The air on that July afternoon was warm, even at this altitude above the clouds. Myo could not resist humming happily. Tonight she was going to celebrate her birthday at Luna's house. The concept of a birthday was rather strange to Myo. Why celebrate the day she was born? It wasn't a special day... Apart from her birth, nothing special had happened on that day, and why her birth should be celebrated was beyond her. However, it was an occasion to eat good food, to gather all the people she loved and to receive nice shiny things. Therefore, if the insignificant day of her birth was an excuse for all this joy, she didn't see any harm in it. And then if she made a little mental effort to put herself in an outside perspective, she could understand a little. She liked other people's birthdays, giving presents to Luna always made her feel good, made her want to sing. On Luna's last birthday, she had given her a large painting of them all together by a river in the morning mist and had added a second of her feathers to the brooch Luna wore in her hair every day, her first gift to Luna.
Singing was one of her new hobbies, it had started when Luna had complimented her one evening after sharing another preening moment. She had told her how much she liked to hear her sing, and that it was a pity she only sang during preening. At this, Myo had been very surprised, not realizing that she was singing at all. With Luna's encouragement, she started to sing more often. This was all the better because Luna always seemed so happy to hear her. Just to see Luna smile, Myo would sing for Luna every day. ( Besides, Luna had said that her singing chased the wrackspurts out of the house and attracted the gwedoolin. Which was positive she guessed). Myo had been worried at first about disturbing Pando and Xeno, or Andy and Ted when she was at the Tonks', but they had insisted that she continue singing, and that they quite liked it.
She was very eager to arrive, Morgoth had become attached to her, loving to sleep in the warmth of her flames and feathers and Luccy had taken to flying with her, much to Mélusine's jealousy accusing her of stealing her familiar's love and attention. It had been a while since Myo had seen them, and she missed them. Frankly, Myo was dying to have a familiar one day. When she eventually gets one, maybe she'll feel less inclined to kidnap Luna and keep her with her all the time. Luna probably wouldn't mind, she said she slept much better between her wings, but Myo suspected Pando and Xeno would have some objections to their daughter's theft.
One thing made Myo a little anxious though. Tonight there would be more people than usual. Luna's grandparents, Cassipoea Black, another cousin named Patricia Lovegood living in Canada and Nym's friend, Emily Fernsby would be there. At first, Myo was more than a little reluctant to meet all these new people, squawking like an angry owl. But Luna's reassuring presence, Nym and Pando's assurance that all these people were nice, and Ted's arguments that she should meet more people before going to Hogwart's to get used to the crowd had finally made her agree.
Myo was still lost in thought, enjoying the feel of the wind in her feathers when something strange caught her eye. The clouds below her seemed strange, shaken with dark ripples, shifting and frightening shapes creeping within. A shiver ran down Myo's spine as she frowned, her gaze fixed on the snakes of darkness hidden in the clouds. She felt again that strange cold she had encountered on her first flight, when she flew over the great mansion with its white birds. With a few powerful flaps of her wings she climbed even higher into the air, wanting to get away from whatever these things were.
She had seen the storm dragons with their gigantic lightning bodies, the evening soaleris, floating peacefully between the frozen cirrus clouds of the high sky, the great thunder snakes with their gigantic jaws devouring the winds, but never had she seen anything like this. Something that gave her an evil feeling, a smell of decay and death, a cold so freezing that her flames had just coiled around her without her even calling for them.
Suddenly, the surface of the clouds broke. A dozen long grey shapes shot out from between the clouds, darting in her direction, whistling through the air. Myo let out a cry of surprise and terror before flapping her wings faster and harder than ever before, her flames burning around her, pushing her faster, further and higher. But the long ropes, chains, cold tentacles, Myo couldn't tell, were moving faster than she could carry herself. Chasing her like a pack of rabid dogs, their cold, smooth magic making her want to puke.
Myo whirled in the air, sometimes dropping, making abrupt changes of direction in an attempt to lose the things chasing her. She let out a cry of pain, one of the things passing too close to her had just grazed her cheek. Her flames reacted at once, a powerful anger renewing their ardour and radiance. Under the effects of her flames, the thing seemed to cry out, trembling, melting under the heat. Myo took advantage of this distraction to swoop down a good hundred yards, dodging three more long things that would have pierced her if she had stayed still.
Her heart filled with unspeakable terror, a score of other long chains had just emerged from the clouds, spinning towards her, taking unpredictable curves, as the other long things far above fell on her. Myo spun forward, desperate to escape the gigantic, needle-toothed jaws about to close on her.
She felt a violent gust of wind a few meters behind her as the huge chains crossed where she had been a few seconds earlier. She had no time to accelerate any more, glad to have escaped the worst, when she felt an awful sensation around the scales of her right claw. Something hard and icy that not even her angry screaming flames could break. She let out a long cry of pain as she felt her scales crack under the pressure of the foul chain. Seconds later more chains clamped around her wrists and waist, the dark steel biting into her flesh, her flames struggling desperately against the horror. Suddenly the air left her lungs as all the chains tightened simultaneously. Pulling her violently to the ground, as if the earth was denying her right to the sky for some strange reason. Her wings flapped weakly, feathers twisted and broken by the violence of the assault. She fell, pulled by the long, cold, dead limbs of that cursed ground, tearing her from the air and the light.
