---

 

"Another head hangs lowly
Child is slowly taken
And the violence, caused such silence
Who are we mistaken?"

Zombie by the Cranberries

Chapter 1 - Rules From Mother

Britain in the 1960s

Bellatrix Black
"Beware, sweetling, beware what wishes you make," her mother told her before her sisters were born, and before her father began his tutelage in the dark arts. Well before he took the strap of his belt to her when she asked too many questions. And before her mother stopped caring about her. Always that one warning to never make a wish without thinking. There were other rules, of course, rules for everything one could think. Being the blood of the blessed twenty-eight only made the rules more complicated. Even as she grew older all she learned were new rules and more unpleasant punishments were applied.

Bella grew up into the perfect little doll for her parents, well, at least until after Cissy was born. First, she was a good girl at Hogwarts and even started preparing hard for her OWLs. Problem was, that was until she kissed Genie Fitzgerald in fifth year; then it all went to shit. That Umbridge bint hadn't tattled on her or the rest of the bloody Gryffindors turned on Genie quicker than a snitch. No, instead her parents were informed and so were the Fitzgeralds. The two families had once married amongst themselves back during the 18th and their alliance was ended. A 'pureborn' woman did not kiss or lust after other women, and when she was dragged home that Yule, a week early, all she knew was pain.

It wasn't just the beatings, it was the severe depression created by the utter contempt her mother held for her. If not for Andromeda she would have likely hung herself finally after she gave in to those little whispers who told her to end it. Narcissa was the one who took away her knives to prevent her from slitting her wrists. Without her little sisters, Bella wouldn't have survived Yule. let alone Summer. After she was outed at school she was cast aside with the likes of Grindlewald as another 'dark witch' who was tainted by the shadow. By the end of it, Genie was forbidden from being left in a room alone with her and half the purebloods in school treated her like a leper.

At least she had her sisters, and by Morgana, they were stuck at her side. After fifth year ended, Summer was as miserable as predicted. The eldest black sister experienced all of her records burned before her eyes. Bella's room was rendered down to nothing but a single armoire, her girliest clothes, and her bed. Oh, sure she has the illusion of luxury created by the pureblood life. Monkee, her beloved House-Elf Governess, still brought her blackberry scones with clotted cream (her favorite) when she could steal it from the kitchen. During the day her father trained her in dueling and during the night her mother schooled her on proper etiquette till midnight. Whenever she was let out of the house it was always under the eyes of a relative.

School was the only time she could be herself, but it was always under the worry that one of her "friends" would send word to her parents. She knew that toady Umbridge was against her, and she didn't trust Louis Malfoy. Another year at Hand her seventeenth birthday came and went. For more than a year she'd viewed both parents speaking to other important heads of household. The worst was Alphonse LeStrange, the head of the infamous family with its Grindlewald sympathies. Dark wizards of the highest order, but had fallen on hard times since the defeat by her least favorite teacher decades before.

"Bella!" her mother barked at her one evening when she was doing needlepoint in the parlor. The young ravenhead looked up from the order and shook her head. Cobwebs parted from her vision and she returned to focus. After years of faking to do needlepoint and embroidery, Bella was very apt at repeating the same action over and over again.

"Yes....mother?" she asked.

Druella Rosier Black let out a demonstrative sigh at her daughter's reticence. Once Bellatrix had been the apple of her eye, and now she was the literal Black sheep of the family. The tall woman's frame dwarfed her elfin daughter, of the three sisters, she was the shortest. Green eyes bore into her daughter's as the girl did her best not to flinch in her mother's presence.

"Get up you have," her mother rubbed her jaw, "-you have a guest to meet."

Bella's eyes flicked from her mother to the door. The grand parlor of Black House was resplendent in nineteenth-century fashion. A grand fireplace sat at one end, its redbrick disappeared under velvet-covered walls. Above it on the mantle sat the five pictures of her beloved family. Her parents each standing before the grand family tree of their family each standing quite grim and proper. The Black daughters were then featured in each of their rooms, either sitting or appearing to be doing a particular hobby. She liked to use little details around her to hide her dislike of conversation and desire by others to force her into it.

Smoothing out her skirts the young girl rose to her feet and followed as her mother beckoned her. The drab hallways of the house were just more placeholders for over glorious paintings depicting the triumphs of the House of Black. Her black mary janes thudded on the ground as she tried her best to reman the appropriate distance from her mother. Druella swept her out into the large foyer of the family home, with its grand chairs, Egyptian divan, and massive classical Edwardian couch. The family colors appeared in minute details with black being the primary accent of various pieces of furniture.

What she met in the foyer was one Rodulphus Aleister Lestrange, a tall pale lightly tan youth with the pallor of someone who spent too much time over a potion cauldron. His fine robes were finely kept and his hair fell in a medium length above his head. Pale blues met hers and she felt overcome with worry. What is he doing here? The thought swirled as she felt the worry growing with each step, her mind unable to focus or remotely slow down.

"Mother?" she forced herself to say, "who is this?"

"Dearest, you -know- Rodulphus," Druella stated.

"Yes...but why is he here?" she snapped causing her mother to frown.

"Oh well Bellatrix, he is here as your father, and his father finally agreed to your match." The words caused her entire world to freeze and the thudding of her heart to grow with each beat. Thuddening consumed her hearing as all of her own internal worries rushed to the forefront.

"Bellatrix?" Rodulphus spoke and stared at the girl. Her eyes were distant, her lips slightly parted, and her breathing slowly gaining in speed.

"Merlin," Druelle cursed before snaking her hand into her daughter's thick curls and yanking hard. "Listen here dearest, you are to be married, and you will do as your father says."

Bella instantly snapped out of her decision-riddled panic. Her mind slowed back to that instant as she realized that not only was she being cast aside, she was being married off to end any scandal attached to her name.

"Ye-yes mother," she spoke before turning her gaze back to Rodulphus.

"We are to be married a year and a day after you complete Hogwarts," he replied.

"A year and a day?" she asked curiously attempting to keep her mind from speeding up again.

"Yes, it has a significance in the Old Ways," he replied.

"Ah - interesting," she replied.

All she was now was a piece of property to be sold? To be given away?! By the Old Gods and the Old Magick she wished there was something better.

I just want to love who I wish to - on my own.

But her face showed nothing of her internal turmoil, only the obedient teenager her parents' hands trained her to be.

"Good, now you must return for NEWT preparation in your room," her mother snapped. And she was taken away back to her room. Back to the place where she would await a marriage, she didn't want, and her destiny to disappear into obscurity.

Night, May 2nd, 1998 - Greengrass Estate

Bellatrix Black
"Beware of deals made where the roads meet."
-Gaelic Witch Proverb

It was a night consumed in the horror of loss and the pain of the unknowable. In a single instant, a once glorious day was rendered in an instant to be ash in her hands. Her lord was dead, killed by the very boy who now stood as Master of Death. Oh how had she fallen, and how quickly she fled. Craven, she was a coward and fled in the face of the end of the Death Eater cause. Sure, there were likely others who could rise to power and claim it in the name of their Dark Lord. But no one was the Dark Wizard Tom Riddle was, nor would anyone ever claim his mantle ever again. No, all she could do was hold her little girl to her chest, and do her best to find a way to keep her away from the grimey hands of Shacklebolt's ministry!

