Lady Karrasinqi.
Enclosed with this letter are the reports of the organisation in recent weeks. The blood-tie mentoring system is showing satisfactory results, with more muggles born, half-bloods in difficulty and destitute purebloods wishing to join the order than expected, which ensures the viability of this approach.
Among the British vampire clans, only the Jenarians and the Melacinos have refused our offer. They wish to retain their independence despite the benefits the order offers. This is not such bad news given the state of instability in which the order currently stands.
With the Asphodel having taken control of most of the black market and illegal trade, we don't have a budgetary problem to worry about. As you predicted, our foreign supporters have become more permanent, providing us with a secure outlet for the islands' secret and illegal productions.
Arnold has finished rallying most of the other Lycan packs. Several new werewolf packs have also joined us, but most of them remain loyal to a certain Fenrir Greyback. The nymphs "integrated" into the ministry society have also joined us. The system of internal law is established, the judgement and retribution for the first five exactions committed within the order were apparently sufficiently exemplary to calm down the most rebellious members.
However, there are some things to deplore. First of all, tensions persist between historically opposed clans of vampires, as well as between other beings. The muggle born in our ranks also sometimes feel discriminated against by other mages.
The Ministry of Magic's DMLE also seems to suspect something, as several of our Knockturn Alley establishments have been raided by Aurors looking for illegal activity, dark artifacts, or traces of forbidden magic. Mimosa and I suspect that the decrease in gang conflict and illegal activity in the open has alerted the Ministry that something is up. I ask for your approval to infiltrate one of our agents into the DMLE to learn more.
Finally, and most worryingly, several high-ranking members of the order are using the novelty of the organisation and its rapid expansion to create internal factions and, I fear, prepare to take over from you. Please resume a more prominent role in the order. Only your presence and your grip can keep things from getting out of hand, or at least keep me informed of how you intend to handle the upcoming insurgencies.
Your Councillor, Ethan Warpulnys. Read and approved by Mimosa Olstone and Basileus Meinar.
Aster put the letter down and sighed, massaging her forehead, before letting her tired gaze drift to the window for a moment. From here, the castle's inner courtyard looked so small. The mountains and forest surrounding the valley were no longer visible behind the thick curtain of rain falling from a sky so dark that it could be called twilight despite the fact that it was still early afternoon. No one was out in this downpour. The courtyard was deserted, the rain giving the castle a ghostly, ethereal appearance particularly in keeping with her current mood, as she let her fingers caress the neat ink lines running across the parchment of the letter.
Desperate for privacy, she and Hermione had 'commandeered' an old, long-unused classroom as a private study space. The library was too public for what they were doing here, and it would have been unwise to be caught with the codex anima or some other work of forbidden magic in public. Given the way soul magic was perceived in this country, Aster could only imagine the state of terror and outrage that reading even the first page of the book would plunge one of the naive, narrow-minded little wizard living in blissful ignorance under the yoke of a ministry that was only too happy to benefit from such a docile population. For obvious security reasons, Aster had warded the room in such a way that even if Dumbledore were to become aware of its existence, it would take him several days to break into the wards, several hours if he did not try to preserve the integrity of the castle. That would give them plenty of time to hide any traces of suspicious activity, or even to run away, and to claim their innocence.
She and Hermione had taken refuge there after school, away from the hordes of Hufflepuffs who had no desire to leave them alone. As Hermione had said, her Honey Badger plan had worked only too well. Now, of course, she had an army of Hufflepuffs all too happy to please at her disposal, but that came with the downside of not having a moment to herself in the corridors or between classes.
Her friend had settled into one of the chairs, opposite an old wooden desk that Aster bet was at least several centuries old, hunched over her transfiguration assignment. Strangely enough, Hermione had quickly become attached to Professor Mcgonagall.
Aster sighed again, things seemed to be moving faster than expected with the Order of the Asphodel, she had set up a governing council, a constitution, an authority and rules. But the structure could not keep up with the speed at which things were moving. According to Ethan's detailed reports, their membership had grown from a few hundred to just over a thousand in just a few months. How many people and beings had the Ministry disappointed and left behind, that as soon as a more just and merciful alternative to the current regime, however illegal, presented itself, so many lost souls pounced on it.
She couldn't help but think of Mimosa, the young witch had found herself on the streets despite her undeniable talent, simply because of her blood and the racism of employers. Moreover, magic had broken her ties with the non-magical world, distancing her from her parents, and rendering her incapable, without support or family, of reintegrating herself among the non-magical. She had found herself at a dead end, and when Aster had extended her hand, she had not hesitated to take it.
But now it was all in danger of collapsing because of some power-hungry fools. And she could neither abandon her order, that beacon of hope for so many wizards and non-humans, nor go back to take things in hand, and let the rift stone kept in that school slip through her fingers. Anna's return depended on it, and she clutched the small vial with the bluish flame in her hand, feeling the magic of her mother's soul vibrate softly inside. Her throat tightened, she couldn't leave, not without the rift stone.
She couldn't afford to call for help either, the matagots had a lot to deal with given the political chaos following the Casparos' betrayal, and they would surely offer to exfiltrate all non-humans out of Britain to more accepting lands, rather than pick on that 'lost cause' that was Britain. But Aster knew that very few would want to leave, the majority wanting to fight for the land of their ancestors. The option of trying to contact Kav-deb was also a dead end. She would have to find a way to open a stable portal to the edges, and find a map that was accurate enough to be able to leave them afterward, which would take far too much precious time, time that she did not have. Not with a rift stone likely to fall through her fingers if she took too long to grab it. She could only hope that Kav-deb would find a way to make contact on his side.
She was drawn out of her thoughts by Hermione's worried voice. "Aster? What's wrong? It's written all over your face that something's bothering you. Is it the letter?"
Aster dipped her eyes into the warm brown of Hermione's, letting her concern filter through her expression before handing her Ethan's letter without a word. Hermione sat down next to Aster, giving him a more than welcome touch before she began to read.
After a moment, Hermione cleared her throat. "Aster, according to this letter, how much time would you give before an attempted insurrection?"
Aster thought, thinking back to the test of Asmodée, to what she had seen as she walked the halls of some of the order's safe houses, to the defiance of many of the former clan leaders..." A month and a half before things got out of hand." She said in a low tone.
Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "And we can't leave Hogwarts to get things back on track, or we'll lose the stone... So we need to buy some time..." She thought aloud. "Aster, you're the leader, the founder of this movement, and the problem is that they don't see you as legitimate, you need to make a show of strength, prove that you and you alone can lead."
Surprised, Aster looked up, meeting the intense seriousness in Hermione's eyes. "Really, as simple as that?"
"They underestimate you, that's an advantage, usually, but not in this case. No offence, but you're far too unimposing, you're far from impressive, physically I mean. You need to make them respect you, to show you're more than just an idealist doing a little side project to ease their conscience. Making a show of it should bring most of them in line, and calm down the more demanding ones, at least for a while."
Aster looked at Hermione, that solution might do the trick, but... "the members of the order who are underestimating me now and fomenting something will only be more dangerous in the long run, because they'll be much more wary." She said with a grimace. If they did that, their plan to take advantage of the coming insurrection to purge the organisation of its disloyal elements would fall apart.
