La Vie en Rose
Summary: The best thing about being seen as nothing more than pitiful, traumatized children is that no one would believe it possible for any of them to conspire with the Fae to kidnap the Girl-Who-Lived. FemHarry.
Just a warning: FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Non-Cannon Character Death, More in the Future…
Just so you know (Name): FemHarry's name is Andromeda Rhoswen Potter. The name Andromeda means "Ruler/Protector of Men" and was the name of an Ethiopian princess whose mother angered the gods. To placate the gods, Andromeda was fastened to a rock to be used as a sacrifice to a sea monster, from which she was rescued by Perseus. In astronomy, Andromeda is a large northern constellation between Perseus and Pegasus as well a galaxy located two inmillion light years away. Rhoswen is a Welsh name meaning "White Rose" as well as "Fair/Blessed Rose".
I don't own anything related to Twisted Wonderland or Harry Potter!
Chapter 13. Balm for Irresistible
LILIA
He had heard the hushed whispers and complaints of children calling the Sorting Ceremony cursed. Lilia, however, found it to be one of the finest forms of entertainment of the new school year. There was always a delicious air of uncertainty to it, an electric hum of anticipation that never failed to set his ancient senses alight whenever the Dark Mirror unveiled the truths of the souls presented to it.
There was always a mix of students during the sorting ceremony; some strode forward with confidence while others hesitated, their small figures dwarfed by the vastness of the chamber. And then there were the bold ones, the ones like Jasper Storme — those brimming with courage, arrogance, or even an almost comical indifference — that never failed him to make him cackle with delight. Those were the ones he usually paid attention to, the ones he was rather eager to see how they would fare inside the walls of Night Raven College.
Which one would stay until the very end?
Which one would survive?
Lilia hummed, scanning the new faces gathering near the entrance. As always, he stood at the edge of the chamber, relatively far from the children Dire chose as Housewardens. He liked the spot, preferred to stand half-shrouded in the gloom and shadows cast by the torches around him. The darkness was a comfort, allowing him to observe the children and — Lilia made a pause, knitting his eyebrows in astonishment as something gnawed at him, a whisper of unease that he could not place.
Straightening his back slightly, he tilted his head and closed his eyes, searching for the source of that feeling. The children's scents curled through the cold air like threads of ink in water; most of them reeked of youth, of nerves, of the dull, unremarkable tang of mortality. Some managed to be more interesting than others, carrying hints of stories and the kind of instinctive emotions that could only possibly belong to the beastfolk and the merfolk.
The Fae pursued his lips, confirming that something was wrong when he didn't find traces of a single Fae Childe in the crowd. How odd, he thought with a curious mix of curiosity and irritation. While his people weren't in the habit of sending their young to a school with so many mortals, and so far away from the safety of their homes, the number of Fae Children in Night Raven College had almost triplicated after his and Malleus' enrollment.
And yet, tonight, he found none among the masses even though he knew very well that there should be at least two children from the Autunm Court standing in this chamber.
He clicked his tongue.
Lilia inhaled deeply, pushing past whatever was clouding his senses, and then — There. Faint but familiar traces of at least seven different types of Fae, ranging from reptiles to felines, Summer to Winter (He focused a little more on little Sebek, his lips twitching up when he heard the boy mumbling irritably about the arrogant mortal. Lilia was rather surprised when the little crocodile didn't start screaming or running to the Dark Mirror with a loud announcement of his turn when Jasper Storme joined Ashengrotto). The Children lingered at the edges of the chamber, far from the others, as if something held them back.
And Lilia was certain there was something holding them back. The same something — the same unseen force — that was interfering with his senses.
His nose twitched in annoyance, though his smile never wavered. He forced his magic into calm submission before it tried to force the issue, being careful not to startle poor Idia who was standing not too far from him. The child was already at his wits' end after being dragged to the ceremony with threats against his favorite game console; there was no need to worsen his already miserable evening.
