It had been a few weeks since Aster had returned to Hogwarts and Ifan had been going from place to place talking to his connections in both the Fae and Wizarding World. He started off with inconspicuous enquiries over Madam Zabini, building a picture of how she worked; he had only heard whispers before and he needed to know the true spread of her influence.
The Wizarding World had a lot less to say than he hoped, especially in the respected circles. They talked mainly of her reputation as a Black Widow, marrying a line of wealthy men who would suddenly die - and she always kept her original name. When he asked why men still courted her he unanimously was told that each hoped to "break her in", much to his disgust. He was now of the mindset that she was doing a public service in her pest removal.
He of course had more luck in places like Knockturn Alley on her habits and skills, although he had to be more wary as he knew that idle speculation could not be passed off as he could in Diagon Alley. He weighed up the possibility of utilising Mita's own talents in his venture, but had a feeling that she knew the woman personally. It certainly wouldn't be a surprise if she did - he had long ago resigned himself to never knowing the true scope of her customers.
So he turned his attention to the Fae, who shockingly were more knowledgeable on the subject. Although he still needed to be careful on who and how he approached the topic of Madam Zabini, the Fae were more likely to place him over her. There would, of course, be exceptions but he was relatively confident that they knew better than to pass on his investigations to others. The Dylwythen Line may have been massively depleted, but he was still a force to be reckoned with and many pled allegiance to him, such as the case of Sagina.
He travelled across the British Isles and visited hideouts and villages, meeting with all manners of Creatures and Others. Vampires extolled her deadly force, languidly smiling at her various methods to dispatch her unworthy spouses - he had the feeling that she had perhaps contacted a Vampire on one occasion. Goblins grinned nastily at her ruthlessness in acquiring gold and priceless artifacts and selling it to the highest bidder. Although apparently she refrained from stealing from the Goblins themselves. Kobolds too respect her brutality despite not caring who it was placed upon - the idea of any bloodshed was to be applauded. Fae such as Ifan himself praised her diplomacy and willingness to associate with Others. She apparently learned how the niceties of their culture, observing their differences without disdain and freely admitting that in some matters they knew best.
Ifan suspected that the last point was more a manipulation than any real truth of the matter. It would certainly fit into the outline of Madam Zabini which was quickly filling in. Her sophistication was renowned, allowing her to mould herself into what was needed. Her poise ensured she could be accepted at the highest social levels while her brutality and viciousness let her to join the Darkest parts.
Honestly, he was starting to love her himself and he hadn't even met the woman.
Thus when on one dreary Tuesday morning a letter on vellum arrived with salutations from the Lady herself, he wasn't overly astonished. Despite his careful handling of his research, he knew word would leak to her. He kind of counted on it, to be perfectly honest.
Her salutations were carefully constructed, utilising her foreknowledge of how the Fae worked, and had almost clearly shown she researched him in turn. The note was just that - there was no flowery language or pandering, merely a clear; 'I think its high time we meet, you and I, so that we may acquaint ourselves without the interference of others'.
Her sign off permitted him to choose the when and where, although he wouldn't put it past her that she was currently stationed as close as she could with a basic idea of where Mynydd Hall actually sat. He decided it would be best to hint at this with a simple location enchantment on the note, confirming that she had sent this from a small outcropping Wizarding village maybe twenty miles away. He gathered his cloak and walked out the door.
The village itself, Llwyn Blaidd, was nestled on the side of a not quite a mountain, surrounded by a forest which still crept into the centre with the odd oak tree. Centuries ago wolves dominated the habitation, hence the name, and this history could still be seen with the distinct carved wolf heads in decorations and the fact that lupine familiars were more common than other animals. Strangely enough however Werewolves were not wholly welcome - they were seen as abominations (much like elsewhere in Wizarding Britain) and a devolution from actual wolves.
The ground was compacted earth and dirt, with only a narrow stone walkway down the middle for when it grew too muddy to traverse, and patches of wild grass could be spotted at random points. There were no dedicated flower beds, letting nature dictate where it wished to be, which would give a charming feel if it were not for the fact they were easily trampled by people and animals alike and were frequently used as pissing posts by male dogs.
