The first thing Aster noticed was a constant buzzing sound that seemed to surround her, with an accompanying vibration on her chest. The second thing that registered was the overwhelming universal smell of antiseptic, along with the ashy smell which she had learned to associate with Clacker.

The third thing was pain. Sheer, burning pain.

Her hands and arms felt like she had soaked them into boiling water, and she jerked in a useless gesture to escape it. Her head, face and neck felt aflame, with acid dripping steadily into it. The only relief she felt was when a hard, cold something pressed against it gently, nuzzling it. The vibration on her chest soothed her nerves.

She could hardly remember how she got where she was, in the state that she seemed to be in. At first it felt like she was waking up at a whole other time, expecting a sharp rap on a cupboard door. But no, she was a Witch. She was at Hogwarts. So the ashy smell was most likely in fact Clacker, and the soothing chill his beak. The vibration likely Binky in one of his favoured spots to sleep.

But that didn't explain why she would smell antiseptic. The only place would be -

The hospital wing's ceiling greeted her as she snapped her eyes open, immediately alert. The vaunted, whitewashed stone towered around her, but she didnt seem to in the main ward, but a small off shoot room which was usually reserved for teachers or those grievously ill or injured.

Another moment and a flick of the eyes, she registered the three other occupants of the room all staring outside the window. Dumbledore sat in a chair, gazing out as he hummed quietly, a hand running through the tail of his beard. Her Grandfather stood with his back to the room, his legs braced shoulder a part, his hands clasped behind his back. He would look like his usual self if it weren't for the tension of his muscles, the straightness of his spine, and the tapping of his fingers.

Strangely, Snape was the third person. She didn't know who would else be there; a friend maybe? But Snape was certainly not it. He lurked in the shadowed corner, glowering our the window behind heavy brows, his arms tightly crossed. As if he was back in Potions class and waiting for some cataclysmic disaster.

None of them spoke; it seemed the incessant buzzing was a mixture of Binky's deep purr and Dumbledore's absentmindedly humming.

"...what...happened?" Was that her voice? Blimey, it sounded like she had been smoking fifty a day for fifty years.

At her quiet question all three men turned to her, although in different stages. Dumbledore turned to her casually with a genial and relieved smile, Grandfather almost whipped around on his feet, his relief completely bare for all to see. And Snape turned his head in her direction, closed his eyes just a fraction too long to be a blink, with a twitch of his lips. His shoulders sagged a little and he truly faced the window. Guess he was done then.

"What do you remember?" Dumbledore asked as Grandfather demanded on how she was feeling, before glaring at the Headmaster.

"I'm...sore. Yeah. Sore. How're Binky and Clacker here?"

Snape raised a brow at her, "You wake up in one of the few private hospital rooms and you want to know that?"

Aster blinked at him before frowning. "To be fair, my first question was what happened."

"Well that just overrules it doesn't it." He rolled his eyes before turning away again, dismissing her again.

"They're your familiars, merch i mi. They help heal you." Grandfather told her after scowling at the dour professor.

"...They broke in here. Didn't they?"

"Yes, they did in fact." Dumbledore chortled. "Madam Pomfrey had quite a fright - and fight - with the two of them. I believe it was after the third time of your wonderful crow flapping in her face that she gave up."

Grandfather smirked at the animals in question, running a finger down Clacker's feathers. "Well...they're not exactly the garden variety creatures are they?"

"But I found Clacker in a garden."

"Familiars are always a little more than the average animal. So your lovely Clacker is in fact more." Dumbledore calmly explained as Snape rolled his eyes again. "I understand that he delivered a letter to Professor McGonnagall, is that right?"

"Yeah. I mean, yes, sir."

"There you are then!" Dumbledore beamed at her as if that finalised everything.

"As stimulating this conversation is, we have other matters to discuss, Dumbledore." Snape drawled, making Ifan snort as he took a seat beside Aster.

