His office had never been a welcoming space. An overly tidy black wooden table opposite an imposing high-backed chair. Bare stone walls devoid of decoration, the only thing disturbing the grey and mineral monotony being a large bookcase of ancient grimoires topped by jars of biological curiosities designed to intimidate the impressionable mind. A single arched window offered a view just a few feet above the black waters of the lake. At night, as the lake merged with the sky, it seemed to open onto the cosmic void between the stars. The only touch of warmth in this cold room was the large, comfortable armchair facing the wide fireplace in which a dying fire crackled. A cold, functional room that Severus had deliberately designed to intimidate any Dunderhead brave enough to show up at his door and thus reduce the time spent on the horribly meaningless business of his snakes plaguing his free time.

He let his gaze drift over the orange flames gnawing gently on the blackened wood of the hearth. A few years ago he had thought of making his office warmer in order to encourage his students with difficult family situations to come and confide in him, but it turned out not to be necessary. His reputation had spread quickly among the children concerned and the fact that he remained cold and professional tended to help more than anything else. His Slytherins knew that he would not pity them, that they would have an ear that would listen without judgement, and a hand that would not stand by without action. Stella Moonworth's late father was the now silent witness of this fact.

Tonight, the introduction of the new Slytherins into their home had gone well. Draco, Narcissa's son and his unfortunately second godson had demonstrated his leadership skills by being crushed by Daphne Greengrass in the power struggle for the leadership of the firsts years. Unfortunately, it seemed that Draco had taken more from Lucius than from Narcissa. Of the first years, the only person he should watch out for was Tracey Davis. The girl showed the signs of subtle abuse that Severus had learned to recognize after years of watching for them on his snakes. He would have to find a way to find out more before Christmas... Maybe summon Miss Greengrass to ask her some questions tomorrow.

While his eyes were still lost in the glowing embers of the fireplace, his mind drifted to his goddaughter. Since Aster's arrival in his life, or rather, his entrance into Aster's life, so much had changed. For the first time in years, he no longer saw his future as that of a tightrope walker on the edge of a sharp blade separating two equally deadly pits. Advancing between two opposing causes, unable to really commit to either one. By meeting Aster, he had gained more than he could have dreamed. That fateful morning in Ulthar, he had gone into that house to meet his goddaughter, and hope to make a place for himself in her life, to honour his promise to Lily, to get back even a shadow of what he should have had. He emerged from it with something he hadn't dared to dream of. An alternative. A different path from the one his mistakes had condemned him to. A new and uncertain path, made of dangers and obstacles whose nature he did not know, but a path offering him the possibility to make new choices. Not to die on the rails of the inescapable destiny to which he had subjected himself by his actions turned regrets.

Since their first meeting, he had numerous opportunities to converse with Aster. To learn more about his goddaughter and the ordeals she had gone through. And in exchange to open up a little to her curious, cautious and inquisitive eyes. What he had discovered fascinated him as much as it frightened him. With her he felt like a moth circling a candle light. The reason he wanted to get close to her had changed over the course of their meetings, from their long, passionate discussions about esoteric magics of which Aster seemed to know far too much for someone her age, to potions and political topics during which Severus had found himself learning as much as Aster seemed to be absorbing knowledge, Duty, promise, and regret, the original driving force behind his relationship with Aster had turned into legitimate interest, fascination. This fascination had only grown as he read between the lines, as he noticed certain details, as Aster opened up a little more. Details, such as the door heavily enchanted with space magic such as Severus had never seen, a staff imbued with some sort of runes and strange magic, a far too green, almost glowing eye that gave him the chills. But also bigger things, this Order of the Asphodel, congregations of vampires, social rejects and other creatures shunned by the Ministry that had in record time all but taken over the magical underworld of Britannia, as well as Aster's ties to Ulthar, and her growing connections to the Hanseatic League of Svorak.

Frankly, Severus was worried, how could someone so young handle it all? The revolt was rumbling within her order, her figure clearly lacked authority, all of which was reinforced by her absence due to her time at Hogwarts. Or maybe it was all orchestrated. This would not be surprising given the identity of Aster's partner. Hermione Snow, a young girl almost a year older than Aster, with an uncanny intelligence. Without her guidance, Severus was sure that instead of taking the subtle route in her quest for the stone, Aster would have tried to force her way through. He was grateful for the girl's influence on Aster. She had the power to anchor Aster, to limit her more... volatile tendencies. Strange as it may seem, Severus even felt a certain camaraderie with her. More than once he and the young Miss Snow had exchanged looks of despair as they listened to the wildest, stupidest or most impractical plans that Aster seemed to take seriously.

