Severus' knees buckled with the shock of the landing, the portkey having materialized him a good meter above the ground. He squinted, the contrast between the dim light of his office and the sunny afternoon outdoors hurting his eyes. He was standing on a wide white gravel driveway in a French garden. Clearly trimmed hedges, mowed grass and ornamental trees were visible everywhere. In the distance, the tall silhouette of an imposing mansion was visible behind the trees. About ten metres ahead was a small white wooden gazebo. In it, sitting on a stool at a wooden table, sipping tea, was one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Long, black hair, amethyst eyes staring back at him, her great black wings with bluish shimmer folded behind her back.
Severus swallowed. From this distance he could already feel the Veela's aura pressing against his occlumentic barriers. A power as terrifying as it was deliciously attractive. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his composure, keeping a most stern countenance. A lesser man would immediately bow to this woman, offering his body and soul for even a second of her attention. But Severus was above that. The years in the service of one of the most terrible dark lords in recent British history, even if in retrospect, one of his greatest mistakes, had hardened him.
So it was with a confident step that he advanced towards the gazebo. His back straight, his chin high, his dark eyes riveted on the Veela's. He climbed the few steps to the Belvedere, bowed his head slightly in respect, before addressing her. "Severus, Snape. Pleased to meet you." He couldn't help but let out an imperceptible sigh of relief when his interlocutor's thrall seemed to lift, as if a pressure of several tons had been removed from his shoulders. Was this a test of his mental strength?
"Sarah Malbois. Pleased to meet you. Take a seat, please." She finally said in a voice far too soft for such a lethal creature.
Severus complied, watching Lady Malbois, trying to read her features and expressions to see if he would come out of this encounter in one piece. Naive was not a word that applied to Severus, the moment he had finished reading this letter he knew that this meeting would be dangerous and that depending on how he played his cards in it would decide whether he would leave this place with more information about his goddaughter or whether he would end up reduced to a small pile of ash as fertilizer for the beautiful white rosebushes a few yards away.
"A cup of tea?" was Lady Malbois' suggestion. "It is no secret that you English are particularly fond of this beverage. I hope it will be to your taste.
"Thank you." He replied simply, accepting the steaming cup. There was nothing in the smell or appearance to suggest an attempt at poisoning, and in the case of a discreet dose of veritaserum, he had become able to ignore its effects by repeated acclimatisation in increasing doses over the past few years. He doubted, however, that Lady Malbois needed veritaserum to detect a lie. As Severus took a sip of Darjeeling Lady Malbois spoke.
"Mr. Snape, as I doubt you accepted my invitation just for the company. Perhaps it would be better if we got to the heart of the matter. I have heard that for several days now, you have been investigating the surviving members of the military expedition against the late Dark Lord, Anna Karrasinqi." She said in an even voice.
"That is correct," Severus merely stated, the pause in Lady Malbois's speech making him think that she wanted to hear a direct confirmation from him.
"It would not surprise me if someone wished to investigate Karrasinqi, as she was rightly infamous for her power and it is not hard to imagine that she has many secrets. What prompted me to contact you was what my acquaintances told me about your questions. Very strange questions about the potential presence of a young girl at the scene of the battle." The strength of her gaze intensified, the violet of her amethyst eyes seeming to harbour an unquenchable flame, burning its way into his soul. He could feel her thrall against his skin, curious and worried, searching for something. "Tell me, Mr. Snape. Why are you looking for this girl?"
Severus swallowed, the intensity of this encounter rivalled some of his moments with the Dark Lord, he could almost feel the likelihood of him ending his day as rose fertiliser growing by the second. He knew that the truth and the utmost frankness would be needed in his next words, those that would decide his fate.
"The girl, she is my goddaughter. Many years ago she disappeared. It is only recently that I have found her through this photograph." He took the photo from the inside pocket of his long black robe and held it out to Lady Malbois, doing his best to keep his fingers from trembling. She took hold of the picture, and examined it. Severus continued. "In this photograph she appears in the company of Anna Karrasinqi. A few days ago, in the newspaper, along with the article about the mission, appeared a photo of the late Karrasinqi which I recognised immediately. So I began my investigation among the survivors of the attack." He took out of his pocket the photograph found in the ruined house and handed it to Lady Malbois as well. "I have confirmation that she was living with Karrasinqi, and had been for a long time. Unfortunately, none of the people I was able to contact who were present during the attack could tell me anything about the presence or absence of a young girl on the battlefield. I was beginning to despair, believing her to be dead and turned to dust by the fiend-fire, when I received your missive." Severus hated himself for opening up to this stranger, but it was the only way. If he offered nothing, he would receive nothing. At least he had managed to leave out the really sensitive information from his speech.
Dame Malbois nodded. "And what do you intend to do once you've found her?"
Severus did his best to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "Take her under my wing, of course. She's my goddaughter," he said emphatically.
His terrifying interlocutor simply raised an eyebrow. "Even knowing what she is?"
Severus' eyes widened, Lady Malbois really did seem to know something crucial, her goddaughter was surely not dead and she might even know where to look. However, his features hardened. He knew only too well the discrimination suffered by non-humans in Britain, and the deplorable image that British wizards hold because of it. The fact that Lady Malbois suspected that his reaction to the discovery of his goddaughter's 'condition' was not the most desirable was therefore perfectly justified. He had to put an end to this line of thought immediately. "I know she is a vampire. Her aspect in the photograph and the fact that shewas with Karrasinqi make it clear enough. I do not hold the same ... political views, towards non-humans, as the not-insignificant proportion of British wizards to whom you indirectly refer by this question."
It must have been the right answer, for he immediately felt the weight of the thrall against his conscience lessen considerably and Lady Malbois' look softened.
"Well, Mr. Snape, you find me willing to assist you.
"Thank you very much." Severus replied as he felt the muscles in his shoulders relax noticeably.
Lady Malbois stood up and stretched in a most unsophisticated manner, stretching her arms over her head and spreading her large wings. She sighed with satisfaction before turning to Severus. "Follow me, I'll show you something that might help you." And she walked down the steps of the gazebo before taking a narrow white gravel path towards the manor. Severus, caught off guard by the sudden disappearance of the intense tension of only a few seconds ago, took longer than he would have liked before he began to follow his host.
oOOOo
Severus emerged from the pensieve in a state of intense joy, amazement, pride, fear and dread. All his conflicting emotions waltzed through his heart in a chaotic dance. He had just seen his goddaughter, in the flesh, alive and well. Her big green eyes bursting with sadness, fear, despair and magic, her left eye shining with an unearthly intensity, her hair of fire tinged with blood and ash, her alabaster skin dirtied, cut in several places, long traces of tears along her cheeks. The great staff reminding him of the great mages of the old times, still crackling with wild magic. Her strange white mask broken.