Above her the storm clouds thundered and threatened rain. She streaked through the air on her broom as a cold wind bit her flesh and tried to kiss her daughter’s face. Delphini was only a toddler, two years maybe, just old enough to remember the barest hints of her mother's warm embrace. The rain finally started and as her black dress became sodden with the freezing rain she finally sighted her destination, Greengrass House. Home of her once love, Genevieve Fitzgerald Greengrass, and perhaps the last hope for her daughter.

By now the cold wind was shearing at her face, and her lips and nose were numb. The woman's ears hurt from the cold and as she came in to land her booted feet skipped over the top of a hedge lining the House's driveway. With her broom in one hand and her daughter in the other, she leaned against the door for a breather. The wind appeared to be still as she reached the House's perimeter. Perhaps award of some sort to redirect the weather's fury? Genie was always a good weather witch. The memory gave her a little respite in the face of what she would ask.

I could have gone to Cissy...but no...she can't know where I'm going.

It was the death of her Dark Lord that gave Bellatrix Black the clarity of mind that her actions were going to finally come crashing down around her. Consequences waiting in the wings for years were about to seize her. The aging witch knew she had her daughter to think about, but her sisters as well. Even her middling sister Andromeda mattered to her after years of silence from both stubborn sisters.

Taking a moment to compose herself and a Drying Charm to clean off her form she knocked thrice on the aging oak door. The massive iron knocker thundered as a loud crack sounded out beside her. There stood a small House Elf dressed in a piece of sown tapestry with the sigil of the House on it in a mockery of the old liveried servants of England.

"What does Misses LeStrange need?" the Elf asked. The words caused Bella to recoil in rage, but as she did she could feel eyes on her as if she were surrounded. Dammit, Genie must have hired someone to guard the House. Stupid Irish Hitwizards.

Her mind returned to calm as much as it could, and whatever eyes watching her removed themselves.

"I need to speak with Mistress Greengrass, now, if possible, for the safety of my daughter!" she said, pitching her voice as an adult as she could get. Her markedly childish voice was useless now.

"Mistress Fitzgerald Greengrass will see you then in the parlor," the elf disapparated with a crack. A loud groan came from beside her as the door opened inward and a rush of warm air greeted her gaze. Unlike the interior of Black House, Greengrass House was filtered with pleasant bright cold colors. Greens of the family's generally Slytherin heritage bled through from what Bella could make out from the threshold. Delphini started to move in her arms as she held the little girl closer and the words "mumah" came out as a whisper.

"Sshh, sweetling, mum has you," she said and took a step into the foyer. A massive crested shield stood over the opposite doorway of the foyer. Beside her sat a rack to doff one's hat and cloak, and the elf from earlier waited just inside. The sigil of the Greengrass Dynasty was the Or Laurel over a Vert Field. "Honor and Prestige" read in elegant calligraphy below it. Unlike many of the old Norman families that made up the golden twenty-eight, the Greengrasses claimed descent from the older Anglo-Saxon and Norse families from the Danelaw. Even now as she strolled forward the Elf watched her with large liquid brown eyes. The foyer was smaller than that of Black House, but as she made her way down the hall she could feel the words of the family in the back of her mind.

In the wake of staying neutral during the war, the Greengrass family's home was stoic in its design. The usual pictures of previous family heads raced across the walls as she came to a stop in front of the grand parlor before her. Immediately she noticed how both Greengrass and Black House shared designers in some fashion. At the end of the parlor was a large fire with a massive family tree painted elegantly upon its brick chimney line. Not a single name was blasted off of it giving the idea of family unity, a strength compared to the fallen status of her own.

A circle of chairs sat nestled beside the fireplace and as soon as she entered the Elf snapped their fingers to make a large red fire appear in it. More Gryffindor colors appeared on the furniture in the form of red pillows with red accents. A twisted snake of Slytherin rested on the right of the mantle and a roaring lion's head on the opposite side.

"Mistress will be here soon, please take a seat," the Elf stated in the same headstrong tone as before.

Swishing in her skirts she settled down near the fire to warm her body and Delphini's leaving her utterly alone in the massive room. Strange among all the things excluding the usual tapestries of ancestry and grand victories was a massive upright silver mirror standing near the fireplace. The mirror was large enough to fill an entire doorway which made Bella wonder what it was doing there for. For a moment she ignored it and leaned back in the chair. Her mind was already racing far too much for her liking that day. Just after the battle she fled the Hogwarts ground and broke into her daughter's hiding place. Now there they were alone, hoping for help from an old flame from her schooling days.

A loud thump awoke her from her reverie, and then the creaking sound of a floorboard. Her eyes snapped up to the hallway facing to her right, and she noted a lean-robed figure standing there. As the clouds shifted outside a bit of moonlight bled in from a window opposite the doorway revealing pale wan skin, and dark silvery hair. Robes fitted over some sort of tactical armor similar to what she glimpsed muggle peace officers wearing, and then a long tall staff rested in the woman's hands. Bella felt her blood run cold as she glimpsed the staff and noted the scrolling knotwork carved into it. What made her blood cold though wasn't the fact it was a staff, no it was a fucking spear.

The woman's eyes were one singular color, blacker than night, and her lips were painted silver like her hair. Her hair was plaited into two long braids falling over both shoulders. A thick Mjolnir hammer necklace hung from around her neck.

"Ah yes, the craven one is here," the woman spoke in a light singsong voice.

"What did you just-" Bella started to say when a thud of the woman's spear quieted her. Stepping in closer, Bella noted the sharp features of the blonde, and the muscle rippling underneath the armor.

"She comes," the woman said while canting her head right.

"Okay, where the bloody hell IS SHE?" Bella demanded.

"I said - she -comes-, you twat," the blonde giggled.

The glass of the mirror was starting to frost over by the time she noticed the blonde jab her spear at it. A loud clink was heard as a series of Futhark runes started to appear glowing an eerie ghostly green. As the runes sorted themselves into an oval outlining the edge of the mirror the frosting effect came to an end. A single hand hit the mirror hard face down. Then the finger began to draw a swirl as the mirror's surface rippled like a pond struck by a stone. Slowly, the hand pushed through the mirror until the full body of Genie Greengrass was present. She stepped aside and out came two men including her husband, Trystan Arctos Greengrass. The other man she barely remembered.

Three pairs of eyes spied their visitor and Genie immediately scoffed before turning around to face the blonde. The two spoke in a hush of whispers while the two men simply waited. Bella noted that much like school Genie was wearing her long brown hair up in a simple bun held in place by a black emerald band. She was dressed in long sodden robes with similar combat armor underneath as the blonde. Both men however were a bit less dramatic in appearance. Trystan had a mop of short-cropped brown curly hair and a pair of curious hazel eyes. Even after losing Genie to him, Bella respected the man as he removed a cigarette from behind his ear and handed it to her.