At the sorting ceremony, Severus had been anxious. Their plan depended on Aster's ability to impose her will on the hat. Otherwise she would inevitably end up in either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, perhaps more Ravenclaw than Slytherin, he mused. And Severus had deeply doubted that Aster may manage it, the hat was enchanted to be incorruptible and only place students in the houses that best suited them, except in cases of extreme necessity. Clearly he shouldn't have worried about that, because barely two minutes under the hat's rim, it had announced her placement to Hufflepuff. Severus was keen to ask Aster about it, but he had a strong suspicion that it would be one of those questions that Aster had the unfortunate habit of answering with a raised eyebrow and an annoying smirk before changing the subject. As much as the little vampire could sometimes be adorable, she could also be terribly frustrating.

Severus sighed, he was in dire need of a drink, and perhaps also of the company of a sensible person in this insane world. Fortunately, he knew someone who would provide both within these damned walls. At the last creak of wood and the glow of the last dying flame of his fireplace, Severus rose from his armchair, and walked out of his office. No, it was not in his nature to go out in search of company, he the eternal loner, the professional brooder of the castle. But on this night he needed it, and he knew that Minerva would be happy to see him try to connect with another human being.

After a few minutes, corridors, stairs and the discovery of a couple of seventh years making out in a broom cupboard long after curfew, Severus arrived at Minerva's door. Seeing the light filtering in from under the door, he knocked, waited a few seconds, then entered. It was not unusual for him to do this on the rare occasions when it was he who visited Minerva and not the other way round. A light under the door meant he could enter, a knock or two against the wood to signal his presence and prevent him from finding Minerva in an... unpleasant situation, and that was it.

Minerva's office was much more welcoming than his own. Several rugs on the floor, a couch by the fire, a comfortable seat in front of her desk to receive her lions. A shelf on which was proudly displayed all the Quidditch and Four Houses Cup trophies won since Minerva became Head Girl. On one of the wide sofas opposite the fireplace in which a wood fire was crackling, not far from a low table on which two empty glasses and a bottle of fire whiskey lay, a small grey cat with black stripes and amber eyes was curled up in a ball and staring at him intently. Severus sat down in the armchair beside the sofa, crossed his legs and watched the cat for a moment. "Good evening Minerva." He finally said with a small smile. The cat stood up, stretching lazily before flexing her claws into the couch and arching her back. She sat down, before transforming into a stern-looking witch, her first wrinkles appearing, and a few silver highlights in her hair tied up in a tight bun betraying one or two strands of hair that had lost their colour. A very normal appearance for a seventy-nine year old witch. If she was a muggle she could easily be seen as a woman in her thirties. Her amber eyes were fixed on him behind her rectangular, sharp glasses, her emerald green robes giving her a dignified appearance.

"Good evening Severus," she said, readjusting her glasses.

"You've been expecting me," he declared, glancing at the two glasses on the table.

"Hm. I thought tonight would be one of those nights," she said, filling both glasses with fire whiskey and pushing one towards him.

He grabbed the glass and took a sip. "It's been a long day," he sighed.

"Like every year... but I guess this year especially," she said in a low voice.

"What about your new batch of lions?"

" They' re good kids, I think they'll make good students. Nothing of note except maybe Augusta's grandson, I wish I could have helped him more, his family were not the most gentle with him. But you know the longbottoms... Otherwise, here I am with the second to last Weazley on my hands. I hope he'll be more like Percy than the twins. What about you?"

"Lots of children of people who fought on the other side of the war. The Malfoy son and the Parkinson daughter for the most notable. They both seem to have taken their parents' example to heart. Fortunately, Miss Greengrass seems to have things under control."

A light-hearted discussion ensued about the plans, problems and good things of their respective houses. Severus hadn't realised he needed it so much. Minerva was proving herself once again to be a wonderful conversation partner. During a pause in their discussion, Minerva watched the amber liquid swirl in her glass for a moment before looking up at Severus and broaching the subject they had both been consciously avoiding all evening.

"Aster is at Hogwarts," she said simply.

"Yes." Severus sighed, his eyes lost in the abyss of his drink.

"I'd given up hope of ever seeing her walk these halls," she murmured in a slightly shaky voice, in one of the few moments of weakness Severus had witnessed in the formidable witch.

"But we found her." Severus said in a neutral tone.

Minerva let out a faint laugh. "You found her, Severus. The rest of us gave up with Dumbledore, and I regret it so much. Perhaps we could have found her sooner if we had helped you." Her voice was tinged with bitterness and regret.

"You couldn't have known. I had some clues suggesting her potential survival, but too little to share with you, and give you potential false hopes." Severus took a sip of alcohol before continuing. "And to tell you the truth, she sort of came out on her own. Even without my intervention, she would have arrived at Hogwarts this year."

