Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OCs. Anything you recognize as not mine belongs to their otherwise respective owners.

Author's Notes: And welcome back! We get into the meat of what's going on with this chapter, but there are still quite a bit few more things that we need to cover after it, of course.

Next chapter will be next Saturday. I already have it written up, I just want to try to maintain a schedule.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Until then,

~TGWSI/Selene Borealis

~daughter of briganti~

~meet me in the woods~

~chapter 5~

15 July 1995
Black Cottage, Cornwall, England, Great Britain

Sirius ran out of the living room and into the main hallway. Hyleth staggered to her feet, gasping shallowly as it did nothing to alleviate her pain, merely changed the specific locations it was being felt.

"Who the hell are you?" she heard her father snarl.

"Relax, Lord Black. Be at ease," a voice said. "I swear on my life and my magic, I mean you nor your daughter no harm."

Another choking noise slipped out of her mouth, yet for a reason that was not whatever was happening to her. Her holly wand fell from her hand.

She knew that voice.

She'd heard it last night, in her dream.

Ginny rushed over to her, oblivious to the true nature of Hyleth's reaction. She picked up her wand for her, though she made no move to give it back. "Sirius is right," she told her. "We need to – "

"'Harm' is a word that is highly dependent on the eyes of the beholder," Hyleth's dad replied hotly.

"That is true," said the owner of the voice with the strange accent. "But it is in your and your daughter's best interest to listen to me."

"Goddaughter, you mean," Sirius said.

No one outside of those closest to them knew that he was one of the two biological fathers of Hyleth. Though he had automatically been listed on her birth certificate when she'd been born, no one of course had gone to see it in the Department of Records at the Ministry of Magic prior to that Halloween night. Dumbledore had sealed her birth certificate afterwards as the then-regent to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter; he hadn't wanted the public to know that the man assumed to have betrayed James and Lily Potter had also been her third biological parent, not until Hyleth would have been old enough to understand what that truly meant.

She and Sirius had talked since his name had been cleared about un-sealing her birth certificate. They'd consequentially decided that it would be best to wait until she was seventeen, when she would have her last name changed to Potter-Black in recognition of her being the official (and only, since Sirius didn't have any strong desire to have more kids) heir to both Houses. It'd be less of a hassle to get it done all at once.

"I mean your daughter, as much of your blood as she is of James Potter's," was the rebuttal. "I understand that you are confused. I will answer all of your questions in due time. But we must be quick; sunset is closer than it seems, and with it, your daughter's reclamation."

"Reclamation?" her dad sputtered. "What do you – ? No, stay back – !"

There were no sounds of a scuffle, because there was no scuffle at all. The owner of the voice must've been able to slide past Hyleth's father while he was taken aback, and now appeared in the archway to the living room.

He was an alpha, judging by his build and the faintest whiff of his pheromones. Grey streaks ran through his dark brown hair, which combined with the lines on his face made him appear a good ten years older than Sirius, who had already been aged by Azkaban. His eyes were grey as well. He was wearing wizard robes, making his status clear, as if him having set spells over the wards of the cottage wasn't enough.

"Hyleth Potter, it has been quite some time. Almost fourteen years," he spoke. Behind him appeared Hyleth's father, his wand leveled at the man's back; for some reason, he wasn't using it yet. The man's eyes flickered over to her friend. "And Ginevra Weasley. It is good to see you here. I suspect it may make things easier."

"How do you know my name?" Ginny said.

"Don't talk to her!" Hyleth snapped.

The right corner of the man's mouth twitched. "I apologize; I do not mean to offend, nor again, do I mean any harm." He gathered himself up as Sirius slowly circled around him to stand in front of Hyleth and Ginny. "To answer your question, Lord Black, you may call me Ulrich Pritchard."

Hyleth's dad scoffed. "That's not your real name, is it?"

"No, but you would not know my real name even if I was to tell you it."

Hyleth growled. It was more than just the growl of an unpresented adolescent, too; already, her chest rumble was beginning to form – further proof that she was indeed going into her first rut. "Then why won't you tell us it?"

The man – Pritchard – ignored her question. "As I have said, we are on a schedule. I will answer as many questions as I can until we must depart from here. I will even make an Unbreakable Vow that everything I have said so far and will for the rest of the day is the utter truth, if that is what it will take for you to listen to me."