"I know." Hermione said darkly. "It's not an ideal solution, but it will buy us time, you just have to choose carefully what kind of show of force you want to make. Not too strong so you don't blow your cover and keep your cards close to your chest when rebellion comes, but not too weak and look like easy prey which would be counterproductive."
"Why not find one of my most vocal opponents, and challenge him to a duel for my place at the top of the order? Maybe making him bite the dust would send a good message." Aster offered thoughtfully.
Hermione didn't seem to find the idea particularly interesting, if his stern look at her was any indication. "Bad idea, it would open doors. I mean, you challenge one, it means you feel threatened and not legitimate enough for your place to be obvious. They'd all challenge you one after the other, it would solve the problem for a while but it would take us too far away and too long from Hogwarts."
She let out a cry of exasperation, Hermione was right, she didn't have the time or the energy to crush all the morons who thought they were legitimate to cause chaos in her order. But right now, she had no idea what to do. Things were moving faster than she had expected, and their plan to wait for the rebellion to happen to eliminate all the traitors and over-ambitious ones in one fell swoop had been completely dashed. Suddenly she felt Hermione's hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone, we'll find something together, I know it, I trust us." She said, giving her a shy smile.
To her friend's surprise, Aster hugged her tightly. She didn't know what she would do without Hermione... no, worse, she knew exactly what she would do without Hermione to stop her from doing anything. She'd show up at the order's headquarters, call a general meeting, and happily slaughter anyone who planned to question her legitimacy. She felt Hermione's hand patting her back. " Softer, please Aster, dying by hugging is a nice death, but I'm pretty sure you'd feel bad if you were to break my ribs," she said, her words interspersed with groans of pain.
Aster felt herself relax. Yes, they would figure something out, she, Aster Karrasinqi, with her resources and Hermione's intelligence, they would get out of this mess.
oOOOo
At night at Hogwarts, the mood of its long corridors changed drastically. By these late hours, the shouts, chatter, laughter and footsteps of the halls and rooms had died down. The enchanted torches and lanterns had gone out, leaving the windowless corridors plunged into darkness. In the others, only the bluish, diaphanous light of the moon was dimly shining on the stones.
Some would have found this gloomy, even frightening, especially with the few disturbing movements of the ancient armours exposed in the corridors, the strange murmurs which nobody could prove to be real or simply a product of an imagination already too much awake in this castle of many centuries of history.
Frankly, Aster preferred the castle when draped in its night veil. Unfortunately, she had only rarely had the opportunity to wander the halls at such a late hour. Her fellow Hufflepuffs made it difficult for her to escape from their clutches at night. But not impossible, as she was proving right now as she walked quietly down a long corridor lined with many tall windows flooding the hallway with moonlight. She could thank Hermione for this, who had reluctantly agreed to act as a diversion to allow her to sneak out of the dormitory using her newly created invisibility array. Made with more resources and time than in Ulthar, it would be of a higher quality and would allow her to remain unnoticed.
An orange light emerged at the end of the corridor, and without a sound, Aster leaned against the wall, motionless. A young wizard walked past her without noticing her, his silver badge proudly displayed on his chest. He walked briskly, probably in a hurry to finish his rounds so he could finally get back to his bed. Aster understood the feeling, having often heard Hermione debate in hushed tones with herself between her desire to continue her book or give in to the call of sleep, but she herself wasn't really feeling it. Perks of being a vampire she supposed, after all, the night was her domain.
She waited calmly for the prefect to walk by, waiting to see the light of his lumos disappear and the echo of his footsteps give way to silence before she peeled herself off the wall and continued on her way.
A few minutes later, without any incident other than one of the armours making her jump by kneeling at her passage, she arrived in front of the thick wooden door behind which she hoped to find her objective. As much as she truly enjoyed the freedom of walking alone in the soft, silent darkness of the sleeping castle, it did not equal the calm and tenderness of a night in Hermione's arms whispering stories, dreams, plans and nonsense to each other before falling asleep together. Therefore, she didn't want to linger too long either. She took her thin grey wand out of its sheath and touched the door with it, simply letting her magic flow through it without any specific form, just an extension of her being brushing the hardwood in search of some wards or other barriers that might alert someone of her presence.
As she expected, there was nothing. Which was not surprising. Who would bother to protect the door to the history room, which contained nothing but dust and a deliciously broken soul, stranded, unable to cross the edge. Too damaged to do anything but relive over and over again its last years of existence in a meaningless fog.
When she had told Hermione of her plans to end the pitiful remnant of their esteemed history teacher's existence, she had done everything to dissuade her. But after the first few classes with the ghost and further explanation of what the existence of this lost soul meant (and a healthy amount of big puppy eyes and complaining about not being able to taste the delicious all-you-can-eat buffet of souls presented to her at Hogwarts), Hermione had caved in and given her approval. Admittedly, she still didn't seem comfortable with Aster being an animaphagus, but she seemed to be at least trying to understand what it must be like for her to be so regularly exposed to defenseless souls without being able to touch them. Aster had done her best to explain to her what it meant and how she felt, but she knew that she would forever be unable to convey the reality of what being able to eat a soul meant, to Hermione. It had ended in a status quo, with Hermione agreeing to let her taste the ghost, in exchange for a promise to never touch the souls of the living.
Deep down, Aster was sure that the argument that had finally convinced Hermione was that by eating Binns, she might finally get some real history lessons. And not the boring to death nonsense their teacher was inflicting them.
She pushed open the door and entered. The history room was dusty, the worm-eaten wooden tables and chairs were a mess, just as the last students to pass through had left them. The glass in the large windows was so filthy that even she, with her vampire night vision, could hardly see around her.
This room was probably the only one in the castle that had the same atmosphere by day as by night. As the students who persisted in coming to this class spent their time sleeping or dozing. Along the opposite wall was a long row of shelves lined with books so dusty that she doubted anyone had touched them for at least several decades. She put her hand on an old red-bound volume and pulled it to her before wincing. The pages had long since been eaten away, leaving only a fine white dust where the paper should have been. She pushed the book away sadly. It must have been more than a few decades ago...
She walked to the back of the room where the door to the late teacher's private quarters was located. It was similar to the door of the classroom, and as a precaution, Aster repeated her manipulation in order to detect any ward.
She raised an eyebrow in astonishment. The door was locked with powerful, ancient wards. Their magic was different from that of the castle and must have been there from over a century ago. Aster sighed, this was going to be more difficult than she expected, but at least the wards were not connected to any warning magic. Which made their existence all the more curious, why put such a ward on the door without making sure it could alert someone if there was an intrusion attempt? Aster shrugged, it was none of her business, she had a history teacher to enjoy.
She pulled her lockpick array from her pocket. It was an improved version of the one she'd used to break into the Casparos' underground, so it should prove more permissive and less magic consuming. The risk of it blowing up in her face if she made a mistake should also be lesser. She pressed the carved wooden plate against the door and breathed her magic into it, watching the various runes materialize on the door, each one allowing her to twist, to manipulate, the magic of the old wards blocking her way. Something strange immediately occurred to her, these wards were as much about preventing someone from entering as they were about preventing someone from leaving the room. Aster shuddered and checked to make sure she had her emergency arrays close at hand. At this moment, she was bitterly regretting not having taken her staff with her.