"What do you mean?" Minerva asked, clearly puzzled.

"Albus asked me to only share the information with the most trusted member of staff. And you're the first on that list. Aster is a vampire."

Minerva, who had her glass to her lip, choked, her chest shaking with a coughing fit. Severus was about to pull out his wand to help her, but Minerva held up a hand to signify the temporary nature of the fit. "I misheard you, can you repeat that please?" She asked.

"Aster is a vampire."

"How?" she asked, her face blanching.

Severus then began to recount the story Aster had told him, keeping the most disturbing elements out of it. As the story progressed Minerva became increasingly grim, her lips tight and her gaze strained. When it was clear that he had finished, Minerva refilled her glass and drained it dry. "And so, the first thing Dumbledore does on hearing the news of Aster's return is to blackmail the poor girl, threatening to deny her a place in his school and hand her over to the authorities if she refuses to corroborate his story of 'passing her off as dead for her own safety."

Severus merely nodded gravely.

"If I could, I would kill that man." Minerva growled. "I don't know how a girl with such a difficult life could have ended up in Hufflepuff. Perhaps the hat judged her spirit too wounded to place her elsewhere, poor thing. At least in Hufflepuff, and with her condition, Albus isn't too likely to see her as a useful pawn." She concluded.

Severus felt like smiling at Minerva's statement. Aster was anything but a wounded little thing. But he restrained himself. "I also think that Hufflepuff is the best house for her," he said instead.

"How does he plan to deal with her need to bite?" Minerva asked seriously.

Severus was not shocked at Minerva's knowledge in this area. She was, after all, an Animagus, and therefore subject to some form of government repression, so he suspected she must have consulted books or frequented environments that brought her into contact with such information.

"Do you remember the young Hermione Snow? She too was placed in Hufflepuff." Severus said instead of answering directly.

"Yes, she seemed like a good girl. The wonder and curiosity in her eyes was endearing."

"She is Aster's blood mate, they met in Ulthar."

Minerva grinned." I imagine she didn't have an easy childhood either, then. I should have known with a last name like that. It's good to know that Aster isn't alone and that she has someone to hold on to."

After that their conversation drifted into lighter territory, Severus trying to dispel the dark clouds in Minerva's eyes promising death and retribution to the Headmaster. Much later, it was with a lighter heart and mind that he left Minerva's office. Although he didn't like to admit it, talking to the feline woman never failed to greatly improve his mood. Among the staff, she was the only one who seemed to really understand and respect him. When he entered his office, just as he was about to go straight to his private quarters, he noticed a letter on his desk. On the envelope was written his name in a handwriting he recognised immediately. It had been a while since he had received a letter from Sarah, and a smile spread across his face without him realising it. For the first time, the rusty, black cogs of his life seemed to start turning again, towards what he could only hope were better times.

oOOOo

The view from the top of the astronomy tower was stunning, no matter how many times you enjoyed it. The Milky Way was clearly visible, its long trail splitting the night. Hundreds of thousands of stars shining on the dark sky. The moon shone brightly, her face impassive, ignorant of vain human concerns. Dumbledore liked to come here when he needed to think. Away from his office and its clutter, from the slumbering or curious paintings, from the thick stone walls. Here, only the sky was witness to his thoughts.

The last few days had been long and tiring. Since the arrival of Miss Potter's and Miss Snow's letter, he had done everything in his power to reach them only to discover that Severus had been in contact with them for several weeks and had not seen fit to inform him. Given the man's bitterness towards him after being forced out of his goddaughter's life before discovering her disappearance and then losing his support in his search, he could well allow that he was reluctant to share anything about the child with him. He wouldn't be alarmed by it now, but it would be in Severus's interest to regain his common sense and resume his role. The next time he would not inform him of anything of importance, Albus would not be so magnanimous.

Fortunately, he had managed to get in touch with her and get her cooperation. Aster's reappearance on the public scene without her presenting a story that put him in a good light and justified his past actions would not have been tolerable. His reputation had suffered enough with her first disappearance, and her return to the British magical world could either mean a return of some of what he had lost, or an even deeper decline.

Shortly after receiving Aster's letter and her agreement as to what they would explain to the public about her return, Dumbledore had begun to change his plans, perhaps the prophecy was still valid after all. But unfortunately, Aster had turned out to be a vampire, and therefore technically dead. So the words of the prophecy no longer fit the situation at all. His impression had been reinforced by Aster's entrance to Hufflepuff and their short discussion tonight. Aster Potter was a child broken by life far too early and repeatedly. By Voldemort, then the Dursleys, then the ICW. A fractured spirit that only belonged in Hufflepuff, a good choice for her, the only place where no one would expect anything from her and where she would meet friends who could guide her. He sighed deeply. There was nothing more he could get out of her, except perhaps to increase his popularity. The one he had wanted to turn into his centrepiece against the darkness creeping over the horizon had broken.