She had obviously fought alongside Karrasinqi. How she had fared, he would probably not know for a long time. Now, however, he had confirmation. She had survived the battle. Why did she have to be in such a situation? No one her age... no one at all should be in her predicament. He could only hope he wouldn't find her corpse in the forest, which he would soon be scouring.
He turned, his gaze leaving the silvery mists of the pensieve, his eyes finding Lady Malbois' directly. She was standing with her arms crossed in the corner of the room. "Do you know anything more than what I saw in the memory? Severus asked, too shocked to show any restraint.
Malbois just grabbed a card from one of the boudoir tables and handed it to him. Severus raised an eyebrow before taking it and looking at the map. It showed the location of the battle, the place where he had met Aster, and the direction in which she had gone. "Thank you very much, Lady Malbois." Severus merely said.
"Go," Malbois said simply. Severus did not hesitate, reactivating the letter portkey and disappearing from the room with a slight crack.
oOOOo
Severus buried his face in his hands. Of course, that would have been too easy. He had found Aster's trail, a few almost imperceptible tracks in the dead leaves and mud. But after a while, her trail had simply disappeared. Nothing, and that in the middle of a wood full of tormentines. The nasty little plants could have sent her anywhere! So this trail was dead end. He would have to find another way to continue his investigation.
oOOOo
More than a year had passed since he met Dame Malbois, or rather Sarah, as they called each other these days. Sarah had helped him greatly in his search, but it had been fruitless.
Out of desperation or madness, Severus would never know, he had placed a wanted notice in 'The Thestral', a little-known weekly newspaper operating on a pyramid scheme, requiring a sponsor to obtain a subscription. But above all, it was the only newspaper covering the whole of continental Europe, including the hidden nations, and the only newspaper that 'openly' published articles on forbidden magic and news about the more closed communities of creatures and other covens with illicit activities. In short, the most interesting newspaper in Europe. Except maybe the Quibbler, the only paper publishing news from Avalon in issues reserved for 'special' subscribers. He never thought he would get an answer. And yet, here he was in a private room of the 'Red Star', a bar in the magical district of Bordeaux, waiting for the person who had sent him the short message he was currently holding in his hand. A few simple lines in neat handwriting telling him to meet here. In this small, dingy bar obviously used more for its private rooms and the discretion it offers than for the quality of its service or its main room.
He stood with his back straight, sitting on the edge of the uncomfortable bench leaning against the wall of the cramped little room. An old, antique wooden table faced him, on the other side of which was another bench in a similar state of disrepair. The walls were covered with an old, dark green, vine-patterned wallpaper that must have been once white, but had turned grey, with tears in places revealing the old, damp plaster.
Severus was about to put the old, chipped white cup filled with tea to his lips, surprisingly drinkable for the place, when the door opened. A young woman in a long beige dress carrying a leather bag over her shoulder entered. Her features were fine, some would say aristocratic, high cheekbones... If her clothes had been more refined, Severus would have thought she was a noble lady just by her elegant walk, reminding him of Narcissa. Her large blue eyes stared at him, scrutinizing his every feature for something. When she seemed satisfied with her quick examination, she sat down across from him elegantly, holding out her hand. "Maria White, Pleased to meet you," she said with a smile.
"Severus Snape, Pleased to meet you. Thank you very much for responding to the wanted notice," he replied, shaking her hand, pretending not to be surprised by the strength of her grip.
"You're welcome. So, tell me, why is a big man like you looking for such a lovely little girl?"
Severus would prefer to keep the details to himself, but in this kind of case it was better not to try to lie, at the risk of missing out on information that was probably important. Omission would suffice. Besides, it wasn't as if the fact that his goddaughter was Aster Potter was known to more than a handful of people. " She is my long-lost goddaughter. I thought she was dead for a long time, but recent information seems to indicate otherwise."
she eyed him a long time, seemingly shearching his very soul "Hmm, plausible. I must say I was surprised when I saw an ad in Le Thestral about little 'Estelle'. You see, she has made a name for herself in certain circles. I was afraid you meant her harm, but I'm glad I was wrong."
Snape was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable. The way she had pronounced the alias he had invented for Aster to go with the photo in the wanted notice made it clear that she didn't believe for a second in its authenticity. This young woman seemed to know far too much about his goddaughter, who was presumed dead in the eyes of most of the world. He stared straight at her, itching to use legilimency to force all the information about Aster out of this witch's brain, but he doubted he could. His years of experience had taught him how to gauge a person's dangerousness, and Mrs. White didn't seem to be someone to underestimate. "What do you know about her?" he finally said.
"Not much I'm afraid, I'd like to see her again, I've never met anyone with such deliciously dark magic. However, I do have a story or two about her that might interest you."
Severus raised an eyebrow, silently begging her to get to the point. Hoping that his stern, inquisitive gaze so well practiced and polished over the years of leading his classes of dunderheads through fear would suffice.
"You know Ulthar?"
"The hidden Matagot kingdom?" He asked for clarification.
"The very one. I went there on a study trip for a few months about a year ago. The capital is really beautiful and there is a huge variety of magical flora and fauna that has disappeared from Europe. Their libraries are also wonderful, but I digress. One night when I was staying up a little later than usual, someone came into the room of the small hostel I was renting. You can imagine my surprise, I was about to defend myself when I saw the most adorable little vampire. The poor girl was in a bad state. She must have not been drinking for far too long. She threw herself at me and you can easily imagine what happened next. The best night of my life. I couldn't have made better use of the dozen or so blood replenishment potions I always keep on me. Even better, the little one was adept at post-sanguineous cuddling. To my sorrow, she had disappeared without a trace the next morning."
To say Severus was shocked would be to greatly underestimate the mixture of feelings the news had given him. He wanted to strangle White for taking advantage of his goddaughter's distress, to get out immediately and get to Ulthar as quickly as possible, and to collapse on the bench and let himself be bathed in the feeling of intense joy that he didn't even know he could feel until now at the news that his goddaughter was alive and well, and not dead somewhere, where those damned tourmentines had sent her. Outwardly, he remained stoic, not showing any of the emotions bubbling up inside him, hiding them behind his stern mask and his powerful occlumency. After a minute's silence he finally said in a calm voice: " If you haven't seen her, have you heard from her after this... meeting?"
She simply nodded. "She is quite famous in Ulthar. Read this and you will know as much as I do." She pulled an old folded newspaper page from the inside pocket of her robe and handed it to him. The first thing that caught his eye was a large photograph. Two people in armour. A very young girl of eleven or twelve, her long, bushy, slightly curly hair framing her young face, her helmet under her arm. Beside her, a smaller form, having chosen to keep the helmet on her head. Severus immediately recognised the only visible feature of the individual. Two flashes of green light, one slightly brighter than the other, a reflection of the sun creeping through the visor of the helmet. A green he knew all too well. A green he had only seen in two people in the world. "You can read the matagon?" he asked.
"Yes, let me cast a translation spell, it will be easier."
