Ifan Dylwythen had been alone for ten years. His family were wiped out with the scourge of the snivelling upstart Voldemort. His long lived cousins joined the ranks to suppress and oppose his tyranny, despite his scoffs that it wasn't their fight. The Wizarding World had long ago turned their back on them, so why shouldn't they repay the favour?
But, in the dark and empty rooms of his old Manor, Ifan couldn't help but wonder if he had lent his blades with his kin, then maybe he would have even just one other member of his line with him. Or he'd lay in the dust with them.
Of course, he had the occasional visitor, but they were exactly as said. He had those who he even considered close friends, but there was always that divide of him being considered other to them. He didn't wave about a stick that could easily be snapped, he channeled his magics through sheer force of will.
There was only one or two people he corresponded with who he thought may have been able to understand and empathise. Nicolas Flamel, being as old as Ifan himself, had the memory of when Fae weren't so anathema to Wizards, and due to his extended use of the Philosopher's Stone, he too was perhaps a little more than pure Wizard. Remus Lupin, a young man who was friends with his kin before they were murdered, could also perhaps understand due to his lycanthropy. Yet, his utter disgust at his condition and revulsion at himself prevented a true meeting of minds, caught up as he was with the prejudice from his peers and their like.
So, he was alone. His last living descendents blown up by the madman who put too much credence on a flimsy prophecy than held too many loopholes. His heart had been heavy with grief, and no matter how many times fellows like Albus Dumbledore would impose on his hospitality, he would always disagree that his family line would end with him.
Or so he had thought.
It was a balmy Tuesday evening when Ifan was walking among the trees in the forest bordering his land, that a falcon swooped down to him and dropping a scroll into his waiting hand.
Frowning at the wax seal of Gringrotts, the Wizarding Bank ironically on better terms with an Outsider than any of their customers, was a strange sight. He had had dealings with the Goblins before, especially after Samhain a decade ago, to settle assets and inheritances that needed to be returned. But that business had been finalised years ago.
Unraveling the document he was surprised to see a Heritage Test of a Child who had died ten years ago, stating information he had already known and suspected. Moving to the second, he noticed it was in fact a letter from a Goblin Warlock Agnark. In it he detailed how this young girl who was long thought deceased, was in fact in good health barring signs of malnourishment. The only sign of his surprise was a sharp intake of breath before he made his way back into his home. He knew his wards and boundaries were some of the most secure in the British Isles, yet one could never be too careful.
Once back inside, he immediately moved to the parlour, sitting down on his armchair, a cup of tea appearing instantly by his House Elf, Eppy. Reading from the beginning again, just to ensure he hadn't misunderstood the simple words, his mind began to whirl. The following information was rather insipid, nothing truly worthy of note; she accepted her inheritances for all three Wizarding families and shown a keen interest in the inner workings of other magics, and a surprising wise mind in recognising her automatic failings of being inept at looking after her own assets. Goblins maybe vicious and as prejudice as the Wizards they condemn for racial superiority, but they were heavily guilty of such ideas themselves.
The only other point of information which glittered at him was her current occupancy at the Cloak and Wand Inn in Raven Path Way.
Setting down the two documents to the nesting table beside him, he ran a hand down his jaw. His immediate reaction was obviously shock, then suspicion at the utter good fortune of this turn of events before banishing it away as Goblins would not write him of a certainty such as this without their own utter positivity in its facts. In which his final reaction was anger. Anger at her neglect by whoever her guardians were to leave her as malnourished. Anger at the Ministry for their ineptitude to keep track on whether someone was even alive. And anger at Albus for informing him of her death and continuing to allow his grief to swallow him.
But the old man could wait. He needed to make arrangements and contact the relevant people. If the girl was indeed at the Inn, then he should be able to get in touch with his people to check the validity of this claim.
As such, he moved from the parlour to the scrying room, calling out for Sagina. He was waiting for a quarter of an hour, and belief he may need to try her later, when her watery image came through.
"My lord. I was going to contact you tonight." She immediately whispered in her soft voice.