The light was fading, the blue immensities, the eternal sun of the high sky so pure, disappearing between the dark, cold, wet mists of the clouds below. The chill and dampness tried to bite her skin, helping the cursed chains in their work. Her flames burned, ever stronger, fueled by her will and her desperation. But nothing helped, the chains, those long cold metal tentacles biting into her skin, splitting her flesh, pulling her towards the abyss.
Soon she saw the underside of the clouds, emerging from their cold embrace. She could now be seen from the ground, a shooting star, a blue comet captured and snatched out of the sky by the long, cruel limbs of the earth, jealous and hungry, snatching from the sky one of its free possessions.
Feeling the ground approaching at an alarming speed and in fear of crashing into it for good, joining the dust forever, she flapped her wings more and more, braking her fall as best she could. A great cloud of dust, a pain more intense than she had ever felt, her legs were mush, she could feel her wings bending in a most unnatural way. Her breath was ragged, short and panicked, her hot blood ran down her wounded cheek. She tried to stand up painfully, but the chains held her down, the raw pain burning and beating against her abused nerves.
She could hear voices behind the thick cloud of dust. "Did we get it?" said one, low and threatening. "Be careful, it might still be dangerous, you never know with this kind of creature," added a more nasal one. Vernons, Myo thought immediately in her pain-fogged mind. Only Vernons could be cruel enough to attack her like that. Myo clutched the medallion Mélusine had given her tightly in the palm of her bruised hand, praying that, as promised, she would soon come to her rescue. She felt the medallion warm in her hand and looked up at the figures now visible behind the veil of dust.
A new determination filled her, unlike all the many other moments of struggle in her life, she was no longer alone, Mélusine would come to her rescue, an adult, someone to rely on. She just had to hold out long enough against the three Vernons. She had to gain time. She lowered herself to the ground, motionless, feigning death. Discretely watching the movements around her. "Do you think she's dead?" the deeper voice asked. "That would be a pity, this kind of creature is more valuable alive than dead," replied a haughty voice. "Don't let your guard down, let's go inspect the catch," added the nasal voice.
The dust had settled and a tall man, the one with the deep voice, approached. He grinned. "Ouch, it's pretty badly damaged."
"Dead?" asked a haughty voice.
"I don't know, maybe unconscious. Remind me, how much do you get out of it alive rather than dead?" he replied.
"Between twenty thousand and twenty-five thousand galleons if alive and between five thousand and ten thousand if dead." the haughty voice said.
"Oh yes, well, if it's alive, no more work for life. I told you to use a softer magic, the merchandise is all spoiled." the tall man watching from a distance replied.
"And be killed? Those kind of beasts are dangerous." The nasal voice growled.
" There' s more to it than that, but we'll have to take a closer look. "
"Careful!"
"Well, no need to fear the beast, it's beaten down for good."
The moment th vernon's big, chock-full hand was about to touch her, Myo summoned her flames with all her might, pushing all her will into burning her chains and th vernon with her. A huge infernal blaze of supernatural blue flames shot out of her. The man let out a gut wrenching howl, his hands instantly turning to ash along with much of his leg and torso, the rest of his body blistering, his skin boiling from the furnace. The chain refused to melt, however, an impossible cold remaining in their core. The other two men jumped back. "You bastard! Die!" one of them shouted, a sickly yellow light shooting out from his wand. Myo, taking advantage of the momentary fragility of the chains slowly giving way to the flames, managed to roll to the side just in time.
"Control yourself!" the man shouted, losing the nasal side of his voice in his yell. "Fight the flames! You fool!" He then began to recite a strange sequence of words with intricate movements of his wand, the tall, haughty man with the particularly vernon-like features imitating him. Myo felt a wave of cold pushing against her flames. With the energy of desperation, she pushed back, giving it her all, hoping to become the great flame bird Luna had described after the storm. Perhaps then she would have enough strength to buy enough time for Mélusine to arrive. She had managed to catch one of them by surprise, but the other two would not be fooled. Fortunately, despite the death of their partner, they still seemed determined to have her alive for the sake of the gold. She had to hold on, to become one with the fire, living inside her. She and her flames, two sides of the same coin, two sides of a mirror. In pain, blood, ashes, cold and dust, she had to break the surface as she had unconsciously done to save Luna. Let her and the flame unite to become one.
She screamed, sang in a broken and discordant voice a song of pain, anger and call, uniting her mind, body and soul with the flames. Fighting against the black and icy mists invoked by the two men to subjugate her. She felt her defences failing under the onslaught of icy magic, her flames receding in the face of the dark mists summoned by the vernons. Every second her flames lost ground, her song growing more desperate.