That said, she had with her enough to reduce to dust just about anything that could be in this room. She should have thought longer. There must have been a reason why no one had tried to replace Professor Binns in over a century. And that reason had to be more important than just not wanting to pay an extra teacher.
Layer after layer, she could feel the mesh of the old ward slowly unravelling under her onslaught. Then, at last, the last barrier gave way. A dull clang echoed through the room, the door latch popping. Aster stood still, waiting for a moment, alert for any sound.
When after several minutes nothing was heard, she breathed a sigh of relief. She then gently pushed the door open, wincing at the creak of its rusty hinges.
The room was too dark for even her to make out anything, so she decided to cast a low lumos, letting the diaphanous light flood the room. She blinked a few times. Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that lay ahead. All the furniture in what must have been the professor's room had been pushed and stacked against one wall, leaving the floor clear. The windows, instead of opening onto the night, the mountains and the lake, looked out onto infinite starless darkness. On the floor, a runic circle was carved. The runes were so numerous and complex, supported by such an allgeometric structure, that they could only be the traces of a high ritual. The runes were as if burned into the stone. But the most confusing part of this unusual sight was the four mummified corpses. Three of them were piled up in a corner of the room, obviously those of children, probably students, given their size, between first and third year. The last one lay in the middle of the high ritual circle, his body distorted with abject mutations, too horrible and shapeless to be described.
The magic and smell of old dried blood was heavy in the air. The feeling that someone or something was watching her grew by the second. Aster closed the door behind her and crouched down, observing the runes. She didn't recognise them all, but understood enough to discern what the ritual had obviously failed to do. It was a resplendent failure to achieve immortality. What had the madman who had tried this thought? That shattering his soul and simultaneously repairing it with the souls and blood of the sacrifices would allow him to create a phylactery coupled with a horcrux without damaging his own soul? That it would be possible with this kind of ritual? The fool! She understood now why the room had been locked like this and why no one had wanted to confront the problem. She could feel the ritual slowly reactivating, she could feel the presence growing stronger, she could feel the pure magic thickening. If she had still been human, a mere young witch, she would have died several minutes ago. But this was not the case. Bad luck for the thing lurking here, she supposed. Though the thing's backup plan in case the ritual failed was rather clever. However, targeting her was not a good idea. This was not her first soul after all.
She could feel the incomprehension and anger rising in the room, the poor thing had not yet understood that its fate was sealed. Had it been an amalgam of souls still with a body, she would have needed an array to devour it. But in this case... the thing was served to her on a platter, without physical ties, free to be devoured at any moment. She stood still, the door at her back, watching a bluish figure gradually materialize above the ritual circle.
Professor Binns, or at least what was left of him, had taken shape. Unlike the calm and emotionless facade he presented during the day, his face at the moment was distorted with anger, hatred and pain. His features at times contorted abjectly into the shape of other people. For a moment she thought she saw its face take on the features of a young terrorized girl, or of a crying boy. Not a moment passed without the thing changing shape. It tried to tear her apart with its long, spectral fingers, moaning in several voices, forming only one, unintelligible bits of words. Trying to tear something out of her, but unable to.
Ever since their first history class, she had known there was something special about this ghost, but she was far from imagining such a thing. Where anyone else would have been long dead, or in a state of catatonic terror, Aster felt only pity for the creature. She gently placed her hands on the monstrous amalgam of broken and howling souls, feeling their magic and paterns dislocated beneath her fingers. Rage, bitterness, hatred and regret flooded the room almost tangibly. As the thing tried again in vain to tear her apart, she put her lips to the spectre's forehead just as it had taken on the features of a young girl. The thing's magic crystallized, unable to resist the call, unable to understand or think, just knowing by some residual instinct from their past lives that the suffering had come to an end.
To savour a soul was an ineffable experience. It could only be described in vague terms or by overuse of metaphor. But at that moment, as Aster absorbed the broken paterns of this monstrous amalgam of damned souls, she didn't care, thinking only of enjoying this wonderful feeling of perfect fulfilment, of ultimate peace, of gaining something she hadn't realised she was terribly lacking.
It was an entirely new experience for her. For the first time she tasted a soul at the source. Not just the remnants of structures long since emptied of any trace of memory or feeling they may have harboured before being absorbed by one of the soul eaters of the circles of the beyond. For the first time, in addition to the surge of intoxicating magic electrifying her entire body, she felt a flood of feelings and some vague, hazy memories, remnants of the personalities that had once been housed in the cavernous, large structure of the thing she was slowly consuming. Emotions, strong and weak, some totally unknown to her, flowed through her momentarily, before dissipating into her own being. Among the few foggy memories stable enough to be interpreted, only one stood out, an image of a strange clarity, yet dating from after the death of the thing. A young man, aristocratic in appearance, pale-skinned, tall and thin, with hollow cheeks, asking him with a strange gleam in his eyes what he knew of death.
Aster reopened her eyes, which she had not realised she had closed, to see that the face of the girl she was still holding was now peaceful, as if asleep, as the last remnants of the magic that had haunted this room for so long, of their souls, dissipated into her own.
Around her, the dust fell gently like a fine grey snow, as if a silent wind had suddenly stopped blowing. The four mummified bodies had disappeared, leaving nothing behind. Aster sighed, a single tear running down her cheek. She wiped it away before it could fall to the ground. She turned her wand towards the vile mockery of high ritual etched into the ground, this time, for good, washed of what magic remained. Still drunk on the new magic coursing through her veins, it took a moment before she remembered the spell. "Magna exuere," she murmured, watching as her magic tore away the top layer of the floor, leaving only dust.
Without looking back, she exited the quarters of their former teacher, before closing the door, and putting the wards back in place with her lock pick array. The complexity of the wards made this job tedious, but she managed to do it quickly enough.
She walked back towards her dormitory where, knowing Hermione, she would be waiting for her. No, she decided. She wouldn't tell the truth behind Binns for a while. Her friend wasn't ready for that. Now the question was what she would do tonight. Already needing less sleep than normal people, with all that energy flowing through her veins, she wasn't going to be able to sleep at all.
oOOOo
The whole castle was in turmoil. No one really believed it. And yet, the strange events had been piling up. Between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws supposedly having class that very morning with Professor Binns saying that the ghost hadn't shown up, adding that for the first time the classroom had been found to be clean, and three aurors having arrived in the early afternoon only to leave again before the end of classes, rumours were running rife. Some thought that Binns had simply moved on, or that a curse had been lifted, others thought that Binns' existence had all along been a hallucination caused by hallucinogenic mosses that had grown in the dark and dirty corners of the classroom, and that the mosses having finally been removed had freed them from the clutches of the magic fungus, the whole thing having been a plot by the governors not to pay a history teacher. And that wasn't even the most far-fetched of theories!