"So it's true. She is real? She is with
yourself?" Was his immediate reply, not wanting to waffle about with niceties.
She inclined her head, before glancing about and leaning further into the bowl and lowering her voice. "It is. I have just finished settling her into our finest room. As soon as she walked through the door we all could sense it. She radiates such power. She is a credit to her family. When will you come, sire?"
"Tomorrow at the earliest. From what little intelligence I have, it appears that the Wizarding World is new to her, let alone ours on top. I will allow her this night and the morrow morning to acclimatise herself. But no later if I can help it."
"I will have your room prepared in case it is needed for your use, my lord."
After vague gratitude and farewells, Ifan cut the connection and moved to his library and desk. Flourishing out parchment, as Albus so hated his use of vellum, he penned a scathing report of this fantastical news he received, and how wonderful it is that neither would need to grieve for the loss of the Child anymore. Calling forth his own falcon he sent off his letter, watching his bird fly into the dusky sun.
The next day he woke early, setting about with Eppy to ensure the Manor was in top shape for the possibility of him returning with a Ward. The House Elf was almost jumping for joy at the news, literally popping in and out of rooms in her excitement to make the House fit for their new arrival. As if she'd let it fall to disrepair in the first.
As midday rolled around and no missive from Albus was received, Ifan decided he had waited long enough. Donning his cloak he went to the fireplace and whirled away in a swirl of green smoke, appearing at the Inn he had no had the pleasure of paying business to for a number of years.
As soon as he entered, all patrons dropped to a knee before rising as one and returning to their conversations. He recognised Sagina immediately, even for a Fae her colouring was unusual with her endless, indigo hair. After declining lunch, but accepting a cup of tea he then proceeded to wait inside the room in which his kin was staying.
And so he waited for her. To pass the time he watched the flowers in the courtyard below, the flora following the line of the sun and any insects that may have been buzzing around. It was maybe after two hours that the door to the room was bashed open and closed, the only sign of the person who entered taking a deep breath in or out.
He slowly turned round to look at her, taking in the carrion on her shoulder and the cat clutched to her chest, when she opened her eyes, and began to scan him as he did her. And then she opened her mouth and made a demand of his identity.
The man continued to just gaze at her, an eyebrow raising as his eyes glittered in amusement. Considering the cut of his clothes, which even Aster could tell were well made, he was probably more accustomed to more polite tones and overall people, than a scruffy and undersized not quite eleven year old girl.
She narrowed her eyes as he continued to take in her appearance, complete with cat tightly held and a crow perched on her shoulder. She had just had to deal with innumerable people causing a tidal wave pushing her about. She did not need some funny stranger barging into her bedroom. Aunt Petunia had warned her about things and people like this.
Coming to a decision, he almost twirled so that he was fully facing her, his hands still loosely clasped behind him, as he inclined into a small bow.
"My apologies. I did not mean to... disturb you. Sagina told me where to find you." Well she was off her non existent party list. "My name is Ifan Dylwythen. I had received some correspondence from the Bank of Gringrotts, which was ... unusal as I myself am not a customer of theirs, although we have had dealings before. The letter that I received was to alert me of some most surprising, but most welcome, news.
"They wrote to inform me that a young witch had a Heritage Blood Test performed, and that my line was confirmed. I must confess, I was hasty in my want of confirming this, and so... here I am. I believe, Child, that I am your family."
Blimey. This sounded like one of those terrible soap opera on the telly that Aunt Petunia would watch.
Aster blinked at him, before slowly moving into the room, letting her newest familiar down, her bag dragging down her arm and on to the floor as well.
Licking her lips, "You're... you're telling me we're related? And that you, what? Had no idea I existed until some Goblins told you I had? And...decided to drop everything and, er, see me?" She looked at him warily, wondering if he maybe he was the one who needed to be more cautious in being taken in.
Ifan ducked his head, his lips quirking up, and, with her permission, flounced (really, there was no other word for it) into one of the chairs and gestured for her to take the other.