He nodded his head in gratitude and let his eyes scan the article at full speed. Aster Legravallina (That last name didn't ring a bell... Didn't the Dursleys even tell her her last name? No, they hadn't, the Dursleys were monsters, but they must have told her... at least once... let it slip... ) and Hermione Snow ( A friend? ) a prisoner for illegal entry into the land, had received a royal pardon, a place in an order of chivalry, a substantial sum of sylvan letters and a house in the capital for revealing a plot to overthrow the royal family. The article did not go into much detail about the events, focusing more on the trial of the Casparos and the infamy into which they had plunged their noble lineage.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he let out a sigh mixing deep exasperation and infinite relief. His goddaughter, in just a few short years, had managed to cause more chaos than her father, his fellow wretches and Lily had caused in their entire existence. And he couldn't help but wince at the thought that this was all he knew. A second problem had been added, in addition to finding his goddaughter, he now had to try to mitigate the surely considerable damage that being educated by Karrasinqi had caused. Moreover, he would be walking on glass, how could he explain to the girl that everything she had learned from the person she undoubtedly saw as her mother, was not necessarily right in everything?
Finally, even if the outcome of this meeting was mixed, he knew immensely more than a few minutes before, and knew exactly where to look for his goddaughter.
oOOOo
Permissions had not been easy to obtain, but they had succeeded. The great library of Alexandria was her last hope in Europe. Neither the Royal Library of Ulthar, nor the archives of the scriptorium absconditus of the Republic of Genoa, nor the Hanseatic Garðr, had a copy of the Codex Anima. If the Great Library of Alexandria also proved to be devoid of a copy of the book, she would have to go to the Great Magical Ottoman Republic, to Çatal Hüyük, one of the oldest cities in the world, renowned as a cradle of soul magic and other forbidden arts.
Aster couldn't help but roll his eyes at the idea of classifying soul magic as a forbidden art, black stones or great rift stones, titanic magic or major demonism, yes, all of these could be classified as forbidden arts... but soul magic... really? Even Anna, incredibly prudish in terms of magic compared to Kav-deb or Sonya had no problem with soul magic being taught to her...
Since moving in with Hermione, Aster had had the opportunity to explore magical Britain, curious to finally get to know the magical communities living under secrecy. And frankly, she was not far from being traumatised by what she had discovered. The only thing that kept her from going into a destructive rage was remembering that magical Britain had the reputation of being one of the worst nations, along with the Holy Roman Empire, in terms of its treatment of creatures and magics that were a little more esoteric than normal, and that other nations were probably better. Well... she hoped so for the sake of her sanity. She'd even had to run away from the police for the oh so great crime of possessing a staff instead of their stupid wands! As if waving a poor little twig around and shouting had any class or panache.
As shocked as she was curious, she had returned later with Hermione and another disguise to learn more about the habits and customs of the Great Bretons. Never had an otodaphy been so tempting. Only Hermione's unconditional love for any form of written transmission of knowledge had prevented it. In this country, which Aster liked less and less every day, they had named the two polar opposites of magic, 'light' magic and 'dark' magic. Completely forgotten were the far less connotative names of profane magic and esoteric magic. Noooo... for some reason successive governments had agreed to demonise esoteric magics and promote propane magics to the point of making many (read almost all) esoteric practices illegal.
The term dark magic had even lost its meaning by undergoing a forced semantic shift. In the law book she had to buy in galleon (because of course, why change a winning team, the sylbe was not a legal currency in Britain.) it was clear that the classification of dark magic had expanded from just, esoteric magics, to all magics deemed troublesome by the government. Spells of 'light' magic, profane, became legally dark spells and therefore illegal. Only a few rare exceptions of 'dark' magic remained legal, (after being reclassified as 'light' magic) such as the patronus, a magic aimed at repelling minor demons and soul eaters.
Worse still was the treatment of non-humans. Cursed people such as vampires and werecreatures were deemed too dangerous to have a job and banned from most public institutions. Other creatures fared no better. No wonder the Veela and other species disappeared completely from the islands by the turn of the century.
One of the things that Aster found unspeakably cruel was that vampires were not legally allowed to have a blood partner. Drinking blood directly from a person was completely illegal and punishable by 2 years in jail... with no access to a blood source... so a death sentence by torture disguised as a reasonable punishment in the eyes of the ignorant public. Vampires wishing to live legally had to register with the ministry and received a small bag of old curdled blood each month.
Aster, although having other things to worry about, had deemed it too unacceptable to do nothing and had presented her plan to Hermione. Hermione had initially refused on moral grounds and said, "No, Aster, starting a criminal vampire organisation is not a good idea." This had caused their first big argument. Hermione hadn't spoken to her for a week. It was only after Aster had managed to get the truth out of her by cleverly placing books on the subject in strategic places in the house that Hermione had finally reopened the dialogue and agreed to Aster's plan, adding a few conditions (no hitman business, assassination, or drug dealing.) This narrowed down the options somewhat, but Aster was sure she would come up with something.
Aster snapped out of her gloomy thoughts as she walked between the gigantic ancient libraries deep in the seventh basement of the Great Library of Alexandria. Hermione was somewhere in the corner, either bemoaning her inability to read the Egyptian hieroglyphs on the ancient papyrus scrolls, or jumping up and down with joy and excitement when she found one of the few Fahri yujul texts preserved here. Aster couldn't help but giggle at the thought. Their grand tour of the secret floors and shelves of the great magical libraries of Europe was like travelling from parardis to paradise for Hermione. Or from hell to hell... if the expression on Hermione's face reflected her inner state when she realised that she would never have enough time in her life to read everything without first becoming immortal.
To gain entry to the last forbidden basement of the library containing the most ancient, fragile, secret, dangerous or cursed grimoires and texts, Aster had to rely on her luck. Fortunately, one of the elders of the Nebulous Council of Alexandria had come across her request and had recognised the name Legravallina. She had to prove her affiliation with Sonya and play a game of intimidation with him to finally get one of the coveted passes to that level of the library.
After hours of searching in the cold, dark and dry depths, in a hidden alcove, where scrolls and grimoires were covered with such a layer of dust that they looked as if they had not been touched for centuries and could fall to dust at the slightest touch, on the lowest shelf of a worm-eaten wooden shelf, there it was. Aster immediately recognised the writing on its edge. Precise, flowing lines etched into the ancient leather of the grimoire's edge. Unmistakably, Sonya's handwriting. One of the few originals, surely pre-dating the laying of the foundation stone of the ancient library. She picked it up reverently, feeling the soft leather under her fingers, human skin etched with an array of eternity she noticed as a shiver ran down her spine. Another thing Hermione was not ready to know.