"Really muggle cancer sticks?" she asked not to remotely protest the action.

"He's dead Bella, its time for a fag," he chuckled.

This left the remaining man, a broad shoulder man dressed not in robes, but a pair of dark pine green fatigues. A beret sat atop his head, and a balaclava hung from around his face revealing sun-tanned skin and a pair of cold green eyes. Unlike Trystan, the man didn't have a wand holster or even a wand, instead of making do with long blackthorn carved walking stick. Even if it was a ridiculous Irish tradition, the walking stick echoed with power as she felt the magic in the room begin to sizzle from the three of them.

Bella set Delphini down gently so her head lay against a pillow before she stepped forward and used her wand to light her gift. A smooth inhale of smoke gave her the nicotine rush she needed and helped to break the ice.

"Bellatrix," Genieve addressed her after speaking with the blonde, "-why- in Merlin's chode are you doing here?"

"Really...chode?" she coughed out some smoke.

"Yes Bella, the wars fucking over, HOW BY WINTER are you alive?" she growled.

"I apparated just before that Weasley bint could kill me.." She adjusted the cigarette. "I didn't want my daughter to be an orphan like the Dark Lord."

"Well wonderful," Genie exclaimed, "why are you in MY MANOR and not at Cissy's or hell, your fucking mudblood loving sister?"

The words caught her on edge and a loud feral snarl erupted from her mouth. Even if Andromeda married a mudblood only a member of her family could disparage her for it.

"Oi, hold yerself dere LeStrange," the Irishman spoke.

"Shut up Rori, no one gives three fucks about your opinion," Bella sighed.

"Well aincha finally showing some balls after you chose that noseless fucker over us," he chuckled.

"Do not call him that!" Bella snapped and reached for her wand. Immediately she found the bladed edge of the blonde's spear against her throat, and a bronze-plated walking stick hovering near the opposite side of her skull.

"Careful Bella, we might hav' loved each other once, but I will not hesitate to end you if you hurt my kin,' ' Genie stated.

"Fine."

Bella holstered her wand and held her hands aloft in peace. Even as her mind raced and she tried to think of a way to fight out she reached into her head and clawed all of the thoughts together. It wasn't the time for this bollocks

"I can't involve Cissy....I've already ruined her life," she stated truthfully, and felt her heartbreak as she did. Even as the Dark Lord lived in Malfoy Manor she did her best to keep her sister and nephew safe. Lucius could burn Tartarus all she cared about.

"Smart....but why me?" Genie asked while the men remained silent.

"Because even if I could flee to Europe they'll find me before I can cross the Urals," she replied.

"You want to hide in Ireland, don't you." Genie said flatly.

"Yes....," Bellatrix croaked.

"You are damn insane Black, you really think I can somehow convince a Taoiseach to let you live on their land?" she replied.

"No...I want you to teach me how to summon a faerie so I can make a deal."

Everyone in the room went silent, except for the blond. Her eyes widened slightly as she grasped carefully manicured fingers around the Mjolnir of her necklace. A few words of Norse spilled from her lips as she appeared to be in prayer.

"Now, I know you're daft," Genie exclaimed, "you're gonna summon the Crone, aren't you? Dammit, Bella!"

"I -have- no choice," she bit out.

"There is always a choice. Surrender, go back to Azkaban, Cissy can care for your daughter," Trystan spoke up.

"She's the Lord's daughter, they'll never let her survive, and I will never return to that hell on earth," her shrieked.

"Dammit Bella, even after all these years you always have to be so fucking dramatic," Genevieve sighed and waved at the other woman to follow her out of the room.

 

---

 

Early Morning May 4th, 1998 - Western Wales

Bellatrix Black
The night gave way to early morning, and Bella could feel the remnants of her strength slowly leaving her. Even with her increased endurance after breaking out of Azkaban, she was still a shadow of her former self. But in the singular hour she had to listen to Genie she made do with what was handed to her. First, a series of items to do the ritual, and second a portkey to get her to the location to conduct it. Of all the items to choose from, the portkey was made from a pageboy cap. Some sort of random item she was sure a snatcher had stolen off a muggle-born father or grandfather. The stupid thing did its job and as she popped back into reality she found herself in the middle of nowhere in Wales, a lonely outcropping of land jutting out into the Irish Sea in front of her.

"Mum?" Delphini asked as she sat down on a large boulder and watched her mother prepare the regents. Only Old Magick required this amount of preparation and all the while Bellatrix was angry she hadn't put more effort into ancient runes. Covering a piece of rock in a moss knoll with ancient Tartessian Runes wasn't easy, nor was it easy in the middle of a bloody storm. The eldest Black Sister may have been Brightest-Of-Her-Age, yet she still faced the challenge of understanding her allies' queer ethnic magic.

"Yes sweetling?" she asked, looking over at the dirty blond toddler.

"It's cold," she piped up and pulled the blanket over her small body. Bella froze in the middle of her work and conjured a small fire to keep her daughter warm.

The work itself was proving far more daunting than she would have guessed. Not only was there the physical ritual component, but a mental and philosophical part also lay ahead of her. According to Genie any and all wishes she made before if remotely attached to the entity she desired to summon, could come up in negotiation. And, one of the few things she had learned from her mother was to always be careful what she wished for.

Making a circle of salt was easy, and then painting the runes onto the rock wasn't really the hardest. What was going to be the hardest though would be snapping her own wand as part of the ritual itself. Her hand hurt from the cut to her finger to make the blood for the runes, and her small series of notes on the design were already stained ochre from keeping them out of the wind. Now, all that lay were the words, the name, and the intent. The intent was to snap her wand and cut herself off from British Wizardry for the rest of her life.

Her daughter was worth it.

It took nearly two hours, but after reconjuring the flames for her daughter again, she finished. A small rounded stone covered in the proper incantation in Old Irish. The words themselves she'd whisper under her breath as she broke off her connection to magic. If she was lucky, the patron connected to the ritual would answer and appear. If she was even luckier, the patron would kill her or her daughter on the spot.

She glanced one last time over at Delphini who was shivering and staring at the fire while mumbling to herself. Her daughter’s existence was perhaps the only true gift the Dark Lord gave her, and she would cherish it to the end of her days. Now, Bellatrix Black had to ensure her daughter’s survival and give her life away from the infighting of the already corrupt new British Ministry of Magic.

"Just wait for a few minutes sweetling and I'll be done," she walked over to whisper in her daughter’s ear. Bella gave her daughter one last heartfelt hug before turning back to face the stone. Fingering her wand in her right hand she sighed. Of all the things she was going to do, she never thought it would require her to give up magick itself. For a few seconds, she just stared off into space her eyes flickering between her wand and the blood-covered rock. The ring of salt itself was starting to get dislodged by the wind. "SHIT!"

The Dark Witch rushed over and knelt before the stone and set the wand atop it. Letting out a sharp breath she began the incantation and as the words came gurgling out of her throat she could feel how alien they were to her. Three times she had to repeat the words, and thrice she said them. Just as she crested the final syllable she held aloft her wand and began to gently pull down either side. As the pressure increased she could see her wand bend in protest and just as the curve became too much SNAP, it broke in half. A shimmer of bright green light filled her vision as she fell on her back in shock.

