatening or dangerous, which everyone vehemently denied when the question was put to each of them, one after the other.

But that wasn't all, the questions about Aster's ideology, the books she had recommended to them, the things she had said... It was true that Aster made no secret of the fact that her political views were far removed from the mainstream and that she was highly critical of the Ministry. By silent agreement, no one said a word about what Aster had told them about the Status War and all the other damnatio memoriae information she had distilled for them during the history club meetings, but... One realisation struck Susan: the purpose of this interview was not to find Aster, but to gather evidence. She felt the palms of her hands begin to sweat, Tonks' face was livid, she too had surely understood what was happening. What in Merlin's name had Aster and Hermione done? What were they accused of?

Finally, after more than an hour of questioning, Amelia put away the quill and rolled up the parchment. "Ladies, Mr Longbottom, thank you for your cooperation. I know this is going to be a difficult day for you. I've contacted your parents, who should be arriving by floo any minute now, so everything will be explained to you."

No sooner had she finished her sentence than the flames in the fireplace in Dumbledore's office took on the green hue characteristic of this form of transport. First to emerge was the famous figure of Mrs Longbottom and her vulture hat, closely followed by what she deduced to be Léane's parents, Sophia's and Tonks', as they immediately made their way towards their respective daughters. Just after them came Hannah's parents, who immediately included her in their group. After all, Marion and Andre Abbott had hosted her several times a week for years when Amelia couldn't come home in the evenings because of her work.

"Dumbledore, it's high time you finally explained what's going on! First an Acromentulae attack, and now ... whatever happened was bad enough to make the headlines but with no explanation!" Tonks's mother exclaimed, one hand clasped on her daughter's shoulder, her eyes flashing with lightning, her size, however small, looking immense as her fury was so tangible, her long black hair lifted by an invisible breeze.

At these words, all the other parents began to loudly express their agreement, in a cacophony that made Susan wince. It was Dumbledore who calmed things down by banging his fist on his desk, triggering a deafening thunderclap that interrupted everyone, and once he had everyone's attention focused on him, he said calmly: " I understand that the situation is particularly difficult, but I ask you to remain civil and let Mrs Bones explain the situation to you."

"Thank you, Albus." Amelia began. "I'm not going to beat about the bush, it was thought better that you learn what happened to the one you knew as Miss Potter and Miss Snow in private than from the prophet's article which will appear after the trial, in a few days' time. Earlier this year, a person posing as Miss Potter reappeared to claim her place at Hogwarts, claiming that she had been taken in and vampirised by the infamous vampire Dark Lady Anna Karrasinqi, before having to flee during the Bloodbath battle that ended the Dark Lady's life and settle in Ulthar, one of the hidden nations. This story has recently been proven false." Susan met the eyes of Hannah, Neville and the other girls. An imposter?

Amelia continued. "Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, despite all his tests and all his experience, was unable to unmask the deception. In hindsight, it is clear that the aim of the impostor and his thrall Hermione Snow was to steal a priceless artefact kept by Headmaster Dumbledore. On the night of the sixth to the seventh of May, the impostor and Miss Snow broke into Mr Albus Dumbledore's quarters to steal said treasure before making their escape. However, they were caught by Professor Quirrinus Quirrel, who discovered the misdeed. The impostor then killed him in cold blood, allowing her acolyte to escape. However, before the impostor could disappear as well, in a final act of heroism, Professor Quirrel managed to alert Headmaster Dumbledore, who arrived immediately. The impostor managed to seriously injure him but was captured when the Aurors arrived on the scene."

A terrible realisation dawned on Susan, what she had seen through the window, that Dantean battle behind the mountainside... was it Aster... or the one Amelia said was impersonating her, fighting Dumbledore? But the monster her aunt was describing was nothing like what she had learnt to associate with Aster after months of close friendship! Aster was gentle, adorable, some might even say too sweet! She had taught them more about the real world than most wizards could hope to know, she had helped them, opened doors for them, taken them to legendary places, had been the best friend she could have hoped to make (apart from Hannah) when she arrived at Hogwarts. Her shyness, her emotions, her sincerity... how? Was her aunt lying to them? No... she seemed genuinely convinced of the truth of what she was saying. What Aster had explained so many times came back to her mind, the way society treated vampires and other creatures, everything that was hidden from the eyes of the average witch or wizard... What Amélia was telling them was not THE truth, but ONE truth. The truth of British magical society, the truth from their point of view, the truth of what seemed right to them after the investigation the Aurors had had to carry out over the last few days. In the end, the truth that would be most pleasant for them to see.

She took Hannah's hand in hers and exchanged a glance with her, the understanding as clear as day in the eyes of her oldest and best friend. Whatever Amelia said, she would take with distance and circumspection, Hermione had not been captured, Aster's fate unknown, until she had their friend's version, she would not take a word the Aurors said for granted.

Meanwhile her aunt had continued. "Numerous other charges in addition to the murder of Quirrel, the murder of the real Aster Potter, theft of her identity, endangering a minor, propagation of false belief, and corruption of youth are suspected."

"My daughter was friends with such a monster?" Leane's mother exclaimed, clutching her daughter to her chest, her father's face pale with horror.

"Please remain calm, we are absolutely certain that no child was endangered by their presence, otherwise the wards of Hogwarts would have detected their malicious intentions. The impostor was only interested in the artefact, the biggest victim in this story is Miss Snow, the impostor's thrall. Clearly the poor girl is indoctrinated to the last degree."

"How could the... thing impersonate the late Miss Potter? I know for a fact that a metamorphmagus can't be turned into a vampire." She said as she protectively leaned closer to Tonks.

"We don't know for sure, the impostor isn't just a vampire, there's... something else, according to the expertise of Professor Dumbledore here, the impostor has used magic darker than the darkest of dark magic and is completely immune to legilimency and veritaserum. We can only speculate as to how."

"I... what can we do?" Sophia's father asked, hugging his daughter to his chest. Susan noticed that Sophia was crying silently, clenching her fist into her father's shirt, while the man she assumed to be her other father, by the ring on his finger, was stroking her head.

It was Professor Dumbledore who replied gravely. "Your children have been exposed to terrible events and potentially to many lies and very dark magic. It is required that you make an appointment with mind healers to help them deal with these events. You are encouraged to take your children home and set up group therapy. The end of year exam can be taken individually at the ministry."

"And Hermione?" Neville asked in a strangled voice, overcoming his shyness.

"When Miss Snow is captured, she will be taken care of by the St. Mungos psycho-paediatric service to try to mitigate as best as possible the damage inflicted by the impostor's vampiric thrall. Under the vampire's influence, she is not held responsible for her actions, nor is she an accomplice. Amelia replied with a forced smile, then turned to Susan, looking into her eyes sadly. "Susan, with all this going on, I'm pressed for time and won't be able to get back with you, but I'll try to be there as soon as possible. She said before placing a kiss on her forehead. "Marion, André, I entrust my niece to you once again. Thank you so much."

Hannah's parents smiled at Amélia, "It's nothing, you know she's almost like our own daughter."

"Thank you." Amelia said gratefully before leaving the office with her Aurors through the fireplace. The parents chatted amongst themselves for a moment before each of them disappeared into the green flames.

Susan was too lost in thought to pay attention to what was being said. Hermione... a thrall for Aster? Absurd... In all that Amelia had said, there were many things wrong, but she found herself unable to say what exactly. Just... Aster was nothing like the monster her aunt had described. Strange? Yes. Cute? Yes. Great friend? Yes. Strong? Yes. But a bloodthirsty monster, killing for no reason, using Hermione as a slave? No... never. Determination burned within her, and her gaze plunged into Hannah's, the latter returning that same determination to her. Whatever it took, they would find out the truth.

oOOOo

A cold fury coursed through his veins, that madman Dumbledore had gone too far, not only had he destroyed any possibility of his goddaughter having a normal life by sending her to live with Petunia, but once she was finally back, too blinded by his Manichaeism, he condemned her to death by presenting her as a monster in the eyes of the Wizengamot.