He exhaled slowly, weighing his options when he felt a rather familiar brush of power against his skin.
Lilia's head snapped up, soft footsteps echoing in the chamber as a small figure made their way through the crowd and walked towards the Dark Mirror. The crimson-eyed Fae staggered at little as their scent cut through the rest, stronger than all the others but still managing to pass unnoticed to all but him and Dire. His ears caught the low, almost inaudible curse the old crow let out but ignored it in favor of staring at the child.
Their movements were eerily controlled for one so young and the air around them felt heavier, charged with something that made the hairs on Lilia's arms rise in silent warning. He didn't think they were the source of the interference from early nor the deliberate brush of power he felt. The child was connected to it though, of that he had no doubt.
Lilia breathed in again, deeply and slowly.
At first, there was nothing. Then, as he focused on the child, the scent hit him — thick and cloying, that unmistakable stench of blood and sickness he had more than once wished to forget. It clung to them like a second skin, woven into the very fabric of their being. Lilia pursued his lips, wishing he could say it was unusual, that mortal children who stumbled into these halls did not so often carry the ghosts of suffering with them, but that would be a lie.
This child, however, was different from the others he had seen. The sheer weight of blood upon them, the foul stench of decay and dark magic festering within their sickness, was far beyond the ordinary.
He stared at them a little more, trying to understand, trying and close to failing to resist the urge of approaching them and looking at them more closely in search of answers. And, honestly, as the child stepped before the Mirror, Lilia would've done just that if he hadn't inhaled deeply one more time
There — Beneath all the blood and sickness, there was something else. Something extremely familiar. A whisper of wild earth, of marigolds trapped upon an altar of old, of moonlight tangled in gossamer, and of the sharp, ironless purity of a world beyond this one.
Lilia froze, his eyes wide in surprise.
Oh, oh.
That wasn't a human child.
That was a Fae Child.
A baby, an infant — a hurt and sick little one far from home and which Death seemed to cling to zealously.
The Dark Mirror stirred. The great, slick surface of obsidian shifted, rippling as though something ancient beneath had taken notice. The chamber hushed, the weight of unspoken things pressing into the silence. The little one (So small, so very thin and shrouded in curses and wounds — What were they doing in NRC of all places in this condition? Who allowed this?!) curtsied with what could only be described as graceful caution. His nose twitched as the smell of blood got a little strong the moment they moved, straightening their back and raising their chin in a way he had seen far too many times.
Lilia's fingers twitched.
So... Not only a hurt baby Fae... No, it was worse than that. Some soon to be dead imbecile sent a baby Fae of noble blood to the nest of vipers known as Night Raven College...
He cast a discreet glance at Dire, his crimson eyes gleaming with something unreadable. At once, the Headmage turned, meeting his gaze with a slow shake of the head. Under his mask, his expression seemed to be caught somewhere between curiosity and the type of silent anger that usually meant danger.
Lilia's lips curled up, but inwardly, he nodded in acknowledgment. He had wanted to believe — needed to believe — that Dire Crowley, for all his dramatics and questionable leadership, hadn't truly let the carefully crafted persona he wore before his students seep into his bones. That he hadn't, in some uncharacteristic lapse of wisdom, knowingly allowed a Fae so young, so vulnerable, to enter this school unprotected.
Fortunately, Dire had somehow been unaware of this one student even though he had always seemed to know who, and what, was stepping into his territory. Which meant Lilia wouldn't have to go through the trouble of removing his old friend from the territory.
A pity, really.
He was sure that might have been fun.
Crimson eyes flickered back to the Child and the mirror just as the ancient artifact's surface began to ripple, waves of unnatural light rolling across the glass as it cast ghostly reflections against the dim chamber walls. The mask of the spirit within stirred, shifting closer, its hollow gaze locking onto the little one with an intensity that made the very air feel heavier.