"Yes, quite right, my boy." Dumbledore agreed before turning to the young girl. "Tell us, Aster - what do you remember?" He asked in a sombre tone.

She looked around at the three men around her with a frown. Snape still looked like he couldn't care less to be there, Dumbledore concerned yet somehow out of reach, and her Grandfather was grim.

His shoulders were still tense, his curly hair in disarray from running his hands through it, bags sagged under his eyes, which were bloodshot. How long was she asleep for?

Seeing her Grandfather like this was uncomfortable; she was still unused to the idea of someone caring for her. Even after nearly a year of being free from the Dursleys, she was waiting for the proverbial nail in the coffin, or being ripped awake and this being a hyper realistic dream.

Either way, she thought hard on what she could recall. She remembered the note from Quirrell, the weeks of being in a fog of sadness and being in the common room. But after? It was like someone had told her what happened when she was barely paying attention because she was half asleep. Snatches of memories and conversations came to her, but when she tried to follow the thread, it was cut off.

Except...

"The Dark Lord was there? Wasn't he?" She asked, looking around at the three of them, staring imploringly at Grandfather to deny this.

"Yes, Aster. I'm afraid so." He told her gently, finally taking her hand in his,

running his thumb over her knuckles in a repetitive pattern.

"Do you remember what Voldemort wanted, my girl?" Dumbledore asked, making Aster look at Snape strangely when he jerked and tightened his hand on his arm.

"Er...I- um...sort of? I think." She stammered, glaring at her Potions professor as he snorted in derision at her.

"He - he wanted something from me. Or for me to get something." She gnawed on her lip, scowling down at the starched white linen she was cocooned in. "We, er, we were in this room which was really dark. And looked like it hadn't been used in for ages." Her head throbbed as she concentrated, running her hand through Binky's fur, and relished in the softness of Clacker's feathers as he nested in her tangled hair.

" I can't - it hurts to think. But...I remember...pain." She murmured as she gazed into the middle distance, not noticing the grimaces on her visitors' faces. "The worst pain I've ever felt." Flashes of two voices screaming in tandem cut through her, a flicker of a scene of a mutated face in front of her charring as her own hands blistered. Well that would explain why they feel like they've had the skin regrown.

"What did he want? Why did he choose me?" She whispered to Ifan, who clutched her tender hand slightly harder, before he let go to stroke her hair.

"Something Dumbledore was looking after for a friend." He told her softly before staring hard at the Wizard in question. "Something which shouldn't have been here." He finished coldly.

"We've discussed this, Ifan. And I hardly think young Aster here needs to be burdened with such knowledge."

"Yes, you're quite adept at discerning what information needs to be delegated when, where and to whom." Ifan countered with narrowed eyes before looking back at Aster and softening. "But - be does have a point. For now at least. Not when you're recovering still. It's good to finally see your eyes open and being coherent."

"How long?"

"Three days. The first was we had to keep you asleep to heal, but you've had moments when you'd awaken in pain before sleeping again."

"Speaking of which - I'll inform Pomphrey that you're back with us." Snape announced before stalking out the door.

"Ah, Severus. He's such an emotional man." Dumbledore mused, making Ifan raise an incredulous eyebrow and Aster look at him in concern.

"Er...sure. I know what you were saying, I get it. Vold...Volde... him...is, you know. But I want to know. Please."

"Perhaps, Albus, it's best to part with some knowledge now, to ensure that she is not overloaded later." Ifan offered, crossing his legs as he leaned back in his chair.

"I think, as usual, you are correct. What do you know of Voldemort, Aster?"

"Not much," she shrugged before wincing as the movement aggravated her scar. "Just what I've been told by Blaise and Theo for the most part. It seems to be a touchy subject."

Dumbledore nodded, "Yes, he is a rather taboo subject I'm afraid, especially in Slytherin House."

"Why?"