He strode towards his former mentor's room, his cloak billowing behind his back, his footsteps clattering on the bare stone, the wind of his stride causing the candelabras' flames to flicker, his lips pressed together, his resolve firm. He knew full well that trying to convince Albus of Aster's innocence was unlikely to lead anywhere, but if he didn't try, it would be another thing he would have to add to his already too long list of regrets.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door with the force of his anger, slamming it against the wall. No sooner had he entered than the mixture of smoky odours, elven grass, alcohol and grime made him wince. The room was a chaos of clothes, papers and books strewn across the floor, bottles of alcohol heaped up. The thick purple curtains on the windows were closed, and the room was lit only by a few candles, plunging it into gloom and dust. Albus was slumped in a large red armchair, staring into space, a bottle hanging limply in his hand. His dresses were dirty and decrepit. What a pathetic sight.

Without speaking to Albus, he opened the curtains and windows wide, letting the fresh spring air into the room, driving out the smoke and bringing in the smell of freshly fallen rain. Albus grunted in annoyance as the silver light of morning enveloped the room, chasing away the gloom. With a few wand movements and mumbled incantations, Severus cleared the rubbish from the floor, gathered up the discarded clothes and returned the books to their place on the shelves. With a casual gesture, he struck Albus with a cleansing spell to banish the grime before snatching the half-empty bottle from his hand and making the elven grass disappear.

"No need to be so brutal, Severus." Albus grumbled, holding his skull.

"It is when I see you being so pathetic Albus." He said coldly before leaning against a wall and crossing his arms, glaring at his former mentor. In recent days, the man had been a shadow of his former self, managing to put on a brave face at the Wizengamot and in the Great Hall... but the rest of the time... gone was his jovial temperament, his inextinguishable cheerfulness. His scarred face and missing arm made him all the more pitiful. How low had fallen Grindelwald's conqueror, the man feared by the Dark Lord himself.

Albus raised his head, one eye the usual steely blue, the other milky white. "This is about the impostor, isn't it, Severus? I understand that you feel betrayed, I think everyone does, but I think they will suffer enough in Azkaban to avenge the insult of their existence upon Lily's sacrifice." He said with his usual wisdom, but his words only made the raging blizzard in Severus's heart blow harder.

At that moment, the effort he had to make to keep his composure was immense. "Albus, I have excellent reason to believe that the Aster Potter we have had the pleasure of teaching this year is the real Aster Potter, and not an imposter, you have once again condemned a child to death, it is not too late to undo this Albus." He said coldly.

Albus widened his eye. "Severus, you're mad, if I didn't know it was impossible I'd think the impostor had brainwashed you!"

"Albus, listen, I..." Severus began before he was interrupted.

"No child can master such magic! No child can face ICW battle mages! No child could even fathom the nature of the artefact that was in my possession! No child would kill a teacher in cold blood!" Albus shouted as he rose from his chair, his magic crackling in the air around him, the gigantic power of the man made plain.

Severus stood his ground, gritting his teeth against the overwhelming aura. "Albus! Aster is not a normal child! Do you think being raised by Karrasinqi taught her nothing? Do you think that Karrasinqi didn't entrust her adopted daughter's upbringing to people who knew how to teach her the magics you faced? I too visited the battlefield of Karrasinqi's retreat, I saw for myself and I can well believe that a young mage with exceptional talent and masters could have done this to save her life and that of her mother!" He replied, his anger evident in the volume of his voice, his own aura unleashed, confronting Albus'.

"And killing Quirrinus in cold blood is justifiable perhaps? Enslaving Miss Snow with her vampiric powers? I saw in the memories of her 'friends' what she taught them, things that for the good of our entire society should remain forgotten! She has corrupted their young minds, if I could, I would erase their memories for their own good!" he shouted, his face distorted by rage and pain, his fist clenched against his side.

"Didn't you see? Quirrinus was possessed by the Dark Lord, my goddaughter was only defending herself, Albus, by condemning her like that you... " he began before being cut off.

"SILENCE! Severus, for too long you have been blinded by hope, you must accept that Lily's daughter is long dead. Do not be persuaded by the fine promises of this... monster! I don't want to see you again until you've recovered your spirit, Severus. Go away!" he finished before collapsing into his chair, as if all the energy he'd had just seconds before had evaporated.

Severus gritted his teeth, holding back a biting retort. Dumbledore had made up his mind, no matter what he might say, he would not be heard. He just had to find another way to save his goddaughter. He left the room without saying a word, slamming the door behind him, a visceral hatred for his former mentor germinating in his heart. Dumbledore had just made one mistake too many.

...

That evening, in his study, by the light of a few candles, he was already hatching his plan. His goddaughter would not stay a second longer than the bare minimum he would manage to achieve within the walls of Azkaban. He had doubted and still questioned the wisdom of an organisation on the scale of the Order of the Asphodel, especially one created by someone as inexperienced as Aster, but at the moment he was more than happy to include their support in his plan to free their founder. Given that many of these members had a respect and admiration bordering on religious devotion for Aster, it would not be difficult to convince the order to act, and the difficulty might even lie in holding back a horde of enraged zealots from throwing themselves against the prison walls.

His other priority was to find Hermione Snow, his goddaughter's best friend, apprentice and sidekick. The fact that Aster already had an apprentice at her age was a source of endless amusement to him. The teenager had disappeared, probably to some secret property that Aster had led him to believe she possessed. All he could do was wait until she heard the news of her goddaughter's capture in the paper and joined the Order of the Asphodel... trying to track her down would only turn her suspicious.

His thoughts were interrupted by scratching on his door. He raised an eyebrow, but to tell the truth, he had half expected this visit. With a few flicks of his wand, all the documents that might betray his intentions disappeared into their hiding place. Once satisfied, he opened the latest issue of the 'Bézoard Hebdomadaire' and pretended to be deep in reading before unlocking and opening the door with a flick of his wand.

A feline form slid into her office, its velvet paws silent. The brown-and-grey-striped cat leapt gracefully onto the sofa and sat elegantly, its tail on its paws, staring up at him. Severus closed the door, placed the newspaper on his desk and heaved a long sigh as he squeezed the bridge of his nose. "Good evening Minerva, I wish you'd stop clawing at the door when you want to come in, the wood's scratched enough as it is." He said more out of habit than anything else, knowing full well that the wood of his door and furniture would be condemned as long as Minerva was a resident of the castle.

At his words, the cat's silhouette became fluid, distorting and contorting for a moment before leaving in its place a vaguely amused-looking Minerva Mcgonagall. "Come on Severus, you know I'm above that."

"What do you want, Minerva?" he sighed.

"I was just thinking that maybe you could do with a drink." She said, pulling a bottle of Fire-Whisky from her robes.

"I don't need your pity." He said, glowering at her. His other colleagues were already giving him enough sad looks as it was, imagining that he was finally mourning Aster and trying to live in spite of the 'impostor's' betrayal. Minerva had so far been the only one to treat him as usual, without that insulting pity.

"Pity? Oh, far from it, I just imagined that sharing a few drinks would allow us to come up with a better plan to free Miss Potter."

"You... you disagree with Albus?" He said, trying not to overtly show how absurd the notion sounded to him.

Minerva frowned. "Do you take me for a fool? I know that Miss Potter is no impostor and that a few days ago she warded off the spectre of ... Voldemort, by killing Quirrell."

"How?" he asked.

She pointed to her nose with her index finger. "Come on, Severus, I'd know Lily's daughter's scent anywhere, the nose does not deceive. And the smell of degenerate putrescence poorly disguised by the garlic with which Quirrell stuffed his turban was pretty obvious too."

"But, Albus..."

Minerva's face turned grim. "Do you really think he honestly believed that Aster Potter had returned? No, he probably tried to convince himself, but as far as he was concerned, Aster died the moment he gave up the search all those years ago." She said bitterly.