"We are related, yes. And in regards to being aware of your existence... it was more a disbelief of your survival. You see, I had been told, two days after that dark night, you had been killed along with your parents."
His emerald eyes grew distant and haunted as he continued, "You see, our line is an Old One. Not as Prestigious as ones such as the Le Fay or Myrddin, yet on par of the Wizard Families Perverell, and Black. Our family has a history of being rather secular, but our Clan is widespread, one of whom is Sagina. From your expression you're not quite certain what I'm talking about." He chuckled, causing Aster to smile awkwardly, because she didn't have a clue what he was banging on about. She recognised the meanings of course, but it was like when someone tried to describe a book you hadn't read but they acted as if you had a foreknowledge in the matter.
"No matter. I can, if you are willing, teach you these things. I'd like, if you are open to the possibility, to...not just be family in name, but in...bond, Miss Potter." He fiddled with his hands, similar to how Aster herself would do, spinning around a ring on his finger, to tapping his thumbs together. Looking at him more closely, there were common features between them; the colour of their eyes being a striking one, but also the pallour of their skin tone, their face shape and (although this was possibly reaching in her desperate want for this to be true), the shape of their ears and the fact one jutted out a bit more than the other.
"Aster," She murmured, looking down at her lap, "You, you can call me Aster, sir." Looking up from beneath her lashes, she caught the swift expressions of surprise and then beaming smile, before he wiped his face to a more respectable up tick of the mouth.
Clearing his throat, he nodded once, "Then, you may call me Ifan...Aster. I- I think anything more familial is a little...soon. For either of us. After all, we have a decade worth to catch up on." At her slight nod, she curled up a bit further on to the armchair, the Cat (whose name she was cycling through to find the right one) climbed up and pushed himself between her legs and the arms of the chair, planting his head on her knee.
"How, how are we related...if I may ask?"
"I am your great grandfather. On your mother's side." He smiled at her, almost reassuringly, as if he could tell she was uncertain that she could ask.
Aster frowned as she thought about this through, "But - but I thought it was my dad who was the - what did they call it - er, pureblood? My mum was um a muggle whatsit, wasn't she? Aunt Petunia definitely isn't anything witchy." Well, barring an evil bint of one.
"Ah. Yes, James was a pureblood. Your mother however, has Fae blood. Not that she was aware of this until the last few years she was alive." Well that was confusing. At her frown deepening he went on, "Your grandfather, Lily's father, was unaware of his heritage. I myself, am not a pure Fae. As such, it was deemed safer for him to be hidden in the muggle world. That is not to say Lily was not a muggleborn however. Fae blood has no hand in the magic of Wizardkind. She, and yourself, are just...more."
Aster took this in, nodding her head, trying to wrap all this up. "So, that's why Aunt Petunia has no magic? Mum was just... lucky?"
Ifan nodded, "Quite. There are those who I know however, who believe that she was more likely to develop the magic as she had the Inheritance which was the trigger for this."
"What inheritance?"
"Every Fae family has at least one. It is a way in which we can tell who will come
into their magics, especially a...watered down family like ours. The Dylwythen Inheritance is our eyes. As farcical it sounds, the vibrance of the green in our eyes is indicative of our Family. Your mother had these, as do you. Your grandfather, and Petunia, did not Inherit these." Huh. Something so small dividing her mother and sister seemed a little...cavalier.
"Am I right in thinking that you have been in the care of Petunia?" She couldn't hold in a snort at that. Petunia, caring about her? That was an image.
"The word I'd use be more on the lines of austerity but yeah. Do you know her?" Ifan furrowed his brows and pursed his lips at this, the tapping of his thumb increased in its random tempo. He was like this for a few minutes before Aster had to repeat her question.
"Hmm? Sorry. I have only met her a handful of times. Once, when she was a baby, another after Lily was born, a gathering at Lily's graduation and then wedding. Her father's funeral, and then at Lily and James'. Each time she seemed to become even more...bleak. I am sorry that you had the unfortunate circumstances of having her as a guardian. I would have taken you in, in less than a heartbeat." The last of his words were spoken in a whisper, his jaw clenching before he sniffed, twitched his nose and then turned to look at the young girl hunched in the armchair with her Guardian beside her.