Anyway, it had been a really fun day for Susan. The most absurd hypotheses that came out in all directions never failed to make her and Hannah laugh. The Weazley twins had even set up a betting pool. Hannah had given a knutt for the category: Binns got eaten by Miss Norris. Just for fun. That said, knowing the strange cat who seemed to observe people with far too much intelligence and communicate with Mr Filch, it wouldn't surprise her that much.
Therefore, at the end of the day, at dinner time, around the tables of the four houses, the excitement was palpable. There was a constant hubbub in the great hall, louder than usual. Most of the students were eager to hear the Headmaster's statement, which would no doubt come soon.
To her right, Hannah had piled salad and boiled potatoes on her plate and was watching the teachers' table intently, focusing on the visibly heated debate between the Headmaster and Professor Mcgonagall.
Aster, the unofficial Hufflepuff mascot, was sitting on her lap, as it was her privilege to keep an eye on her today. Aster was discussing with Hermione the theory behind their last potions class, which had been the creation of the Focus Potion, and whether dancing around the cauldron during the simmering phase would enhance its effect. Hermione argued that this was absurd, but Aster made some rather convincing arguments that even Hermione found difficult to refute.
Susan rolled her eyes and took a sip of water, (pumpkin juice was not for her, too sweet and thick.) Aster had an odd status within Hufflepuff. For the first few days she had been viewed with suspicion. How could 'the girl who lived, died, and finally reappeared out of nowhere' end up in Hufflepuff? The newspapers had become over-excited at the idea of Aster Potter's return. But since none of them had been able to get an interview with her, they had speculated, saying things that made no sense whatsoever. But soon, Aster had proven to be an exemplary Hufflepuff, but more importantly, she had melted everyone's heart without realizing it.
The sorting hat put children who had had particularly difficult lives either in Hufflepuff or Slytherin, at least according to what Tonks had told them. And it was obvious that Aster was one of them. After all, no one her age was supposed to have an artificial arm or be that small. And yet, she was the most adorable girl she knew (apart from Hannah) and had quickly become the unofficial Hufflepuff mascot. Well, no one would dare say that to her face. Aster could be intimidating at times underneath her innocent exterior.
Susan wasn't a physical person in terms of affection. Her relative isolation growing up with just her busy aunt and Hannah's family had not predisposed her to seek contact much. But strangely, with Aster, it was different. It would be a lie to say that she didn't like having her on her lap, and that the murderous, jealous looks Hermione regularly gave her were not endlessly amusing.
At the end of the meal, for the first time, when the Headmaster stood up, there was immediate silence. All eyes were on him. Susan watched him carefully. He looked more tired and older than usual, his two hands resting on the table. "Your attention please." He said unnecessarily, given the deafening silence that had descended on the hall the moment he stood up. "As I assume many of you have noticed, our esteemed Professor Binns has left our world for good for the next great adventure." Susan raised an eyebrow when she heard Aster chuckle quietly in her lap. "The faculty will be hiring a new history teacher as soon as possible. In the meantime, I regret to inform you that your history hours are being replaced by independent study hours until further notice. Good evening to all." He concluded before sitting down again.
No sooner had he finished than the great hall exploded in cheers and shouts of joy, some even opting to applaud. The Weazley twins stood on the Gryffindors' table and danced in circles, singing at the top of their lungs something about a curse being lifted and the end of a dark age. She looked away from the amusing and distressing spectacle when she felt Aster tug at her sleeve to get her attention. "What is it?" she asked, curious. "Could you get everyone together please? Me and Hermione have a proposition to make." Flabbergasted and curious, she stood up before lowering Aster to the ground, who immediately ran to Hermione to whisper something to her.
Half an hour later, Susan was sitting next to Hannah in the common room on one of its comfortable sofas. All the first years were there, and a few of the upper years were watching the scene with intrigue and amusement. Aster had stood on a wooden chair to counterbalance her... disadvantage.
"Good evening everyone!" Aster said with a big smile, almost vibrating in place. All day Aster had been bouncing around, bursting with energy. Susan wondered what she had eaten for breakfast to make her feel like this. "Since we officially have no more history classes," she said, "I'm sure you'll be happy to know that we're all in the same boat. Because frankly, who didn't use those hours as nap time? Sorry, I digress. I wanted to suggest that we form a history club!" At this, some of the first-year boys got up and left, grumbling. Surely they were not ready to give up their independent study time, which they were already planning to put to good use in order to have fun.
In reaction to their departure, Aster crossed her arms and glared at them with a pout so adorable that she couldn't help but giggle along with many of those still present. "Well, now that we're down to those with something denser than air in their skulls, let me explain. Just from the amount of classes Professor Binns has given us, I can confidently say that the history education at this school is appalling. Now, my adoptive mother is a history nerd, so I think I can tell you more interesting things than anything Binns has taught here since the day he was recruited when he was still alive before the Headmaster will recruit a new teacher. Who wants to join in?" she said as she gave them a bright smile, sparks in her eyes.
Hermione had long since risen to stand next to Aster in a show of support, and it didn't take Susan long to do the same. Hanging out with Aster was too much fun and interesting to miss the opportunity to have this tiny girl passionately telling them stories about her mother. Hannah soon followed her, as did most of the remaining girls, including Tonks who immediately declared herself the club's referent and said she would ask Professor Sprout to find them a room. Susan couldn't help the smile that formed on her lips, this year was getting more and more interesting, she would have to write to her aunt, and tell her about these new developments.
oOOOo
Although he was not one to complain, Severus was forced to admit that he had not had an easy life. Between his own mistakes and the horrors he was subjected to as a child and later in the service of the Dark Lord. However, there had always been one constant in his years as an adult that had kept him going. Even under his own most uncompromising judgement, especially since it was himself, he could take pride in being a wizard of rare skill. Not only in his great mastery of the art of potions, but also in his ability to create spells, his other more occult knowledge, his powerful and infallible occlumancy which had kept the Dark Lord at bay for years, his mastery of alchemy... Even Albus, who despite all his faults was one of the greatest wizards of this century, respected his skills.
However, in the face of what he was witnessing, he could only be humbled. He had asked young Aster if he could stay and observe what they were going to do at the junction of thoses secondary ley lines running around Hogwarts, just outside the wards, in that little hidden valley. His goddaughter had first literally glazed an area of a good ten metres in radius with magical flames strangely reminiscent of fiend fire but in a more controlled form, before handing the young Hermione a file of parchment covered in strange symbols and writings that even he could not decipher.
For more than ten hours now, Hermione had been tirelessly carving the ground with a silver dagger covered in runes that he didn't recognise either. These had nothing in common with futhark or any other system he knew. The runes all seemed to be linked together in a strange circuit on which he could see magic of such fluctuating intensity that it was visible. He had raised an eyebrow when he saw Aster cut her hand and leave an almost dangerous amount of her blood running down specific parts of the ... 'ritual circle' they were making. All the while she was muttering what sounded to her like religious psalms. Severus shuddered, what on earth was he witnessing? He had performed many rituals for the Dark Lord before, and none of them looked remotely like this.