Severus rose and took two glasses from his cabinet and placed them on the coffee table opposite the seat where Minerva was sitting before adding two logs to the fire to rekindle the flames and sitting down opposite the person closest to what he could consider a friend. "In that case, I think we have much to discuss." He said.

A sincere smile spread across Minerva's face. "So, Severus, how do you intend to get your goddaughter out of this mess?"

oOOOo

Her breathing was ragged as she staggered to her feet, leaning on her battle staff for support. Behind her, the magical portal slammed shut, the air filling the void left by the spatial magic in an instant. She hobbled a few steps, trying to catch her breath, her windpipe aching, each inhalation burning her lungs. She had never run so fast in her life.

Hermione pressed her back against the trunk of a tree before sliding against its rough bark until she ended up sitting on the ground, in the damp grass. She took the stone out of her pocket, a crystal with iridescent reflections and a curious geometry, so that even in the palm of her hand, she couldn't make out the shape of the object. She brought her other hand to her neck, lifting the small, innocent vial in which the little blue flame was burning... It was unreal, she was literally holding a soul in the palm of her hand. Her gaze returned to the stone, the original reason they had come to Hogwarts. Would Aster really be able to resurrect her mother thanks to this thing and the iron chrysalis? Whatever it was?

She hoped so with all her heart, Aster seemed to love this woman so much, Dark Lady or not. What's more, the idea of meeting Anna Karrasinqi in person was both a huge source of excitement and a strange anxiety, even fear, of not being approved by Aster's mother figure.

A slight laugh that turned into a coughing fit shook her chest as she tried to calm her laboured breathing. Holding the soul of an immortal Dark Lady Vampire in the palm of her hand... could it get any crazier than that? She turned her head in the direction of their English home, what she liked to call in her head their real home, in the countryside, far from the cosmopolitan hustle and bustle of Ulthar. The lights of the thatched cottage of wood and stone were on, their orange glow reflecting off the ripples of the small lily pond between them. The brownie must have sensed their arrival and prepared the house for their return; the faint smell of freshly baked bread in the air reinforced this hypothesis. She had taken Aster's warning seriously and, despite her curiosity, had never tried to see the familiar spirit, and she was glad of that. The more time she and Aster spent respecting Brownie and his customs, the more it seemed that he put heart and soul into the upkeep of the house and garden. A slight smile played on her lips as the fleeting thought crossed her mind that the Brownie might have started a family in their home.

Once she had caught her breath and the pain in her legs had returned to a bearable level, she helped herself as best she could with her battle staff to get up. She dusted herself off and turned towards the strangely named array conjunctions on algeometric supports engraved in the vitrified ground a few metres away, which served as the matrix for the space portal. She was seized by a sudden desire to raise her eyes to the sky, unlike wizards, mages had such a down-to-earth, almost scientific way of naming things that it became comical, the way Aster sometimes blushed when using the acronym Acoas making it adorable as well as amusing... That said, perhaps the classic Yujul name for this type of magic medium was more elegant and made more sense than its rough English translation.

The mixture of rune and array glowed faintly with a bluish light, so that Hermione could hardly tell whether it was light coming from the acoas itself or moonlight reflecting off the iron ink cast into the engraving.

Hermione wasn't worried, Aster wouldn't be long, her friend was very strong, extremely well prepared, and Voldemort was weakened by his possession of Quirrell, giving him a definite disadvantage. So it was only a matter of time before Aster joined her, then rested for a few minutes and deposited the stone in a safe place before discreetly returning to Hogwarts to act surprised when the teachers realised that Quirrell had disappeared.

A good five minutes passed, the silence of the night disturbed only by the hooting of an owl and the rustling of small nocturnal creatures scuttling through the undergrowth. An unsettling tension was building in her chest, what on earth was Aster doing? She was startled when a frog croaked in the reeds surrounding the pond, but there was no need to worry just yet, Aster would be back soon. She took a few deep breaths and found a large stone to sit on while she waited for Aster.

Each new minute was torture, her anxiety growing stronger and stronger. After twenty minutes of fidgeting, getting up, pacing back and forth, sitting down again, kneading the fabric of her dresses with enough pressure to turn her knuckles white, twenty short minutes that seemed like hours, she decided she had to do something, it was too much time. Something had gone wrong. Had Voldemort defeated Aster? Impossible... not in his state.

She made up her mind, no matter what the risk, she was going to go back and help Aster fight Voldemort! She ran back to the house, quickly deposited the stone and the soul vial in one of the sideboard drawers before returning to the gate. There was no time to lose, she just hoped that Aster was still alive... She pushed a little of her magic into the acoas activation sequence, the bluish light intensifying, running along every line and vein of the vast geometric web of intertwined arrays. She stood ready for the portal to open. When nothing happened, she frowned. Clearly, something was wrong. Then, in the darkness, a thick fog began to rise around her, and whispers could be heard, indistinct voices carried on the breeze. A strange figure moved slowly past her as the orange lights of the house grew dimmer and more distant. Panicking, she leapt backwards, immediately ceasing to bring magic to the acoas.

Her heart was pounding in her chest; not only was Aster in danger, but the portal wasn't acting as usual. Fortunately, having stopped adding magic to the activation sequence seemed to have stopped the process of... whatever it was that was happening, as the mists slowly dissipated and the world seemed clearer to her. However, the area around the portals had changed from wild grass to countless flowering asphodel bushes, their heady scent and the strangeness of what was happening, or rather had almost happened, giving her goosebumps.

She returned to the house, despondent; the gate was out of order. The most likely hypothesis was that Voldemort had put up more resistance than expected and that the Hogwarts side of the portal had been destroyed... Aster must have been finished with Voldemort long ago and, unable to join her, must have returned to the dormitory with their friends. To consider any other possibility was just too awful for her. No, Aster was just too strong, prepared as she was, for Voldemort to defeat her in his parasitic state.

The problem was that she had no way of getting to Hogwarts fast enough to get there before dawn so that her disappearance would not be noticed. She closed the door of the house behind her, took off her shoes, took off her coat and put on her slippers. The only sensible option was to wait to hear from Aster and trust her to find a cover for her disappearance. She was sure Severus would help them make the story as plausible as possible.

When she entered the dining room, she was pleased to see a fire already lit in the fireplace. The brownie was just too adorable. However, she felt a twinge of sadness when she saw two mugs of hot chocolate and two slices of apple pie on the table. She pulled out the chair and sat down, her gaze lost in the flames, the crackling of the wood in the silence only making Aster's absence that much heavier. No matter how many times she told herself that everything was fine and that Aster would contact her in the next few days, the worry twisted her stomach. It would be extremely difficult for her to keep a low profile for a while, her imagination constantly flooding her with scenarios, each more horrible than the last, of Aster being killed by Voldemort, captured, tortured... She had to remain confident, Aster was strong, she had probably got out of it before. She had to find a distraction, something to read, something to do, anything as long as it took her mind off the eventualities against which she was powerless anyway.

She was startled when a dresser drawer opened by itself. Before she could investigate, a chessboard and its chess pieces came out and levitated to the table, resting on it and organising themselves. She blessed her religious regularity in offering the cup of milk and the coin under the doormat, the brownie was still too shy to show himself, and she supposed he would remain so, but she wasn't going to say no to a chess partner when she desperately needed to think about something other than her fear of what might have happened to Aster.

...

Five days had passed. Five days of gut-wrenching anxiety, insomnia and terrible nightmares, Hermione's imagination constantly showing her the worst fates Aster could have suffered that night, only the warm, purring mass of Crookshank happy to see his mistress again bringing her a little comfort. Five days scanning the sky for a message, some sort of sign from Aster. The lack of news was making her sick, torturing her mind and body.

She'd had enough, not acting was torture. She still had her doubts about the Order of the Asphodel, but in circumstances like these, she was going to have to put her fears aside. What better source to hope for news of Aster than the order she herself had created?