"Can't believe I broke my own wand," she croaked and rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, look at tat, a feckin English witch did sometin right ta get me attention," the soft gravely voice that replied to her came from near her daughter. A quick roll and she was on her feet to see the form of a seven-foot-tall woman sitting beside Delphini. The small dark witchling was asleep against the woman's side and the fire had grown in size with a massive black kettle over it.

"The Morrigan?" Bellatrix asked carefully, licking her lips nervously.

"Tis me." The woman replied, her burning green eyes reading the dark witch carefully before she patted the spot on the boulder beside her.

"I seek asylum for my daughter and myself," the mother said suddenly.

"Yeah, and if I loik yiz story I'll consider lettin ye come ta wit me." Whatever finality that existed in the creature's words, Bella wasn't daft enough to question it.

The Morrigan was a seven-foot-tall woman with black curled hair that fell plaited over her shoulders in thick silver-fitted waves. Her skin was pale in the moonlight, but it shined with a strange unearthly glimmer. Both of her eyes seemed to leak green fire as she leaned forward and bit her blackened lips while stirring something in the pot before her. At her side rested a long black oak spear fitted with a quicksilver color blade. Her limbs seemed almost overlong for her body as the woman opened a leather pack between her feet to toss in more herbs to the pot.

"Sa - speak yer wish mortal," the woman's voice rumbled.

"I wish for safety for my daughter and myself, a new identity and protection from the British Ministry." Her words came out rushed, and she could tell as she said them that already her wish asked for too much.

"Ye ere a fool Bellatrix Black, but I will gran yer wish. Understand dis - it will cost ye, mar than ye ever desire," the woman finished adding to her work in the pot. Gently she picked up the pot without worrying about the heat. A large wooden spoon served it into bowls for both Bella and Delphini. With an indication to eat the eldest Black sister sat down by her daughter to eat.

"What is the price?" she asked.

"You - yer entire self is the price Bellatrix." The woman's words were now darker than before as she rose to her full height, "jus like ye drove people to madness I will take fram ye an' make ye mine."

A single sharpened talon rubbed against her chin and Bella realized it was the woman's right thumb. The massive hand could have smothered her alone, and the woman began to feel horror roiling in her stomach. But she couldn't stop herself from eating the food. Steadily as she ate she could feel her body going still. Her eyes began to burn as did her skin. She wanted to scream to unleash years of pain from her mind and body, but all she could do was gasp. Delphini didn't seem to mind as her mother fell on the ground, nor that her new friend was chuckling at the woman's torture.

Late Morning, November 3rd, 1998 - The Burrow

Hermione Granger
"....Wait." Ron Weasely stated in between eating breakfast, a pile of griddle cakes disappearing at an alarming rate. "You're telling me you aren't a man or a woman?"

"Yes...Morgana - Ron it's not that hard."

"Bollocks, are you a bloke or not?" Weasely asked.

"I AM NEITHER!" Harry snapped hard, their hands resting along their hips, green eyes glaring at their friend.

"I mean it's just confusing and seems kind of nonsensical-"

"Ron - for Merlin's sake, shut up!" Ginny Weasely barked as she slipped an arm around their partner's waist.

This was Hermione Granger's morning, and by the highest powers of magic, she was watching once again as her ex-boyfriend shoved his foot in his mouth. Already six months had passed since the Battle of Hogwarts and Shacklebolt's rise to power in the Ministry. Her parents were still missing because of her plan to obliviate them and she was living in a room given to her at the recently rebuilt Burrow. Like always the emphatic Ronald Weasely decided to speak first before using his brain, a trait she once considered genuine, before she realized it was just annoying.

Harry, was a name in progress for her best friend who'd undergone severe changes in the last six months. No longer was that mop of black hair remotely short, but instead it fell in a long cut reminiscent of her Godfather, Sirius. The young person's body had definitely become more androgynous over the months as they expressed their true self. Hermione could understand the desire to change and to cut out what she was. Trauma was like that, invisible scars that continued to sit over gangrenous flesh and memories. She stared at her and the foundation over it to cover it up. Even now she felt the shadow pain of that fucking knife slicing into her skin.

Blood leaking out of it, and the searing pain of severed muscle and tendon.

Fuck. I need to keep the images under control...

"Mione?" she heard and pulled herself back to the real world.

"Yes Gin?" she asked. Her friend's half-shaved head tilted and looked at her with slight worry. Since the Battle, Ginny began training to join the Holyhead Harpies with Harry while they completed their NEWTs out of school. The two had surprisingly pulled themselves together into a semblance of a relationship, which seemed healthy at least from the outside.

"Where were you at?" she asked.

Brushing aside her own bushy hair, the young woman sighed. Even outside of her preferred braids, her hair was always in her face, and refused to work with her. It didn't help that while much of Wizarding Britain was multi-ethnic they seemed just as useless in black haircare as the others.

"Just trying to pull myself back together," she rolled her eyes, "plus I'm thinking of maybe getting a twist or something. Or even dying my hair red."

"Oh damn, that would be hot!" Ginny replied.

"Thanks, Gin," she replied and considered calling an old friend of her mom's to arrange an appointment.

"Do you miss Ron?" Ginny asked out of the blue.

"Yes and no, he's a good guy but - honestly he's too insensitive for his own good." She shook her head before rubbing her arm gently.

"I agree," she said as they watched Harry exit the room with a growl. "They're thinking of changing their name, something about all the pain they've felt over the years."

Hermione glanced at her friend and offered her a hug whom Ginny accepted wordlessly. "I wish they had told us more about those hellacious fools of an aunt and uncle!"

"Yeah me too Gin," she rubbed her arm again, nearly smearing the foundation. "But Harry's been through so much and Dumbledore manipulated them. Plus Snape didn't help one bit."

"Are they wearing makeup?" she asked, trying to redirect the conversation.

"Yeah, some eyeliner and some mascara...you wanna go shopping later?" Ginny replied and asked.

Hermione considered her words and gave a simple nod. Shopping could easily be therapeutic and honestly getting out of the Burrow away from Ron was probably a good idea. Plus, seeing Harry explore theirself was something that gave her a bit of a smile in her recently dark world.

Midday, November 3rd, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black
Six damn months of tutelage and change. Her body was remade subtly, yet still, recast to the will of her new patron. Time seemed to pass slower than possible on the Island of Inish Eile, and all she could do was fucking experience it! Toddling about the island was boring as hell after the first four weeks and the realization that magical wards kept it out of muggle sight. What was even worse were the mouthy House Elves that made their home at the large ancient pre-Norman castle. Several didn't even speak English to her and instead refused to even listen to a word she said.

Delpini had flourished and fallen in love with the eerie faerie island they found themselves on. The Elves taught her fucking Irish, and she picked it up at rapid speed, far faster than Bella herself. Then there were all the potions, tinctures, and worse she drank, embalmed in, and bathed in. What resulted was extensive pain and honestly torture. All the while the tall form of the Morrigan would appear to remind her of all her foolish actions and follies. Every sin was recounted as the changes began and ended. First, her teeth fell out painfully and regrew as well as her hair. Then as the days passed her eyes began to gain an inner ring of energy light that seemed to always remain with them.