His past decisions seemed in hindsight to be ill-advised, he should never have placed her with the Dursleys, perhaps trained her personally. But it was too late, these thoughts were sterile, it was useless to cry over spilt milk. Aster would have no part in the fate of Great Britain, after all, it was pointless if not dangerous to try and play with a broken pawn.

His mind was made up, everything was now clear, Neville Longbottom was the child of prophecy. After all, hadn't Tom also marked him indirectly, a few days after his omdefeat, when the mad weapon Tom had fashioned with his own hands had destroyed young Longbottom's family. The mark didn't have to be physical after all. Longbottom was shy and weak now, but he would remedy that. The hat must not have placed him in Griffindor for nothing after all. A hero's seed must lie dormant in him. This year's ordeal would put him on the right track, would begin to prepare him for his destiny. Miss Patil and the younger Weazley would surely be good moral supports in the difficult times the young man would face. In the hall earlier today, they had sat together and seemed to have begun to form a bond, perhaps fanning the flame of what would later be an unstoppable trio against the forces of evil.

Still, he would have to be careful, the presence of the Philosopher's Stone in the castle grounds would inevitably attract some of Toms' minions, and Longbottom did not have the magical protection that Aster would have had through the sacrifice of her mother. He would have to be more careful. He had already failed to maintain the integrity of one of his most important pieces, he would not fail again.

He took his eyes off the stars and turned back to the door of the tower, he still had much to do.

oOOOo

The room was full, the muffled chatter of dozens of curious voices made the air vibrate with excitement. Aster sat with Hermione, Susan and Hannah in the front row. Her eyes were riveted on their teacher. She was sitting on the desk patiently licking her paw and regularly glancing at the clock. Aster hesitated, was their teacher an animagus or someone of feral heritage? Aster was leaning towards the latter, their teacher's aura seemed more like a cat than a woman. Aster couldn't help but feel a certain respect for her. At Hermione's request, she had been reading a lot of laws about magical creatures and wizards in the last few months, and even being openly animagus was synonymous with being subject to a lot of discrimination. Even worse for someone of feral heritage. That said, a cat-to-human transformation is undoubtedly an excellent way to get students interested in the complex and demanding subject of transfiguration.

After one last look at the clock, the cat jumped off the table and transformed in mid-air, revealing a tall, stern-looking woman in emerald green robes, a large black pointed hat on her head. Susan and Hannah both gasped in surprise before staring in awe like the rest of the class. Beside her, Hermione simply smiled, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. " Alright, it's time. Shut those mouths immediately before you catch all the flies of Europe!" At these words, all the mouths closed and the young students came to their senses, blushing.

Mcgonagall glanced around the class, letting her eyes linger on each face for a moment before continuing. "As you already know, I am Minerva Mcgonagall, your transfiguration teacher. Transfiguration is a complex and dangerous art requiring seriousness, discipline, and a strict adherence to the safety rules. If you do not follow the rules, you will leave this room and never set foot here ever again. Am I clear?"

A chorus of intimidated yes's answered her. "Before each potentially dangerous transfiguration, you will be given a set of rules regarding it, failure to follow them will result in expulsion from that class. If you wish to work a transfiguration spell without supervision, it is mandatory and imperative that you ask my permission. Any transfiguration performed in the corridors in some stupid attempt at pranking makes you liable to expulsion from the school. Before class starts, I will hand out a document for you to sign. It contains all the basic rules I have just stated, plus a few minor ones. This contract is magical, I have a copy, and if any of the terms of it are broken, then I will know immediately." Mcgonagall distributed the papers among the students present with a wave of her wand. Aster and Hermione immediately began reading. Aster frowned, from a security point of view this document was perfect and would greatly reduce the risks associated with transfiguration. Frankly, Aster understood. Trying to transfigure something with wizardry seemed much more risky than with magecraft. With an array or an acoa, transfiguring something was particularly stable, the result absolutely certain as long as there was no error in the writing of the array. But for a wand transfiguration, it seemed much more versatile, but above all more volatile. As much as Aster understood these limitations, they were still frustrating, and would limit her greatly in the experimentation she planned to do with this new way of wielding magic. Finding a way around the contract would be part of her personal project... Hermione seemed to look at the document with approval, nodding her head from one moment to the next before signing it. Aster hoped that Hermione wouldn't mind too much if she tried to circumvent the contract.

Once everyone had signed, Mcgonagal called the documents to her and they all piled up neatly on her desk.