She made sure that the philosopher's stone, or riftstone, as Aster liked to call it, was safe, hidden next to Karrasinqi's soul vial, before putting on her cloak and travelling clothes. She left a bowl of milk and a coin under the mat for the Brownie, before going out and locking the door behind her, clutching her battle staff in her hand, her bag well filled, her determination fierce. The weight on her shoulders, the tight grip around her throat and the leaden cap on her heart were lightened by the very act of setting off, of taking action.

oOOOo

The wind blew behind the walls, the sound of the gusts akin to lamentations, distorted cries and incomprehensible murmurs. Drops of water fell in a regular plopping against the stone, the ambient humidity making the cold of the cell all the more biting. If she wasn't a vampire, given her small size, she would already have developed frostbite. Through the small skylight in the stone, far too high for her to reach, she could see the grey shades of rain-laden clouds rolling in, and hear the waves crashing against the prison's ancient stone foundations far below.

Her cell was so small that an adult could hardly lie in it, the walls made of monolithic bare stone, as if the prison had been carved out of the rock rather than built. A gate with thick iron bars closed her cell, giving her a view of the hopelessly empty corridor and the cell opposite hers. She curled up further, bringing her knees even closer to her chest, encircling them with her able-bodied arm. It was in this small, dark corner that the salty wind rushing into the cell affected her the least, and that the rain and sea spray were the least likely to wet the musty old hessian tunic she wore as her only garment. She preferred not to think about the countless prisoners who had starved to death in the cold, or whose souls had been permanently broken by the dementors, having worn this same worn-out canvas to the rope.

The damp old straw from which the haggard man in the cell opposite his was benefiting was a luxury that had apparently been deemed superfluous, given that the only other object in the cell was an old worm-eaten wooden bucket in which generations of prisoners had had to relieve themselves.

She had only been here a few hours, or so she thought, and it was bloody difficult to say how long she had been in this shithole, the skylight still giving off the same spectral glow, the clouds still obscuring the sky...

The cold metal of the heavy, runic-silver, magic-disrupting manacles around her wrists and ankles, and the necklace of the same material around her neck, were biting into her skin, red marks already appearing around the things... The wizengamot had taken her seriously it would seem, these were strong enough to completely incapacitate a wizard of Dumbledore's power, so she, with her far inferior resistance to magic, under the influence of the manacles, was reduced to a muggle.

She glanced at the man in the cell opposite hers; he was prostrate on the floor, his gaunt figure hunched over, his long, dirty, oily black hair falling in long locks over his shoulders. He had buried his face in his hands, and was shaking with regular sobs. He seemed to know her name and that of her biological mother and had broken down crying when she had tried to talk to him... Who the hell was this? An acquaintance of her biological parents? Probably one of their enemies... Was he crying with rage to see her still alive? With joy at seeing the daughter of his enemies thrown into prison? It didn't make much sense... She'd probably find out soon enough, it wasn't as if she had anyone else to talk to within these walls, and there was no other form of distraction possible.

While she waited for the man to calm down, she had to test a theory: if she was right, she'd be out of here in a few days, if she wasn't... she might as well not think about it... The handcuffs and collar certainly prevented her from using her white magic, and from drawing on the surrounding magic with black magic, but unbound black magic was something else entirely... If she could link an array of unbound black magic to a leyline or a source of magic sufficiently close to the limitations of her contract with Lagaelis, then she would already be halfway to freedom.

An absorption array linked to a root and research array and a light array would allow her to test her theory. The array would use the ambient magic directly present to extend root-like filaments in search of a source of magic to connect to. Simple in theory, but a nightmare to implement. Especially in her current state. If she wasn't a vampire, it would be completely impractical; the risk of disease and infection that a normal person would incur by trying to imitate her simply wouldn't be worth it.

She glanced at the opposite cell, the man still completely down, motionless on the floor. Deciding it was best to leave him alone, she sighed and set to work on what would be hours of exhausting, bloody work. She wiped some of the floor as best she could before cutting her wrist on the blunt edge of the handcuff, which proved as messy as it was painful, her wrist now looking like a mess of flesh and blood. Despite having done this sort of thing many times, she had never done it in such miserable conditions. She clenched her teeth, suppressing a sob as tears of pain rolled down her cheeks... But her determination not to spend a single moment more than necessary in this place drove her forward and she began to draw the complex combination of arrays needed on the ground, letting her blood run down her hand to draw each line, each curve, each symbol... regularly, she was forced to stand up painfully and expose her bloodied wrist to the salty spray entering through the skylight to prevent the wound from closing and preventing the blood from continuing to flow. With each new effort, she mumbled the name of Lagaelis, calling out, begging the quasi-divine entity to lend her its power once more.

For hours, she worked tirelessly, her bloody work taking shape, the eleven-pointed star supporting the magic covering itself with arrays of browning blood, gradually becoming a fractal of infinitesimal variations.

When she finally finished, the loss of blood was causing her to see black butterflies on the periphery of her vision, an immense relief at the idea of the end of her torment invading her heart when she finally allowed herself the right to lick the blood from her hand and wrist in order to stop it flowing. The pain was terrible, her wrist on fire, but it was overshadowed by the hope that her efforts would bear fruit, that her magic would work and free her from this prison.

She took a few minutes to gather her wits and make sure she wasn't going to faint from blood loss before approaching her work and leaning over it. Murmuring the life-saving words that would activate her work. "Lagaelis, honour our bargain" at these words, the blood array lit up with a reddish glow, the stone blackening around it. Aster's eyes were fixed on the returning array, waiting apprehensively for it to light up, hoping to get confirmation that the roots had found a leyline or other source of usable magic.

The air became heavy, almost hot, like the minutes before a storm. She swallowed, and the returning array lit up, radiating a brilliant golden light into the gaol. A wave of joy swept through her, it had worked! A cry of joy was about to escape her when suddenly the light disappeared, like a candle that had just been blown out. The array was extinguished, giving off a fine black smoke, disappearing completely after a few seconds, its ashes carried away by the breeze entering the cell.

Aster stood motionless, staring at the place where the result of her hours of work, her blood and her tears had been a few seconds earlier. The feelings she had been holding in until then broke the dam, overtaking her completely, drowning her in a maelstrom of despair, fear, pain and rage. Reality crushed her, shattering her under its merciless iron. She was doomed, doomed to the worst kind of death for a vampire. If she didn't manage to escape, in less than a month, the thirst would drive her mad, shattering her soul and her spirit, reducing her to the state of a caged animal or she would die in the most pitiful of ways...

She turned her tear-fogged gaze towards the small skylight... her only hope lay in Hermione. If she didn't get caught, she would surely be able to reach Her Godfather and the Order of the Asphodel, and they would come and rescue her, wouldn't they? Here, between these cold, monolithic stone walls, she realised reality: she was just a frightened little girl, condemned to death, powerless, able only to rely on the eventual action of her allies... Would they at least take the trouble to come and rescue her?

She cowered further, her gaze fixed on the grey ground, her spirit too broken to cry any more. She felt empty, her thoughts going round and round in her head. Or had she really failed? Had she overestimated herself? She bit her cheek in rage, clenching her fist, wincing at the pain in her injured wrist. She had been a proud fool, that was the truth. Instead of remembering Sonya's advice, to annihilate her enemy as violently as possible, to crush them without giving them time to fight back, she had let her pride get the better of her and played with Voldemort. Perhaps in a misguided attempt to avenge the death of her biological parents, to show Voldemort that she was not to be trifled with, to take sadistic pleasure in her revenge on the man who had ruined her life? She was never going to repeat that mistake. If she got out of this alive, Sonya's words would be her law.

She was drawn out of her dark thoughts by a voice that was weak and stony from lack of use. "Who... what are you?" the man in the cell opposite was asking. He stood up, his face full of uncertainty.

Atser growled, she couldn't take it any more... This man had seen her practise black magic, and now here she was, some kind of creature in his eyes? A monster? She'd had enough. She struggled to her feet and moved towards the bars, giving the man a look so black that he took several steps back. "I. Am. ASTER. Fucking POTTER, Adopted daughter of Anna Karrasinqi, Apprentice to Kav-deb the Green." She said, her voice dangerously low, her tone varying between howl of rage and savage snarl.