The atmosphere itself was rather bleak, and not just wholly due to the dark grey clouds which could burst their seams at any moment. Mist curled about Ifan's feet as he walked, and there was an eery silence piercing the air, with no idle chatter or wildlife to break it. He had never particularly liked this place - the locals had always shunned their neighbours, and were unneedingly prejudice against the Fae. But, they had a long memory and remembered the times - albeit grudgingly - of when they would have to make succour to the Dylwythen Line in times of hardship. Which was frequently.
As he ambled his way down the main roadway with his hands folded behind his back, uncaring of the mud accumulating on his knee high soft leather boots, he couldn't help but smirk at the scowls directed his way and the way children were pushed back indoors away from the nefarious Fae.
He pushed open the ancient door of the unmarked Inn, taking in the minimal changes made since the last time he had come in over seventy years ago. There was now a faded mural on one of the walls, of a predictable wolf, and random chairs had clearly been made and brought in to replace the truly unsaleable.
Even the air smelled the same of damp earth and cheap ale, and unflavoured food. The floor was made of slats of wood, only softened due to the centuries of feet scuffing across it, and got stickier the further in you went.
The lighting had always been rather shit, with small homemade candles sputtering out minimal light and only two grubby windows (oh they had placed glass in, now) to lend a hand during the day. The fireplace was a pit in the middle of the floor made of stone, with the smoke going up through a gap in the roof. He himself had to charm a weather proof seal every other decade to prevent the rain and slow coming in.
At a back table sat a refined dark skinned woman with her hair in a tangle of ringlets going down to her waist. Her clean skin would immediately point her out, and her tailored fine clothes fairly screamed that she wasn't from here. A tankard sat in front of her, with barely any drunk, and she seemed to be waiting for him.
"Madam Zabini, I presume." Ifan stated as he moved to sit down, moving his chair to the side so that his back wasn't to the room.
"Lord Dylwythen." She inclined her head fractionally, looking at him from under her lashes. "How did you find me?"
"Magic." Ifan dryly replied, making her lips twitch in amusement. "I think it would be best if we didn't start off asking questions we know the answer to. It'd only serve to annoy us both, and I don't do well with petty techniques."
"Hmm. Already patting with a weakness of yours? How promising."
"I should add underhanded and obvious flirtations." Ifan added, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs.
"Fair enough." She said leaning back away from him, her tone immediately changing from coquettish to serious in a moment. "You've been looking for me."
"No. I've been asking about you. There's a difference."
"And why is that? Surely not due to my helping my son create a blank Grimoire for your granddaughter."
"Who?"
"Did you not just say to the effect of don't play dumb? I know all about young Aster. She's made quite the impression of Blaise, which is not easily done."
Ifan snorted. "Yes, she's rather good at that. How much do you know?"
"Her parents, of course, and her relationship to yourself. Blaise has hinted at a rough upbringing but hasn't divulged any specifics, if he knows any."
"I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't said anything herself. She can be rather...private." Ifan offered her, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. "Anything else?"
"I haven't told him her heritage, if that's what you mean. It isn't my place - not until it threatens my son."
Ifan's eyes hardened. "We have no quarrell with you. Aster is fond of your son, so there won't be any."
"From yourselves perhaps." She apologised, "But that doesn't mean others who mean harm to her won't impede on his safety."
"And who do you think means her harm? Ah!" He interjected with a raised hand, "I asked who you thought would do so."
Madam Zabini rolled her eyes. "In just her heritage alone, and her being related to you, creates a fair list of people. Specifically, however, I refer to rumours and whispers."
"And what do these whispers say?" Ifan rose an eyebrow, forcing himself to remain blank as the first curl of worry unfurled. If anyone were to find out the prophecy she was doomed.
"Nothing concrete. Merely conjecture on why she and her family were targeted the same night as the Longbottoms. There are speculations that she's more important than has been let on." She reassured in a low voice before licking her lips. "Be assure that the Wizarding World has little to say; it is the Fae who have voiced...concerns."
"Who?" Ifa bit out, minutely narrowing his eyes at the audacity of any who gossiped about his Blood.