When Hermione finally stood up, and sheathed the dagger, the ritual circle was literally buzzing with wild magic. He felt uncomfortable, as if he were being watched by something, as if he were standing on the edge of an unspeakable abyss whose depths stared back at him. The innumerable striations, strange symbols, and convolutions resting on a visibly algeometric structure, gave him a strange feeling of uneasiness that grew by the second. And the worst of it was that he couldn't even judge the danger of what was happening in front of his eyes, having no idea what his goddaughter and her friend were doing. He just hoped that when they were done, Hogwarts wouldn't be wiped off the map.
"Severus, please take a few steps back." Said his goddaughter, pulling him out of his worried observations. He complied, but without taking his eyes off the high ritual circle. When Aster had told him that she had tried to set up a stable space portal in the forest a few days ago, he had chosen not to point out the absurdity of such a thing. No magic he knew of allowed such a thing. The Ministry's apparition blanket, yes, portkeys why not, though only extremely specialised wizards were capable of creating them. But a portal? That was nonsense, a wet dream of master arcanists, the equivalent of the philosopher's stone for space magic.
So he chose to humor them by playing the game. Just to see them fail and thus teach them a lesson about pride and not messing with magic, even after being raised by Karrasinqi. Yet, at this moment he was beginning to believe the absurdity of the existence of stable portal magic possible. He turned his gaze to Aster who was patiently filling in all the lines engraved with a knife with a strange silvery-black ink, regularly mixing in a few drops of her blood. Could such magic really be possible? He would have to see it to believe it. In the event that it turned out to be true, did Aster know the implications of such a thing? It would simplify all travel immensely and could connect any point on the globe in an instant, free from the limitations imposed by portkeys and apparition. But before letting his imagination run wild, he had to see the result of what two teenage girls had spent a day doing.
Aster and Hermione had moved away from the thing, chatting in low voices, bent over their countless notes. They both nodded and walked towards him. "We need to get further away, about fifty yards to be sure. But first, sign this." Aster said, handing him a document. A carefully worded contract that would prevent him from revealing to anyone what he had seen today and would be revealed to him later. Aster gave him a predatory smile, one of her eyes shining with an intensity that made him shudder. He who knew how to remain stoic in front of the dark lord had shuddered in front of a little girl. Where was the logic in that. He took hold of the parchment and let three drops of blood flow into it as requested. He had to comply with his goddaughter's demands if he ever wanted to gain her trust. "There." he grumbled, handing her the scroll. "Perfect," Aster exclaimed with a bright smile. Severus could only lament the influence Karrasiniqi had had on his goddaughter for her to have such liberal use of blood magic. Seriously? Who let children practice blood magic? Other than a centuries old vampire Lady...
"Well are you ready Hermione?" Aster asked.
"More than ever." She nodded.
Her goddaughter then pointed her large, ominous staff at a specific section of their ritual circle, and a jet of light shot out, striking one of the strange symbols, illuminating it. Severus was ready to intervene. To get the two idiots to safety if things went wrong.
His eyes widened, he could not believe his sight. Life itself seemed to be absorbed by the ritual, the trees dying, the grass blackening to dust in a wide radius, as the strange thing carved into the ground grew brighter and brighter, the wind that had been blowing in a gentle breeze a moment before had fallen silent, the air heavy and still, the sun itself seemed to have lost its intensity, as if veiled, a sheet of silence had fallen over the valley, the sounds of nature suddenly gone. Aster and Hermione just seemed excited, practically quivering in place. Didn't she see what was happening? Magic didn't behave like that. He had never seen anything like this.
Suddenly, the air above the ritual seemed to crystallize, to become solid. A rift opened in it, widening more and more. Revealing what seemed to be a forest on the other side. He was stunned, speechless, for the first time in his life, even the Dark Lord's display of power had nothing on this. Before he could react, Aster approached what he could only name as the magical impossibility that it was: a portal. She thrust her hand through, and Severus could do nothing, standing motionless, frozen in place. Aster nodded in satisfaction before touching the part of the thing she'd touched with the light to trigger it with her staff.
With a loud crack, the impossible goddamn portal disappeared, the breeze returned and the sun began to shine normally again. Hermione clapped her hands in excitement before throwing herself at Aster and hugging her. Saying something about how wonderful it was, about her first acoas, mixed with a shower of thanks in which Aster seemed to bathe with pleasure. Severus held his nose and sighed deeply. He would have to send a letter to Sarah. He needed advice badly. The damage caused by Karrasinqi's upbringing was far greater than he was able to handle alone. He would need her expertise.
"Aster Karrasinqi." he growled.
"Yes Severus?" She replied with a smile so innocent it could be described as angelic. He could almost have been fooled if she wasn't literally standing ten feet away from her mischief.
"Space portals are not possible," he said, raising an eyebrow.
Aster frowned, clearly taken aback. "Um... well... are they?"
"I mean... how?" the desperation was almost audible in his voice. Aster would definitely give her an aneurysm by the end of the year.
"Ah, overall, bending space-time, splitting it, and stabilizing the connection by bringing enough magic to it."
Severus couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I see... I doubt it, but do you realise the implications of such magic for our society?"
She scoffed with a detached air. "No society in this world that I know of can sustain such a portal."
"And may I ask why?" he asked, puzzled. It didn't make sense. How could two young girls succeed where an entire society would fail?
"Firstly, this type of portal can only open two or three time a week for a few seconds or it would exhaust and completely break the leylines it relies on. It is possible to make portals that require less magic, but they take months of work to create. Secondly, without black magic, this type of portal would require human sacrifice to function. I am only able to do this because of my patron. Otherwise, it's impossible to draw from the leylines in this way." She said as if nothing were wrong.
He couldn't believe his ears, it was much more serious than he thought. What the hell had happened to Aster during her years of disappearance? "Human sacrifice? Black magic? You mean dark magic don't you?" If not, Severus would be forced to make use of Minerva's fire whiskey cabinet tonight. He'd only heard vague legends about black magic, and each one was more terrifying than the previous. Alluding to the existence of dark, tempting deities and demons lurking on the edge of worlds, promising power in exchange for the souls of the damned.
"Nah, Black magic, you heard me. I am a chosen one of Lagaelis the all-seeing."
Severus understood now why the contract she had made him sign was so restrictive. If Albus knew he would immediately try to dispose of her, deeming her an abomination, a monstrosity. But Severus was not Albus, even if Aster had pledged her soul to a dark god, he would help her. Damn Karrasinqi, what had she done with his goddaughter? "I need a drink."
oOOOo
For a normal first year student, Aster had no doubt that Professor Mcgonagall's security to limit the use of transfiguration outside her classroom was perfectly effective. The contract was based on an esoteric witchcraft magic of concept. Magic that should be classified as dark by the Ministry of Idiots if they were to use the scholastic definition of the term. But Aster suspected that this type of magic must be far too useful for any reigning magical institution worthy of the name, and therefore could not be labelled as such. Otherwise, how could they hope to guarantee a minimum of security in a society where everyone disposed of so much power, such great strength at their fingertips? She had even read recently that on several occasions it had been proposed that each citizen should sign a blood contract obliging them to submit to the law. But the limits and risks of absolute control that a single wizard could have over the population by climbing the ranks of the ministry were far too great. Indeed, on two of the three occasions it had been proposed, the proposal had been supported by a "Dark Lord or Lady.