"But... you... you..." He gestured towards her bloody wrist, towards the floor of her gaol. "You're a black mage, Aster doesn't... isn't..." He said with fear and confusion.

She sighed, getting angry with this man would get her nowhere, besides, he'd just said something of interest. "I'm a grey mage, not a black mage, it would be more obvious if I were one. And who are you? How do you know me? Who told you about black magic?" she asked. Wasn't black magic supposed to be a taboo subject and completely forbidden in ICW countries?

The man seemed to regain some semblance of composure. "I'm Sirius Black, and all the children in my family are taught about the existence of black magic and, above all, not to meddle with it. He said with a renewed calm, frankly strange for someone who seemed to have been here for years.

"How do you know me?" She asked, trying to regain her composure, and accepting the distraction that was this man... Sirius, better to talk to him than languish in his cell waiting for the inevitable.

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Are you really Aster?" he asked.

"I have no way of proving it, so what's the point in me answering you?" she said, exasperated.

Sirius looked puzzled for a moment, before a light lit up in his eyes. Aster gasped Suddenly, in place of the man was a huge black dog, its eyes glowing like embers, its long fur ending in a smoke blacker than a starless night. A Grimm, she realised. He sniffed the air, his wet nose curling up several times. A few seconds later, he regained his human form, kneeling in a daze. "You're really her, you're not lying... same magic, same smell", he whispered to himself.

"You're in a good position to act all scandalised by my use of black magic, Grimm." She said, highly amused.

She frowned, Sirius didn't seem to react to her... disappointment. Instead, his face changed rapidly from one emotion to another. Incomprehension, outrage, sadness, before settling on anger. "Who... who sent you here?" he asked.

Seeing no reason to lie, she shrugged. "The wizengamot and Dumbledore decided it was an appropriate punishment."

"No, impossible, even if they knew about your dark magic, they would never send a child to Azkaban..." he muttered.

"They're convinced I'm some kind of monster who killed Aster and took on her appearance." She said, pointing at her thick anti-magic handcuffs. "Look, they're that threatened. Besides, why do you even care? How do you know me?" she asked curiously.

"Didn't they tell you?" he said with surprise.

"No"... she frowned. Was this supposed to be something she knew?

A sad laugh escaped her throat. "I was best friends with your dad, Moony and the rat. Lily hated me at first, but I managed to endear myself to her. When you were born, I was named your godfather." He said bitterly.

"Do you know Severus Snape?" she asked.

"Snivellius? Yes, why?" He said, frowning.

"He's also my godfather, I didn't know I could have two." She said, looking the man up and down. Her godfather? Him? Severus had never mentioned him...

Sirius was silent for a moment, staring at her in disbelief, his jaw half open. "Are you joking? Snivellius? Your other Godfather?"

"You don't like him very much, do you?" she said with a frown, what could this man possibly have against Severus?

"He's a real bastard!" he exclaimed. "How?"...

"Hey, he's not a very nice man, but that's no reason to insult him like that. He's been a great help to me, you know?"

Sirius gave her a confused look. "Yes, of course, his presence in your life goes some way to explaining why you're in Azkaban... I can't believe it, Lily's always had a soft spot for him, even to the point of secretly making him your godfather... What could she possibly see in that greasy old bat?"

Aster was getting annoyed. "She probably saw what you're too stupid to see." Said she, crossing her able-bodied arm over her chest.

Sirius looked desperate. "Oh no, no, no, you got attached to him too, that's not good... He's a fucking Death-eater you know?"

"And an excellent spy," she retorted with verve.

He raised both hands in the air in surrender. "Okay, okay, enough about him, why don't you tell me what could have happened in the last twelve years to get a thirteen year old girl thrown into Azkaban with a ... a flaming eye? And a weird mechanical arm?"

She brought her hand to her Lagaelis gift eye, wondering for a moment what Sirius meant, before realising... obviously, this was the sort of thing that happened when she did black magic, she remembered Hermione telling her about it a few months earlier. "It's not like I've got anything better to do with my time... I'll tell you all about it, but in exchange, you'll tell me what my 'official' godfather is doing in Azkaban. Is that a deal?

Sirius gave him a bright smile, which was quite strange with his skeletal appearance. "Deal."

Aster smiled weakly, since when was she so open with strangers? Since she was a few weeks away from her death in prison she supposed... " You'd better sit down, it's a long story." She said.

...

It was with a certain amusement that Aster watched Sirius's expressions change during his story, from anger to resignation to passion, fear, interest and many others that she couldn't name, she was terribly amused to see Sirius fighting against himself not to interrupt her. When she finished, her throat was sore, it would have been much more comfortable to have had a large glass of water to talk. As for Sirius, he was up and about in his cell like a caged lion, gesticulating angrily, snarling incomprehensible swearwords and invectives. In the jumble of his words, she only managed to recognise a few death threats against Dumbledore and the wizarding world in general, a desire to burn things and probably people...

"How could they? I mean, yes, they didn't know, but they could have let you explain, BY DEVILS, WHY!" he finally shouted. He turned to her and gestured vaguely in her direction. "You're a kid... well, I didn't get anything you said about your age and what hanging out with that Sonia girl did to you, but you must be what? Twenty? Something like that, I mean... mentally, vampirism has really messed with your growth." What's that supposed to mean? "What's with the trial? At least, for me, they had the excuse of not having done one at all!" He ranted.

Aster rolled her eyes. "To them, I skinned the real Aster alive to steal her skin or something. A killer vampire monster who manipulates children. Veritaserum is ineffective on me. I disfigured Dumbledore and took one of his arms. Do you really think the Wizengamot is going to give the monster they think I am even the slightest chance?"

"Doesn't mean they're not first-class arseholes." Sirius growled, pouting.

"True." she smiled, amused by the man's antics "That said, I'm almost lucky, if they knew even half of the truth, I'd have been executed on the spot."

Sirius chuckled. "Speaking of which, if you weren't... I'd find that hard to believe, even the worst of the Blacks aren't taken away by their adoptive aunts in some kind of... I didn't get anything out of your explanation, what do you call it again?"

Aster rolled his eyes. "The beyond, where souls go to be destroyed, or eaten, if they're unlucky."

"Yes, into the beyond to make soul-eating feasts... Your life is crazy, you know that?"

"I know a bit about it yes..."

Sirius took a more serious look, and said. "I don't think you care much, we've only just met, but, I'm proud of you, and your parents would be too."

Aster raised an eyebrow, she hadn't expected that.

Sirius scratched the back of his head. "I mean, not for killing the people who attacked your adoptive mother, or killing a professor, even if possessed by Voldemort, they would never have wanted you to be forced to do that sort of thing... But for the creation of your order, Great Britain needed that."

It... wasn't as if she cared much for the man's opinion, but hearing it made her smile all the same. "Thank you."

"Not that I approve of what you do with your magic, you know!" He quickly amended.

Aster gritted her teeth. "Firstly, I don't care whether you approve or not. Secondly, if you wanted to be in a position to tell me this sort of thing, you shouldn't have been put in prison and done your job as godfather! Thirdly, listening to a Grimm complain about my magic use is ridiculous!" she said with a cold calm that made Sirius wince.

"Sorry, sorry... yes, it's hypocritical to say that as a Grimm, and before you judge, wait until you hear the reason why I'm here. You can insult me about it, but not until you know," he said guiltily.

...

Aster lay on the floor, clutching her wounded and aching wrist to her chest, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, staring at the stalactites of salt and limestone there. Sirius' story had been a long and tragic one. It had been a while since he had finished and she could almost feel his concern and anticipation of her reaction. Talking to him was a great way to get her mind off her pain and despair and the fact that her survival depended solely on whether Hermione could get her out of here quickly enough or not, but she needed time to think about her relationship with her new godfather. It was always strange to discover a bond with one's birth family. With Severus, it was simple enough, they had more of an ally relationship than a family one, and he hardly ever spoke of his ties with her other than what he had told her about his friendship with her biological mother.