What was worse though was how much her body hurt. Fourteen years in Azkaban destroyed her health with a mix of physical abuse, malnutrition, and steady mental decline. The mental damage remained rotting thoughts and gangrenous feelings necrotic from years of neglect and carefully applied suppression. Whatever trauma applied to her by her foes, and the emotions devoured by the Dementors were covered up by obvious mental irrationality. Yet, somehow Morrigan had started to heal what she could of Bellatrix's mind. For the first time as she sat on a bench facing the great Northern Atlantic. Dark water lapped at the beach just meters away from her feet, and as she leaned against the stone bench she marveled at her place of exile.

An exile she burningly wished for.

Morgana's tits I really have gone completely nutty.

Chewing on her lip Bella casually splayed her body across the bench as she felt a lonely emptiness in her hand. Six months ago she'd snapped her wand to summon her savior, and given up her magic. Today though, today her patron had informed her she was getting a new wand, or "foci' as the faerie called it. Whatever the faerie wanted, Bella was unsure what to make of it. Morrigan or "Erin" as she preferred to be called was about as approachable and friendly as her mother Druella. A stark difference between Erin and her mother was that Erin appeared to actually care about her charge.

In fact, even when she was being cold, there was a sense of carefully planned guidance behind her actions. To the tall fae, Bellatrix Black wasn't an insult or a scandal waiting to happen, she was a protege who needed the right tutelage to prosper. For this, she gave all of her patience as well as being thankful for the rejuvenation both her and her daughter felt. If there was one thing she was most surprised by, it was the fact that her daughter not only did well on the island but that she was flourishing. Already far taller than most two-and-a-half-year olds Delphini was quickly beginning the basics of Irish magicks.

"There you are," she heard the words behind her as the tall form of Erin stepped over the bench and neatly scooted her body over with faerie strength.

"I really do hate it when you do that," she protested momentarily.

"What, pick ye up, den don't be so feckin' small Black, ye bitch too much!" the Irish deity chuckled before laying six long walking sticks into the woman's laugh.

"Is this where you screech about shillelaghs or something stupid?" the Brit decided to deadpan.

"No ye prat," the goddess rolled her eyes, "each o' of these is made fram a different sacred wood," she stated.

"I'm supposed to use one of these idiotic Irish wanna-be wands?" she sneered.

"First, they aren't shillelaghs," she held up her massive black bronze banded cudgel in one hand, "THIS is a Shillelagh, an' I kilt more than my fair share of Sasnachai wit it!"

"So what are they?" Bella asked.

"We call 'em flescá, from an old word meaning wand," she replied and Bella picked up a blackthorn flescá in her hands and felt the warm thrumming of magic therein. For a second she wasn't sure what to do and spied Morgan's smile.

"So how do I cast with these magic sticks?" she pried.

"The center o' the focus is in the head of the flescá wit a magical core goin' down da lengt' o' it," Erin replied carefully while holding a white oak flescá. At the top of each walking stick was a thick piece of shine and rounded stone or metal. Each metal-headed flescá bore a small series of gems fitted into them.

"So what, I hold it below the head and just use the usual motions?" Bella put the blackthorn down and grabbed a rowan flescá with a sharpened bronze base ending in a point for its base.

"Yup," the massive faerie replied before snagging one of the flescá and swinging it over her hand and spat out 'bombarda' a strange snap of magic broke the air as she proceeded through the motions. However, just as the weapon spun between her hands Bella noticed the magic leaving not only the head of the flescá but the base of it as well.

"Flescá are built for rapid battle casting," Erin stated.

"What, can't you trust the local Aurors?" she asked.

"Pffft, Aurors ere usually owned by the Unionists, an' the Guards ere controlled by da Republicans," the faerie sighed.

"So Ireland is one big pot about to boil over," she surmised.

"Correct, an' wit da chaos caused by the maskers, yer facing possible assassinations," Erin nodded.

"Maskers?" Bella queried.

"Oh...most fae call yer lot dat, cuz we tought Deat'eater was too damn stupid o' a name."

"Ah, good to know," Bella gave a small feigned nod of her head.

The older witch graced her hand over the edge and top of each flescá. A yew flescá wound wrapped with a handle made of lambskin and fitted with a green stone and opal at the top. The thing fuzzed in her hand and she rejected it in seconds. Each flescá felt wrong or slipped from her hands until she felt it rest upon a length of rowan a little over a meter long, and its head carved into the shape of a raven. A black hag stone was fitted into the wood under the beak to create a natural finger hold for it and just as she touched it, an arc of energy struck her hand.

"Pick one," the faerie ordered.

The Rowan wood pulsed her hand as she tossed it up and caught it with her dominant hand. She noted the wood of the Ravenshead was different than that shaft and recognized her beloved Black Walnut.

"This one," she said feeling the weight of the flescá in her hands, how it warmed instantly.

"Rowan shaft, fitted wit an obsidian hag stone, and black walnut head." The Morrigan spoke the words elegantly, "A dual-core crafted fram me own hair, an' the heartstring of Wallachian Blackwing."

"You put your hair in this?" Bella asked curiously.

"Yes, I made it fer ye," Erin replied before picking up the rest of the flescaí, and gestured for Bellatrix to follow her. As she did, she pulled the black cardigan she was wearing tighter across her body. The cool of winter was already coming as fall began to die. Even the Morrigan was dressed in a black A-line dress covered in an even longer pair of robes. Black boots and leggings completed it as the woman stormed up the pathway back to her fine ancient seeming manor. Coming within sight of the Castle, Bella noted the dark brown and black-armored figures watching her from above. They were Fianna, wizards tied to the Morrigan's bloodline and served as her guards when she was in residence. One carried a large machine gun as the other a spear.

The doors of the great manor opened for the faerie lady on their own accord as a loud crack signaled the arrival of her majordomo, an aging House Elf by the name of Aisling.

"Does the Lady wish for tea?" the Elf asked in an aristocratic accent.

"No Aisling, I wan ye to alter the wards on the beach to allow apparition," the woman stated just as came within the entrance hall of the great manor. The small elf's sagging ears pricked in worry as her high voice spoke, "Miss if we break the wards the Sluagh."

"Will attack, aye, I know," she stated as she took off her robes before whispering a word in Gaelic and her clothes began to shift from a simple dress to the more common combat fatigues worn by the Fianna. Black tight body armor reinforced with shielding spells and a belted holster for her flescá.

"Wait, what is going to attack the Island?" Bella asked in concern for her daughter.

"Why Irish Dementors little jackdaw," Erin cackled.

"Dementors?!" she said with a gasp. "You surely aren't going to-"

"Pit ye against them, why yes!" the deity chuckled, "the wards will take a week to falter."

"I'm useless against those soul suckers, no death eater can cast a Patronus," Bellatrix protested.