Lilia's fingers twitched at his sides. He was still furious that a Child so young and vulnerable had been allowed into Night Raven College without a guardian in sight, furious at the sheer negligence of it all. But he was also so curious; a slow-burning ember of ember of curiosity that was as dangerous as it was intoxicating. The kind of curiosity mortals warned their children never to awaken in a Fae. And yet, here it was. Stirred. Roused. Irresistible.
Who was this Child to cause such reaction from the ancient spirit that barely spared Malleus more than a mere contemplating hum?
"Fuck," he heard someone in the crowd hiss with a funny mix of desperation, anger and despair.
Lilia sank a fang into his tongue, trying to keep himself from cackling madly, if not a little hysterically.
Fuck indeed! The intonation from the speaker alone spoke volumes about their fear to the reactions had to the mirror's unusual actions would gather. And it was a well-placed fear as Lilia knew this would have consequences.
Not that he would ever allow one of his people's young to be hurt, nor would Dire who was ever so possessive of his students, but this year was already shaping itself to be the most entertaining by far and truly, Lilia couldn't be more delighted despite the whole disaster surrounding the child.
"Beneath the silver gaze of the moon, I greet thee, Shadow Child, whose steps leave constellations in thy wake," the spirit spoke softly, its voice deep and filling the chamber. "Thy presence brightens the very stars, and the moon bow before thee. State thy name, wandering child, and bid me — what brings thee beyond the veil?"
He stopped, taken aback by the formal greeting. A flicker of something ancient and knowing flashed behind his eyes and Lilia noticed Dire tilting his head and standing straighter, glancing at something only he could see.
Shadow Child, the spirit said.
The words slithered through the air, settling heavy in the space between them as Lilia tampered his curiosity to look at the little one more closely. There was only one Court that used such a title, and only one bloodline worthy of bearing it. For the child to be bestowed such title then... Heart racing, he lowered his eyes, not all surprised to see that shadows at their feet flickered as though it was alive, as though something was moving within them.
Whispers, promises, and screams reached his ears. The sound pressed against his ears so vividly, so deafening, that for a fleeting moment, he almost missed the child's response.
The child tilted their head in a very familiar bird-like way and replied; "In the breath between dusk and dawn, I offer my respect, Eternal One. You, who bear the weight of names long forgotten. Know the night and the shadows remember its own, and I am but a thread in its woven tapestry of fate. They call me Andromeda, and I ask — what truths do you carry from the depths of the unseen?"
Andromeda.
The child — No, he thought as he quickly corrected himself. The girl hadn't even given the spirit her the Name bestowed upon her by the one he now had no doubt was watching from the shadows, but it still held power. Lilia could taste the tragedies woven into each syllable, hear the echoes of cries and screams buried within, the jubilations of victory laced with a lament of loss, and the chants of love and devotion that held desperately onto it.
Hers was a name that carried weight.
The Mirror Chamber had fallen into an unnatural silence after her answer until the murmurs started. All the children seemed interested, more so than before, but Lilia knew that, aside from the Fair Folk present, none of the students had any idea of what just happened, nor had they understood what had been said. They had no doubt felt the wave of power her name. But the words itself.? That had sounded like gibberish to them.
Oh, he had no doubt that some, like Ashengrotto, will try to unveil the words in their own way later that same evening, but the ancient spirit in the mirror had used using a rather intricate piece of magic to mask its words, twisting them in a way that would safeguard it against unwanted ears.
It was a fascinating ancient piece of enchantment that had been used a lot during the olden days when the Seasonal and Outer Courts were still in open war with the mortals (And the foolish children still thought they could prohibit them using it in this day and age. Honestly, their sheer audacity never ceased to amaze him).
He blinked as the spirit hummed, the sound reverberating through the chamber walls.
"What a curious conundrum thou art, wandering child... a curious conundrum indeed," the spirit said, its words soft yet carrying an undeniable weight. "Shadows clings to thee like a parent, yet I see the glimmer of starlight in thy veins. Thee wish to walketh unseen yet leaveth an imprint wherev'r thee wend. Thee has't a mind f'r secrets, but a heart so full. Thee doth not seek power blindly, n'r hoard knowledge without purpose. Thee moveth not only as a storm, but as the tide."
