AN: This is my first story, and so there will be many mistakes made. I just want everyone to know that somewhere out there is someone who wants to write stories for fun. Pairings will come later but do be warned that the majority will be a slow-burn type of romance.

Prologue:

Astarte Ancestral Home Castle Agatha 1980 first wizarding war

Janneth Vithir Astarte, head of the family Astarte, a title she received from her dead husband, Renolt Astarte after the founder's wand deemed her worthy of holding headship of the family stood up from the head's chair. All she could think about these days was the war raging outside Castle Agatha's safe walls. The castle's high walls are blue and covered in intricate patterns of yellow vines that reverberate as each hit of a powerful curse makes its mark on the jewel crafted by the founder herself. It has been an hour since the ancient wards were broken, but the castle's walls refuse to yield.

"These imbeciles," she said. She's alone in the Castle now. Any moment, the death eaters will be able to open the door right in front of her. If she will die today, let it be wielding the power of the Most Noble House of Astarte. There's already a replacement for her; it matters not if she dies today.

The Astartes are a proud family, but they will always follow the head. When she gave the order to evacuate all family members and run for their lives, they all followed without hesitation, running towards the gateways of all their homes and closing them shut.

Their conversation about the new addition to the family was cut short as they all felt the wards being destroyed. Another curse marks the castle walls the reverberation almost felt like a beast growling in hurt... And then another… and then, what felt like hours, the curses stopped coming.

Castle Agatha, the proud creation of Amar Astarte, who wielded ancient magic, stood. The Castle was never designed to handle a siege, but to house countless works of art inside and outside its walls, one could compare the castle to an art gallery. But with the followers of Lord Voldemort, the death eaters that were running amock like rabid dogs destroying ancient manors of other pureblood families. Janneth Astarte was forced to give the order to turn what was once a beautiful jewel of Britain's magic capabilities into a heartless fortress.

The fortress, a bastion of ancient magic like Hogwarts, began to repair itself. The walls moved as if it was alive and gleamed with a brighter hue of blue, and in the middle of the sanctum where the seat of the head of the house lay, the house insignia began to glow once more, and the intricate details of blue flames surrounding a wand of black. The dark and bleak form of the castle began to change to its true form, and soon, the grand doors opened as if stating, "No more danger." Jannet thought that this Castle had more personality than other older pureblood families, especially those idiots who follow Lord Voldemort.

"I. Janneth Vithir Astarte, command you o jewel of ancient magic to return to glory!" Raising the founder's wand as it glowed bright, the castle followed the command. She thinks to herself about why these commands work, but when she commands it to cast spells, it never follows. Was she unworthy to use the other sides of the wand? She thought to herself.

St. Mugos

"My lord," the healer said nervously, "Lady Antonnet has perished." She stopped hoping that this conversation wouldn't be her last as Lord Astarte looked at her with rage. "The Lady suffered shock, and we did our best, but it was like our efforts had no effect in stabilizing her. Like something was stopping them from taking effect"

She felt the tears flow; she felt the fear taking hold "My lord, we did all we could we humbly beg for your forgiveness!" She knelt words flowed through like a mandrake out of its soil with only a sound of coherence being the difference.
Lord Vilhelm looked livid. He did not care for the apology of the healers, this one in particular. He pushed them all to the side, and none attempted to stop him. As he reached for the door, he heard the cry of a child. He stopped for a moment, his anger dissipating and replaced by a bottomless pit of hopelessness, and opened the door.

There, he saw his child, a healthy baby girl in the arms of a healer, crying loudly. He did not know what to do, confused and in grief, the future Head of Family Astarte walked towards the bundle of blankets. Gently taking her from the healer, he saw her eyes, and as he expected, the iconic red iris of his family was there. She fell silent in his arms; the very few hairs of deep black the child had would indicate to him that she inherited her mother's hair, unlike his blacking grey. "Dimetres Antonnet Astarte, that's your name, little one." Embracing her like she was the last thing important to him in this world…..

Astarte Ancestral Home Castle Agatha

After hours of staying in St. Mugos without a word from his family, Vilhelm Astarte decided to return to Castle Agatha along with his daughter. Outside the Castle grounds, he saw signs of a siege and felt the lack of presence the ancient wards radiated. He knew if his mother, the current head of the family, had perished, he would feel the call of the wand. Surveying the castle walls, he could see the radiant hue of the blue stone, indicating it was safe. "Dimetres, we'll meet your grandmother here, our mark on the world, Castle Agatha." The child cooed, spreading her arms as if to touch Vilhelm's face. He concluded that this place could not house his daughter, but a quick visit would not hurt.

"Ah, my dear Vilhelm, it is good you have returned home." Janneth said, "It is good to see the new addition to the family so healthy, I take it that your dear wife is prepared to leave the family when she has recovered?"

With a voice filled with grief, Vilhelm spoke, "My wife is dead, I came to inform you that I will hide Dimetres until this war is over"

"A pity, nevertheless we must report the insult to our family to the ministry" The head of house spoke.

"My wife recently died, and my daughter is in danger, and all you can think about is the insult to our family?!" Vilhelm's voice thundered across the halls of the now-reviving castle.

"I care not for your wife; she has done her duty of giving our family an offspring her death just meant that we wouldn't have to worry about any opposition in removing her name from our history. We must focus on the important parts of life and not let ourselves be hampered by tears, especially tears shed for worthless whores" Janneth spoke with a calm voice filled with rage. This child lost all his manners just with a single death?-

"She was an Astarte! She died giving birth to your granddaughter and you cannot even shed an ounce of sympathy!?"

"She was a woman you were forced to marry because you couldn't control yourself!" "If I had my way, I would have made you marry a Black, but instead, you sullied the only daughter of a dying pureblood household!"

"You forget mother, that you were once also a member of a now-dead household!" Vilhelm retorted

"You Ungrate-" Janneth's words were cut short when the blanket in Vilhelm's arms wailed

"Shhhh, Dimetres, your father is here…shhh," Said Vilhelm with tears threatening to flow out, all the anger he felt towards his mother dissipated. The child was the only thing important to him in this world, and he would make sure that she'd grow up to be a very fine witch, even without the aid of his mother.

The Head of the House was too flabbergasted to speak, never had she seen that level of affection in her entire life, and words couldn't leave her mouth when Vilhelm walked towards the open door.

"I will take care of her, the rest of our family know more of sympathy and empathy than you mother," Vilhelm spoke, "I do not wish for my child to be influenced by your twisted ideals of what it means to carry the name Astarte."

"The wand may have chosen you, but it will never follow you. Soon, you will lose all of your purpose to our noble house, and then all of your deeds will be judged."

He could not hear the screams of his mother as he walked out the door and apparated to the only place he knew of peace. A place far away from the eyes of the watchful eye of his mother, a place where he knew only those who truly have the blood of Astarte would be aware of. A manor by the sea was used in the past to mark the origin of their founder.

"It seems Dimetres, you'll have to be hidden from the world until all is well." "No one but your Uncles, Aunts, and cousins will find us here."