"Wrong," she smiled, "A lie told to ye by that fool Albus, a yer bigger fool of a master." Morgan's eyes narrowed with annoyance.

"I have no happy memories to create such a spell," Bellatrix pointed out.

"Ye can, and will!" the Goddess replied leaving Bella to only think of one thing.

Was my wish really worth fighting the demons of my past?

 

---

 

Lunch, November 8th, 1998 - Oxford City Centre

Hermione Granger

"A Faeries very essence is their name, and thus a faerie will never reveal their true name without utter trust."

"Would you please put that book down 'Mione!" Ron whined as the two waited at a small cafe on Cowley Street. It was a muggle establishment, a fairly typical place with sandwiches and coffee ready for lunch. The two of them had arrived separately and met up to have lunch. For some reason, Ron was wearing a normal pullover, and a pair of jeans. What drew Hermione's attention was the fact his hair was getting long again, longer than before. The last time it got this long was last year when they were on the run, and for some reason it appeared that the redhead was actually taking care of it.

"Ron, is there something you want to tell me?" she said after putting down the book of folklore she was reading.

"Nope," he replied far too quickly.

"Alright, well you know that you can tell me -anything-, right?" she asked.

"Yup, sure, anything - got it!" he chirped before turning around watching down the street.
Hermione let out a huff of annoyance and checked her watching, noting it was just past one o'clock and that both Ginny and Harry were late. Only five days ago Ron and Harry were arguing over gender identity. I mean I get it, but I've learned. Ron's pretty much a country-bumpkin of a pureblood. The thought caused her to smile widely as Ron was still scanning the passing crowd. Not unlike her friend she was in a dark blue cardigan, dark jeans, and a nice soft t-shirt of her favorite band. Tilting her head to the side she sighed happily at finally getting her hair properly braided and enjoyed having the mass out of her face.

"What made you so happy?" she asked her friend.

"Harry and I had a heart to heart, and they've got something to tell you."

"They....when did you evolve so quickly?" she asked him.

"Since, Ginny tore me a new one after our last debate," he said with a sigh.

"Oh widdle Ronnikins is growing up!" she chuckled.

"Shut it!" he protested.

"What are you two arguing about?" they heard Ginny a few feet away. Like before she had her new signature side shave revealing the right bare side of her head, and a dark red Holyhead Harpies hoodie on. What caught Hermione's attention though was Harry standing a bit behind their girlfriend, hiding as if they needed to. What in the world?Wow, I really must be out of the loop.

"Yeah, I finally sat down and got a new pair recently," they said before leaning in and whispering something to Ginny.

"Okay, so you three are dragging me to get makeup right?" Ronald asked, changing the topic.

There was a general nod of agreement from the other three leaving the tallest of them frowning with a sigh. Hermione chuckled at Ron's continued antics. Does he act this way on purpose to make us all laugh or is he really that immature. I mean...I really do wonder.

Early Afternoon, November 8th, 1998 - Oxford City Centre

Hermione Granger
More than an hour passed since they arrived at Boots and made their way to the makeup section. An hour of watching Ron sit astounded as both she and Ginny showed him the power of muggle shapeshifting. Harry for the longest time sat on the edge as Hermione wove through two aisles over and over again. Finding a foundation that fit her skin tone wasn't the easiest truth be told. Sure, being on the run and the fighting related stress had caused her to pale a bit, but she was still far darker than her friends. Well, except maybe Harry, but there was always the annoyance of finding the right tone for her sepia skin. She sighed before moving to a section professing to cater to non-European women and found something close enough.

I guess I can always just transfigure it. She mused as she tossed the small round glass container in the air and caught it before fingering the black lid. Still, even the wizarding world has problems with this stuff. Hermione sighed before watching Harry staring at a mascara tube for the eleventh time while Ginny and Ron were arguing over their preferred Quidditch teams. Slowly, she drifted over to her best friend and noticed how much weight they'd lost. Harry used to be one of the fittest people she knew, maybe not muscular, but lithe and speedy. The perfect build for a seeker, and yet she could see a hollow pallor to her friends face, and how frail their frame was. Are they handling their stress at all? Why aren't they talking to me?

This was what led her to slowly stand beside her friend and just watch them fidget. It really is the same mascara. What is that? Looks like Maybelline. Harry's green eyes were locked on the strange bluish oval shaped tube with confusion.

"It makes your eyelashes longer," she told them.

"I know what it does, it's just weird that girls put this goo on their lashes to begin with," they stammered.

"You like how it looks though don't you," Hermione suggested.

"Yeah. Ginny says I have naturally long lashes and..." they trailed off before putting it back on the hook. A flash of their hands revealed the green painted nails with a silver slash across the index.

"Slytherin colors?" she asked curiously.

Harry whipped around and stared at her and a series of emotions flashed across their face.

"I haven't told you....a lot...so much has happened since....I killed....Riddle." Hermione could tell Harry was having an issue putting thoughts to words, and was biting their upper lip hard. She could tell Harry wanted to say -something-, but there was a disconnect between the actual word and the meaning they wished to express. Is this related to their death and coming back? She read more than a few medical texts on the damage caused by those who died or a lack of oxygen to the brain. What was going on though? Was it brain damage? Trauma? So many things could be affecting her best friend and she felt helpless with a lack of input on the matter.

"Harry it's-" she started.

"Raine.....my name is Raine." The words came out harder than she suspected her friend wanted to say, yet Hermione could tell the tone was because her friend finally found the words.

"It's pretty," she replied.

"Its...unisex, and it can mean Queen or Ruler," they said and mumbled, "it was a name in some old baby name lists I found from my mom at Grimmauld."

"I like it," Hermione replied and opened her arms for Raine to give her a simple nod. Suddenly, she embraced her best friend who let out a shaky half-sob of breath and crumpled into her. Another shaky breath and the hug lasted for a while as her hand extended to the small of her friends back and she let out a sigh. Fuck. Her mind slowed down as she just let herself experience the comfort of making her friend feel better.

"Uh you two okay?" she heard as she spied Ron watching them both over Ginny was smiling with her arms crossed.

"So they told you their new name eh?" Gin asked, "I personally love it!"

"I mean it does make sense, Raine was always a Drama Queen," Ron joked with an emphasis on -queen-.

"A mad snake-man wanting to kill me because of some stupid prophecy does not make me a Drama Queen," Raine growled.

"Hey, keep saying it mate, but admit it. You do love attention," Ron pushed further.

"When you are starved for attention because you get locked in a fucking cupboard for hours on end," Rained whipped around, "you can joke about it, RONALD BILLIUS WEASELY!"

"Sorry," the redhead squeaked.

"You were so close brother'o'mine, so close to not pissing them off," Ginny sighed before retrieving her partner from Hermione.

Raine required a few minutes to calm down before they would remotely glare at Ron without their hand forming into a fish. Hermione herself was wondering about her friend's mindset, but was busy as she decided to give everyone a bit of space. I'm happy we beat Noseless. The happiness of defeating Tom Marvolo Riddle though came with a heavy cost. She considered as she sat there in the aisle and wandered away from her friends, for just a moment. Her hands clenched and unclenched as she thought about it.