Hyleth, her dad, and Ginny all paused; they could call Pritchard on his bluff if he was lying, however, the fact he had mentioned the Unbreakable Vow at all was not to be taken lightly.

She decided she would take him at his word for the time being. "Why are you here? And – none of whatever the reclamation nonsense is without...ugh..." Her face twisted as the pain became slightly, but noticeably, worse, the brief reprieve she had had fading away. Adrenaline could only go so far in masking the effects of her misery. "...Explaining what you mean by that first."

A warning glance from her dad was earned for her efforts.

Pritchard gave her an answer: "I am here to fulfill the Unbreakable Vow that I made to your mother, Lily Evans Potter, on October 13th, 1981, under the light of the full moon and as witnessed by Pandora Elders Lovegood. It was the same night we made you what you are."

"Pandora Lovegood?" Ginny piped up. "You mean Luna Lovegood's mum?"

The man inclined his head. "The very one."

At the same time, Sirius lowered his wand. "They were best friends," he said hollowly. "Lily – she had her friends, plenty of them. She was a popular girl. But if there was anybody who stuck by her side through thick and thin, it was Pandora."

"And Pandora did," Pritchard said. "Not only for Lily, but also for her goddaughter."

Hyleth blinked. Wait –

"Nobody else knew that she was Hyleth's godmother besides them, me, and Xenophilius. Not even Remus. We kept the ceremony private." Her dad ran his free hand over his face. "You really are telling the truth."

"I don't get it," Hyleth spoke. "What was the Unbreakable Vow for?"

Pritchard clasped his hands together. His face was grave. "To tell you how you survived the Killing Curse, if Pandora otherwise became unable to."

They settled down in the living room. Her dad put on a pot of tea, and they didn't speak about everything until after it was finished. Hyleth accepted a cup, but she didn't actually drink from it. She kept it in her hands – which made the cup reflect the gold glowing along her scars – as a way to get a release when the pain became slightly more unbearable, which it did every fifteen minutes or so, before it ebbed away a little like the tide.

The crescendo of it was getting worse and worse in those increments of time, making her feel a lot like a frog supposedly would in a pot of slowly boiling water. Pritchard had said they could give her a pain reliever potion, but it wasn't likely to do much of anything. Her own magic, in short, was urging on her rut prematurely. Preparing her.

"So they're...connected?" asked Hyleth.

"Yes." Pritchard didn't expand on that right away. "Your mother was a clever witch, as I'm sure you have already been told."

"The brightest witch of her age," her father muttered under his breath.

"She knew there was always an answer for whatever she wanted – or if not, she would do everything in her power to come up with one herself. She told me that was how she found the ritual that allowed your parents to conceive you, in a book she read for fun in one of the deepest sections of the Hogwarts library."

"Sounds a lot like Hermione," Ginny noted.

Sirius smiled. "In a way. But Lily was more, I daresay...stubborn. She could be like an unstoppable rock meeting an immovable wall when she wanted to be, except she would find a way to break the wall."

Pritchard chuckled. It was his first real display of emotion. "An apt comparison. That was how she and Pandora found me. They had been researching together for some time on a way for you to survive however Voldemort would try to kill you. They had found a mention of a ritual in one of the books of the Potter family library, the only copy of it that there is. It gave a more detailed history on Wulfnoð Peverell than any other extant book you find will."

"The founder of the Wizengamot," Hyleth stated.

"Yes."

She racked her brain for what she knew about the wizard who had lived in the eighth and ninth centuries. It was hard; she always had such a problem paying attention in History of Magic, as did most people. "Didn't he have thirteen wives or something?"

"The very number. Each of the thirteen Founding families were established from his loins – Peverell, Lovegood, Moon, Black, Nott, Ollivander, Emrys, Fawley, Hengist, Gryffin, Shafiq, Macmillan, and Cuilinn; only nine of these families are still extant. Yet since almost all of the pureblood British-born families, if not almost all British-born families with witches and wizards in them, can trace their lineage back to one of these families, in turn almost all of magical Britain is descended from Peverell.

"When Peverell was born, there was great strife going on in magical Britain. He was orphaned at a young age, taken in by Godwine Ollivander, the father of his eventual sixth wife, Godiva. According to the book that is in the Potter library, when Godwine Ollivander found him, Peverell was next to his mother's body. She had been struck by one of the darkest curses that there was at the time. It should have killed Peverell, too. But, this was the curious thing: other than a strange set of scars all over his body, he did not appear to be harmed."