"Many of his followers come from there." Ifan interjected, "And thus, it has gained the reputation of being Dark, and evil by certain people."

"Like Longbottom and Weasley you mean? They're always banging on about how bad we are. Drives Malfoy insane - he's always saying how he's going to tell his father about it."

Ifan snorted, "Sounds like a Malfoy all over. But yes, the Longbottoms and Weasleys are two of the most renowned families who opposed the Upstart."

"Voldemort," Dumbledore continued, "is a very powerful and skillful Wizard. Unfortunately he turned towards the Black and Dark Arts very early on. He was always a...manipulative child, but his foray into these spells and rituals built upon his own evils. He became obsessed, determined to wipe out any he deemed unworthy and quickly built a following. A reign of terror occurred before his sudden disappearance I'm 1981."

"You mean when he died? When Longbottom defeated him?" Aster asked in confusion.

"He never died, my girl." Dumbledore stated, ignoring her second question. "As you saw yourself, he is alive, if not well."

"But he poofed into smoke. I think."

"It is our belief that he is between living and dead." Ifan told her, watching her carefully as she digested the information. "We're not entirely sure how, there are a few ways, and none particularly easy to prove."

"Blimey. And he was here?" Aster

shuddered, her mind flashing to the monster on the back of her stuttering professor's head.

"Appears so. Quirinus seems to have come across him in his travels, and became possessed."

"Why'd he...melt...when I touched him?"

"That's Old Magic, merch i mi. Something I'm sure your mother performed before she died."

We can ask her about it later, he continued inside her head, making her start.

"Er. Right. That's not at all...weird."

"Your mother was always very talented at whatever she put her mind to. I believe any protection spell she performed was stemmed from incorporating love. Voldemort was never adept at loving anything."

Ifan rolled his eyes, "Not this again, Albus. Love isn't a tangible thing. Magic maybe able to do many things, but actually factoring in something like that doesn't work."

"We've agreed to disagree on this, my friend." Albus retorted calmly, gazing at him over the top of his half moon spectacles.

"Did I kill him?" Aster asked quietly into the silence, looking down at her fingers entwined into Binky's soft fur. "Professor Quirrell, I mean."

"He was already dead, my girl." Dumbledore said gently at the same time Ifan responded with a blunt "Yes."

Aster looked at her Grandfather horrorfied, tears welling up in her eyes. "You didn't know, cariad. But Albus is somewhat correct - he was already dying. Being possessed like that, for as long as he was; it was killing him slowly. It's why he was also so affected by your touch. He was barely him anymore. And, it seems that he had been ingesting unicorn blood as well. That's enough to kill someone if they don't continue to do so." He told her, looking at her with soft eyes. "Perhaps you did him a kindness."

"It didn't feel like it. He was screaming." She told him, before continuing in an afterthought, "All of us were."

Nothing was said in response to that, and when Madam Pomphrey came into the room it was to see that the two men were sitting in silence, both staring at the young girl who seemed to have drifted off into sleep once more. She looked alive at last, although a grimace graced her mouth and her fist clenched into her familiar's fur. Pursing her lips, Poppy came towards her bed and tilted her head gently to the side, before dripping Pain Relief Potion on to her angry scar. Her hands had healed almost completely, enough that the skin looked nearly unblemished, though the pain in them would likely remain for a while yet.

"Tell me immediately when she wakes up, next time." She told the men before striding towards the door and throwing over her shoulder, "maybe next time I can stop you from exhausting her."

"Do you think he'll try again?" Ifan asked his old friend, still looking at his young granddaughter.

"Yes. Maybe not tomorrow. But, in the end...I think it's inevitable that we will deal with Tom again." Albus murmured, his eyes glistening as he stared at the small girl. "And Aster will, undoubtedly, be in the eye of the storm."

Grim silence followed Albus' prediction, the only sounds being the quiet purr of the cat on his Mistress' chest, and the quite breathing of the sleeping child.