"The Caerlocks for one."
"They gossip anything from who has bought a new wardrobe to purposed dalliances." He scoffed, rolling his eyes in relief.
"...And, perhaps more seriously, are the Duine Glic Clan." She murmured, flashing a discreet look around the relatively empty tavern, and making Ifan's blood turn to ice.
"Yes, that was my reaction." Madam Zabini agreed. "Which is why I took it upon myself to learn more. Imagine my surprise when I could find little, especially among Wizardkind?"
"Albus has his uses." He brushed off making her chuckle.
"Yes, I imagine he does. Tell me - is she dangerous? Or, to be precise, by being her friend is Blaise endangering himself?"
"Would you tell him to stop if I said yes?" He wondered, genuinely curious at her answer.
"Oh gods no!" She laughed, "Blaise may listen to me and respect my opinion, but as all children do, he believes he knows best. I'd merely advise him to keep his feet and accept my warnings."
"Then, to answer your question, I honestly don't know. As it stands right now, I'd say no. But what the future holds I cannot say."
"Would you keep me apprised if that changes?"
"Of course. But I have a feeling you could possibly know before I would...given your connections."
"Hm. Speaking of, Mita was rather hurt that you didn't come to her for information."
"She'll live. Besides, I knew she would have went to you as soon as I left. I wanted to try and have as much time as possible before you inevitably caught wind of my looking into you."
Madam Zabini hummed. "What exactly was your purpose then, Lord Dylwythen in seeking me out?"
Ifan glanced about the room. "It is a matter of delicacy. Best to not talk where one can be overheard."
"Colour me intrigued. To your home then, my lord?" She smirked, leaning towards him again, trailing her hand across the rim of the tankard.
Ifan gave an unimpressed look. "And give you highly valued and sought-after information with ease? I think not."
"Crush a girl, why don't you?" She teased before sobering again. "Where do you advise? My abode isn't as hidden as yours, but I'm not one to give hand outs either."
"I wouldn't expect you to. There is a property, unused for years now, that is in my possession for such matters. We can go there, if you are agreeable?"
"I trust you'll disable any traps set." She smirked, folding her robes down.
"Only the ones you need worry about." He cautioned, getting up and offering her a hand and his arm as they made their way out of the Inn.
Once they got to the outskirts of the village Ifan Apparated them to the house in question, letting Madam Zabini take in their new surroundings.
They had arrived in a cobbled courtyard which had a dry stone fountain in the middle, the lawns were bedraggled although it could be seen how they were once well cared for with overgrown topiary bushes lining the outer edges. Once pruned flower beds had given way to invasive plants, suffocating the smaller varieties.
The outside of the house itself was made of sandstone rocks as opposed to bricks. Ivy clung to the majority of the walls, with climbing wisteria woven in between. There were plain wooden shutters with single plane windows, likely haven't been updated since their original installation in the nineteenth century. The door was of the old style as well with an iron door knocker placed in the middle.
As they walked into the house itself candles immediately flared to life, highlighting the shadows and cobwebs in the corners of the high ceilings. It was neatly furnished with the decor of a kind one would expect in a Regency novel - highly polished mahogany china cabinets, dressers and card tables dominated the moth ridden damask soft furnishings.
The wallpaper still looked relatively new, held together by a Preservation Charm, and the colours threw the blanched chairs and chaise lounges into stark relief. If it wasn't for the dust and cobwebs, one would expect someone to come strolling into the room laden with a tea tray.
"It's positively charming, my lord." Madam Zabini said diplomatically while cataloguing everything Narcissa Malfoy would change.
"It's bloody antique." Ifan snorted, dragging a finger through the thick dust and pulling a face at the grime. "But it does its job."
"Which is? I must beg your pardon but it doesn't appear that it sees much use."
"You're not wrong. It used to belong to a member of my kin, long ago. Now I tend to use it if I need to intervene on an important issue that needs to be on neutral ground." Ifan shrugged, snapping his fingers so that all grime and dirt vanished in an instant.
"Care for a drink? Not from here, I promise." He asked before calling for Eppy to bring tea as he and Madam Zabini sat down opposite each other.