The mirror's surface shimmered and shifted, the glass undulating like liquid. The chamber grew still once more, the tension thick as ink. Lilia listened to the hushed whispers from the shadows, their murmurs threading through the silence like an unspoken prophecy. He noticed how some of the younger students blinked rapidly, their eyelids growing heavy as though lulled by the spirit's voice, as if unseen hands had reached into their very dreams.
And then, the little one's reflection shifted. Lilia's old heart clenched as the mirror revealed a glimpse of her soul; her face shadowed but pale and hollow, streaked with dried blood. Purple bruises and more blood bloomed across her skin like cruel fingerprints from the past, and her tattered, scorched clothes hung off her frame, whispering of fire and ruin. Her shoulders sagged beneath an invisible weight, her very presence more ghost than girl.
She was not alone, he noticed a moment later.
Behind her, two familiar figures loomed, standing sentinel. The frayed edges of their souls whispered of battles long since fought, of wounds that had never truly healed. One was old— as ancient as the first turning of the stars — while the other, though younger, carried the weight of years far heavier than their form suggested.
A shiver coiled down Lilia's spine when the tallest one tilted their head in his direction before, as swiftly as it came, the vision dissipated, leaving only the swirling mist upon the glass and the mask of the spirit. He licked his dry lips as a sensation lingered in the air; a feeling that something of great significance had transpired, though few could grasp its meaning.
"Thou has't seen the end of all things and hath walked back from the silence beyond," the spirit continued. Lilia blinked, still dazed from earlier, his mind a little sluggish. Those words certainly didn't help him, so much so that he almost missed the faintest twitch of the little one's fingers, barely visible beneath the long, heavy sleeves of her ceremonial robes. "I can feeleth it in thee, Shadows Child — the weight of Destiny fulfilled, the absence of Fate where it once held thee in its grip. And yet, thee remain," the spirit observed, its mask tilting ever so slightly in contemplation. "A queen reborn yet weary of her crown. A warrior who never longed for battle. A savior who carries both seen and unseen wounds of sacrifice..."
The spirit paused ominously.
Lilia let out a shuddering breathe, blinking as he tried to process. His hands shook, crimson eyes wide in disbelief.
That's a child, a baby — Why was the ancient spirit insinuating that —
"Where do thee belong, Shadow Child? I doth not knoweth," the spirit admitted, its tone laced with an eerie sort of delight at its own uncertainty. The surface rippled again, as if laughing at the paradox she presented. "But maybe... Yes... Thou art noble. Aren't thee, Shadow Child? By both blood and deed... "Tradition, then, decree that thy choice should not be made for thee. Tell me — What dost thou wish for?"
The silence stretched between them, feeling heavy as if the very air held its breath.
Then, at last, the child spoke.
"What do I wish for?" her voice was soft and brittle, like the last breath of a dying star. The words carried no hesitation, yet emptiness lurked beneath them, the kind carved not by years, but by burdens far too heavy for such small shoulders. There was also a hint of dark humor that he almost missed. "Forgive me, Eternal One, for I have spent my life being told what and who I must be and what I must do. I am already the blade, the shield and the symbol. What kind of wishes would someone like me have?"
Lilia closed his eyes as a quiet sigh ghosted past his lips.
What was it that he heard once? Like recognizes like.
This child had seen war, and it wasn't the kind found in history books those days with its grand tales of victories and fallen heroes. No — This was something far crueler. It was the kind of war that seeped into the marrow, that turned violence into armor, that destroyed innocence and left no room for the foolish luxury of wanting.
He had seen it before. In the eyes of comrades who had forgotten how to dream. In the faces of soldiers who had never been given the chance to be anything but weapons.
He still saw it in himself.