Thinking of dead people she'd never known and whose names she'd only recently learned as family was strange enough for her, so trying to understand her relationship with her friends, her godparents, was even stranger. At the moment, she didn't feel much for Sirius, he seemed like a pretty good bloke, and was the best company she could have hoped for here. Plus, talking to him was a distraction for which she was terribly grateful.

However, she didn't really know what to think of what he had done, she was completely unable to imagine what her life would have been like if she had grown up with him as her adoptive father, and maybe Severus if they could put their disagreements aside. Growing up as a normal witch, without mechanical arms, without a mother in a vial, without chaotic deities, without Kav-deb and Sonya... without Hermione. Her life before she met Anna seemed so distant, so foggy, she could barely remember the Dursleys' faces, their names almost escaped her... How would she have felt if one day Sirius had come and rescued her from this abusive family and offered her a better life?

She couldn't really imagine. Gratitude perhaps? But beyond that... She hadn't been that little girl for a long time. She was Aster Karrasinqi, disciple of Kav-deb, Hermione's teacher, and if she managed to bring Anna back, a necromancer. A pretty coherent list of things for a prisoner of Azkaban, she thought with dark amusement.

Thinking of what might have been was futile, Sirius was in prison, having gone after the 'rat', hoping for revenge, persuading Dumbledore to take care of his goddaughter... Putting herself in the Grimm's place, she understood perfectly, during his story he had spoken several times of his trust in Dumbledore, of his love for 'James', in those conditions, imagining him doing anything else would have been unrealistic. However, the absence of a trial for a nobleman made no sense. No member of the Wizengamot would have supported the imprisonment of Sirius; it set a precedent that should have been prevented at all costs by the nobility. After all, it took away some of their immunity from justice.

All the other Blacks likely to continue the line were in prison, and from what Sirius had said, only his cousins Narcissa and Andromeda were still at liberty, but the former was a Malfoy, and the latter banished from the noble house. The others were either dead or imprisoned. Suddenly everything made sense in her mind.

She struggled to her feet and sat cross-legged, her gaze fixed on her godfather. He had his hands on the bars, watching her with livid concern. It gave her a little twinge, despite the fact that they had only just met, the man was terrified that she would reject him for his perceived fault. The loyalty of a Grimm, she thought with amusement. "It was a purge." She said to end Sirius's anxious wait.

"I knew it, I hope you'll forgive me one day, I... what?" He said, moving from despair to incomprehension.

"It was a purge, what happened to the Blacks," she added.

"What was it? What the..."

"I don't know the whole story, but it's the only thing that makes sense. For some reason, the other noble houses rallied against the Blacks and purged you."

Sirius blinked slowly, the cogs turning in his head almost visibly. "But ... that makes sense I suppose, but, why?"

"You might know better than me, you're a Black, but I'm pretty sure it has something to do with you knowing about dark magic, and you being a Grimm." That's what made the most sense, to have allowed such a thing to happen, House Black had to be isolated from the others and represent a threat. Its involvement in Voldemort's campaign, the existence of creatures in its ranks, its relationship with magic considered highly dangerous and forbidden, even taboo... They must have represented a sufficiently great threat to the rest of the nobility to justify their disappearance. There were certainly many political parties, ideologies, religions and nationalisms in the wizengamot, but as far as she knew none were extreme enough to defend House Black.

"I see..." Sirius said, giving her a sidelong glance, his concern still visible.

Aster sighed, she didn't imagine she would need to spell it out for him. "No, Sirius, I don't blame you, you can stop making that face.

His shoulders fell back, his features relaxed. He really was terrified, she realised. "Aster, I'm going to get you out of here." he said.

"How?" she asked, not wanting to get her hopes up.

"In a few months, I'll be thin enough in my Grimm form to fit through the bars. In this form, the Dementors won't see me, I'll go and steal the guards' keys and... "

"Stop right there, your plan won't work, I'm a vampire, remember." She said bitterly. She'd been right not to expect anything.

"What are you trying to say? How does that stop you from running away?" He said, dumbfounded.

"I need blood to survive, I need to drink blood from someone's skin. In less than a month, if I can't drink it, I'll go mad before I die. Long before you lose enough weight to carry out your plan." She said, staring at him coldly.

Sirius looked at her, bewildered and appalled, the realisation of her condition hitting him hard. He collapsed to his knees, pulling at his hair and sobbing. After a few minutes, he straightened up, his eyes reddening, and tried to put one arm through the bars, then his leg, but he couldn't even reach the middle of the corridor.

"Sirius, I appreciate the effort, but the corridor is far too wide for that," she said resignedly.

oOOOo

The grass was soft, the breeze fresh, a pleasant salty smell filled her lungs, the golden light of the sun low over the sea illuminated the blue foliage of the oak tree under which she was lying. The distant sound of the waves crashing against the base of the cliff was like a lullaby to her. In front of her stretched as far as the eye could see a meadow of tall, sun-gilded graminae, caressed by the wind like the fur of a sleeping animal. The meadow was bordered on one side by a steep cliff overlooking an endless ocean, and on the other by a vast oak forest with soft ochre bark and blue foliage dancing in the breeze. She felt relaxed, her mind at rest, far from any worries. Her breathing was slow, her chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm. Her limbs relaxed, her muscles at ease, no pain, just peace.

This place would be perfect if only there were the slightest sign of animal life, anything from a field mouse rummaging through the humus to a bird singing, but there was nothing, nothing but her, the waves and the breeze. She sat down gently, leaning against the firm, rough bark, her gaze lost in the immense, cloudless sky. She wanted to lie down again, close her eyes and let herself slip back into the blissful peace of a half-sleep.

However, her curiosity was winning her internal battle, the peace of this place seeming so curious, so alien, that the need to explore soon chased away her sweet sleepiness. As she leaned on the soft, grassy ground to help herself up, her hand came into contact with a small hard object. She closed her fingers around it and took it in her hand. In the hollow of her palm lay a blue acorn, a changing blue, at once as clear as the sky and as dark as the depths of the ocean, its surface smooth and pure, its cup covered with a pattern of scales dividing into infinite fractals. It was beautiful, almost hypnotising, and after a long moment she looked away from it and shoved it in her pocket without really thinking about it.

When she managed to stand up, she breathed a sigh of relief. She had never felt so good, her body supple and light, and she realised that she had never really realised what it felt like to have no pain anywhere. She pushed aside this disturbing thought and began to walk along the edge of the forest, her bare feet sinking into the soft, fresh humus, her long, bluish-grey dress floating around her, its fabric as soft as flannel against her skin.

As she moved further away from the cliffs, the sound of the waves grew fainter, the smell of iodine giving way to the tannic scent of the undergrowth, so that the only sounds accompanying her were those of her footsteps and the breeze blowing through the leaves and tall grasses.

After a fairly long walk, she couldn't say for how long, the sun remaining motionless, suspended indefinitely low on the horizon, the edge of the cliff had disappeared in the distance, and before her opened up a beaten earth path leading into the woods, between the tall blue oaks. She felt a strange apprehension at the idea of going deeper into the forest, but the path only went in that direction, the other side disappearing into the tall grasses.

Curious, she made her way along the path in the half-light of the tall trees. Apart from the earth of the path, the ground of the undergrowth was covered with a thick carpet of dead leaves of a grey-blue hue, and mushrooms with high twisted feet and strange caps were exuding a diaphanous glow.

After what must have been several minutes' walk, she was beginning to feel anxious; there was not a single sign of animal life, apart from what she assumed were fireflies fluttering under the thick foliage like little golden sparks, and yet she felt watched. So much so that she began to play anxiously with the acorn at the bottom of the pocket of her dress, rolling it between her fingers as she resumed her walk.