"So, how can I be of help?" She questioned, doctoring her tea to her liking, though not taking a drink.
"Information, quite simply. I have come into some myself, regarding a miscarry of justice."
"In the Wizarding World, I take it?"
"Mhm. Tell me, what do you know of Sirius Black?" Ifan asked bluntly, taking an exaggerated sip of his tea.
"Not overly much. He is cousin to Narcissa Malfoy, presumed the last surviving son of the Main Line, killed a friend and twelve Muggles. Best friend to Ja -" She stopped, blinking in realisation. "Perhaps it would be best if you tell me what new information you have acquired."
Ifan chortled quietly. "It's come to my attention that he was not in fact the Potters' Secret Keeper, and so did not betray my family. As such, the likelihood of his being a follower of the Dark Lord is minimal."
"But not the murders he committed." She countered, before taking in his relaxed posture. "Or is that something else you are contesting?"
"No idea, in all honesty. Killing Pettigrew - who was the Secret Keeper is hardly a leap. The twelve Muggles? I'm not too sure. From my recollection he was always fascinated by them, and even seemed to idolise them."
"Do you have any evidence of any of this?"
"Not overly. With the Lily and James dead, that leaves Aster who was of course only an infant at the time. I have been...accumulating information on people and practices as proof."
"There are ways to extract things from your granddaughter's head. Her memories and so forth."
"I was rather of the impression that the Wizengamot rejected any such things in court. Tampering and things."
"And that's why you've contacted me." She surmised, tapping a manicured fingernail against the dainty porcelain of her cup. At his nod of agreement, she leant further back in her chair, taking in the man in front of her again.
Despite his age he was still very much a handsome man. His features were clearly aristocratic and Fae, his eyes fairly glowing in the dim lighting. His clothing was rather plain, made of sturdy material instead of velvets and silk, but still showcased his own wealth. His boots, though caked in dirt, was soft leather, well worn but looked after. He clearly had no outward cares on impressions he gave - he prioritised utility and comfort over fashion. He seemed to have a perpetual smirk lingering on his face, even when his expression was blank, giving the cliche of the Fae knowing more than they let on.
"How would you like me to proceed? If I accept."
"However you think. And if on the very small chance you get caught doing something illicit...well, I'll make sure it never makes it way to me. Self-preservation, you understand. I'm sure you feel the same."
"Of course."
She looked out the window briefly as she thought, idly watching the spider in the corner of it spin its web. How apt, she couldn't help but think. Ifan allowed her the silence to think, swirling his now cold dregs of tea, thinking on his next steps, irregardless of whether they reached an accord.
"What's in it for me?" She finally asked, cocking her head with narrowed eyes. "I don't take eternal gratitude."
"Good - I don't intend to give it. Eternity to Fae is different to Wizardkind." He chuckled, "I'll give you information in turn. Neither of us are in need of funds, so I shan't waste my breath offering. However, a Woman of your talents can surely be tempted by what a Lord of the Fae can offer. And a Lord of a higher sort than the usual calibre." He offered unapologetically; he knew just how prestigious his Clan was, and to have him on her side - even just for information bartering - was a heedy thought.
"Then I graciously accept, my lord. Now, how would you like me to begin?"
"I wouldn't dare to tell you how to best use your gifts, Madam Zabini. You know your limitations, your true scope, and your own mind. I've told you my goal to get Black off the Potter charge. The rest is up to you." He reasoned with a sigh, taking in the minute shock she showed in the slight widening of her brown eyes - clearly she was used to people telling her how to walk when she could run.
With an amused smile she got to her feet, "Then I'll bid you adieu for now. I'll be in touch." And with that she left in a swirl of skirts, slipping out the door and disappearing with a crack!
He noted with amusement that she hadn't drank any amount of her tea as he got to his feet, leaving the house himself in a saunter.
The spider was left to his own devices once more.
A/N:
No Aster in this but I've had this planned for so long that I wanted to do this without adding her in it.
Also - I low key have a crush on Madam Zabini, not gonna lie. Her inspiration is Natasha from Marvel (obviously) and Astrid from Skyrim.