In short, the contract consisted of magically binding three things, the magic of the contractor, the contract itself, and an object surely held by Professor Mcgonagall which would tell her who would break the contract. It was based on the concept of 'identity' by the name used to sign the contract, and the concept of 'transfiguration', which if combined with the concept of 'identity' intersecting with that of 'transfiguration', would set off the alarm. It would have been safer with the blood than with the name, as a basis for the concept of identity, but the teacher couldn't ask that of her students without getting arrested, Aster supposed.
So, for an ordinary student, getting out of the contract would have been impossible, but for Aster, a fairly simple task. This evening, after class, she had isolated herself at the edge of the big black lake. Hermione had been suspicious, but as promised, Aster had quickly explained and her friend had not made a fuss. Aster had at first thought that Hermione would object if only on principle, but she had either desensitized Hermione enough to the dangers of magic, or Hermione considered her a lost cause. Either way, though a little hurtful in the latter case, it was to her advantage.
The little creek hidden by the edge of the great forbidden forest was perfect, here she was sure she would not be disturbed.
To escape the effect of the contract, she had several solutions. Either destroy the contract and replace it with a fake one, destroy Professor Mcgonagall's warning device, or attack the concepts on which the esoteric ritual magic was based. The first two options were far too risky, and the second particularly stupid. Therefore, she had to attack the concepts. Either the concept of 'transfiguration' or the concept of 'identity'. The first was to be excluded directly, far too complex. The second, on the other hand, was much simpler. Moreover, she already had an advantage, she had signed Aster Potter, a name that only partially applied to her.
She was quite proud of the solution she had found. She had read a book in the library of Madame Louise, a friend of Hermione's. A nice lady to whom Hermione had made a point of introducing her. The book told a story about a man lost in the bayou and facing the evils of a voodoo wizard. It had greatly inspired her to do what she was about to do. She had to transfer the concept of 'identity' linked to the contract to another object, thus freeing herself from it. This was a much more elegant solution than using brute force with an array to destroy the link between her and the contract. So she had carried a small cotton doll with the name 'Aster Potter' engraved on it for three days and slipped one of her hairs into it, taking care to soak it with her magic. And tonight she was ready.
She had carved a fairly simple one-way connection array in the rock, connecting two circles she had drawn with charcoal. She placed the doll on the other side of her connecting array and placed herself in the circle. Then, as simply as possible, she closed her eyes and let her magic touch the array. Then she felt something heavy, strangely viscous, being pulled away from her, sucked into the array. She sighed contentedly, feeling suddenly lighter and with a clearer mind than before.
When she opened her eyelids again, she shuddered with disgust. The doll was covered in a sort of vile brownish jelly, moving slowly, enveloping the doll, soaking the fabric. She raised her battle staff and let her magic take shape around the array of cursed flames. Letting the beautiful purple fire devour the doll and the foul gelatinous thing, leaving nothing, not even ashes. She had to convince Hermione to get rid of the contract as well, she didn't know if Professor Mcgonagall had made it, but whoever had done it hadn't done a very good job.
Now free, her hand itched. She took out her wand and whispered. "Peruersum lapis" at her will, the surface of the stone clouded, like water or smoke, changing shape, soft clay to her will. Wizardry was pleasant at times. A strange bitter-sweet feeling of freedom, but a restricted freedom, terribly so. The stone had now taken on the form of a bench, adorned with floral patterns. She sat comfortably on it, her gaze drifting over the calm waters of the lake under the burning rays of the sunset, her fingers sliding along the smooth surface of her wand. Her own crystallized blood at the heart of the soft obsidian vibrating gently under her fingers.
oOOOo
Everything around her was grey, a soft warmth enveloping her. Her fingers ran through long red hair which she braided gently. She could hear Aster humming in front of her. She felt strangely light, her mind free. When suddenly she felt a weight pressing down on her chest, something shaking her. "Get up! Get up!"
She groaned, still asleep, it was the weekend, and the bed was so warm and comfortable. "Five minutes..." She asked. But the weight on her chest just bounced up and down, shaking her even more. "Come on Hermione! It's a special day today!" The voice said insistently.
"Aster, stop it! It's Saturday!" She groaned.
The weight on her chest stopped moving, and she breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Aster had decided to leave her alone. Then the blanket that covered her was torn away and she felt fingers against her sides tickling her mercilessly. She began to laugh uncontrollably, fully awake, trying to extricate herself from the terrible onslaught she was under. "Aster! Stop it! Please!" She groaned, weak with laughter, unable to defend herself.
"Say you're awake and I'll stop!" She heard Aster's mischievous voice whispering in her ear.
"You win! You've won! Leave me alone!" she said, trying to catch her breath. Aster looked at her with a big, unrepentant smile.
"I'm waiting for you in the common room. Hurry up!" Aster said to her by way of explanation.
Hermione grumbled and got out of bed, mourning her lost slumber, before heading to the bathroom, hoping that a shower would wake her up, silently walking around the beds of the other Hufflepuffs still asleep. Through the windows she could see that the sun hadn't even risen yet. Aster must have found a way to cast a silence spell around the bed so as not to wake the whole dormitory.
A few minutes later, after a good shower, fully dressed, she joined the common room, still empty at that hour, except for Aster who was waiting for her, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. As soon as her friend saw her, she grabbed her hand, pulled out an array that she recognized as invisibility before pulling her towards the exit of the common room. "What the..." she began but was interrupted by Aster putting a finger to her lip. She felt like scolding Aster for her abrupt awakening, but she held back, too curious about what her friend was up to to stop her.
Aster activated the array, its soft, steely magic wrapping her like a thin, silky sheet, hiding her from the world, before she was forced to trot after Aster through the deserted corridors, narrowly avoiding a collision with Mr. Filch and buying Miss Norris's silence with a liberal amount of petting, before finding herself outside the castle.
As they continued to trot along the scrubby path to their gate, regularly stumbling over roots and stones on the path obscured by the dim light of dawn, Hermione, out of breath, asked. "Aster! What's going on?"
"Today is a special day!" her friend replied.
Hermione frowned, dazed. "What do you mean?"
"It's your birthday silly!" Aster said happily.
"I had completely forgotten..." With all that was going on, her fourteenth birthday was completely out of her mind.
"Remembering things like that is part of what friends are for." She said, giving her a smile that ignited a fiery flame in Hermione's heart, and made her cheeks flush. In response she stammered something weakly, trying to control the heat she felt blooming on her cheekbones.
Before Hermione could calm the fluttering of her traitorous heart, which had been behaving so absurdly and incomprehensibly lately in Aster's presence, they arrived at the portal. Their work, her first array, an acoas moreover, one of her pride. Despite his great stoicism, even Professor Severus had looked impressed. Clearly, Aster had something planned outside of Hogwarts for her birthday. She was brimming with excitement and anticipation, but also a little fearful of what her friend might have planned.