She gingerly opened the Codex Anima, letting her eyes roam over the elegant lines handwritten in the ancient form of classic Yujul, pre-dating the secession of the united Yujul Empire and the birth of the Fahri people. She sighed, in her hands were the answers she needed to begin preparing the ritual to bring Anna back... answers written in the oldest and most complex form of a thousand year old language that promised her many headaches when deciphered. She carefully placed the precious grimoire in her bag, she had one last mission to accomplish in this library. To get Hermione to agree to leave her and that no, reading everything was not possible.
oOOOo
Hermione was sitting comfortably on the wide sofa in front of the fireplace in her real home. On this cold winter's evening, in this season when the nights were getting longer and longer after a short day in which the pale sun had stayed shyly low on the horizon, there was nothing better than being wrapped in a thick woollen blanket, a book in her lap, a fire in the hearth just a few steps away, and a large cup of hot honeyed milk in her hands to warm her poor cold fingers. Crookshanks, the huge orange kneazle resembling a not-so-miniature tiger with a squashed face that Aster had gifted her, was curled up against her, purring loudly enough to do a more than convincing imitation of a small engine.
In short, the moment was almost perfect. Almost, it would only be perfect if Aster was under the thick blanket with her. But to her frustration, it had been a few months since her friend had embarked on a project whose purpose she refused to tell her, claiming the following. "It's a surprise, Hermione! You'll see, you'll love it... if only I could qualify the Mazius metric in balance with the tapanis examonial, no, the secondary ishvaak array is missing two symphodiums b..." before diving back into her... her... thing? Creation? Stupidly crazy new magic? It had been three hours now that Aster had been fussing at the front door etching microscopic arrays using enlargement transfiguration magic or something. Aster's explanation had been confusing at best.
Hermione glanced at the window, only the darkness of the night and the snowflakes dancing in the wind with the flames of the fireplace reflected on them were visible. Aster had been working for far too long. She sighed, put down her cup, got out of the warmth of the blanket and stood up, causing the little tiger cub that was snuggled up to her to growl in annoyance.
Aster sat cross-legged in front of the door, multiple strange tools floating around her as she painstakingly carved strange lines and arabesques into the wood of the door frame, in the middle of a ring of bluish light giving an even stranger look to what her friend was doing. Hermione struggled to approach Aster discreetly, the chaos of scrolls and notes surrounding her not helping. She stood still behind her for a long moment, watching her work from behind her long, dark red hair. After a few minutes the blue ring of light disappeared, what was engraved in it shrinking in size until it was almost invisible on the wood of the door from where Hermione stood. Aster went to grab another tool but Hermione didn't give her the chance. She grabbed her by the armpits and lifted her off the ground with ease. Aster let out a yelp of surprise.
"Hermione! Put me down!" She said with a tone of absolute outrage.
"No. You're done for tonight." She said as she walked over to her couch, hugging Aster to her chest, amused that her friend was too small to reach the floor with her feet, despite her repeated and unsuccessful attempts.
"I was making good progress! My equanariom sequence was perfect." She protested.
"You don't know when to stop. You're wearing yourself out on this project on top of everything else you're doing on the side, so don't bother struggling, from now on, tonight, you're mine."
"Fine..." Aster finally grumbled as she stopped struggling as Hermione sat back down on the couch, placing Aster on her lap before covering them both with the blanket and resuming her reading, resting her chin on the top of her friend's head and placing the book on her lap. Crookshanks approached again, pressing himself against them in search of warmth. The fire was clearly not enough for the creature.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"May I?" asked Aster in a shy voice, stroking her wrist.
"Go ahead." Aster took her arm and patiently licked her wrist before gently sinking her little fangs into it. A wave of delight washed over her, quite different from the first few times. In the beginning, the first few months, Aster would hold back for a good month before giving in and in the evening, when she really couldn't take it anymore, she would ask her. This routine had lasted until Hermione decided that was enough. It was only hurting each other. Aster's fear of abusing her by asking too much of her was completely unfounded. After a long, painful and difficult discussion, things had changed. Now Aster bit her once or twice a week, but as a result took far less blood all at once. Which was ultimately much more comfortable for both of them. Hermione only slightly regretted the sheer intensity of being bitten by a thirsty Aster. But their new, much calmer and more balanced practice was just... much better. She sighed in contentment as Aster's little fangs left the skin of her wrist and she felt the little tongue gently soothe the wound again and magically close it.
"How was your afternoon with Madame Louise?" Aster finally asked after a moment of comfortable silence.
Hermione launched into her little adventure of the day. On their return, she had been both happy and terrified to see the people she cared about. How would they react to her abandonment by the Grangers, and her change of name, to the fact that she was now living alone. Several long explanations had been necessary and the police had almost been contacted, but Hermione had managed to reassure Louise, Helen and Marc enough about her living conditions and safety that they agreed not to make a fuss... on the condition of course that they saw her on a regular basis.
"...you had a 'meeting' with your 'associates' today I believe..." Hermione said redirecting the conversation to less comfortable ground, but she needed to know what Aster was doing about it. Although Aster regularly asked her for advice on how to run her 'organisation', she was refusing to let her accompany her to these 'meetings' at the moment, something about her safety and not having established enough authority to make it safe for her. Which would soon not be the case. She didn't like the idea that Aster had formed this group, but her friend seemed determined to help her kind after discovering their condition in Britain. And so far things seemed to be going pretty well.
"Ethan is still taking himself too seriously and Asmodeus is up to something. The plan to have wands for the mages in their midst is going pretty well, and nothing new about the blood and lodging issue. The aurors are starting to sniff around a bit, but the covers are holding up well."
"Did you really have to go through with a project like that?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. They already had enough on their plate for Aster to start conducting gang activity. Between bringing Anna back to life, finding a way to reconnect with Aster's aunt and uncle and Hermione's magical education... they had too much on their plate. And yet Aster had found a way to get herself into even more trouble, she should have expected it.
"You saw as well as I did how they treat vampires here, I happen to have the ability to do something, I could hardly consciously choose to do nothing. And then think about it, being the head of an organisation like this means having minions, eternally grateful people ready to do anything for you."
"You want to start a cult now?" groaned Hermione.
"No! I mean, the search for the Philosopher's Stone has been fruitless so far. It seems to have been taken from the Flamel's and taken to who knows where. Having a network of spies will allow us to get our hands on it much faster."
Hermione tightened her arms around Aster's waist pulling her even tighter against her. "We'll get Anna back." She said, putting her finger on the fears, insecurities and deep reason for Aster's inner turmoil.
"I know, the ritual I want to do has no possibility of failing. It just requires the Philosopher's Stone or an equivalent and an iron chrysalis..."
"Iron chrysalis? That's the first time you've mentioned it." It didn't sound good. From personal experience, she could tell with great confidence that having Aster interested in a new artifact was not good news.
"I've studied the rituals stipulated for such cases in the codex anima quite a bit. Of all the options, the one most likely to succeed with the least risk required an iron chrysalis. It's an artifact that allows you to bind a soul to a body organically."
"And do you know where to find one?"
"I hope to find a trail in the hidden nations, if not, we will have to go through the edges and ask the travelers," concluded Aster thoughtfully.