Tonks and Remus are in comas....Ted Tonks is dead. They'd beat the Dark Lord, much like the end of Lord of the Rings, but the cost to herself and she glanced at the scar hidden on her arm. Plus the cost to her friends was terribly high. Memories came back to her in small bits. A silvery knife cutting into her skin; the cackling of a dark haired elfin woman straddling her hips; and she inhaled sharply. What's wrong with me? Hermione Granger glanced around her and caught an associate watching her while facing a shelf across another aisle. But, she was quickly lost in her mind once again.

She really should speak to someone about how she felt about the aftermath of the Battle and the War. A loud bang occured behind her and almost instantly she reached for the wand hiding in her back pocket. Hermione's eyes darted around as she homed in on the possible 'threat' and realized it was just Ron bumping into and knocking over some soft drinks. Moments passed as her heart pounded hard in her chest, and cold sweat pooled on her forehead. Only six months after she watched Fred Weasley perish and she was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange. Months now since the War ended, but still it stayed with her. Hermione thought she could ride it out, speak to a mind-healer, and get a handle on things.

But that wasn't how mental health worked, she learned, what learned instead was she would likely live with the shadows of Bellatrix Lestrange forever.

Breakfast, November 9th, 1998 - Inish Eile

Bellatrix Black
"Delphini Black you will listen to me, now!" she snapped as she was on her last nerve. For more than an hour Bellatrix sat outside her daughter's room trying to coax her out for breakfast. What was annoying her so much was the young toddler seemed entire entranced stupid little video tape Erin gave her. After a few moments she uttered the incantation "Alohomora" and the lock clicked. What she found was her dirty blonde daughter sitting upright in her bed. Her eyes were glued to the small television screen across from her bed, and she was busily clutching some stupid little doll in her hands.

"Mum, just one more episode pleeeease!" she whined. In the months since they'd come to Inish Eile, her daughter had turned three, and was easily far more independent than a child her age. What annoyed her however was that her daughter was now completely fixated with a strange pigtailed blonde wearing a some sort of skirt outfit on the screen.

"Delpi, it's time for breakfast, no more Sailor Luna for now!" she stated and watched as her daughter ignored her while singing along to the stupid theme song.

"Sailor Moon mum!" Delphi protested.

"Whatever," Bella sighed.

"No - no! She's like you mum, she fights bad people like Queen Beryl!' Delphi rambled.

On the screen the blonde was crying about something as a strange little black cat lectured her. Bella sucked in a sharp breath as she considered what her daughter said to her. Six months to think about her actions, and she stared at her hands for a moment. She betrayed the Dark Lord and fled the battle after his death. No final stands or attempts to bring him back or resurrect the his cause. No, her daughter survived and that was what mattered. Cissy and Meda were alive, and even -if- Meda married a sodding mudblood, she never wanted to actually kill her. Well, deep down at least.

"I don't cry like that," she murmured.

"No well, you are definitely Sailor Mars though!" the girl pointed out as a red wearing raven-haired woman appeared to mock the blonde, who cried once again. The black haired woman was mocking the girl by calling her 'meatball head', and as the episode continued showed a strong moral ground. Bella stared at the television as she once again thought about her time recovering. What is that bloody faerie planning for me?Wait...why DID that little prat have green eyes. We all knew about his mother, but she was a powerful ritualist. Bella stood in the doorway of the dining hall and watched as Delphini trot over to the faerie and promptly push the faerie queen into a prattling discussion. Erin appeared to be listening intently to the child like any experience mother.

If she's as old as she says she is, that woman is at least two thousand years my senior.

"MUM! MUM!" her daughter was jumping up and down to regain her attention.

"Wot?" she asked, finally gliding over to take a seat on her Patron's right hand.

"You're going to fight the Sluagh soon right!?" Delphi was far -more- excited about this than her mother.

"Yes, she is," Erin said solemnly. Bella gave an uneasy smile as her daughter began to pester her further about fighting the Sluagh. An entire swarm of soulless shapeshifting birds. The daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black was completely unsure what in Morgana's name she was going to do. Training under a war goddess was a strange and eye-opening experience Flescaí were heavier and much larger than a standard wand, meaning a new flow of movement for Bella to master. Where once she moved with the fast paced allegro of a violin, she spun and whirled with the strength of a cello.

If Bella hadn't been given basic armed combat training in her dueling classes she wouldn't have had an idea how to fight with a walking stick. The dual sided casting ability of the Flescá was her favorite feature of the foci. It meant that not only could she snap off a quick curse to one target she could now more easily apply counters and react. The movement of battle was far more continuous and fluid. Honestly, the other nice thing was that her heavy black oak Flescá was hard enough to snap or shatter most normal wands in a single hit.

Hey I'll club those fucking souless buggers to death. The thought was pretty appetizing to her. There was one little hitch though; her attempt to use a charm similar to a patronus required her to face the worst and best of her memories. Images of torture, and much more. Actions she partook in and where she left the Longbottoms nothing more than useless husks of their former selves. Her mind twitched a little, the begging and screams of the Longbottoms weren't going to ever leave her, but as she sat there and felt her hands fidget as she considered a few things. Thoughts long oppressed and ignored for so long that ripping the bandage off to free them up was proving harder than she thought.

Sodding little mudblood. Why did she just have....

"Bella," Erin addressed her as the food was served. An elf placed a dish in front of her consisting of a standard country breakfast, a few rashers of bacon, fried egg, and some puddings along with sausage. The strange orange tinged sausages were still a little too much for her which meant Bella ended up eating the bacon and egg first. Actually eating blood pudding to her even if it was a "British staple" was not something the pureblood heiress found appetizing.

"Hmmm?" she hummed in response.

"Ye know tat no matter 'ow hard ye to try ta scare da House Elves, they'll just ignore you." Erin was once again bringing up another random topic. She's done this so many times I've lost count.' But she was right, Bella attempted to frighten or intimidate the House Elves of the manor more than once. What she discovered was that the Faerie paid them in a mix of actual currency and magical energy. The elves got a boost to their health from the faerie family magic and then gold to provide themselves with a life outside of servitude. An utterly alien concept to a pureblood British wizard like herself.

"Why are you telling me this?" she inquired.

"Because ye are spendin' mar time feckin about," she said finishing her breakfast and sipping a bit of white wine, "when ye should be practicin."

"I am practicing, Erin." Her voice rose slightly in volume as her frustration increased.

"Good," the deity scoffed before turning to her food. Compared to the two mortals, the six foot tall ate three times the portioning. There was some sort of potion smelling of vegetables sitting placed beside Bella's right hand. Likely another concoction to further make up for years of malnutrition. Delphini was busily sitting in her high chair babbling on and on about Sailor Moon. Or more appropriately 'Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon.’' It was one of several cartoons and television shows the deity gifted to the little girl, the worst being some series called 'Xena: Warrior Princess.’