Just as the dark mists were about to reach her, the surface broke, a mirror-like shard, a stone shattering the surface of a still water. The pain disappeared, and so did all other sensations. She was nothing but a conscious flame. Her size far exceeded the vernons in front of her, creatures suddenly so insignificant. Myo gave a long cry, trying to spread her wings of fire. But even in this form, the icy chains hindered her. She struggled and struggled. The two vernons in front of her had lowered their wands, mouths agape, eyes wide, white as sheets, deep terror etched in their features. Myo hoped for a moment that her being a living flame would be enough to make them flee in terror, insects that they were, but it didn't matter, they recovered, their features even harder. This time redoubling their efforts, Myo felt their icy magic bite her wings in fear, but she continued to fight. Mélusine will come.
oOOOo
Mélusine was sitting on a bench in the garden behind the house, her eyes drifting from one strange plant to another before settling on the vast English countryside visible from the top of the hill. Fields, meadows and copses crossed by paths and rivers, a few isolated hamlets, farms or houses dotting the peaceful landscape on this summer day. It would have been perfect if the sun had shown up instead of staying hidden behind that sad, uniform layer of clouds, she thought. After all, today would be an important day. Myosotis' eleventh birthday. The little veela for whom she had developed so much affection in recent years. The shy little bird girl she had at first just looked at with curiosity and pity, but who had gradually carved out a place in her heart.
She had never wanted a child, finding the idea of creating a creature to doom it to the world too selfish. Or simply because, except for little Luna, whose astonishing dreamy wisdom was just too endearing, she didn't get along with children. For Luna, she had taken on the role of the kind but stern aunt, spoiling her without seeming to, dropping in regularly to watch her grow up. But for Myo, the situation was quite different. She was dealing with a lost little bird, far from her flock and already far too independent to accept that an adult would come and rule her life. Little by little, she got involved with her, at first without realising it. Until one morning she woke up with a necklace around her neck, a pretty black feather with iridescent reflections hanging from it, a painting of her with Luna, Luccy and Myosotis hanging on a wall and an appointment a few hours later to teach Myosotis to defend herself. If things went on like this... Myosotis would be the closest thing to being her daughter in her life.
The evening would be difficult for the poor girl. There would be more people than usual at the party. Trustworthy and caring people, but new people all the same. It would be an ordeal for a girl who had spent her entire childhood locked up in a shed, convinced that humanity was just a bunch of violent, stupid, bloodthirsty creatures. Which was unfortunately not far from reality in some cases.
She searched the sky, Myosotis should be here soon... The thin silver band wrapped around her left index finger began to heat up against her skin. She looked down at her hand, the ring was red and shiny. She had hoped she would never see it turn that colour. She jumped to her feet and drew her wand, whispering expecto patronum. A silver hedgehog of light appeared. "Myo's calling collar has been activated, I'm heading over her right now, I will keep you informed," she said before the hedgehog scurried off towards the house.
She clenched her hand on her apparition amulet as she guided her magic to the link between the ring and the necklace, wishing to apparate as close to Myosotis as possible. She disappeared in a crack.
The plain around her was empty of any presence. "Shit!" she swore, those government bastards hadn't seen fit to extend apparition coverage to the more rural areas of the country. The link between the ring and the necklace was stronger though. Myosotis had to be less than twenty kilometres to the north. Whatever was going on, Myosotis had to hold on until she arrived! Her wand danced between her fingers as she chanted the incantation of 'vængi ljóss'. Damn the discretion, she had to get there and fast. She knew that Myosotis was a strong girl. Much stronger than a child of her age had any right to be. A strength born of adversity and suffering. A strength that Mélusine had tried to polish and sharpen through regular training sessions. She could only pray that this strength would be enough to keep her alive until she arrived. So far, Myosotis had never used the medallion. Not even when she was lost from her tower, too exhausted to fly, or when she was attacked by an Aerfane. Whatever danger Myosotis was facing, it was serious.
As the last word of the incantation left her lips, an intense light exuded from Mélusine's back, two luminous spectral wings unfurled. An instant and a shield to protect her from the intense wind, she flew at breakneck speed over the plain, tearing the air and sound in her wake. Indifferent to the possibility of being seen or heard. Speed was more important. That's when she saw it in the distance, the great blue blaze, the mists of dark magic rising against the flames in a terrible battle. A few seconds later, she landed about ten meters from the action. She could not believe her eyes. Two unknown wizards were fighting a fire elemental. The great blue flaming bird was pinned to the ground by chains of the darkest magic, fighting with all its might against it and the insidious mists slowly devouring its flame. Her eyes, shafts of light and incandescent flame, seemed to reflect absolute terror.
She was brought out of her stupor by the voice of one of the men. "Hey you! Witch! Don't just stand there! Help us! This creature is dangerous!" he said in a haughty and slightly disdainful tone. Taking the advantage offered, she approached, and with a quick gesture, threw two stupefy, The two men did not have time to react, too surprised and concentrated on their current spell, and fell heavily to the ground, unconscious. The elemental had suddenly stopped struggling as the magical mists of the two men disappeared, seeming immediately calmer, her glowing gaze fixed on her. She couldn't tell how she could read the expression of a gigantic flamebird, but she could almost feel its relief when it lowered its head, bringing its forehead to hers. Like the first time she'd seen Myosotis's flames, there was no burning on contact, just a sensation of gentle warmth. She glanced at the dark chains holding the elemental and immediately began the incantation of finite et laumondis, the dispell she thought best. Under the effect of the spell, the chains fell into dust carried by the wind. The elemental spread its great wings of flame as if to stretch them.