And now, he was seeing it again. Not in the reflection of an old warrior scarred by centuries of blood and battle, but in a child, draped in ceremonial robes far too heavy for someone so small.
His crimson eyes flickered open, gaze sharpening.
"Eternal One, you have seen what I am, what I was. Wishes and dreams are a luxury I do not have... So, knowing this, if there is still a place for me in these halls, I trust you to know where to send me," she paused, letting out a shaky breath. "Tell me, Eternal One… where do the broken go?"
He inhaled sharply, a flicker of something ancient and knowing stirring in his chest.
"The broken do not go… They become." The glass shimmered, shifting once more, as though reflecting not just her soul, but something deeper, something beyond both mortal and immortal comprehension. "Shadow Child, thou hast fulfilled thy destiny, yet bound thyself to the clutch of Fate, refusing to see what is before thine eyes. Thou know'st the art of survival yet hast forgotten how to live." The voice of the ancient spirit lowered until it was nothing more than a whisper, yet it filled the chamber, pressing into Lilia's very being. "Even the night does not remain in endless dark. The moon waxes and wanes, the stars fade but are reborn anew, and the tides turn. Thou wert not meant to linger in that which once was." The surface rippled, warping and twisting until the little one was staring at the mask once more as it got even closer to the surface, "Thou need to heal. To grow. To become. else shalt thou fester within the echoes of thy past — a ghost in all but name."
Silence.
Small hands trembled under the long sleeves of the ceremonial robes as the weight of the words lingered, heavy but not cruel.
"The values and creeds of the Seven art known to thee, and there is no need for me to find a place for thee to belong," the spirit said, deep baritone carrying the weight of absolute. "No. What thou need, Shadow Child, is guidance."
The enchantment dissipated discretely, almost imperceptible. Lilia barely blinked at the change in the air, waiting for he already knew what the ancient spirit of the Dark Mirror was going to call out before it spoke again.
"Diasomnia!"
The grand ceremony, the dramatic placement of students, the torches flaring with eerie green flames and the whichever First Year who found the courage to step forward and approach the Dark Mirror — All of it quickly lost his interest after her sorting.
So, as one name was called after the other, he half-listened with one pointed ear, leaning lazily against one of the tall, shadowed pillars near him. His grin remained ever-present as each new Diasomnia member him approached, their faces ranging from hesitant to proud to outright unnerved. Most returned his smile, some eager, some merely polite like. But there were a few who did either bowed or stared at him with wide eyes and a tense posture. The latter were all Fae and beastfolk, their instincts sharper than their human-born peers. They saw him for what he was. Or at the very least, they recognized him and knew why half of the known world called him War Criminal and banned him from their borders (Although he was rather sure his ban in the Scalding Lands was coming to an end. Was it two more months, two more years or two more decades? He couldn't remember; time was such relative concept).
Smart children, Lilia thought, his amusement deepening as he watched his new wards.
The newly sorted Diasomnia students clustered near him, shifting in place as they waited for his instructions. The other dorms were already peeling away after the last student was sent to Hearstlabyul, stepping through the great mirrors as the enchanted torches above them blazed to life, revealing each dorm's respective enchanted mirror.
Curiously enough, Octavinelle was the first to leave. They moved in perfect sync, like the rolling tide, their expressions carefully schooled into neutrality as they stepped through the mirror. The lavender flames flickering on either side of their dorm's mirror cast eerie shadows over their retreating figures, making them seem more like specters than students as they vanished into the depths of their dorm.
Savanaclaw followed soon after, though with considerably less finesse. Their ranks were loose, scattered, and restless, some students already jostling shoulders in what was undoubtedly some unspoken dominance game. A few exchanged sharp grins, their movements slow and deliberate— predatory, even — while others simply shoved past, uninterested in whatever silent contest was unfolding.
Eyes flickering to the side to watch the Ignihyde students, Lilia's grin widened as Idia bolted across the hall, hood drawn low, his entire body hunched like a hunted creature. With the same urgency of a man escaping certain death, he all but flung himself into the waiting mirror, his dormmates scrambling after him like a haphazard, terrified stampede.