"Well, now, I think a little introduction is in order. There are three main types of transfiguration. Shape transfiguration, is the simplest." With a few elaborate movements of her wand and a few whispered words, her wooden desk warped into the appearance of a cabinet, the wood contracting and shaping like clay under a craftsman's fingers. "The shape transfiguration consists in altering the shape of an object without changing its substance. Wood will remain wood, steel will remain steel, only its form will change. This type of transfiguration is by nature permanent. If I left my desk in this state, it would remain a cabinet forever. It is this type of transfiguration that we will mainly work on this year. The second major category of transfiguration is the transfiguration of essence." Her wand seemed to dance between her fingers and a litany of German-like words came from between her lips, before a purple aura enveloped the wardrobe and in its place was a huge grey boar looking around in a daze. Aster was fascinated, this kind of transfiguration normally required an extremely complex array of magecraft to perform. These sometimes took days of work! A triangle shape of her wand and a pronounced "alteratio nullius" later, the boar became a wardrobe again. "Essence transfiguration is the act of placing the concept of an object, the ideal of an object, on an object of a different nature in order to change its essence. With this type of transfiguration, you transform something into the idea of something else. If I wanted to transform this cupboard into a tree, I wouldn't get just any tree, but the physical representation of the idea of a tree. It is in the transfiguration of essence that our subject meets philosophy. We will go into more detail in future years. What you need to remember for now is that all essence transfiguration is temporary and requires a steady supply of magic to maintain. I also have to break a myth. I'm sorry to tell you, but free transfiguration can only be applied to form transfiguration. Each essence transfiguration requires a particular spell."

Aster was a little disappointed at this, she had heard Hannah explain that they could soon transfigure anything into anything without too much effort, but it had been too good to be true. She was drawn in by Mcgonagal's voice, resuming his explanation in the dead silence of the class as he noted and digested her speech. "Finally, the last major category of transfiguration is state transfiguration" With a few wand movements and a few words, the cabinet liquefied into a puddle on the floor, before evaporating into a ball of mist that Mcgonagal kept well isolated from the rest of the class. A few seconds later, the mist resumed the shape of a cabinet. "Like essence transfiguration, state transfiguration is always temporary. Especially when it is a transfiguration from a solid object to a gas. If by chance you inhale a solid object transfigured into a gas, when it returns to a solid form inside you, in most cases it will be too late to save you. The same applies if you try to drink an object that has been transfigured into a liquid. Most deaths due to transfiguration are due to state transfiguration." A collective shudder ran through the first few years as Susan clasped her hands over her mouth in horror, surely imagining the dangers this type of magic implied.

"Fortunately, state transfiguration is only taught in sixth and seventh year, and most specifically, the transfiguration of a solid object into a gaseous state is not taught at Hogwarts, only the ways to detect and guard against it." A few flicks of the wand later the cupboard had reverted to a desk and Mcgonagal approached the board with some chalk in hand. "Today we will begin with theory, Ysmenark's three fundamental laws of shape transfiguration..."

At the end of the lesson, as all the other students stood up to leave the classroom, chatting away both terrified and fascinated by what they had just learned, Aster and Hermione looked into each other's eyes for a moment before nodding simultaneously and heading towards Mcgonagal. As the door closed behind the last student, Mcgonagal looked up from the folders she was sorting through to the two girls. "Miss Potter, Miss Snow, what can I do for you?"

"We have a question. But we don't know if it's something private or not." Hermione said with a blush.

" Ask anyway. I'll see what the question is." Said the professor with a raised eyebrow.

"Hermione thinks you're an animagus, while I'm convinced you're of feral heritage, and we just can't come to a conclusion."

Mcgonagal paled slightly and frowned. "Where did you hear about this?"

"In a book from our foster mother's house," Hermione offered, a little intimidated by the professor's reaction.

"And what makes you think that I might be of feral heritage. Do you even know what that is?"

"Sometimes animagus who have spent too much time in animal form breed with another animal of their form. Their offspring gain form-changing abilities and have intelligence equal to that of humans, but tend to have more similar behaviour to their animal side. The degree of humanity varies according to the degree of separation from the human ancestor(s)." Hermione recited with some pride before blushing again and lowering her eyes under the glare of their teacher.

"I have a much greater sensitivity to magic than normal due to an accident I had a few years ago. And your aura is much more feline than it normally would be for an animagus." Aster offered. Close enough to reality to be perfectly coherent, but without any compromising details.

Mcgonagal let out a deep sigh and twirled her wand between her fingers, chanting something in Latin. Suddenly a dome of slowly swirling grey mist surrounded them, all sounds from outside evaporating, leaving them in absolute silence. "Had it been anyone else, I would have told you that I am an animagus. That is what everyone believes. But, Aster, as a vampire, and Hermione, her companion. I doubt you're as prejudiced as some of your classmates." Aster's wide eyes must have betrayed her surprise that the professor knew of her nature because she added. "Professor Dumbledore saw fit to inform some of the staff of your particular situation. Don't worry." she reassured them with an imperceptible smile.