"I hope it won't be too hard to find..."
Aster let out a strangled laugh, as if the mere mention of the concept of ease was delusional. Hermione hoped that Aster's pessimism was unfounded.
oOOOo
Ethan Warpulnys sat in his comfortable, large, high-backed wooden chair at the round table of the weekly order meeting. If someone had told him where he would currently be a few months earlier, he would have laughed, before slitting the liar's throat for mocking him like that. And yet, there he was, sitting around the table, waiting for the chief to arrive.
Eight months earlier, he was suffering his misery in the cellar of a crumbling old building in an area of Birmingham neglected by the authorities and modern urban planning, letting his gaze drift to the vile old monthly blood bag provided by the Ministry, wondering if the aim was to make vampires die slowly by completely denying the magical ritual importance of drinking directly from a person or to force them to attack people so that they could have an excuse to carry out open genocide, when her old friend Asmodée had burst through the door.
She had looked more radiant than ever, so much so that he simply didn't recognise her for several long, embarrassing seconds. As if nothing had happened, she'd dragged him out of his refuge, spouting nonsense after nonsense about a new hope for vampires in Britain. That someone claiming to be the heir to the great Karrasinqi had founded an underground organisation bringing together the shreds of the remaining vampire families in the country under the aegis of the 'Order of the Asphodel'.
At first he simply did not believe in it. No one had ever been able to overcome the pride and rivalries tearing apart the few remaining vampires to unite them, let alone build anything remotely lasting. He had even laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, wishing only to strangle Asmodée for having given him such false hope when she led him into a cosy little office, furnished with warm wood, housing a little girl who looked far too serious behind a desk that was far too big for her. He was about to leave the room cursing Asmodée when the girl looked up from the scrolls she was reading. Ethan had felt small, weaker than ever, a mouse in the paws of a big, stern cat. And he had watched her, just watched, each moment noticing new details, each more disturbing than the last.
The girl may not have been a girl. She was a vampire, that much was clear to him now, and he was no stranger to the fact that vampires who had ascended as young as the girl in front of him seemed to suffer from extreme stunting or even arrest of their growth. For all he knew, the person he had laughed at might well be a century or two older than he was. Her sleeves were rolled up, revealing an artificial arm of magic that was entirely foreign to him. Her voice was perfectly calm and clear as she introduced herself as Aster Karrasinqi, entirely disregarding his less than respectful behaviour. What struck him most was her left eye, he who in his long life had polished his ability to feel and use magic could feel it. The well of power. The impression of a thousand eyes crawling over his skin, piercing his soul, that powerful green glow, a glimmer cast from the unfathomable depths of a magic far darker than he had ever seen. This insidious aura that he had not noticed at first but which had weighed on him like a leaden screed. The signs on the scrolls in front of her reminded him of the terrified whispers and anguished rumours of powers beyond them...
He had then dropped to his knees, bowing his head, this action earning him a slight reaction of surprise mixed with amusement on the part of his interlocutor, who had apparently not expected this reaction. To anyone else what he had done was a foolish act, no vampire in their right mind would swear allegiance to anyone in such a way, but in that moment he understood what the wizards who had sworn to Voldemort might have felt, if what they had experienced was anything like what he was facing.
The next few months were one surprise after another. Aster Karrasinqi had led the recent organisation with an iron fist. They had attacked and destroyed several gangs and other underground criminal organisations in Britain, taking over their premises and businesses. Recently, after a bitter battle, the White Wyvern Inn in Knockturn Alley had fallen into their hands. Many magical communities now had a branch of the Order of the Asphodel. These sold artefacts, potions, herbs and other goods that were forbidden or otherwise under surveillance by the wizengamot. As the organisation expanded rapidly, it took under its wings witches and wizards who had been rejected by society for their beliefs or blood, orphans and other lost ones, the only conditions of entry being an oath of silence and the acceptance to eventually partner with a vampire or at least to agree to donate their blood from time to time. Recently, other groups of magical creatures have been seeking to join their ranks, with a group of lycans being the latest to be accepted.
However, with an organisation growing so fast, so strong, in less than a year, relying almost entirely on the Round Table and the name and power of its leader was bound to be unstable. He was aware that under the guidance of her 'shadow', Karrasinqi was setting up a hierarchy, a set of basic rules and a branch of justice and internal enforcement, being himself involved in its implementation, but it was too little too late. Karrasinqi's appearance did not inspire fear in those without the same sensitivity to magic as he, and her position now offered such power over an organisation now so extensive that a pretender to that power leading to mutiny or overthrow was not far off. He had already told Karrasinqi of his fears, but she had hardly reacted, just said to let it happen with a vague wave of her hand. Aster Karrasinqi was a mystery. A vampire of unknown age with the appearance of a child from nowhere, claiming to be the descendant of the great Karrasinqi and to be taking charge of British vampires in her name. In little more than a year, the thing had grown to such proportions that he feared it would all fall apart. She obviously had foreign support, a nymph, a real flesh and blood nymph had even come to one of the meetings bringing with her rare magical plant essences. Representatives of several guilds of the Svorak Hanseatic League had come to make trade agreements.
She didn't open up to any of them, remaining in her role as leader, the few expressions other than powerful authority he had so far perceived in her was deep amusement at them, or perhaps at the whole situation. Sometimes her exasperation when the meetings dragged on, he had sometimes heard her mutter something about having better things to do or that there was a door waiting for her. On rare occasions she referred to a kind of advisor that the members of the round table had taken to referring to as 'the shadow of Karrasinqi'.
He had come to the round table today with documents about the results of the last mission Karrasinqi had given him, for some reason she seemed terribly interested in the Flamel Philosopher's Stone, and finally, after months of research, Ethan had some good news to tell her about it.
He wondered with slight curiosity what the others would bring today. To his right, Asmodée, his old friend with long, inky-black hair fiddling with a dagger, seemed more bored than anything else, he knew that Karrasinqi might be making her the head of the armed wing of the organisation and respected her opinion in terms of management. Arnold, the Lycan leader, was yawning into the palm of his clawed hand, his large muscular stature making the small chair he was sitting on look ridiculous. For some reason Karrasinqi had put him at the round table as the representative of the non-vampire creatures of the order, he really didn't agree with such a choice, how could such a brute assume that position? He would know in time, or Karrasinqi would see the error of her ways. Basileus, the old squib genius of the accounts that Karrasinqi had found, was mumbling to himself as he fiddled with his grey beard, his facial muscles tensed around his monocle as the sound of his long quill scratching the paper echoed through the relative silence of the room. Mimosa, a young witch with long brown hair tied in a braid down her back was reading over her report in earnest, her large grey eyes roaming over its lines with vivacity, she was a choice he fully approved of to sit at the table, intelligent, quick-witted, curious, serious and diligent, she had a role similar to his as well as representing the human wizards of the order. He more or less understood that she was a muggleborn who had found herself homeless, her family having cut her off, and unable to find work because of the bigotry prevalent in the country.