It was a truly spectacular retreat, he thought with a mental slow clap and cackle.
Pomefiore, in stark contrast, moved with their usual effortless grace. Their posture was immaculate, their steps precise, their presence a quiet declaration of superiority. They did not walk. Instead, they glided, their every movement exuding the kind of effortless elegance that could only come from meticulous training. Their departure was seamless, controlled, and if a few of them took a moment to admire their own reflections in the mirror before stepping through. Well, aside from that one kid that seemed to be trying to copy the others and failed miserably while grumbling under his breathe about prissy dorms.
Scarabia hesitated, shifting uncertainly as if unsure whether they should be acting with the same disciplined composure as Pomefiore or the rowdy ease of Savanaclaw. Their Housewarden, young Kalim Al-Asim, seemed blissfully unaware of the internal conflict among his new dormmates. With a grin bright enough to rival the torches overhead, he cheerfully guided them toward the mirror, his arms gesturing wildly as he babbled on and on about an impromptu party and his Vice-Housewarden's exquisite cooking.
Lilia chuckled to himself, watching as the Scarabia students exchanged uncertain glances. Some looked tempted — very tempted — by the mention of food, while others shifted nervously, clearly wondering if their new Vice-Housewarden would allow such indulgence.
And then, there was the reason why Octanvinelle immediately took the first chance to leave before anyone else and the others followed without hesitation despite the usual order being a little different.
Heartslabyul...
"— TH YOUR HEAD!"
The new Hearstlabyul students Lilia noted with a knowing grin, was attempting to make their exit with as much dignity as possible, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the way they kept their heads down, shoulders hunched, and movements stiff with forced nonchalance. One by one, they vanished through the crimson-lit mirror like playing cards being swiftly tucked back into a deck, each hoping to escape unnoticed.
Of course, some were either courageous or suicidal enough to glance back at little Riddle Rosehearts — so prim, so proper, so infamously easy to set off — as he was already well into what Lilia could only assume was his first meltdown of the month. His face was flushed a furious shade of red, his hands clenched into white-knuckled fists, and his voice was sharp, shrill, and laced with the kind of righteous fury only a boy raised on absolute order could muster, hitting a pitch that likely carried across every corner of the island.
"— AND YOU WILL NOT CONTINUE THIS SHAMEFUL BEHAVIOR IN —"
Lilia stopped listening and rubbed his ears as Riddle continued ranting, dragging this year ceremony's accident maker through the mirror. A few more Heartslabyul students waited for a while, rooted in their spot until they scurried past, sharing wary, sidelong glances as if trying to determine whether they still had time to flee before the full force of their new Housewarden's wrath descended upon them when he got tired of his newest victim.
Shaking his head in amusement, Lilia prepared to depart, his gaze sweeping over his new wards. Most of them were already shifting in place, restless but obedient, waiting for him to lead them through the mirror that would take them home to Diasomnia. Crimson eyes flickered to the back of the group and stopped.
Oh? What is this? he wondered, sharp eyes narrowed slightly, blinking as he took in the sight before him.
The little one was not where she should have been. Instead, she stood slightly apart from the rest, engaged in quiet discussion with two men who, at a glance, did not belong among the students; they were far too old. Though if they were allowed inside the castle, the duo was either new additions to the staff or her guards.
Wealthy students, noble heirs, and the magically powerful often had some kind of protection lurking incognito in the castle; silent figures who blended into the background, sworn to interfere only under very specific circumstances if they didn't wish to be banished not only from the campus but also from the island.
If they were her guards than they were probably the most mismatched pair of guards he had ever seen. The first was a mountain of a man, towering over the little one with broad shoulders and a worried expression on his face as he nodded along to whatever the girl was saying, his arms crossed and posture radiating the sort of earnest protectiveness that Lilia was always happy to see. The other man was a lean, insomniac looking man with purple-hair and dark bruises under his eyes as he stared at the little one. He was the very picture of scornful disapproval, his mouth pressed into a sharp line as if the mere act of existing in this room was an insult to his sensibilities.