Their gaze plunged into each other, a fiery abyss, then, emerging from the flames dissipating into a bluish smoke, the small body of Myosotis, fell into her open arms. Bloodied, clothes torn, wings forming strange angles, legs visibly broken. Mélusine's heart sank as she clutched the child's small, all too light form in her arms. She had arrived early enough to find her alive... but already far too late. As the adrenaline wore off, the full horror of the situation washed over her. Wizards, obviously trained, had attacked Myosotis. Surely hoping to take her alive, for the heinous things done to the captured veela. And now, with the sobbing, broken little form of Myosotis in her arms, having received one too many traumas, she found herself lost.
She invoked her patronus again. "Myo is rescued. Attacked by wizards, probably poachers, I'm taking her to France immediately, she needs to be treated by someone who knows how to deal with Veela. And there's no point in taking the risk of being turned away from St Mongoose or the Otter Hospital. I'll keep you informed of the situation." The hedgehog disappeared in a silver cloud, and Mélusine took off again immediately, covering herself with a shield and gaining altitude quickly. There was no time to lose. It was too risky to use human first aid spells on a veela, and she didn't know how long Myo could last in her condition. Mélusine had never felt so justified in breaking several British and international laws in her life. With luck a French magical hospital could quickly reach a veela healer, even if doing so compromised the relative anonymity Myo had enjoyed so far.
oOOOo
Apolline Delacour was comfortably seated in her chair at the breakfast table, reading the newspaper. Or at least trying to read it. Her gaze kept on being drawn to the adorable spectacle unfolding before her eyes. Guillaume was a few steps away, the joy visible in his eyes. He was holding his youngest child, soon to be six years old, at arm's length above his head. Gabrielle was laughing happily as she instinctively flapped her little wings still covered in down, her little hands and feet fluttering in the air as if to help her fly, proclaiming loudly that she would soon be able to fly as well as her sister, without her father to hold her. As soon as she was born, she had known at once that she would be the more mischievous of her two daughters, and she bet that unlike Fleur, Gabrielle would have her first flame before she lost her down.
Fleur, the elder, always so serious, was focused on the meticulous unpacking of the official mail addressed to Apolline. She had insisted for years that she be allowed to help her mother with the flock council and her role as external affairs advisor. It was only last year that she had given in, she didn't want to expose Fleur to too much politics so soon but Fleur had argued that it would only prepare her better for her future role in the council. Apolline particularly liked summer. Not because of the sun and the heat, but because Fleur was home most days instead of only coming back during the weekends during the school year at Beaubaton. Fleur was about to start her fourth year... time goes by so fast... Fleur was so cute as a child. Always Mum this, Mum that, following her everywhere, even at the vertfeuille council meetings, she had spent half of the meetings at that time with a Fleur on her lap. Just the opposite of Gabrielle, the adorable little pest, who was always in trouble she didn't know where...
She was pulled out of her tender memories by the intrigued voice of her oldest daughter. " Maman? " ("Mommy?")
" Yes, dear? What is it?"
"I thought there were no Veelas in Britain for decades. There is a letter about an English Veela."
Apolline sighed, one of those pesky letters had reached them again. "You can throw away that letter, for several months someone has been claiming that there is a lone Veela in England and asking for a discreet meeting to be arranged. I've never seen a more obvious Veela hunting plan. It is well known that having a lone Veela is impossible. I'll have to reiterate the request to ignore these letters," she finished, talking more to herself than anything else.
"hmm, maman..." Apolline raised an eyebrow at Fleur's slightly worried tone, who had apparently continued to read the letter despite her request to get rid of it. "It's an official letter from the Flamel Hospital in Paris."
Apolline's eyes widened almost comically. "what? Give me the letter." Fleur handed it to her and she grabbed it quickly, scanning the lines rapidly, her horror growing with each passing second.
Madame Delacour.
Appointed to the external affairs of the council of vertfeuille.
We are obliged to deal with a matter of great international concern which requires the expertise of the French Flock Council.
Here are the details of the facts that occurred yesterday.
At 5.15 p.m., a woman named Mélusine Lovegood entered the reception of the Flamel Hospital in Paris. In her arms was a Veela child of about eleven years old in a critical condition. The patient was immediately taken care of by Doctor and Veela Isabelle Valbleu (document attached diagnostic report of the patient).
At 5.20pm, after sending a message via patronus to her relatives to let them know that the child Veela had been taken care of, we asked Mrs Lovegood about the facts. It turns out that the Veela in question is Myosotis Potter (information that was later confirmed) The child having, according to the allegations of Grand Sorcerer Dumbledore and the British magical government, played an important role in the downfall of the last Dark Lord of the islands, making the child an important public figure for that nation, supposedly kept away from the public until now for her safety. In order to maintain acceptable diplomatic relations, the information has already been relayed to the British Ministry.