Only a few steps later, she turned abruptly, alerted by a movement in her peripheral vision. On one of the trees, amidst its thick, cracked bark, she saw an eye, wide open, fixed on her.

Aster jerked upright, fear squeezing her chest, the cold biting her flesh, the rough fabric of the old uniform worn to the rope feeling like sandpaper against her skin, a stabbing, almost unbearable pain gnawing at her wrist. But worst of all, the thirst.

This thirst that had been slowly waking up over the last few days, this thirst that was making her feverish, making her throat itch, making her want to scratch her skin in the vain hope that the pain would divert her attention from this primordial need that was growing with every minute. The hard, cold, cruel stone floor, the roar of the wind against the walls and the icy spray of the crashing waves rushing into her cell through the small skylight brought her back to reality. So much so that she found herself regretting what must have been a dream.

"Aster? Are you all right?" asked Sirius' worried voice from the other side of the corridor.

She turned towards him, her gaze immediately landing on the waxy skin of his neck, under which bluish veins were visible. Her mouth watered, the desire to bite and drink becoming an unbearable torture. She could already imagine her flesh supple under her fangs, his sighs of pleasure as she tore his vital ambrosia from him. His weak limbs struggling as his blood and life left him to rekindle the flame of her existence...

With a surreal effort, she looked away, preferring to stare at the dark grey wall of her cell. "I just had the strangest dream," she chose to say after a moment. It must have been over a week since she'd arrived in this hellhole, each day becoming more unbearable than the last, the only thing keeping her sane being Sirius's presence, his bad jokes and stupid puns, their long conversations and heated debates... the stories he told her about her parents and their time together at Hogwarts.

Sirius had turned out to have been most obnoxious to Severus, and unrepentant about it, but Aster couldn't blame him, apart from his past as a bully, he honestly seemed like a good person, surely much better than her, or at least, with a stronger moral compass.

Their days were punctuated by the regular appearance of a plate of rancid old porridge and a jug of stagnant, sometimes even brackish, water in their cell, as well as the occasional distant howl of prisoners or creatures from the lower floors. Several times now, Sirius had been surprised not to have been visited by dementors, who usually dropped by a few times a week.

When she wasn't chatting to Sirius, she was trying to sleep, sleep being one of the only ways of avoiding suffering from her growing bloodlust. In the last few days, she'd had dreams, she knew, but she'd had no way of remembering them, remembering only vague pleasant sensations, a welcome respite from her unbearable situation.

"Aster, so, I was wondering, are you and Hermione going out?" Sirius said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Of course, we go out together, we come home together, we did almost everything together apart from the showers, we even sleep together." She said, rolling her eyes. Hermione was her best friend, that question was pure stupidity.

A coughing fit shook Sirius, she glanced at him worriedly, had he fallen ill? "Are you two sleeping together?" he asked, his eyes bulging.

Aster frowned. "Of course, she's my blood mate, we sleep together literally every night!" What didn't Sirius understand about the word mate? Blood mate even. Hermione shared her blood, Aster sharing her bed was perfectly normal. Besides, sleep always came quickly snuggled up in Hermione's arms. She normally didn't really need to sleep, but it was just an excuse for a very long cuddle, and Hermione seemed to enjoy it as much, if not more than she did.

Sirius was peony red, which was all the more noticeable against the sickly white of his skin. "I should have kept my mouth shut... what did I expect..." he muttered. "She doesn't do anything to you that you don't want her to do? You don't feel obliged or pressured by her to do anything?" he asked with an unusually serious air.

She raised an eyebrow. "Of course not Sirius, Hermione would never do anything wrong and vice versa. She likes it when I bite her, you know?" She said with slight amusement. Talking about Hermione was... difficult, she missed her friend so much, her voice, her wit, their chats and jokes, her warmth, her touch...

Sirius stammered for several minutes, visibly shaken, before taking a deep breath. "I'm happy for you, having someone like her by your side can only do you good.

"She's infinitely precious to me," admitted Aster with a pained smile. When she changed position to cross-legged, hoping to make herself more comfortable. Just then, something rolled out of the only pocket of the old rag she was wearing.

Her eyes widened, as a beautiful blue acorn lay on the ground, amidst the grey of the stone.

oOOOo

Aster was lying on the floor, staring at the stalactites on the ceiling, not daring to look at Sirius for fear that the thirst would consume her and she would lose her mind. Sirius had offered to play a game of charades, and Aster had gladly accepted, hoping to divert her attention from the pain, the despair and above all the terrible thirst that no water could quench.

Now it was Sirius' turn, and she was waiting for him to come up with an idea when she heard him stand up abruptly. "Aster, the dementors, they're coming!" he shouted. No sooner had he uttered those words than she saw him change into his Grimm form, the great black dog cowering at the back of his cell with a whimper.

Oh, she could feel the cold aura of the minor demons approaching, the damp floor covered in a thin layer of frost in the corridor. Sirius was trembling, his big ears lowered, his head hidden between his paws.

Two large, hooded figures were now visible, floating gently, noiselessly in the middle of the corridor, a hoarse, sickly breathing, chalky rattle escaping from under their cloaks. Where ordinary mortals would have seen only two abominations with no place in this world, two beings whose mere existence was a most debasing perversion of reality itself, Aster saw only two amalgams of fragments of souls torn apart and vibrating with colour, slowly digested in the bowels of the creatures. She stood up without really realising it, approaching the bars, the aura of the creatures sliding against the impenetrable barrier surrounding her soul, which she had forged so long ago under Sonya's instruction in a place no human should know.

She began to salivate, her eyes riveted on the brilliant, delicious mixture of colour and energy, these strands of memories and emotions slowly absorbed into the oily, blackish structure of the dementor. Both were turned towards Sirius's cell, paying her no attention. Two delicious dishes in a fragile envelope stood before her, within easy reach. Her thirst was terrible, and perhaps this was a feast for her soul... Her thoughts were so disjointed that she hadn't even concluded them when her arm had passed between the bars and her fingers had closed on the cloak of one of the creatures.

With her unearthly strength, she pulled, pinning the thing to the other side of the bars, squeezing so hard that she felt something under the cloak snap with a loud crack, like a bone breaking. But she didn't care, all she could see were the dancing, shimmering colours of soul fragments. Vibrant apple greens, powerful violets, reds, blues and oranges all blending together in delicious chaos.

She bit, tore, clawed, butchered, ripped to shreds with each new bite, taking more of the delicious metaphorical nectar that was the essence of the creature. She was deaf to the thing's shrill, terrible howls as she plunged her hand further into its entrails, her teeth deeper into the amalgam of souls. She gorged herself on its substance, feeling her soul sing with each new shred of soul, energy absorbed and digested in the ocean of her magic. The thing struggled, but when her teeth weren't sunk into it, Aster held it firmly, feeling with delight the physical body hidden beneath the cloak break beneath her fingers.

Suddenly, her meal was ripped from her by a superior force, her hand closed around a single flap of cloak. Two other dementors had come to the rescue, snatching away what was left of their fellow demon. The creature she had held was now nothing more than a broken, whimpering form, held together only by the other two. As intense as the fury of having her meal snatched from her was, watching the dementors flee without asking for a second thought, disappearing far down the corridor, was terribly satisfying.

It was then that she noticed the trail of black, viscous liquid in the corridor. Dementors can bleed... who knew, she thought with satisfaction.

Sirius was still in his Grimm form, huddled at the back of his cell, watching her in fear. She simply shrugged her able-bodied shoulder. She'd told him she ate soul eaters, what had he expected? A nice plate and cutlery?

She fell back to the ground, exhausted, clutching her stomach and stroking her throat, as much as her magic was satisfied, it had done nothing to quench her thirst.