"Are you sure we can't we follow along? Just for tonight," the large man whispered. Though he tried, the pitch wasn't low enough to not reach Lilia's and the other Fae's ears.
The purple-haired man gave him a slow look. "You know as well as I do that the dorms are warded against intruders. We can't get in without an invitation — Especially when the dorm in question is Diasomnia."
"But —"
He was cut off.
"No," the purple-haired man said. "Do you remember what happened whenever someone was stupid enough to try and get into your dorm without an invitation?"
The larger man paled instantly, his broad shoulders curling inward as a visible shiver ran through him. Lilia tilted his head ever so slightly, intrigued. He was familiar, of course, with what befell intruders of his dorm. After all, he had personally designed half the enchantments found in Diasomnia. That, however, didn't mean he had never been curious about how the other dorms dealt with unwelcome visitors, especially as there were acutally some secrets not even time could loosen from the lips of mortals.
"Exactly," the purple-haired man drawled before turning his piercing gaze back to the little one. "We will be staying in the staff dorm, and I want you to call us if anything happens even if it is the middle of the night."
The red-eyed Fae couldn't see her expression as she was standing with her back to him, but she must have been ready to protest because purple-haired man glared grumbly.
"Don't even think about it," he snapped, stabbing a finger in her direction. The larger man nodded gravely beside him, the look on his face so absurdly serious it bordered on theatrical. "You will call us. The last thing I need is your watchers dragging us here by the ankle."
Lilia's eyes flicked downward, catching the way the shadows at her feet stretched in ways shadows ought not to stretch; too thick, too aware. He had an idea of what the man meant by watchers and made note to keep a close eye on the little one. He would have done so anyway without him and his pets involved, but if he didn't want for his half of the school to start disappearing, precautions would be needed.
He thought about the purple-haired man's words once more and bit back a scoff, though the temptation was strong. The implication — intentional or not — that he might be incapable of protecting and caring for one of the children under his protection needled at his pride like a thorn beneath silk. It was almost laughable… Almost. Did they truly think him incompetent? That centuries of war, court politics, and blood-soaked victories had dulled his edge over time? That he was some doddering relic, too ancient or too soft to keep one small girl safe if the need arouse?
His lips curled into a slow, razor-edged sneer, and his crimson eyes gleamed with a glint that was anything but warm.
Mortals.
Always so quick to assume, so eager to meddle, so very arrogant.
"I'll be fine," the little one said softly, trying to reassure them.
They did not look convinced.
The purple-haired man opened his mouth, but he ended up biting down on his fist instead with a strangled growl when Dire appeared beside him out of what must have been nowhere in the mortals' eyes. Lilia, though, had not missed of the delicate shift in the shadows around them.
"If it isn't Mr. Intipaqari and Mr. Tecuampil!" Dire trilled, placing an overly friendly hand on the man's stiff shoulder. The gesture was met with a look of such revulsion that Lilia would've found it funny if his mood hadn't plumed a little because of that particular mortal.
Dire smiled that same infuriatingly foolish grin he always wore, the one that had launched a thousand groans and eyerolls from students and uninformed parents alike over the years. But Lilia, ancient as he was and twice as perceptive regarding his oldest friend, saw it for what it truly was. A mask. A paper-thin veil stretched over something far older and far more dangerous. The type of mas Lilia and most of their kind used when dealing with mortals in this day and age.
Neither the two men nor the students noticed it because of the subtle illusion Dire placed around them but Lilia saw the torches lining the chamber walls flaring up suddenly, their flames sputtering as if drawing breath. Shadows danced and flickered in the corners, licking along the stone like smoke pulled toward the simmering ire just beneath the Headmage's skin.
There was an ever so subtle tension in Dire's shoulders, a slight clench in his jaw that showed just how he was barely restraining himself.