According to Mrs. Lovegood's account, the security device she had entrusted to Miss Potter to be alerted in case the child was in danger was activated. She immediately went to the scene and discovered Miss Potter being attacked by an organised gang of poachers. Mrs Lovegood then took it upon herself to render the two poachers involved in the attack unconscious before immediately taking Miss Potter to Flamel Hospital, fearing that Miss Potter's life would be endangered in a British hospital due to delays in treatment as a result of her Veela condition and the lack of suitable Veelan treatment available.
Our Ministry of Interbeing Cooperation and Ministry of Foreign Affairs has taken charge of the situation and absolves Ms Lovegood of any charges for crossing the border illegally and creating a minor breach of secrecy.
6.30 pm The two unconscious poachers were recovered, dialogue was opened with the UK on what to do with them.
3am today. Miss Potter has been stabilised and is in an induced coma.
Further information and expertise from Dr Valbleu tends to prove that Myosotis Potter is a Flockless Veela Taïvaalta.
In light of these findings, it was decided that the council of Vertfeuille should be made aware of the situation immediately. We await your decision.
Enclosed is a permission slip to visit the critically injured wing of Flamel Hospital. Miss Potter's diagnosis and an hour by hour account of events.
Yours sincerely.
Richard Durant, Director of Flamel Hospital.
Apolline stared at the letter for a long moment in horror. A little Veela, younger than her daughter, who must have lost her down only a few years ago. Alone, far from any form of flock, in one of the most veela-hostile countries in Europe. She thought of all the letters she had received, of all the times she should have investigated thoroughly instead of just thinking that it was another attempt by poachers or other veela hunters. And now a little veela was in an artificial coma in Flamel. "Fleur, Guillaume, this is an urgent matter, I will surely be back tonight, I will warn you if not. Fleur, do not tell anyone about the contents of this letter, it is of the utmost importance, all right?" She said in the calmest voice she could muster at the moment. Fleur's features hardened, her daughter was already more than mature enough to understand what was at stake. "I promise, Mum." She said in an emphatic tone. Apolline nodded, kissed Fleur, Gabrielle and Guillaume before leaving for her office, letting the sound of Guillaume's and Fleur's voices wish her courage and Gabrielle's little voice ask what was going on.
Once seated behind her desk, she put the documents down and with a trembling hand, she opened the diagnostic document. Her blood froze in her veins, her instinct screaming at her to go immediately to the little veela's side. Multiple fractures resulting in internal bleeding, dark magic intoxication, and extreme depletion of magical reserves were the predominant information. But perhaps even worse, the second part of Isabelle's deeper diagnosis revealed clear evidence of long-term abuse. Numerous deficiencies, the worst of which seemed to be due to a prolonged lack of sunlight, muscular atrophy of the legs, numerous old scars that were in the process of disappearing but whose traces were still present...
It had been decades since there had been such a case, not since the last veela had left the most hostile countries. One of the many problems that this situation highlighted, in addition to the diplomatic problems with Britain, which was bound to have a most unpleasant reaction to the discovery that their 'heroine', as far as it knew from their civil war in the seventies, was a Veela, was the fact that she was a Taïvaalta would make waves in their community. The religious importance of this race of Veela, coupled with the child's undoubtedly troubled history, was likely to be enough to make a significant part of their community want to go to war.
She had to treat this matter with the utmost caution and go to Flamel without delay. She gathered her things, put on her jacket and took the portkey to the basse Seine district. "Emergency, basse seine, entrance rue Flamel." She said loudly and intelligibly. The Portkey vibrated for a moment between her fingers and then she disappeared with a slight crack of air closing on the void.
oOOOo
It was a beautiful morning in the basse Seine district of Paris. The sun was shining in a blue sky dotted with small cottony clouds. Wizards and occasional creatures were busy in the wide streets of the largest magical district in the capital. The countless shops and cafes opened up onto the streets, attracting the eyes of the curious.
All this joy and liveliness formed a great contrast with Apolline's mood. She walked briskly towards the hospital, letting her allure reflect her mood and split the crowd in front of her. Soon enough, but not fast enough for her liking, she arrived in front of the Flamel Hospital. The great white limestone building towered several stories above the street. A great stoic structure in the face of the city's bustle. She entered the large hall and quickly made her way to one of the reception desks where she recognised Marie, a petite secretary who she knew would not make a fuss.
When she arrived, Marie looked up from her sheets, her eyes widened almost imperceptibly before her face took on a most serious expression. "Ah, good morning Madame Apolline, we have been expecting you. You're here for the access to room twenty-nine in C wing I presume."
"Hello Marie. Yes, that's right." She handed her the access document that had come with this morning's letter.
Marie nodded and stamped the document. "Everything is in order. Mrs. Lovegood is in the anteroom of the resuscitation chamber. I assume you'll want to talk to her."
"Thank you Marie." Apolline said before disappearing into the hospital corridors. It didn't take her long to find the white door of room twenty-nine. She breathed out a long breath in an attempt to calm her stress before knocking. A few seconds later the door opened, revealing a tall blonde woman with a stern look. An eye patch over one of her eyes, the other an intense steel blue. Apolline's eyes widened, she could feel an aura of flame around this woman. Her eyes immediately fell on the beautiful black feather hanging at her neck... The woman simply waved her in before closing the door behind her.