Aster nodded, for a moment she had thought she had been so obvious since her arrival that the secret had completely leaked out. "No, we have no problem with that. Nailla, our adoptive mother is a Nymph." Hermione said, visibly reassured.

"Good. As I'm sure you've already deduced, I am indeed of feral heritage. My father was an animagus, and my mother a kneazle." She glanced at a pocket watch she was pulling out of her dress and added. "Now shoo, you'll be late! If you have any questions, my office is open after dinner and before curfew. And not a word of this to anyone."

"Yes ma'am." Aster and Hermione said in unison as they ran out of the classroom. Once in the corridor, Aster had a big smile on her face and held out her hand to Hermione. The latter put three sylbes into it while grumbling. It was good to start the day with a winning bet.

oOOOo

Aster was somewhat frustrated. The first week's classes had been disappointing. Except for transfiguration and potion. Astronomy was merely observing the sky. From what she understood this could be useful for potion making and certain witchcraft rituals requiring specific astronomical parameters, but in first year, the class was just learning about sky maps. The charm class might have been nice, but for now, it was just extremely basic theory that she and Hermione already knew and learning to control the flow of her magic. The rest of the year's curriculum didn't look very exciting either, with only a few first tier spells. What Aster was really excited about, however, were tier two charms and anchoring methods, ( tier three were just to much of a bother for someone accomplished in magecraft.) Professor Flitwick had spoken briefly about them, but only to say that they would only be worked on from fifth year onwards, and Aster had no intention of being at Hogwarts that long. Herbology consisted of learning basic methods of dealing with plants and theory. How to repot and why, fertilisers, watering, sun, etc. In short, a deadly bore, given that she and Hermione were already doing all this for their home garden.

Aster preferred not to think about the history class, she would treat those hours as free time for her own projects. She could have at least made an appearance, but the ghost of a class was as soporific as it was appetizing and didn't have the presence of mind to walk away from her like the other lost souls in the castle. She would make a parting gift to Hogwarts by devouring his delicious soul before they left. She thought, licking her lips. The ghosts of Hogwarts were irritating in general, far too distracting. How was she supposed to concentrate on anything if she was being ushered into an all-you-can-eat buffet full of delicious food that she wasn't allowed to eat...

Potion really wasn't bad. Aster was very fond of the way they were made in witchcraft. Unlike the mathematical rigour of magecraft potions, the potions here were poetic in the way they were made, with powerful symbolism behind every action. Symbolism that you had to be aware of and have integrated for the magic of the maker to blend with the magic of the ingredients to get the desired liquid. It was a relaxing class. She and Hermione almost went into a meditative state during Severus' classes. It was... very pleasant. The man's teaching method was certainly questionable, with hardly any theory, rudimentary security and an unsympathetic facade from the teacher, but to anyone who looked beyond the surface, Severus' intentions were clear. He clearly didn't care about the masses, he was looking for talent. Young pearls among the grey stones. If twenty died, but one excelled, Severus would have accomplished his goal. Aster thought with a smirk.

Defence Against the Dark Arts was by far the worst class in Aster's eyes. Not only was the teacher possessed by some kind of parasite that was slowly devouring his life energy, but he was constantly babbling and seemed to have little interest in teaching. Worst of all, however, was his apparent and absolutely fictitious phobia of vampires after a supposed encounter with a group of them in Albania. Supposedly yes, because someone claiming to have met a vampire and using such a large amount of stinking garlic hurting her poor sensitive nose could not possibly have met a vampire let alone have lived to tell the tale. Using garlic against a vampire determined to kill you was just to make him rip your head off even faster before burning your corpse to get rid of the smell. In short, if Quirel's story had any truth to it, he would have been dead since a long time. She'd have to confront him soon to get to the bottom of it. Whether it was to make an ally, or to eliminate a potential enemy, it would be necessary.

She was pulled out of her thoughts by Leane Maywind's hand tugging at her sleeve to get her attention. The girl may have been small for her age, yet she was still taller than Aster, which irritated her greatly. That Saturday, all the first year Hufflepuffs had decided to form a small weekly study group in which they would help each other to review the difficult points they had covered during the week. Aster couldn't deny it, Hermione's decision to go to Hufflepuff had been the right one.