In the days that followed, the dementors did not return, leaving Aster in a terrible state of rage and hunger. She could feel the presence of the minor demons not far away, the delight of souls torn apart under their capes close at hand, yet unreachable. She could feel herself slipping away, the already unbearable pain and thirst slowly killing her. The only good thing was that Sirius seemed to have accepted the fact that yes, his goddaughter had tried to devour a dementor before his very eyes. The fun she'd had in the few hours she'd spent in shock had been one of the only things keeping her from going mad. She missed Hermione so much, what was she going to do? If she didn't arrive soon, it would be too late.

oOOOo

She went deeper into the forest, where the oaks with their golden-barked trunks and blue foliage had given way to weeping willows with thick grey trunks, twisted and leaning over ponds and pools surrounded by rushes and covered in duckweed. The ground was damp, spongy with every step.

Aster was on the lookout, catching glimpses of a glance in the dark folds of bark, or in the reflections on the surface of the murky water, a strange eye closing too quickly for her to be sure she had seen anything. The smell of earth and damp wood permeated the air, and a fresh breeze stirring the long, supple boughs of the willows gave her a shiver. With every step she took, this place became more and more worrying.

Ever since she'd woken up with the blue acorn, every time she fell asleep she found herself in this strange place, exactly where she'd been the last time she'd woken up. She had been walking along this path for several nights now. The atmosphere grew darker and darker, and the feeling of being watched grew stronger and stronger. This time, when she fell asleep, it was a great relief. Her thirst had been about to consume her, to wring the last shreds of sanity from her. The worst thing was that, unlike previous days, the prison had been restless, doors slamming, screams echoing in the distance in the corridors... well, more than usual. She was most happy when sleep finally took her away from her battered body.

Although she was happy to have this escape, the question remained. What was this place? Neither Kav-deb nor Anna had ever spoken to her about such a place... Sonya had once mentioned the dreamlands in passing, the haunts of poets, dreamers and lost spirits, but had never gone any further than that. Perhaps it was something else entirely. In any case, the only way to avoid ending up there was not to sleep, and as sleep was her only respite from the torture that was her bloodlust, she much preferred to continue walking along this disturbing path than to suffer the unbearable pain that was her reality.

A gap between the twisted weeping willows a few metres ahead gave her a view of the reddened sky like a firebrand abandoned in the flames. Had she reached a clearing? The high reeds lining the path made it impossible to see. When the path came to an abrupt halt on a small beach of grey sand, mud and pebbles, she discovered that she had been wrong. What lay before her was not a clearing, but a wide pond studded with several small islands, almost entirely covered in duckweed and flowering water lilies.

It was then that her gaze finally landed on the thing, sitting cross-legged on a large mossy rock a good metre above the surface of the pond. Their ragged brown cloak enveloped their form, their large hood obscuring their features. The smooth stones of their necklaces gleamed strangely, while their skeletal arms, with skin so black it seemed to devour the light, rested on their long grey wooden staff, at the end of which hung various small metallic objects of indefinable shapes, small bones, stones and the ivory-white skull of a corvid.

She would never have been able to forget the appearance of this being, even though she had only seen them once all those years ago. She stiffened in fear, an uncontrollable shiver running down her spine. What frightened her most was the fact that the eye offered by the entity facing her, unlike the flow of colour and intensity she perceived as magic, saw the thing in the same way as her normal eye. Guided more by her survival instinct than anything else, she dropped to one knee, bowing her head in terror and respect. "La...Lagaelis" she stammered. Invoking their name to practise her black magic was one thing, uttering it in front of the entity itself was quite another.

The entity, the divinity, gauged her for a few seconds before their voice echoed around her, as if coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, vibrating with a deeply inhuman timbre.
"Aster Karrasinqi, apprentice of Kav-Deb the Green. Do you remember my last words when we last met?"

How could she have forgotten them? She tried not to think about them, as for years they had filled her with a deep anxiety mixed with terror, wondering what the entity, her patron, had meant by that. During her sleepless nights, those moments of daydreaming, those words kept coming back to her mind. "Our next meeting will have a cost, be prepared to pay it and you'll come back whole..." she said in a trembling voice.

Lagaelis stood up with the help of their staff and climbed down from the rock to approach her, each of their steps barely touching the surface of the water, the silence disturbed by the clatter of small objects hanging from the end of their staff. He stopped just in front of her, their hand grasping her shoulder and forcing her to her feet with inhuman strength.

Aster froze, unable even to look away from the thing. It bent down, their head just a few centimetres from her face, forcing Aster to look under their hood, an infinite blackness studded with stars, an infinity of eyes opening and closing into nothingness, all the attention of something much greater than the being facing her fixed on her, crushing her, like the insect she is in front of the thing.

The voice spoke again. " Good, that simplifies things. Aster, you'll soon be dead, the curse of the unquenchable is slowly taking its toll, slowly eating away at your body and soul. It's only a matter of time before your body is nothing more than an emaciated wild beast."

Aster shuddered. "What... what are you getting at?"

Lagaelis took a few steps back, levitating above the water, spreading his arms wide, the palm of one hand turned skywards, his staff clutched in the other. "I'll make you a deal. With my power, I can deliver you from this hell, I'll repel the great thirst and offer you a salutary respite, on condition that you're prepared to pay the price."

A flower of hope bloomed in Aster's heart, was Lagaelis really going to...? "What price?" she asked, trying with all her might to stop her voice from shaking.

"Kav-deb protected you well when we first met, by using the favour I owed him, he spared you the real cost of my power that you are borrowing. But your reprieve is over, I claim your soul, may you become one of my devotees, with your body and your magic, may you serve my will in the mortal realms as one of my heralds, with absolute and eternal allegiance." they said powerfully, their voice echoing through her entire being.

Aster's eyes widened, she couldn't, no. Kav-deb had told her about this type of magician, the devotees, the paladins of the outer powers, those who give themselves body and soul to the divinities and entities that inhabit the edges of worlds. The very idea terrified her. But what other options did she have? To die? Become a monster consumed by thirst and lose her mind? But... Hermione, she had to be close, didn't she? She hadn't abandoned her to die in this cursed place? Galvanised by her unshakeable faith in her friend, she directed her gaze straight into the starry abyss beneath the hood of the entity facing her. "Hermione will be here any day now, I can hold out, when she gets here..."

A chilling laugh echoed through the trees, the water of the pond vibrating, the branches of the willows trembling. "Naive child." Lagaelis said. "I'll give you one last chance to accept my generous offer, perhaps this will help you make up your mind." He said before hitting the water of the pond with the bottom of his staff. All the duckweed and water lilies parted, giving way to mirror-smooth water.

Before Aster had time to wonder what he was getting at, images began to form on the surface. She recognised the inside of her cell, as if someone were standing in the corridor watching. Behind the bars, she saw a pathetic being. A little girl dressed in rags, huddled in on herself, her long dark red hair tarnished by dirt, her skin diaphanous, her eyes filled with a mad glow. Hermione's silhouette appeared in the image, her hair in a distinctive wild chaos. The sight of her friend filled Aster with hope and powerful affection. Hermione was holding the bars, saying something, but she couldn't hear her, the smooth surface of the pond remained silent. Hermione took out her wand and waved it at the lock. No sooner had she stepped into the cell than Aster saw herself spring forward and pounce on Hermione, sinking her fangs into her throat with unearthly speed. Aster took a few steps backwards, horrified as the Aster in the image ripped Hermione's throat with her fangs, gorging herself on her blood.

The image on the surface of the lake shook, showing her devouring Sirius, before pouncing on Mimosa before finally, a flash of green magic from Severus's wand ended her pitiful existence.

Aster was speechless, her throat constricted, collapsed on the floor, a tear running down her cheek. She was about to raise her head when the water in the pond began to murmur again, showing a new image. A luminous sphere sinking in the darkness like a star in the darkness. Her soul, she realised, a defenceless, structured mass of energy and magic. In the darkness, movement, a swarm of abominable creatures pouncing on the light, blowing it out like a candle flame. The image faded, this time for good.

She felt destroyed, tears streaming down her face as her chest shook with uncontrollable sobs. Lagaelis was standing right in front of her, an open hand outstretched in her direction. "All you have to do to accept is take my hand, now what will be your choice ?"