The room was small and windowless, three chairs, white walls, a single crystal lamp hanging from the ceiling illuminating the room with a cold white light. She turned to the woman and said. "Apolline Delacour, I wish I had met you under better circumstances. You are?" she finished more out of politeness than anything else, already suspecting the identity of her interlocutor.
"Mélusine Lovegood. May I ask why you are here?
Apolline raised an eyebrow. "Didn't they warn you?
"I guess not."
Apolline sighed. "I'm the External Affairs representative of the Council of Vertfeuille.
"What council?"
Apolline frowned. "You should at least know that, you're married to a Veela."
Ah that, Lovegood looked completely taken aback. "I... I'm single, Mrs. Delacour."
Apolline's features tensed. It didn't make sense, the protection afforded by a feather could only exist if the feather was consciously offered, and a non-Vela could only receive this kind of meaningful gift as part of a marriage... unless... "I'm sorry Mrs. Lovegood, but I need to know. Where did you get the feather for this pendant?"
Lovegood's eye lit up. "Ah, it's a gift from Myosotis. I suppose it has some special significance that eludes me."
Apolline collapsed into one of the chairs, her wings tucked behind her back... obviously, a young veela without flocks will grow up ignorant of her culture and try to signify her affection to her loved ones in whatever way is most meaningful to her. "Ms. Lovegood, wearing a veela's feather when you are not part of her family is the equivalent of the ring you call a wedding band. With protective magic to boot. Please excuse me for assuming this."
"No problem. So, the council? The reason you came?"
The council of vertfeuille is the organization that federates all the veela flocks in France. I am one of the heads of its external affairs branch. I am the one who is contacted first for diplomatic matters outside the flocks. The discovery of a Veela without flocks, especially one so young, is an extremely important matter. I must quickly put together a dossier so that the council can make an informed decision on the situation. If the news reaches the flocks through the newspaper, I fear the reaction will be... disproportionate if you can forgive the euphemism."
"I see. And what do you think the likely decisions of your council will be?"
"The primary reaction will be to try to integrate her into a flock at all costs, or to place her under the aegis of the council to limit internal dissension. The decision will of course be modulated by the report I provide."
Lovegood's face hardens, "It will be complicated, I'm afraid her new 'adoptive families' won't agree to let her disappear and lose sight of her in your closed society."
"That would be best for her. No Veela deserves to grow up isolated from her flocks. It's already a heartbreak, an immense sadness that she grew up isolated like that," argued Apolline.
"Maybe, but the decision will ultimately be in the hands of Myosotis. She is too independent to let anyone dictate anything to her. I know how much she wants to meet other Veela, but I doubt she'll agree to have her already established ties severed."
Apolline gritted her teeth, she had only one desire, to kidnap the young Veela and take her home, where she belonged. But what Lovegood had said had its weight and made perfect sense. Cutting the young Myosotis from her bonds would only keep her distanced from the flocks. Plus, obviously, she seemed to have a heavy and charged history that would have to be taken into account in any decision. "Please, Mrs. Lovegood. Could you tell me what you know about young Myosotis and her history?"
Apolline simply nodded and began to tell one of the hardest stories Apolline had ever heard in her life. The kind of thing totally anathema to what a veela's childhood, even as an orphan, should be. The story was one shock after another. She understood that the little Veela had been abused, but to hear Lovegood talk about it, even withholding some of the details, made her want to go hunting to rip out the heart of what Lovegood called Vernon. At eight she had run away alone, taught herself to fly years earlier than normal, and survived a year of hunting, fishing and gathering in a lonely tower only to find herself in better health than she was with those... monsters. Then finally, she met Mrs. Lovegood's niece and befriended her. Eventually saving her from a storm by... WHAT? At that moment, Apolline had dissociated for a few seconds. A child of less than ten years old had accomplished her transformation. Under extreme circumstances of course... but... Fleur had not yet reached that stage, the transformation was the marker of the passage to adulthood and was supposed to take place between sixteen and twenty-two years old and be a reason for a big party for the flock... The appearance of the transformation described by Lovegood only confirmed what she already knew but had difficulty integrating. Once she had regained her composure and asked Lovegood to continue, she was reassured by what followed. Myosotis seemed to have socialised somewhat, better than would have been expected of someone in her position, and had spent two fairly peaceful years in regular contact with Lovegoods and Tonks. Until the day before. Where the attack had taken place. How a child could have held out long enough against several adult wizards to be rescued was beyond her.
When Lovegood had finished and closed her notebook after noting what she needed for the report, she cleared her throat, trying to hide the fact that several times during the story she had almost cried, a reaction that would have been shameful for someone who prided herself on keeping a clear and rational mind in all circumstances. "I'd like to see her? Is that possible?" she finally asked.
Lovegood took out her pocket watch and looked at the time. "Yes, healer Valbleu informed me that she was allowing visitors from fifteen minutes ago. You must knock and wait for the authorization.