Dumbledore seemed to have lost interest in her completely, there had been a series of articles in the Prophet about her return from the world of the presumed dead, but the subject had quickly dried up. Journalists had portrayed her as a poor little girl who had been hurt by life and hidden from the world for her protection, deemed too weak by Dumbledore to face society before she was thirteen. Her youthful appearance also seemed to greatly support this fable. Thanks to this image she had even been spared the interviews and other observations she would otherwise have endured. With her outrageous fame having died with her first death, Aster could hope to fly more or less under the radar. And in that, even if Dumbledore's plan was mostly positive for his own image, it suited Aster well.

Hufflepuff also seemed to be a good place to make solid and lasting connections. When Aster and Hermiones inevitably disappeared from Hogwarts once the stone was obtained, their network of Hufflepuffs could be of great use in keeping an eye on Dumbledore and his actions in his main stronghold.

However, all was not well in Hufflepuff. The members of this house seemed to have traded much of their freedom and autonomy for a powerful unity and mutual support. Acting discreetly had proved difficult, twice now Aster had been unable to leave their room discreetly at night, invariably ending up in Susan's, Hannah's or Tonks' bed. The Hufflepuffs seemed to operate in a tight group logic. On the first day, Tonks had given them a tour of the castle, showing them all the classrooms, the places to know and the places to avoid, the most comfortable abandoned classrooms, the kitchen and its elves all too happy to welcome a new generation of Hufflepuffs. Over the next few days, Aster noticed that absolutely all of their trips were made in groups, often accompanied by a student from a higher year. All good things for a house, but a bit stifling and making it difficult for Aster to act with as much freedom as she would like.

Strangely enough, Aster found herself even more surrounded than the other first year Hufflepuffs. For some strange reason, not only did she tend to be pulled under the covers of her classmates' beds during her attempts at nocturnal escapades, but she was also on the receiving end of a purely strange amount of physical contact. Whether it was Hannah, Susan, Tonks, and even more recently Leane, Sophia and other Hufflepuffs of higher years who had taken to keeping her with, or near them. She couldn't explain it to herself... their latest trick had been to get her to sit on Tonks' lap during the meal in the great hall. Okay, she was small, but was that any reason to treat her like that? Not that she minded, really, she had other things to worry about.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by Leane's hand patting her gently on the shoulder. Leane gave her a worried look, it was true that Aster had been in her thoughts for a little too long. It had been a week since she had bitten Hermione, the stress of the day and the new environment exhausting her too much to think of anything but sleep once they were alone in bed. Aster shook her head slightly and blinked to bring herself back to reality. "Sorry Leane, I think I'm just tired, what were you saying?" Since the first class, she and Hermione had made a habit of helping their fellow Hufflepuffs when the opportunity arose, and in a house where loyalty, hard work and mutual aid are valued, it had quickly earned them a place and reputation within the house.

"Are you sure you're okay?" asked Leane, her big brown eyes visibly worried. "You look even paler than usual..." She put the back of her hand on Aster's forehead. "At least you don't have a fever. You need to cover yourself up more, you're freezing."

Aster shrugged. "I'm fine, I'm just a little tired."

"Maybe we could go and see Madam Pomfrey, she might have a magic tonic." Leane suggested.

"No, no, I'm fine, a good night's sleep, some rest on Sunday and I'll be fine," explained Aster, she didn't know if the mediwitch of Hogwarts had been made aware of her condition, and in doubt, she preferred to avoid interacting with the healer.

"If you say so." Leane finally relented, giving her a suspicious look. "I wanted to ask you a question about Professor Flitwick's class. There was something I didn't quite understand in his presentation of the curriculum at the beginning. Of the course."

" What is it?" asked Aster, surprised, despite being muggle born, Leane had adapted extremely well to the school, and was extremely studious, moreover, she must have had quite exceptional magical abilities to, like Hermione, have benefited from the scholarship of a school as elitist and closed as Hogwarts, an institute historically reserved for the nobility and the great magical bourgeoisie. The fact that she didn't grasp a concept in class was rare.

Leane blushed slightly. "It was when he was explaining the curriculum. He said that the first three years would be used to familiarise oneself with tier one theory and spells, and that one would start learning tier two spells in fourth year. But he didn't explain what a tier one spell was. I feel like it's one of those things that wizards know from their family and upbringing, but that muggleborns don't." she finished with a tinge of bitterness in her voice.

Aster groaned slightly. Maybe Hogwarts was a prestigious school, but it seemed to be completely unaware of any form of real introduction of muggle born to the magical world... Aster had out of curiosity obtained the pamphlet from Boggart Hole Clough's magical academy in Manchester, and that school had an extra first year course dedicated to muggle born and their integration. Perhaps the fact that the requirements for a muggle born to attend Hogwarts were so strict that each year only had a handful of muggle born. An insufficient number to take into account in the design of the curriculum. Or perhaps it was a deliberate strategy to prevent the more magically capable muggle born from easily integrating and potentially competing with the less capable noble and wealthy kids attending Hogwarts because of their family and financial pedigree.