Hyleth froze. Her dad and Ginny were not much better.

Pritchard kept on his tale. "Eventually, it was discovered by Peverell and his family that he had survived because of a ritual that had been ancient even in his time. The Potter book only held the name of this ritual; it did not say how it was done. That did not stop your mother or Pandora. In September 1981, Lily snuck out of Godric's Hollow with Pandora in search of more information. That was how they found me – or rather I, them – in a pub in Knockturn Alley. I had known of the ritual for some time, only without the context of Wulfnoð Peverell. The ritual is in a book in the Magical Library of Alexandria; I spent some time there in my youth, learning as much as I could.

"I overheard your mother and Pandora talking about the ritual. I approached them, and told them that I knew what they were talking about, and that I could help them. But it would not come without great cost."

"What do you mean?" Hyleth inquired. She was gripping her teacup so hard now, it was a wonder it hadn't broken, even with the magical charms attached to it.

"The ritual invokes Briganti, the goddess after whom these Isles are named," Pritchard said. "It asks to make the child her own. But she is an old and ancient goddess."

"And the ancient deities are not to be trusted with something like this," her dad added flatly. "You never know what they'll ask for in return."

"Precisely." Pritchard sighed. "I tried to convince Lily of that. Alas, she was insistent. She viewed the price as appropriate if it meant that you would survive, Hyleth. James, I believe, tried to convince her that it would not be worth it. He was not successful, either."

Hyleth recalled the argument that she had apparently heard and then remembered in her dream. "What was this cost – price – whatever?"

What could be so bad about the ritual that her other biological father had refused so vehemently to do it?

"To put it simply: blood," Pritchard explained. "Your blood to power the ritual – it is how you and Wulfnoð Peverell both received your scars – and for Briganti to claim you as her own. But..." He hesitated.

Sirius' hands clenched into fists. "What else did it require?"

"The blood of the covenant and the womb," Pritchard responded.

Hyleth bit the inside of her cheek before speaking. "That...doesn't sound so bad. What all would that mean? Me taking on another spouse? That isn't news to me."

As the heir to two different Houses, it would be a requirement for her to have a spouse for each. One would be the (Lady) Consort to the House of Potter and mother/omither (the term for a male omega parent) to its next heirs, and the other would be the same for the House of Black.

It'd been a surprise for her when Sirius had first told her this. She'd known polygamy was somewhat more common in the wizarding world than it was for muggles, the pack dynamics aside. Yet it was another thing entirely to be told that shewould one day have to practice polygamy when she hadn't even presented herself (though it was known that she would have to be an alpha, given her complex parentage), much less gone on a date.

She'd since come to accept the terms of her inheritance. It was weird, but it wasn't the first time it had happened for the Potter family. As recently as her great-great-great-grandfather, there'd been plural marriage in her family.

Taking on a potential third spouse, from this point of view, wasn't really anything to worry about. Just a slight adjustment to what had already been her plans for the far-off future.

"Not exactly," Pritchard said.

Hyleth frowned.

Then, without needing help, her mind connected the dots.

Wulfnoð Peverell had had thirteen wives. Thirteen families had formed the original Wizengamot.

There had been thirteen stones in her dream.

"No," Hyleth breathed. She shook her head. "Come off it. You're not telling me – ?"

"Briganti, as I am certain she will tell you herself, will require that you marry thirteen times," Pritchard said. "In essence, you will be making a Wizengamot as it was once meant to be of your own."

"What?" Ginny cried.

Hyleth's father scowled.

"There is more," Pritchard told them. "From what I have been able to understand, the Ritual of Briganti, as it is called...was originally meant as a broader defense mechanism. A way to ensure that the bloodlines connected to her would live on. Thus, it will be necessary for you to take the steps to accomplish that as swiftly as possible."

"You mean getting married," Hyleth said. "You mean having children."

He nodded.

"But – I'm not even fifteen yet! I'm not out of school! I'm not old enough to officially claim the Potter title and be recognized as the Black heir! And not to mention, having thirteen spouses doesn't bloody sound possible!"

"It may not sound possible, but it is a requirement of the ritual," Pritchard said. "It is also why you are presenting now instead of next spring as you should've. Think of it as a magical contract. It is binding and will do everything it can to execute its will. Failure on your part will not mean your death, but there could be other alternatives."

"Like what?" her dad demanded.