Apolline got up and did just that, waiting nervously outside the door. It finally opened after a few minutes, revealing a tired-looking Isabelle, her beautiful red feathers in disarray. "Hello Apolline, please come in, you can come in too Mrs. Lovegood." She finally said. "Hello Isabelle." She replied in a falsely calm voice.
Apolline entered the room, a more spacious room equipped with all the tools of modern magic medicine useful for this kind of case. A large window let in the daylight, illuminating a large bed, far too large for the small form on it. She lay there, covered to the waist by a thin white sheet. Her large wings were spread out on either side of her body, her beautiful blue feathers almost black iridescent in the sunlight, a stark contrast to her too-white skin. She just looked peacefully asleep, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Her arms covered in tiny feathers, the sharp talons she could see protruding from the sheet, that intoxicating aura... this was the second time in her life that Apolline had seen a Taïvaalta. The instinctive feeling of respect and desire to protect surfaced. She extended her hand towards the hand of the young sleeping Taïvaalta but hesitated, turning to Isabelle to await her approval. The latter nodded. The moment their hands made contact, small flames shot up from the girl's skin, tickling her hand, sensing her magic, seeking her intentions, before just exuding a pleasant warmth. Apolline watched the blue flames with fascination for a long moment before letting go. She had no more business here, the report couldn't wait, she had to call the council into an emergency meeting. She struggled for a moment with her desire to stay with little Veela before her duty won out.
"How long will she stay in the coma? she finally asked Isabelle.
"At worst, a few days, no head injury and everything has been taken care of."
"Well, thank you, Isabelle. Goodbye Mrs. Lovegood." She finally said as she left the room. As she walked through the anteroom, a young blonde girl ran through it, heading for the chamber. Her face was tear-stained and a brooch with two beautiful dark blue feathers was tied in her hair. A slight bitter smile came over Apolline's face. She had a lot to do.
oOOOo
It was a beautiful morning for Albus Dumbledore in his country home, enjoying a well-deserved break after a year of running a school and pulling Britain in the right direction. The summer, the wizengamot was always quiet, the nobles all away on holiday with their families, the process of passing legislation on pause. He had spent a wonderful night with Ardus who was still asleep upstairs. The look of absolute consternation that Fawks gave him from his perch after witnessing their debauchery the night before was simply delicious. Ahh if Minerva knew that, she'd have a fit, he thought.
The coming year was shaping up very nicely. At the end of it, if all went according to plan, Myosotis would face one of Tom's henchmen, or Tom himself in the room where the mirror woukd be placed. With luck Tom would be captured while he found out exactly how he managed to stay alive. Speaking of Myosotis, it had been a long time since he'd had a look at the state of the wards... Well, that could wait, his marmalade toast, his delicious tea and Fawks' outraged look were more important. These little pleasures of life were far too precious not to enjoy them to the full. And then his wards measuring devices hadn't changed for years. There was no reason to worry. The absence of a report from Mrs. Figs was also good news. He let out a long sigh of contentment as he relaxed in his dressing gown, revealing his muscular bulk. Come on Fawks, don't be so shy, he thought as the phoenix looked away. It was so funny to see the bird so embarrassed. Hmm... Tonight he would invite Joseph, Amaneus, Philancias and Alastor for a little party. Maybe then he would have the chance to see Fawks suffer spontaneous combustion out of sheer shame. It hadn't happened in too long for his liking.
He was drawn out of his thoughts about inflicting further trauma on the poor beast by an alarm sounding from his office. The fact that he did not recognise its function was most worrying. Intrigued, he stood up, sadly abandoning his marmalade toast and depriving poor Fawks of a magnificent view of his perfect body. He entered his office, an unfathomable chaos of trinkets, books and documents of all kinds strewn across the floor, shelves, walls and ceiling, except for his desk, the only impeccably tidy space in the place. He began to rummage through the junk, sending inconsequential papers and priceless artefacts flying behind him in the same way, until he finally found the little green orb under an old pile of stinking rags. He burned them with an absent hand gesture, thinking it might be time to tidy up a bit and air out the room after his unpalatable discovery. He inspected the small orb emitting a shrill sound, frowning as he pondered what it might be.
Then he heard someone enter the room behind him. He turned and could not contain his smile. Ardus, the young adonis was dressed only in a towel around his waist. "Albus, darling, what's all the fuss about?" He asked in an exasperated voice.
"Ah, Ardus, I just needed you. You see, my friend, this little orb has been making an infernal racket for some time now, but I can't remember what it all means. Can you enlighten me, my dear?
Ardus sighed, rolling his eyes, he strode into the messy room, ignoring both the chaos and the greedy look Albus was giving him. "Let me see that."
Albus handed him the small orb.
"Um, Albus, this is the alert signal for immediate emergency meetings of the wizengamot. Perhaps you should put on some decent clothes and your usual appearance if you wish to attend."
"Oh really? Hm, that's odd. It's been years..." With a flick of his wand his dressing gown became a robe of a gaudy enough colour to blind anyone with an ounce of good taste and his features aged into their perfect grandfatherly appearance. "Fawks?" he asked. The phoenix appeared on his shoulder and with a look of deep contempt directed at him they disappeared in a cloud of scarlet flames.