Aster threw a small bolt of pure magic at the activation section of the acoas, reality cracking open, revealing the forest surrounding her real home on the other side. "Quick, go through! This portal can't be held for more than a few seconds." At these words, she sprang into action, and jumped to the other side, immediately followed by Aster. The portal closed right behind them.
"Can't we make it open for more than three seconds at a time?" Hermione asked. She didn't like having to rush through it like that.
"Not without risking destroying the ley lines that power it no. Now follow me!"
"Aren't we going home?" Hermione said, surprised.
"No, we've made you a birthday breakfast."
"We?" she questioned, surprised. Aster hadn't... had she?
"You'll see," Aster replied.
The morning had passed in a flash. To think that Hermione had been surprised when Aster had taken her to Professor Helen's house. All her childhood friends had been there, Louise and Mark, but also Nailla, and Lady Nepeta, both 'disguised' as humans. Even Mr Crookshanks was here, she dearly missed the huge red furball, their familiar bond springing to life between them, warmer than ever. Aster had admitted that more people from Ulthar had wanted to be there, but that she had preferred to keep the party small, for her comfort, and Hermione was grateful for that. She had never been the centre of attention for many people, so she preferred it that way. The cake had been delicious, and seeing everyone again had been a pleasure. Aster had slipped away for a moment to talk with Nepeta, probably a serious discussion about the Order of the Asphodel, and Nailla had apparently befriended Marc, sharing their passion for botany.
She had received some fiction books from Hélène and Louise, with a reminder from both women that doing nothing but studying all day would do her no good in the long run. And that if she was only going to be reading anyway, she should also read a little to relax. Hermione had blushed, admitting that the advice of her two oldest friends was a good one. Marc, rather unsurprisingly, had given her a book on permaculture. Nailla, on the other hand, had given her a plant that looked like rosemary, but which Nailla had whispered in her ear was called Ullundin and which made all healing potions much more effective. Whether it was to close wounds, repair broken bones, or even soothe pain. Hermione had then blushed and mumbled, to the amusment of Nailla, it was an insightful gift as Aster's dangerous stunt were not few and far between. Nepeta had given her a magnificent silver pendant vaguely reminiscent of a stylised bird spreading its wings. She had then slipped a folded piece of paper into her pocket and winked at her, before muttering something about the two best and worst servants she had in her manor. It was amazing to see Nepeta chatting with such spirit with Helen and Louise. She would have thought that a matagot would have a harder time than that with non-magical humans, but apparently she was wrong. Or maybe it was a Nepeta particularity.
So it was with a huge smile on her face and a bag full that she and Aster headed back to their real home at the end of the morning. They couldn't return to the castle too late or they would be suspicious, especially with the hordes of Aster's fanatic Hufflepuffs who would be sure to come looking for them if they were too late. Organising this had been the best gift Aster could give her.
As she was about to head towards the portal that would take them back to Hogwarts, Aster took her hand and led her towards their real home. Hermione was surprised to see the state of the vegetable garden, which seemed to be well kept, even more so when they entered and there was not a speck of dust on the furniture in the entrance. She turned her gaze to Aster, but her question died in her throat when she saw that she seemed as bewildered as she was. "Do we have a squatter in the house?" she worried.
Aster looked around, one eyebrow raised, her magical eye shining with a gleam that never failed to make her shudder. Suddenly, Aster laughed. "No, a brownie has moved in. A familiar household spirit. Let him take his due in the garden and when we're there let him have a bowl of milk, and or a coin under the doormat, and he'll look after the house. They say they bring good luck, but I think that part is more of a legend."
Hermione was curious, meeting a brownie seemed like something that... her thoughts were interrupted by the hard look Aster gave her. "Brownies are very secretive. Don't try to see one, or you'll suffer its wrath. And trust me, you don't want to piss off a brownie." Hermione couldn't help but giggle, sometimes she felt as if Aster could read her mind. Strangely, this consideration warmed her heart and made her cheeks flush. Fortunately, Aster had already stopped looking at her and walked into the living room. She didn't know what was happening to her lately. Aster was taking up more and more space in her mind. She had irrational reactions when she was subjected to the overly touchy affection of the other Hufflepuffs, her heart tended to race for no reason, she blushed more and more often... She had to pull herself together. She slapped her cheeks to regain her composure, and followed Aster into the living room.
"Aster, why don't we go back to Hogwarts right away? Do you have something to take?"
"Um, I'll be right back. Can you fill up a cup with milk and put it on the edge of the fireplace and look for three sylbes and put them under the doormat?" Hermione complied, rolling her eyes. When she came out of the kitchen with the bowl of milk in her hand and the sylbes in her pocket, Aster was already gone. She put down the bowl of milk, and headed for the exit. She wanted to see the brownie, her curiosity itching, but Aster's warning was clear. She sighed in annoyance and dropped the coins under the doormat.
Aster was waiting for her outside, sitting cross-legged in front of the small pond, a long grass stalk in her mouth and a long object wrapped in kraft paper in her lap. The latter heard her arrive and stood up, turning towards her with her characteristic toothy grin on her lips. Before Hermione could ask the obvious question, Aster handed her the long object. "Happy birthday Hermione, as they say, the best for last." She said with an adorable cheekiness that once again did something ineffable to her chest.
"Are you gifting me with something?" she asked in surprise.
"Of course. Why?"
"I thought the party itself and the fact that you brought everyone together was my present."
"You're worth more than that, Hermione." Aster said with a confidence that made her blush even more. "Come on, open it so I can explain before the kraft paper rots away with time, or our comrades organize a world-wide search for us."
"Yes, yes of course." Hermione chuckled, rolling her eyes.
A few seconds later, what she pulled out of the brown paper made her eyes widen, leaving her speechless. She now had in her hands a long staff of beautiful grey wood that felt soft against her skin. It felt perfect in her hand. The end of the staff widened slightly. Its smooth surface was covered with several slightly shining arrays, eager to serve. Her eyes were still fixed on the wonder in her hands when she heard Aster's voice. "It is a tradition among mages that when the master deems the apprentice worthy, he crafts him a battle staff by his own hands. On the staff are engraved several arrays chosen by the master, but it is purposely left several blank spaces, so that the apprentice can later engrave his own arrays, and so that the staff becomes a symbol, a link, which unites the master to the disciple. Kav-deb the green, Master of the Antres, gave me mine a long time ago. It is made from the rib of a great beast of Yith. Yours is made from a branch of a blue oak of the oneiric valleys."
Hermione swallowed, she was speechless, tears welling up in her eyes, but she was too moved to be able to cry. Aster held out her hand towards her. "May I?"
She nodded and handed her the grey wooden wonder. "I've integrated several arrays into it. This one is my own invention. She said as she shot a golden bolt of lightning from the end of the staff that traveled a hundred feet before dissipating into the air, as her hair stood on end from the wave of electricity that had momentarily saturated the air. "It stuns whoever is hit, it takes a special potion to reanimate the person, so there's no chance of seeing your opponent back on his feet before the end of the fight, no matter who he is. This is the only non-lethal one I have engraved on it. This one, you've already seen it in action on the acromentulas." she turned the staff towards a rock and a streak of purple light shot out from the staff and hit the rock, leaving a smoking hole. "Be careful with this one, it's still lethal. It will also break through most of the Standard shields I read about in the library. Including physical shields. Don't use it if you're not sure you want to kill. There is also a shield array, less effective than the void shield or an aegis, but less magic intensive. A cursed fire array, mind you, the same one you've seen me use before, and a simple light array. If you want to add your owns, consult me, you're not ready to do your arrays alone yet." Aster handed her the staff again and when Hermione reached out to retrieve it, Aster withdrew it. "Promise me first." She said with such seriousness that it made her shudder.