"If...um." He cleared his throat, wondering how such a simple request could conjure such difficulties, he tried again. "If you are - are agreeable to the idea. Then, I'd like to extend the offer of my guardianship over that of Petunia's." Wide green eyes stared up at him, her mouth dropped open, before if snapped shut and suspicion crept back into her eyes. Well she was definitely a Dylwythen with that.
"Why? You've only just met me. I don't know anything about you. I may be new at this magic stuff, but I'm not a total idiot. I hope anyway. What's in it for you?"
Ifan chuckled, the little one was certainly as forward as her grandfather and mother had been. Perhaps this was an unofficial Inheritance.
"I would not bring you to my - our - home right away. I would ensure we had a foundation I'm which to learn about one another. I commend you for your hesitance however. It would be a case, I think, of us setting perhaps a deadline on which to decide on whether we would venture forwards in this...reallocation of your guardianship to myself. If that is amenable to yourself, of course?" Well at least he took that well. She didn't want to accuse an apparent direct relative of being...something.
They decided together that the deadline would be two weeks from that day. It would allow Aster to finish browsing Diagon Alley and it's accompanying markets to her heart's content, provide a safe harbour as she explored as much avenues of magical life as she could in such a central environment where there were also overlaps of the Fae world.
Ifan summoned tea and they settled down to tentively begin to get to know one another.
Ifan asked about her childhood, and once her unease at the topic showed, he filed the emotion and topic away and smoothly transitioned it to how she came to Diagon Alley. This topic Aster relished, beginning how she came to receive her letter, although skirting around the issue of how and why she hid its existence from her Aunt, which lead her to meeting Clacker and his help in sending her own to the school. Again, Aster side stepped how and why she left the relative safety of the house to wander about Surrey and then London with nobody but a sentient crow travelling with her.
Ifan couldn't help but praise her ingenuity of her actions. For such a young child, she navigated conversation with some level of skill which those some years older than her would have difficulty with. He imaged that if she had been brought up with the pureblood society, or even himself, then her talents would have been astonishing. Although perhaps, he thought forlornly, her skill stemmed from a need and tough situation rather than innate skill.
Aster was happy to regale her new relative with her adventures with Clacker, including how she came to the name bestowed on him, and even the way that the Cat (who she was tossing up between Vertigo and Binky) seemed to want to do nothing but follow her about.
Ifan himself offered up how he had had several familiars over the many years he had lived, from a swallow when he was a child six centuries ago (which Aster was both fascinated and overawed at) to the falcon he currently has who liked to appear as he wished. In fact it was he who brought the Gringrotts letter to him.
They sat for hours, Aster showing Ifan the new purchases she had procured with the last couple of days and gushed about the bookstore. After his inquiry, he realised that she had not yet got her wand and Ifan was quite happy to go to the shop with her for this momentous occasion.
It wasn't until Sagina knocked on the door with steaming bowls of soup and a plate of fresh bread, cheese, meats and fruit that they realised how late it had got as they chatted. After Sagina had chastised Ifan thoroughly, which was a bit disjointed as she kept throwing in "my lord" and such as she realised her place before scolding him anew.
Once she had left, Ifan made a face making Aster fall into peals of laughter, jostling the Cat off the chair to his disgruntlement.
"Come. We shall dine, and if Sagina is happy, we will talk a little more. Although if I can prevent another flurry of admonishment then that'd be grand." He laughed, snorting to himself at random intervals which caused Aster to keep giggling all the way through eating their soup.
It was a while before they settled down enough and finished their meal. Once the plates were cleared, the fire roared to life and they sat watching the sun set over the roots of Raven Path Way and the courtyard.
"Did you know mum well?"
Ifan turned his head to look at her, his eyes softening at the sight of her curled up again on the armchair, though this time Clacker was perched on the arm next to her and she absentmindedly trailed her fingers over his feathers.