As he readjusted the position of his file in an attempt to cheat his boredom the door opened, letting in an uncharacteristically cheerful Karrasinqi, fiddling with her great staff of what he thought was bone. "Hello everyone, sorry I'm late, I..." A flash of movement to his right, a metallic noise. He watched the scene with eyes as big as saucers. Asmodée had risen to her feet with arms outstretched, her face also frozen in an expression of surprise. He looked away from his old friend to Karrasinqi. She had her teeth clenched around the blade of the dagger. Everyone else froze, dumbfounded. Except for Basileus, whose sound of his quill scratching the parchment continued to disturb the icy, crushing silence that had descended on the room.
Karrasinqi grabbed the hilt of the dagger with her artificial hand, gently pulling it from between her teeth. She watched it for a few seconds. Asmodée had remained motionless, her arm slowly falling back against her side, as if she really believed she could take Karrasinqi down so easily. Ethan grunted, clutching the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he should have explained better to Asmodée how he'd felt when he first met Karrasinqi, when she'd laughed at him after his first meeting, calling him weak and stupid for swearing himself to a person in that manner.
"Hmmm nice try." Karrasinqi finally said in a suave voice. "I was wondering when you were finally going to act on it. Though lacking in subtlety, your attempt was reasonable." She observed the dagger a little more. " Enchanted to cut through most magical shields and physical armor, and redirect its trajectory to the target's head. A beautiful piece, thank you for the gift. So, what's next in your plan Asmodée?"
Ethan could feel the air tremble under the pressure of the crackling magic beneath the multiple strange runes covering Karrasinqi's staff, her left eye glowing. Asmodée began to shake uncontrollably before falling back into her seat and looking down at the table, an expression of unspeakable terror Ethan had never seen on his friend's face.
"Nothing?" Karrasinqi finally said after a long, heavy moment. "Good. Asmodée, you will stay after the meeting. I think I didn't make some things clear enough." She turned to the rest of the people assembled at the table, who had remained silent, either with a calculating expression like Arnold, or one of admiration mixed with fear like Mimosa. Only Basileus, stoic, had ignored what was happening around him, continuing his work imperturbably. "Well, on the agenda, Basileus, have we found an abalone supplier?
...
Mimosa had just finished her report on the internal state of the organisation and the grievances of the members, when Karrasinqi finally turned to him. "Ethan, any news about the stone?"
He rose with dignity and cleared his throat, glancing discreetly at the prostrate form of Asmodée who had remained silent and motionless throughout the meeting, her body shaking from time to time. He adjusted his documents and began in his most serious tone, trying to conceal his curiosity as to why Karrasinqi wanted the stone beyond the obvious. "Yes, we have fairly reliable information that the stone will be placed in the custody of the High Wizard, Albus Dumbledore, this year. It was transferred to one of the vaults at the Gringotts bank recently. It is likely that Dumbledore will transfer it to the Hogwart's School of Magic under his direct protection this year. Here's all the information we've been able to retrieve about the stone, the vault it was placed in, and the safeguards in place," he said before handing her the documents.
Karrasinqi flipped through them for a moment before nodding with a big, toothy grin. "Thank you Ethan, excellent work. Well, you can go. Until next time." They all got up and left the room, Ethan, worried, trailing behind the group, taking one last look at Asmodée as he disappeared behind the softly closing door, hoping to see her again one day and in one piece.
oOOOo
Aster stood facing the door, carefully observing her work. The many arrays etched into the frame gleamed slightly, the little tricolour wheel waiting to take in more. She smiled, it was perfect. She made sure the little brass pointer was on the white part of the wheel before opening the door and going out into the garden.
She immediately headed for the vegetable garden by the small pond that Hermione had created, the passion for herbalism passed on by her friend Marc having been fuelled by Nailla's influence. As she had expected, Hermione was kneeling in the dirt in her overalls, humming, leaning over the mistwilm plants. Behind her, Crookshanks was curled up in a ball on a flat stone, enjoying the warmth of the sun. Aster was rather glad that Hermione had taken up this hobby, sitting with her nose buried in a book all day couldn't be good for her.
"Hermione?" She gasped, before turning back to Aster with a frown.
"Aster! What did we say about not approaching from behind without any noise!?"
"Sorry... More importantly! I'm done! Do you want to come and see?"
Hermione's face relaxed, the shadow of a smile forming on her lips. "Finally? Come on, show me. It better be worth it after you've been working on it for months without telling me."
Aster put on her best enigmatic face, hiding her pride as best she could. "You won't be disappointed."
Hermione stood up and followed her towards the house, dusting off her overalls. They both went inside, Aster closing the door behind them.
"So, what's this supposed to be?" Hermione asked, inspecting the door curiously.
"Turn the disc until the pointer indicates the blue of the wheel," Aster replied, eager to see Hermione's reaction.
Hermione shrugged and turned the small wheel until the arrow pointed to blue, then she turned to Aster with a raised eyebrow. "Open the door now," Aster said simply in response to the silent questioning. Her friend complied and turned the handle, opening the door wide. She stood still, jaw slack, eyes bulging, before stepping out into the narrow hallway that the door had just opened onto. Hermione looked around, before continuing down the corridor and opening the door to a narrow alley. In the distance Aster could hear the sound of voices and people passing in the wider shopping street adjacent to it. Hermione turned to her, stars in her eyes. "Aster... you... correct me if I'm wrong, but did you just finish an opening directly into our Ulthar home?"
Aster nodded. "That's exactly right."
"H, how?"
"Come on in, I can't say that where we can be heard, and close the door behind you."
A few seconds later they were both sitting on the sofas around the fireplace, a dumbfounded Hermione staring at Aster as if he'd just poked a second head out of her. "How?" she finally repeated, exasperated by Aster's silence.
"There are some pretty powerful ley lines under the house. A little unbound black magic, a lot of patience and memories of lessons from Sonya and Kav-deb, and voila a stable space-time portal. It only works with predefined locations and only has a range of a few thousand kilometres though. For the moment there are only two destinations, the house of Ulthar and the headquarters of the Order of the Asphodel. I plan to add more as we go along."
Hermione swallowed visibly, realizing the magnitude of what Aster had done. "Is that legal? To have opened a passage like that to Ulthar?" Of course it is. The legal question was the first one Hermione asked...
"No, absolutely not. But I doubt they even know that this kind of magic exists anyway. It's only possible with magecraft and by a black mage. Two things that are terribly uncommon in this world.
Hermione frowned. "Can't we do an equivalent with runes?"
"No, runes are far too unstable for that sort of thing. They can do impressive things, like cover the apparating cover of the government which makes teleportation in Britain possible, but not to open a stable space-time portal."
"So, white is for going nowhere, blue is for Ulthar and red is for headquarters." said Hermione thoughtfully
"Yep."