Bellatrix LeStrange had changed physically, though not much mentally. The daughter of the House Black still considered muggles to be only slightly better than beasts. Her short experiences seeing the pollution and the war of the 1960s and 1970s had jaded her. Growing up in the shadow of Grindlewald's anti-muggle campaign easily tainted her views from the start. The witch mused over all of the destruction she caused, and felt a strange feeling starting to curl in her gut. An unsettling kin to nausea, but it burned harder. As she tried to push it away in her head, she felt an assault of flashes of memory - sounds and images. A staccato rush of information. First, the keening and screaming of a woman. '’Please anyone but my son!'' - then Rod's voice cackling out the crucio with her own incantation in tow.

'Please mummy, I just wanted to play in the fountain!’' her own voice as a child while her mother slapped her face. The hard impact caused the witch in that moment to visibly flinch, a hand rising to touch the cheek.

"Mumuh, what's wrong?" Delphi inquired, snapping Bellatrix back into the here and now.

"Nothing sweetling," she felt the tension in her bones and her muscles increase. Pain from years of abuse, and agony as bile rose to her gorge. Erin's eyes bore into her own, and the deity's face quirked into a frown.

Afternoon, November 9th, 1998 - Hampstead

Hermione Granger
Even after more than a year, the House was still in good shape. A small solace to the girl who illegally obliviate her parents to save their lives. Walking over the still clean cut lawn, the girl noticed that a for sale sign still hung outside the decently sized two story home. Her trainers skidded against the curb of the cul-de-sac as she slowly made her way out from an alley where she apparated from. Dressed in her favorite pair of jeans the teen made her way through the gate and past the hedge. Leaves were already gathering at the base of the shrubbery as the tree growing on her property already claws its leafless branches to the sky. She sighed as she checked the note sent to her.

"Dearest Hermione,
Your mother spoke of you at length before our falling out years ago. I would like to meet with you about the state of the home and about your family's sudden disappearance. I have a few gifts for you and something urgent we can only speak of in person.
Sincerely,

Your Aunt Perdita'

A noted riddled with queer assumptions and outright confusing information. Her mother didn't have a sister, especially one named for the same Shakespearean play as herself. Worst even yet, was the fact that the owl who delivered the note itself was definitely a magical creature of some sort. It appeared like any standard barn owl, but appeared to red burning eyes when it appeared the night before. The human-like screech it let out after leaving was even more frightening.

So, as she walked toward the porch of her old abandoned home Hermione Granger fingered her wand hidden in a coat pocket of her red anorak jacket. The same jacket she received on her 17th birthday the year before from her parents. As she reached the first step she turned around and scanned the cul-de-sac itself. Not a single car was parked outside at first, and then her eyes spied a blue mini cooper with a red dragon painted across its hood. Squinting she could make out the style and blinked.

Why is there a mini with a Welsh dragon on it?

She kept the thoughts in her head for once and turned around. Hermione climbed the rest of the way, and checked the knob. Unlocked, so someone was waiting for her inside. Music reached her ears as she opened and closed the door behind her. She tried to place the music as she walked past the entrance hall into the small well furnished living room. A cd player sat on the coffee table plugged into the wall nearby. Beside it sat a fairly large portable speaker filling the entire room with a mix of reggae beat and the whirling of a saxophone. Glancing at the walls she admired images from her family's vacation to Paris, Marseille and later to Barcelona. Each of the pictures were arrayed along the pastel lavender walls.

Her eyes lingered on a particular picture, this one moving noting it as a wizard picture. One she sent her parents after Fleur and Bill's wedding. Her hair was pulled into two large twist buns, done by her mother that same day. Smiling, she leaned in and kissed Ron's cheek as Harry smiled, dressed in formal wizarding robes. The simple airy dress she was wearing that day moved around her as the wind kept kicking it up at random intervals.

"You were beautiful that day," the words caused her to turn around. Immediately her hand was on her wand and she drew it while her muscles relaxed into a defensive stance. Standing a few feet behind her was a woman straight out of a fairytale.

What caught her attention was the woman's eyes, they were the color of burning embers and seemed to reach into her own. Her visitor was a little over six feet tall and sat at one of the couches near the coffee table. A dark green jacket over a slightly dark orange tank top, fitted green trousers, and a pair of shined italian loafers. Her lean frame spoke of years of training; each movement was precise as a cat. Now having Hermione's attention the woman sat up, as Hermione tried to remember if she'd been sitting there seconds before.

No. She just appeared...is silent apparition possible?

The woman's hair like her eyes was red with highlights of orange in it. Pulled back into thick cornrows it sat in a high pony and shook with each moment. Her skin was a warm russet tone. A triskelion tattoo was visible on her upper shoulder as well as a silver necklace and chain around her neck.

"Who are you?" Hermione implored.

"Oh...I'm Perdita." The woman said, shining too white teeth at Hermione making the teen feel even more unsttled. She's not human, her face is too perfect. Hermione side-stepped so her back her right side was closer to the door.

"I'm assuming you were whoever sent me the letter."

"Yes, indeed I did," the woman replied, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

"Why did you call me here?" Hermione queried.

"Oh yes," she said and rose slowly to her full height and let out a loud laugh. "I need to finish tea first before we continue. Do you like Mint?"

Hermione visibly flinched as the tall figure loomed over her causing the woman to frown. Flashes of another woman in darker clothing pinning her to the ground and holding a knife caused her to shake. The scar on her left arm started to burn hard causing her to wince. She took another slow step back toward the doorway before she felt the air around her still.

"Can you sit down please...." she requested as the tall woman acquiesced. Hermione stared at the door before the entrance hall briefly before adding, "Why should I stay?"

"Because I can help you get your parents back," she replied. This caused Hermione's hackles to rise as she stepped closer and hovered behind the cout to the right of the one where the woman sat.

"You're lying" she retorted, "Or there's a high price to it."

"Of course there is, Hermione Granger," she smiled and flicked her wrist and a teapot came sailing in from the kitchen. A series of saucers and cups floated in behind it.

"Do you remember in Wales, when sharing Salazar's Locket?" she asked plainly. The floating teapot served tea as the two cups landed gently on their respective saucers.

"No, not really, all I remember was running over a hill along a road," her eyes blanked as she realized, "that was Offa's Dike."

"Correct, and as you dashed into the woods you made a wish," the fae replied. Her lips cresting the cup as she drank the still steaming tea without nary a wince of pain.

"A wish, this is all about a wish?" Hermione gripped the top of the couch in her hands and leaned forward defiantly.

"Yes, you made a wish on my land, and thus the wish was mine to grant." The red haired woman finished her tea and let the teapot drift over and poor her another cuppa.

"You're here over one errant wish to see my family again?" Hermione asked.

"No Hermione, I'm here because you've been making wishes since you were a little girl at Hogwarts." Hermione felt bits and details starting to fall into place. A wish to pass her first exam as a child and suddenly having a greater focus for studying. Another for Harry's health during the tournament, and without fail his broom arrived far faster than it should. This makes no sense. She blinked as she stared at the woman before climbing over the couch and taking a seat. Hermione stilled her mind for a moment as she inhaled slowly, picked up her cooled tea and took a sip.

"So, what did you want to talk about?"