For all Dire Crowley's eccentricities — the melodrama, the theatrics, the odd habit of vanishing and reappearing with the flair of a second-rate stage magician— there was no mistaking the way magic trembled around him now, raw and coiled like a predator in wait. The Headmage wanted answers. And if this were anywhere but in front of students, Lilia suspected the insomniac and his mountain-sized companion would be flat against the wall, truth bleeding from their lips like water from a cracked dam.
But Dire didn't act.
Not yet.
"Long time no see!" Dire beamed, his voice carrying across the chamber like a trumpet call muffled beneath velvet. His bright yellow eyes flitted to the girl, who dipped into a curtsy without hesitation, lowering her head with measured grace.
To the uninformed, it would more likely be mistaken by a gesture of respect from a well-mannered student in the face of authority. But Lilia saw it for what it was: an acknowledgment. Not of his position as the Headmage. No. While Dire had clearly never meet her, and hated being taken by surprise, the little one was well aware of who and what the old crow was.
Something soft flashed in those yellow eyes before Dire turned back to the duo and grinned even wider, the corners of his eyes crinkling with something far more ancient than joy.
"Why don't we head to my office to discuss the terms of your employment?" he asked, far too brightly and not at all like a predator barely staving off bloodshed.
The purple-haired man's lips curled back in something between a snarl and a protest. "I don't think that we —"
But he didn't get the chance to finish.
"Wonderful!" Dire interrupted breezily as though he hadn't heard the man speaking at all. In a swift, almost theatrical movement, he reached out and clamped a clawed hand around the larger man's arm, holding it firmly. "Let us go, then!"
The man flinched, his snarl twisting into something more cautious, but it was too late. Dire steered the pair toward the exit, his greatcoat flaring behind him like the wings of some smug, cackling crow.
"Have a good night, Andromeda!" the giant man called over his shoulder, waving one meaty hand before the heavy chamber doors swung shut behind them with a reverberating thud that echoed like a warning.
She lingered for a moment, exhaling softly as though bracing herself before turning. Her movements were slow and deliberate, though his nose caught the smell of blood getting a little strong when she did, and as the little one lifted her head, the hood of her ceremonial robes cast deep shadows over her face. However, it couldn't conceal what lay underneath. Lilia's crimson eyes met hers, and for the first time in centuries, he almost flinched in surprise (From the moment he heard the spirit within the Dark Mirror call her Shadow Child, Lilia knew she was related to the old High Lord of Shadows. He hadn't, however, understood just how closely the two were connected until he saw those eyes).
The baby Fae curtsied when she noticed him staring at her, moving with grace and lowering her head just so, respectful but not deferential. It wasn't as deeply as she had done for Dire, but that was to be expected when one knew who Dire was.
Lilia kept his grin firmly in place, keeping his posture so the little one won't feel uncomfortable or hesitant to approach him. Beneath her feet, the shadows stirred, twisting and curling like living things, though they didn't move enough for the students to notice. Not that they would as they were far too busy staring at Lilia in surprise when he dipped into a deep bow, his hand pressed lightly over his chest. His sharp, fanged grin flashed under the dim, flickering light as he ignored the First Years watching them and inclined his head not only to the little one before him but also to the presence that lurked unseen.
The whispers from the shadows echoed in his ears. And then, there was laughter. Low at first, a murmuring chorus of unseen voices, before one rose above the rest; cool, refined and smooth as polished obsidian. It was a voice that had printed itself into his memory from infancy and he would recognize anywhere.
"Mark thee well, Vanrouge."
His grin widened once more despite the danger presenting itself to him, a glint of wicked amusement dancing in his crimson eyes as he felt a shiver of excitement. The last time he had heard those words...
Lilia cackled.
This year, he thought, was going to be fun, charged with the kind of delightful mayhem he hadn't tasted in centuries. And who was he to ignore the intoxicating pull of chaos?
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– Cissnei.