"So does that mean I can visit your little order?"
Realizing her mistake, Aster shuddered. "NO! No! It's still too dangerous! You're not a fighter Hermione!"
Hermione pouted. "Why? You told me you put Asmodée in her place though."
Aster sighed." Asmodée was a thing. She' the kind of vampire who only respected strength and wanted to test the limits. She'll behave herself now. But Ethan is right, the order is not yet stable, there are still many who do not respect me enough. The name Karrasinqi is powerful, but not enough to keep everyone in line, I expect that in the next few months a rebellion will take place, led by someone who wants to take my place. I would use this to establish my reputation for good. Until then, it's not safe for you to go. You're the person I care most about, so you're a weakness the wolves won't hesitate to abuse for a second."
Hermione frowned, obviously offended at being called a weakness, but eventually nodded. Aster couldn't be happier that her friend was above all a creature of reason. "When do you think they'll act?" Hermione asked suddenly.
"Sometime this year I think. Later if I make a show of force. However, I don't think delaying the inevitable would be wise. Sonya's lessons in this matter are best for this situation. Overwhelming force in one big blow against a clear target. Plus, it will allow me to remove the problematic members of the order."
Hermione simply nodded, lost in thought. It was Aster who disturbed the silence again. "By the way, I have news about the Philosopher's Stone.
"What is it?" said Hermione, her gaze focusing on Aster.
"Dumbledore, the great wizard who is more or less trying to rule the country. He has the stone in his possession. He's put it in Gringotts for now. We're going to attempt an extraction operation soon."
"And if that fails? Gringotts is not known to be an easy place to rob."
" Then we wait for him to move it to Hogwart's and try to break in. "
"The big famous magic school with a super famous library?" Hermione asked with bright eyes.
"Yes, that one," replied Aster, amused by her friend's excitement.
"Promise to take me there!"
"Only if the theft fails."
oOOOo
Amelia Bones was leaning over her desk, her face in her hands. The last few weeks had been difficult. Something big was happening in the darker parts of Britain's magical communities. The gang wars had calmed down, the violence had greatly diminished, the reports of attacks were becoming less frequent. Good news, you might say. But Amelia recognized the paterne. The silence in the darker parts of town, not the result of a new security policy or increased Auror patrols, could only be due to one thing. If the little fish stop killing each other, it's because they're hiding in fear of a big shark, or because they've all been eaten already. Other disturbing symptoms were multiplying. The registered vampires had mostly disappeared completely off the radar, no longer coming for their monthly blood pouch. Several werewolf packs had stopped being seen. All this with reports of increased imports of illegal goods.
She remembered only too well the last time something like this had happened. She had read the reports from that time. In the late sixties, when the last dark lord had risen to power. The only reassuring thing was that unlike that time, there were no strange disappearances. Amelia absolutely had to know what was going on. She also needed to obtain an increase in the budget and staff. She would be sure, there would be no new dark lord in her custody.
oOOOo
At last! Finally! Behind his impassive mask Severus was gloating. He had used his connections, and pulled in a few favours to get there. He had obtained the right to enter Ulthar. A place as exotic as it was fascinating. A country where humans are a ridiculous minority. He had seen more creatures in a few days than in his entire life.
Once he had arrived, it had not been difficult to investigate the two little heroines who had played such an important role in the discovery of the plot. He had finally found their address, a small house in the midtown area, and had sent a letter, hoping not to scare his goddaughter away. Frankly, he hadn't really expected a reply, but the day before, a small paper plane soaked in magic dark enough to make him frown had slipped under his hotel door. On it was only a time, the address, and a request to come alone.
So at nine o'clock in the morning, there he was in a narrow alley, in front of a thin, perfectly normal-looking house. He stepped forward, climbed the few steps to the door sunk into the wall and knocked three loud and distinct knocks before stepping back.
To his surprise the door opened by itself, revealing a long, narrow, dark corridor. A dancing orange light came from the second door on the right. He entered at the silent invitation, the door closing behind him by itself. He moved cautiously down the corridor, anticipating with as much fear as excitement the meeting with his goddaughter. This was a strange situation for him, making him feel far more than his withered heart had offered since Lily's death.
He stopped in front of the open door to the lighted room, his breath catching in his throat at what he saw. In a room decorated to be as comfortable as possible, with multiple carpets and upholstered armchairs, sitting comfortably in an easy chair next to a crackling fireplace, a cup of what he guessed to be hot chocolate, was a miniature copy of Lily. The same one he had seen in the two photos in his possession. As he gazed down at his goddaughter, she stared at him for a moment with a neutral expression, pointing to the seat opposite hers on the other side of a coffee table. As Severus moved on he noticed other details in the room. Above the fireplace, a blue coat of arms with three crossed Asphodel sprigs, a full suit of armour and a matagon sword displayed in one corner, and most importantly, resting nonchalantly against the back of Aster's chair, the most imposing staff he had ever seen. A bone-like material, its tip engraved with what he interpreted to be countless runes.
He sat down in the seat, keeping as much of his composure and calm as he could. Reminding himself that he knew too little about his goddaughter's life, that he had to be on his guard against the little vampire. "Hello, thank you for granting my request and agreeing to meet me. I'm Severus Snape."
"Hello, Mr. Snape. Pleased to meet you. I'm Aster Karrasinqi. You seemed to know a lot about me in your letter." Her tone hardened. "What do you want."
Severus remained perfectly stoic. The bait he had placed in his letter to get Aster to agree to a meeting was double-edged. It made her more likely to agree to see him, but also made her more suspicious of his intentions. Hence the not-so-subtle display of power, he mused. In this case, the best approach was sincerity. "Lily, your biological mother, was my best friend. She made me one of your godparents after you were born.
Aster's eyes widened, then crinkled, her left eye glowing eerily. Her gaze seemed to search his soul. "I didn't know I had a family by birth. The Dursleys never told me. Conceptually I suspected it, but the notion was just foreign to me," she said as if nothing had happened. As if those few words hadn't just widened one of the wounds in Severus' heart.
He couldn't help but curse under his breath at Petunia once more. "Your mother's name was Lily Evans and your father was James Potter."
"You speak of them in the past tense. I assume they're dead so they didn't just abandon me." She said serenely before taking a sip of hot chocolate. "That still doesn't tell me the purpose of your visit. I imagine that if you took your role as godfather seriously you would have adopted me and not left me with these people."
Severus winced." What I am about to say is not an excuse, merely an explanation. Have you heard of the Dark Lord?"
"Which one?" Aster asked simply.
Severus was taken aback for a moment before he remembered that he was talking to a young vampire whom the dark lord Anna Karrasinqi had taken under her wing enough for Aster to use her last name. "Voldemort." He finally said in a low voice.
"Ah, him. Um, I've heard of him once or twice."
"Do you know how he died?"
She raised an eyebrow.