...
It was not a beautiful morning for Albus Dumbledore. In front of him was a file which all the members of the wizengamot present at the meeting were asked to read before starting the deliberations about the day's topic. And right now Albus was trying to hide his biggest panic attack in years and the resurgence of what the Muggles call PTSD from the war against Grindelwald. Gigantic, all-consuming blue flames, the front line shattered in an instant, Grindelwald's shock troops. The sound of flapping wings heralding death. No, he had to get out of the past and face it. How this was possible, he did not know, but the facts were there, laid out before him. Myosotis Potter was a veela, worse, a race of veela whose name he did not know but one of the least human in appearance. The Grand Alliance was apparently treating Myosotis Potter in one of their Hospitals after she had been badly injured in a clash with Poachers. How? Albus wanted to tear out what little hair he had left in his guise.
He attended the meeting in an almost catatonic state. He was only able to do the bare minimum as the meeting descended into chaos. Questions were being asked of him, he who was supposed to have ensured the placement of Myosotis, but he was unable to answer them. Lily Potter must have done something to the child to hide her looks. How Myosotis had survived Lily's sister and her ... controversial opinion of magic without even being human was a mystery. Wait? Was Petunia really Lily's sister? If Myosotis was a veela, then Lily must have been too. A generation in which veelan magic had remained dormant? But in this case? Without blood ties? He had just created wards linked to the existence of the house and nothing else! No wonder they had been so stable up to now.
Now he was beset by reproach over his choice of placement, the report indicating traces of long-term abuse of the child...
The great battle of screams and opinions shouted across the amphitheatre had now shifted from accusations against him to the question of what to do with Myosotis. What would be the position of the wizengamot in this huge shit hole he had got himself into.
Umbridge, Fuge's kitten-sucking whore, lover of dementors he was sure, was ranting insults at every turn, proclaiming the extreme dangerousness of a child who had managed to kill one of the poachers in self-defence according to the report, proposing to cut off her wings or some other madness. The rest of the chamber, though a significant proportion of racist idiots, were indignant at these proposals. The session was interrupted by the arrival of Ted Tonks, who he didn't know how he had obtained the right to participate in this zoo, defending the rights of Myosotis.
Albus was desperate to get home, drink a gallon of firewhiskey before burying his head in a pillow and screaming. The Wizengamot, after much debate with a more than lacking participation of Albus, came to the conclusion that even veela, the public would take very badly the fact of inflicting legal sanctions on Myosotis for self-defence proven by pensieve, and that not having her at Hogwart's would give them terrible publicity. (especially for Fuge who had ended up quietly throwing a stupefy at Umbridge without anyone noticing).
The debate over Myosotis' new placement continued with equal vehemence. Lucius trying to proclaim that he would be the perfect guardian at exactly the same time as Mr. Greengrass which would have degenerated into a fistfight if Mr. Tonks hadn't been there. For apparently, by some obscure right he had a say in the wizengamot for the day or other (Albus was already too sick in the head to think about the how and why) Tonks abruptly ended the debate by presenting legal papers guaranteeing custody of Myosotis to the Lovegoods, some of whom of course tried to dispute this, but others saw this as an opportunity to stop their rivals from getting what they wanted and so had backed Tonks.
It was then that the real debate began, the one that was probably most dear to the hearts of the old rotten noble families that make up the wizengamot. Albus had never been more eager to set fire to the whole thing before dancing naked in the ashes. Maybe Tom wasn't so wrong in his methods after all... No! He wouldn't fall that low. Please, someone shut those morons up and let him go home and roll around in his misery, because when Minerva found out, she'd have his hide, he knew it. Here they were, trying to decide what to do about the noble house of Potter now doomed to be stained forever by the blood of a creature. A veela sitting in the wizengamot. What a sacrilege... Some greedy people wanted to dispossess the Potters claiming kinship from fifteen generations ago, others simply wanted to strip House Potter of its title of nobility. Finally after much debate, shouting, screaming, a brawl, and three injuries later... (Albus was tired) It was decided that House Potter would keep its title of nobility by virtue of Myosotis' status as a national hero, but could only be represented politically and administratively by proxy. Unless House Potter adopts a human member, who can then take over. General opinion wanted something more extreme, but fear of public reaction prevented even the harshest of opinions from being implemented.
And now they were planning the next session with the sole purpose of getting on his back and deciding what to do about his failure. Albus was fed up, really fed up. He finally got up, called Fawks who looked at him mockingly before taking him home. And there it was... his holiday cut short, his plans ruined, a Minerva probably sharpening her knives and the wizengamot's dogs loose on his arse. He grunted in despair and frustration. With a wave of his wand his chaotic office, symbols of years of carefree planning, was organized. All nauseating or inappropriate things disappeared, and he sat down heavily in his seat. The moon was high in the sky, the session had lasted hours and hours. Ardus must have left a long time ago... He leaned over his desk, called up books and papers, he had work to do, a lot of work, in order to at least save himself from this fiasco which had become international...