"It is to my regret that I did not know her more, but when she was towards the end of her final year at Hogwarts I decided that I wished to know my family. My son had little knowledge of me, his mother having long decided that she wished no part of our world after all, but this young woman
who apparently took to magic like a duck to water, would be able to...almost understand our heritage. After she graduated, the War really began to effect every way of life: Wizardkind, Fae, Other, and muggle. And so our relationship grew as we came together to help banish this would be Dark Lord. She became like a daughter to me, in a way that her father could never be fully like a son to me.
"She introduced me to your father, who was putting every effort in looking like a pureblood Lord behind his nerves, and we wrote one another on ever growing frequency. She told me when she fell with child, apparently before her actual parents, and her fear of losing you and the terror of you growing up in such dark times. I soothed her when your father was late in returning from missions... and I was there when I laid my son and his wife to rest. I was there when you were born. And yet. Despite all our time together, we never went through...the intricacies of our persons. We knew more than the surface of each other, certainly, but I did not know what enabled to weather the storm that was her tenuous relation with Petunia, did not know how she came to be with James. Things that I now regret."
They both looked outside, the fire throwing shadows on each of their faces. Ifan was lost in his memories of a smiling red haired young woman with shining green eyes and then a sobbing and distraught girl, clutching her swollen stomach as her husband was a day late from a mission sent by Albus.
Aster was lost in daydreams of how a childhood would look like with her mother and father, as she was wont to do, with the added figure of the man beside her. She imagined a warmth of love and happiness as she came home with a good test score from school, laughter as she made silly mistakes and goofing around. Even the scolding she missed out on for any misbehaviour she did.
"She sounds...amazing." She murmured, her eyes filling with tears as she allowed herself to think on what she missed.
Ifan hummed in agreement. "She was. Although she certainly had her moments. She was prone to a temper, certainly. But what she loved, she protected with her being. James used to joke it was because her hair wasn't the standard red, but a bright fire like colour. It certainly crackled when she was feeling overwhelmed."
"She...she had red hair?" Ifan's eyes flew to hers. How could she not know this? Did Petunia tell her nothing? He did not want to think so low of his blood, but to wholly deprive a child of the basic knowledge of her parents was criminal.
He nodded to her, about to say more before she quite happily informed him that "My hair crackles too. Normally when I'm angry or sad." Satisfied with this new known fact about her mother, she wondered if she got the ebony of her hair from her dad. Deciding to just ask what she wanted, she asked him to describe her dad to her as well. After all, he was the first person who she was aware who knew both her parents and willing to part with this information.
"Well your mother, as I have said, had green eyes like ours, red hair, she wasn't as tall as Petunia, but she made up for her presence of self. Your father, he gave you the colour of your hair, but his was always a mess. Drove Lily mad. Defied gravity I'm sure. He too had glasses, he was quite tall and lean, mainly due to his time on a Quidditch team. He was rather pale, but when he was out in the sun for an hour he would turn golden instead of burn. Another thing which Lily bemoaned. They were a handsome couple. I can see them both in you." Aster beamed at that. Knowing that she was smaller like her mum with her eyes and had the hair and eyesight of her dad made her feel like she had a place in the world.
"Come. Its getting late, and you need your sleep. We have all the time in the world to acquaint ourselves with each other. Sagina has already placed me in the room to the left if you need me." Getting up from his chair Ifan inclined a little into a bow before quietly going out the door.
Aster stayed and sat in the chair for a long while, watching the flames, barely registering the Cat crawling back onto the chair with her, and Clacker nudging her head. Thoughts of family whirled inside her head, tumbling all onto one another.
The realisation that there was a family member who wanted to know her astounded her. He had given her more information in an afternoon than her aunt had in her entire life.
Deciding that she needed to distract herself so she could wind down enough to fall asleep, she dragged out the books she bought that day, pausing at the one for Potions. Recalling what the grumpy man said to her, she got ready for bed before nestling into the covers and began to devour the information on this new subject.
All the while one thought kept creeping up on her, and was the last thing she thought before she drifted off into sleep: I have family.