He sighed, he knew this discussion would not be pleasant. "On October 31st 1981, the Dark Lord attacked James and Lily Potter's house, killing them both. He tried to kill you too, but for some reason, something happened that resulted in his demise and your survival, leaving you with only a scar that I see has faded over the years. In magical Britain Aster Potter was seen as 'the girl who lived' the one who freed them from the tyranny of the dark lord.
At this, Aster laughed. At first a small cooing sound, which soon turned into a big, full-throated laugh. She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she tried to regain her composure. "The rabble of British mages must be stupider than I thought if they can give me any credit for something I have nothing to do with. Sorry, go on. The fact that you phrased your last sentence in past tense intrigues me."
Doing his best not to let his surprise at hearing such a speech from such a young-looking child show, he continued. "Dumbledore then thought it wiser to place you with the Dursleys, something about a powerful protection only being active in the vicinity of someone who shares your mother's blood. I wanted to take you under my wing at once, but Dumbledore objected strongly, deeming me unfit for the task. For many years he kept you hidden from the eyes of the world, telling everyone that you were safe and happy, forbidding any visits from me or anyone else close to you on the grounds that it might lead to the Dark Lord's followers still at large. I was too wrapped up in mourning Lily's death to insist on anything more."
Aster's detached look worried him. "I remained unaware of what was going on in your aunt's house until one of Dumbledore's devices that was supposed to be monitoring the wards around your house failed and the one monitoring your physical condition indicated you as dead. After a few years of investigation, Dumbledore declared you dead in the eyes of magical Britain. I found evidence to the contrary and continued to investigate. It was only relatively recently that I found your trail with the publication of articles on the assault on the Dark Lord Anna Karrasinqi. I then managed to find this address and contacted you."
"A very intriguing story." Aster finally said. "Would it be possible for you to drink three drops of this before you swear to me that everything you have just told me is true. As you can imagine, I find it hard to believe you.
She handed him a small vial, the contents of which he instantly recognised. He hidden his surprise as seeing someone in possession of something stronger tha veritaserum and without hesitation he swallowed three drops. "I swear that everything I have said since I entered this room is the strict truth."
At this, Aster looked particularly shocked. As if she had expected everything he had just said to be a carefully crafted fable designed to deceive her. As if the raw honesty he had just shown her had been unimaginable.
She finally said, her eyes unfocused, a pinkish haze appearing on her alabaster cheeks. "Mr Snape, I don't suppose you've spent all these years looking for me to tell me my birth name and the circumstances of my youth," she finished in a weak voice.
Severus stiffened, his goddaughter's response to what he was about to say would determine whether or not he would have a position in her life. In the life of the last remaining trace of Lily in the world, the one he had sworn to protect and failed to do so before he had a chance to actually intervene. "I know I'm far too late, and oh how I wish I could have found you sooner. I wish to support you in your future actions, whatever they may be, and possibly if circumstances permit, mend what may have been."
Aster took a long sip of hot chocolate, hiding her face behind her mug. Her eyes drifted around the room thoughtfully. "What are your qualifications, and your political views," she finally said. Severus had not expected this question, a pang of anxiety rising in his chest. He was walking on thin ice that could break at any moment. In the short and long term, if he wanted to build any kind of relationship with his goddaughter, honesty was the best way to go.
"My magic naturally inclines me towards esoteric magic, or dark magic, as it is called in Britain. I am of mixed blood, and do not display any blood prejudice. As for my... qualifications, I am a potions master at Hogwart's School of Magic." He said in a toneless voice, staring into Aster's eyes, examining her every reaction.
She remained impassive, her gaze calculating. Severus was well aware that he was running again to potentially join something he knew nothing about. But between Dumbledore the madman, and the psychopathic Dark Lord, offering his services to his goddaughter to eventually gain her trust and take his rightful place at her side seemed by far the best possibility.
"Very well. You will soon receive a letter informing you of my decision. I must... reflect on this... situation."
Realizing that the discussion was over, Severus stood up. "Thank you for your welcome and for agreeing to listen to me. I hope to hear from you soon."
"Goodbye, Severus," he heard his goddaughter say in a low voice as he turned away. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips. "Goodbye Aster."
He walked out of the house with a lighter heart than he'd had in thirteen years, a new warmth in him, and many more questions than he'd had when he'd first arrived, but the gentle feeling that if things went well, he'd have the answers in time.
oOOOo
Albus Dumbledore was sitting comfortably behind his desk. A lemon drop melting under his tongue. He was rereading the report in front of him for the third time. The vault in which he had kept the Philosopher's Stone until recently had been broken into last week. He couldn't be more grateful that Amelia had shared her concerns with him about something brewing in the depths of British magical society. Thanks to this warning he had had the good fortune to bring the stone back to Hogwart's earlier than planned. He had not expected that Tom would so soon have enough power to carry out such an action. The goblins were furious.
If all went according to plan, this year Tom would send an agent to Hogwart's to steal the stone, capture it, perhaps learn how Tom had survived, perhaps even test the Longbottom boy, help set him on the path to fulfilling the prophecy. Ah, he'd love to be in Severus's good graces, but he and the man had been at odds since he'd abandoned the search for little Aster. Severus would have to accept it one day, Aster was dead. One of Albus' greatest regrets. He'd placed her with his Muggle family, confident that she would be treated well and be safe there. If only he'd taken a few hours every now and then to visit her... No, there was no point crying over spilt milk, he had to concentrate on the future.
His thoughts were on the mirror and the most suitable magic to trap one of Tom's followers when his train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the door to his office opening with a bang, the doors hitting the walls as Minerva stormed in, her face flushed with more anger than he had ever seen. Her fiery eyes fixed on him, narrowing into burning slits.
Albus barely had time to begin to wonder what could possibly be causing such rage directed at him before Minerva rounded his desk and her hand crashed into his face in the most powerful slap he'd ever received. A burning pain spread through his cheek as he fell from his seat to the floor, too surprised to react in any way. Minerva had never been one for such violent outbursts of rage.
"YOU BASTARD! YOU SWORE TO US THAT THERE WAS NO HOPE! YOU SAID THAT THE SEARCH HAD TO BE CALLED OFF. DON'T COUNT ON ME ANYMORE! ASSHOLE!" she shouted at him in a Scottish accent so thick it was hard for him to understand what Minerva was saying. She pulled a letter from the inside pocket of her dress and threw it in his face before storming out of her office.
With a trembling, dazed hand, wondering if Minerva's slap had broken his jaw, he grabbed the envelope and pulled out a small, plain sheet of paper. On it were written simply a few words in a neat, beautiful handwriting.
Dear Deputy Headmistress Mcgonagall
We have received your letter of admission to Hogwart's and accept our enrolment. We shall be present on the first of September.
Yours sincerely
Aster Potter and Hermione Granger
Albus felt faint, a fever beginning to build, every limb shaking as he mopped his forehead with his sleeve. "Impossible," he muttered, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he could hear Fawks singing in a mocking tone.