Pritchard was grim. "Compulsion. According to the Potter family book on Wulfnoð Peverell, six months passed between his marriages to his third and fourth wives, Aelyth Mōna and Belena Blæc. Belena was a hasty match; their wedding was arranged quickly because Peverell was in debilitating pain. After that, the time between his marriages was two or three months at the most."

Blood was roaring in Hyleth's ears.

This was not happening.

This could not be happening.

She had to still be in her dream; she must've never woken up. Any moment now, she was going to wake up back in her bed, Ginny on the mattress to her lower right as she had been earlier in this dream. Like then, but for real this time, her friend would ask her what she had been dreaming about. Hyleth would tell her, and the two of them would laugh, and then –

What kind of mother would do this to her own child? Yes, she had been pragmatic and stubborn, but as Hyleth's other biological father said, if this was reality, if this wasn't a dream –

She had taken away many of Hyleth's choices for her future and inflicted on her many more responsibilities, all before she had been out of diapers.

Does it surprise you? the magic – or maybe it was Briganti herself – asked inside her mind. Hyleth flinched. She was willing to do whatever it took to have you. Of course she would have been willing to do anything to save you, dear Hyleth.

"Get out of my head!" Hyleth cried, stumbling to her feet.

Her dad and Ginny gawked at her. "Hy, what are you – ?"

"This isn't real!" she pressed on, acting like her friend hadn't spoken. "My mum wouldn't have done this! She was – she was a good person!"

"Don't the muggles have a saying?" Pritchard returned, unblinking. He snapped his fingers. "Aye, there it is: 'the path to hell is paved with good intentions.' From what I knew of her, your mother would have been willing to damn her very soul if it meant you would have survived. Perhaps some will say she did."

"No!" Wildly, she shook her head. "I've been – I must have been cursed. Voldemort must've placed some spell on me in the graveyard. I'm going mad!"

"You are not mad," Pritchard stated.

"Hyleth – " her father started to say.

But Hyleth couldn't deal with it all anymore.

She let go of her teacup. It fell down onto the floor, and didn't initially shatter, though its contents went everywhere; the breaking of the cup was only accomplished when her foot inadvertently smashed it.

She ran out of the room, out of the house completely.

"Hyleth!" Ginny shouted.

She didn't get very far. The pain – again, it had been amping up for all this time during its highest points, becoming more and more powerful. Just because she hadn't referred to it since, didn't mean that it wasn't there.

Before she could reach the tree line, the pain intensified more than it ever had previously. It truly did become as bad as when she had been put under the Cruciatus Curse, crossing the last of the distance to that point.

With another scream, she fell to her hands and knees, as she had in her dream. Except now, she thought she could see arcs of golden-green through her eyelids, searing her retinas.

"Oh my gods!" Ginny shrieked.

"Stay back!" Pritchard ordered. "She will be dangerous to touch to those who are inexperienced until the reclamation is completed tonight!"

"And you are experienced?" yelled Sirius.

"Experienced enough," Pritchard said back. "I am sorry, Lord Black. I thought we would have more time until the worst of it would begin. We must get her to the Potter Manor in Dyfed, Wales, as quickly as we can."

"Why there? How can you even get to it?"

"The Potter family not only has the book with the most comprehensive history on Wulfnoð Peverell, the land their ancestral home was built on is additionally the last extant place where the Ritual of Briganti can be performed. Surely you saw while you spent the one summer there the circle of thirteen stones?"

"I didn't think...James told me..."

Whatever else her father said, it was cut off by the sound of Hyleth screaming again.

Oh Merlin, the agony was becoming worse than the Cruciatus. There was no reprieve this time. It felt like she was being electrocuted from the inside-out. It felt like her organs were being melted.

It felt like she was going to die.

Do not be silly. I would never kill you.

Strong arms wrapped around her. They didn't cause a shock of their own – whether because of what Pritchard had said about his experience or because her body could not feel anything more on top of what it was, she didn't know.

"I will take her," she heard Pritchard say. "You may bring Ginevra. But if what I have read is true, neither of you may wish to see what is going to come next."

With that, he side-along apparated her. Hyleth had the abrupt sensation of being squeezed through a tube. It wasn't the first time she had felt it.

But because of everything else, it all became too much for her mind to bear.

Just as they landed in Wales, her vision turned black. She knew no more.

Perhaps it was a blessing for what was to come.

Word Count: 3,595