Since arriving in Britain, and especially during her travels through all the major European libraries in search of the Codex Anima, she had read a number of wizardry books, curious about this form of magic that was foreign to her, and eager to understand it better in order to protect herself from it and eventually use it. She had come across this concept several times and felt ready to explain it. "Wizards have divided wand and incantation spells into three categories. Three tiers. The one Professor Flitwick was talking about is tier one, the one we'll be studying this year. It is the rawest, simplest and weakest form of wizardry. Casting a spell is about giving form to magic, tier one is about sculpting a bit of magic into a rough shape as simply and quickly as possible. It is a short incantation of one or two words and a simple wand movement, infusing intent and magic. It is this type of spell that most wizards use on a daily basis. Professor Flitwick had said that in a few sessions, we would learn wingardium leviosa. The levitation spell. This is an excellent example of a tier one, the spell is simply applying an upward force to an object. That's why he said we would train on feathers, as it's an upward force, the heavier the object, the more magic is needed to lift it. Above a certain weight, wingardium leviosa cannot withstand a sufficient amount of magic and requires a tier two levitation spell. Tier two is all the more specialised spells. The kind of magic used at a professional level. I mean... the kind of stuff that curse breakers, enchanters, healers, crafters, aurors, duelists etc use while working. These are all spells, more subtle, complex and powerful than the basic tier one. There's a tier three, but it's not taught at Hogwarts. Aster crossed her arms over her chest and pouted before grumbling. "All the interesting spells are tier two, and we won't even hear about them this year."

Leane stroked his head with a smile. "Thank you very much Aster, it would be nicer if this kind of thing was explained to the muggle born."

Ernest Mcmillan, a blond, round-faced boy whom Aster had only spoken to a few times since the beginning of the year, was sitting nearby at the large round table and listening to their conversation with a distracted ear as he played with his quill, turned to them with a frown. "I knew about tier spells from what my father says about his days, but even I didn't know there was a tier three."

At this statement, Sophia, who was listening from a few sits away looked at Aster curiously, a clear question in her eyes. "It's the kind of spell you learn in a master's degree, or a doctorate..." she muttered, blushing.

"You'll want to do a doctorate in magic? Is that why you looked into it?" Ernest asked with curiosity, interest and a touch of admiration.

From what Aster had read, a doctorate in magic was a level of study that few wizards bothered to reach, only a few hard-core enthusiasts of the deepest magical arcana bothered to reach that level. These then earned their living by lecturing or writing books about their cutting-edge discoveries. Aster didn't necessarily have the ambition to launch herself into this kind of study, but to say that one of her long-term projects was not to dissect the most obscure magical arcana would be a lie, and then to be seen as a studious young girl with no desire to be part of any political movement would serve her image well. Admittedly, Hufflepuffs did not tend to become great scholars, but it was not uncommon for some to have such aspirations and become great academic figures, according to what Severus had said. I'm not sure, it's a possibility." Aster said thoughtfully. "I just really like magic," she concluded.

Leane seemed particularly interested in the possibility of a doctorate in magic and launched into a probing interrogation of Sophia and Ernest who obliged with good-naturedness, their discussion shifting from higher education to possible jobs after Hogwarts or the possibility of apprenticeships and graduate school. Aster, happy to continue her duty in peace.

When the study session ended by mutual agreement, and Hermione tried to guide her back to their dormitories with a hand on her shoulder, Aster quickly disengaged herself, not noticing the heavy look on her back as she approached Leane who was apparently planning to storm the library with Ernest and Sophia. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small booklet, before tugging on the girl's sleeve to get her attention. "Here, a pamphlet by Boggart Hole Clough, I just remembered I left it in my bag, They have a muggle integration course there and i think there's the possibility of taking it remotely by owl, you can have a look if you want."

"Thank you so much!" exclaimed Leane as she grabbed the pamphlet with a big smile before hugging Aster. Noticing that Ernest and Sophia had gone ahead and turned around to wait for her, she put Aster back on the ground before running back to her friends, giving Aster a last smile and a wave. Aster watched for a moment as the small group walked away, puzzled, not quite understanding what had caused her to react the way she did. Finally Aster shrugged and turned back to Hermione who was waiting for her with her arms folded and a grim look on her face. It had been about two days since Hermione's mood had changed and Aster couldn't figure out why, maybe she should do something for Hermione, or just confront her. Her birthday was coming up, she could also do something special for her on that day, maybe it would cheer her up.

As Hermione placed her hand on her waist and continued on their way to the dormitories, discussing the latest transfiguration class, Aster couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with her best friend and blood partner...