"I swear, I will take care of it, use it with respect and ask your help for etching my owns arrays on it." she swore. Aster then gave her a bright smile and handed her the staff. For real this time. Hermione took it with reverence, before placing it gently against a wall in the house. Clearly not expecting this, Aster raised an eyebrow. Hermione then grabbed her best friend, her teacher, and hugged her tightly. This was the best birthday of her life by far.
oOOOo
Once again, Aster had not bothered to take out a sheet of paper. What was the point, after all? As if Quirrell was capable of teaching her anything about vampires in his unbearable stammering. Besides, after the first class, Aster had been forced to create a purifying array to protect her from the unbearable garlic stench that her sensitive sense of smell could not stand.
Since the beginning of the session, she had passed the time by carefully observing the corrupted soul of their teacher. The many shades of decay that contaminated the man's soul, dulling its colour, taking on a sickly aspect. It was fascinating to watch the dark and broken things slowly, imperceptibly, quietly absorb the life out of Quirrell. It was like watching a death in slow motion, a dull torture lasting for weeks by now.
To his right, Hermione was silently raging, muttering profanities about their teacher. At first, Hermione had tried. Really tried to follow the course, to respect the teacher. But Aster had seen her resolve gradually weaken, before finally breaking, when Quirrell had begun to explain that vampires were bloodthirsty monsters, nothing more than filthy savage beasts devoid of intelligence. Aster couldn't help but smile when she saw Hermione clutching her quill so tightly in her hand that it broke.
Finally, Quirrell was saying his last words, asking for a foot-long scroll on the best ways to kill vampires. Everyone stood up immediately, eager to leave the reek of the classroom as soon as possible. Aster sat quietly, receiving worried looks from the other Hufflepuffs. She gave them a reassuring nod, and they left the classroom worriedly. Hermione lingered for a few more seconds, but already knowing that she wanted to confront Quirrell alone, she too left the room quietly.
Quirrell was silently arranging his papers and organising his desk when Aster stood up, startling the professor. "Miss Po Potter." He said, his hand over his heart in obvious surprise. "What ca ca ca do for yo y you?"
Aster didn't bother to answer him, just checking one last time that she had all her arrays at hand, a blade hidden behind her back, and her staff at the ready in her bag. Her gaze was fixed on Quirrell's skull, watching the fluid and diffuse junction between the black thing clinging to the man's soul. It seemed to vibrate at the mention of the name Potter... strange. She quickly cast a silence and lock spell on the door. Nothing too complicated, just something that would keep her from being interrupted. Then she turned her full attention to the professor.
"Miss Po Po Potter?" He said visibly uncomfortable.
"Shut up, it's not you I want to talk to." she snapped. Annoyed by the possessed man's attitude, her eyes glued to the top of his forehead.
"What a a are you ta ta talking about, you little b b br brat! Respect y y your..." began Quirrell, but suddenly he stiffened, as if gasping for air, struggling against invisible bonds. A moment later he relaxed and took a deep breath. His eyes fixed on her, their brown replaced by two shafts of hellish blazing scarlet. He gauged her for a moment, his gaze boring into hers, but seemingly unable to find what he was looking for there.
"Greetings, wraith." Aster said, a huge toothy grin splitting her face, revealing her sharp fangs, she was sure that in that moment her Lagaelis eye seemed to have flared up with an unholy green glow.
The wraith's gaze roamed over her for a moment longer, before she spoke. "Greetings, Thing, to what do I owe this... encounter?"
Aster raised an eyebrow, the wraith knew more than she had thought. "Some questions, and a proposal." She said confidently, ready to draw her blade and take out her staff if things went wrong.
"Questions... , you say? I'm rather curious myself. What do you say to a deal? A question for an answer, and an answer for a question." When he said this, his eyes seemed to literally burst into flames. The glow he had contained a second earlier had turned into a fiery inferno.
Aster tapped her chin for a moment just for the show. "Hmm, that seems fair enough. Who are you?" she asked with interest. The more she knew about their competition, the better.
"Oh, not wasting any time I see." Said the wraith, crossing its arms and leaning against the desk. The tension in the room was palpable. Their gaze locked into each other. "I am known as Lord Voldemort," he explained as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Aster simply raised an eyebrow, that answered many of her questions. The fragment of soul she had devoured, her first meal so long ago, was none other than a piece of the wraith's soul standing before her. This explained the strange familiarity she had felt for the thing slowly devouring the mind of the unfortunate Quirrell. Her horcrux theory seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Would it have been more normal to scream and start casting spells on the Dark Lord in front of her? Perhaps, but Aster was well aware that she had long since passed the point where having a friendly chat with a Dark Lord was something that impressed her. Strangely, Lord Voldemort seemed almost appreciative of her lack of reaction to the revelation of his name. "Where is Aster Potter?" He asked, rather than commenting further.
"Dead." She said without hesitation with a wry smile. After all, it was completely true, in every sense of the word. She was nothing like the helpless, weak, abused little girl she once was. She had died in that snowy forest, under the fire of her uncle's gun. Voldemort looked surprised for a second, almost dismayed, before his face became impassive again.
"You're here for the Philosopher's Stone. she said. "How do you intend to get it back?"
"May I ask what that has to do with something such as you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You see, you're not the only one who wants the stone for your own benefit."
His eyes crinkled with suspicion. "And tell me what would stop me from ending your pitiful existence right now? Impostor."
"The same reason I wanted to make contact with you instead of sending you back to the darkness from whence you crawled."
"And how is that supposed to dissuade me from judging that your head would be much better separated from your neck?"
"Dumbledore is suspicious, he keeps the stone here for a reason. You know that it's a trap. He's watching, observing. By killing each other, by compromising each other's plans through lack of cooperation, we are making Dumbledore's day, exposing ourselves. He will pull out the stone and strike while we are busy sabotaging each other."
Voldemort, who looked like he was about to curse her and screw it up by starting a fight, seemed to become thoughtful for a moment. "You want a temporary truce." He said, his eyes fixed on hers.
"Yes," she said simply. The situation with Dumbledore was already too complex to risk everything by entering a chaotic competition for the stone under Dumbledore's nose.
"And when do we end this... partnership?" He said icily.
"As soon as the stone is out of the wards, it's every one for themselves. I will not hesitate to tear the stone from your corpse." She said without batting an eyelid.
"The feeling is mutual... These terms seem... acceptable to me." He said after a long moment of silence.
"Well, in that case, I have a plan to propose. If the stone is where Dumbledore wants us to believe it is, we'll get it at Samhain." She declared without a hint of doubt. In this situation, the saying 'keep your friends close, but your enemies closer' made perfect sense.