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Chapter Text

August 31st 1974

“Have you spoken to Slughorn about an apprenticeship yet?”

He shook his head and Lily looked up at him with a raised eyebrow that was clearly meant to convey the message why ever not? He shifted uncomfortably, hiding his face behind his long hair.

“Well I didn’t exactly have the time with those bullying dunderheads refusing to leave me alone.”

His best friend grimaced.

“Sorry... It’s just–I know how important this is for you; how managing to convince Slughorn is your best shot at becoming a potion master.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before giving his best friend a weak smile. “It’s fine, really. I just wish Potter would get tired of me already. He’s like a five years old tugging on my non-existent pigtails.”

Lily let out a hum of agreement, laughter bubbling in her eyes.

He scowled in response, but there was no real heat behind it, and Lily turned serious.

“I’ll try to make them back off, or at least try my hand at distracting them.”

Severus pointedly ignored the warmth blooming in his chest in favour of teasing his friend.

“Shouldn’t be too difficult, all things considered.”

“Sev!!”

I deserved that, he thought as he rubbed the sore spot on his upper arm as she pulled away from slapping said arm.

“Shut up.” Squeaked his friend, mortification clear in her voice even as a poppy red blush bloomed over her cheeks.

Her embarrassment was quickly forgotten though when he rubbed his arm and made a big show of being mortally hurt.

He felt a soft smile paint itself on his lips as she fell prey to a bouts of helpless giggles.

“Hey Lily?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

Lily gave him an understanding look. “What are friends for, if not protecting each other from dunderheads and morons?” She leaned into him a bit more and slipped a hand in his. “It’s you and I against the world, Sev, remember?”

Severus grinned at his best friend, feeling lighter when she smiled back just as brightly. 

He nodded with a soft smile, glad that they were able to fall back into the easy friendship they had  shared for years despite the strain on their friendship caused by their sorting in rival Houses.

“You and me against the world.” He repeated as they turned a corner and started down a new street, believing every single word.

They were walking home after a long day in the park. It was the last day of their summer holidays and soon they would be back at Hogwarts for their third year. They had decided to spend it together before they had to go back to the prejudice of their school that tried to tear their friendship apart at every turn. 

They had been walking for all of ten minutes when they came to a stop, standing hesitantly at the entrance of the alley they often used on their way home. Despite their parents warning them to avoid such places like they would the plague.

Home to shadows and darkness that was barely warded off by the flickering street lamps placed at an irregular interval along the crumbling sidewalk and surrounded by tall looming building that were in an obvious state of disrepair, the alley was a handy shortcut that allowed them to cut the time it took them to make their way home by half.

Let it be said that they were capable of a minimum of caution and wouldn’t normally take this route at this hour where the shadows grow and stretch until they were warped and deformed.

Today however they had lost track of time and Severus was anxious to make it home. The threat of his father’s wrath loomed over him like an ever present shadow, intent on making even his happiest moments tense.

Which is why after another beat of hesitation they stepped into the alley, their pace quicker than usual in their hurry to be back in a part of town that was lit properly.

They were about halfway through when a voice rang through the area, breaking the tense silence and causing them to freeze as their survival instincts went haywire.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

“Looks like fresh meat to me, boss.” Said a guy with spiky green hair as he sauntered towards them with arrogance ingrained in his every gesture and action.

“We have found our entertainment for the night, boys.” Crowed the one who seemed to be the leader of the gang considering the deference the rest showed towards him. The tall lanky teen had a bright purple and green mohawk. His darkly mocking and predatorily chuckle echoed through the area as they tried to back away. Severus cursed the Statue of Secrecy as he resisted the urge to draw his wand.

Gathering every ounce of courage he had in his body he placed himself between Lily and the approaching threat and braced himself for the incoming fight. 

The odds were not in their favour, but he’d be damned if he merely stood there and did nothing.

“Leave us alone, you insipid dunderheads.”

“Or what? What is a midget like you going to do to stop us if we decide to rob you of all you have, kill you and have a bit of fun with the lady over there before killing her as well?”

Unfortunately it was around that time that fear gripped his heart, robbing him of his wit and sarcasm.

“I–I… ”

“That’s what I thought; nothing. There’s nothing you can do to stop us.” Taunted the leader as he closed the distance between them predatorily.

He felt his panic rising in his throat as they backed away but the teens just kept approaching.

No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! There had to be something he could do! 

He had to fight back! 

I will protect Lily even if it’s the last thing I do!

Then his world exploded, bathed in misty purple flames.

September 15th 1974.

Jotting down a few sentences for her Potion homework, Lily looked up when her best friend barged in and caught a glimpse of a bright grin on her friend’s face. It was so different from the way Severus usually schooled his features; the way he kept them carefully blank all the time. She hated Tobias for making her best friend think he wasn’t allowed to showcase his true feelings; never knowing what would set off the drunken man. By the time she’d met Sev, his bastard of a sperm-donor had nearly succeeded in convincing her best friend that emotions were a weakness. Sev had been on the verge of cutting himself off from his emotions using a bastardized version of an occlumency technique his mother had made the mistake of teaching him.

She was starkly reminded how much taller than her he had grown over the past year when he scooped her out of her seat and twirled her around.

“I did it!” He yelled as he put her back on the ground.

She let a smile trace itself on her lips, his happiness was truly contagious. “You got the apprenticeship? That’s great!”

Her future potion master grinned impossibly wider.

“Well, yes, kinda, not really. But this is even better! Slughorn feels like he’s too old to take on an apprentice, but he told me that it would be a crime to let my talent go to waste so he gave me an official letter of recommendation and promised to get in contact with a few of his colleagues to see if he could convince them to set up an apprenticeship with one of them.”

Once they finally calmed down enough to stop acting like a bunch of nifflers in a Gringotts vault, Lily rested her head on Sev's shoulder and smiled.

“I’m glad you’re finally getting what you’ve always deserved, Sev. I really am.”

March 25th 1975

“So Snape, I heard you got an apprenticeship with one of Slughorn’s friends.”

Trying to keep the panic at bay despite the fact that he was currently being cornered in an isolated hallway of the dungeons, Severus arched an eyebrow, giving the three seventh years a blank look.

“I did. What of it?”

“Well you see Severus, Slughorn was so convincing in his endorsement of you that Potion Master Moon chose a half-breed like you over my brother. That won’t do at all.” The sneering Ravenclaw pulled his wand out as Severus backed away.

“Tell me half-breed, how will you become an apprentice if you don’t have hands, huh?”

Lily froze, her blood like ice and lead in her veins. The world came into sharper focus than she’d ever seen before. Her friend was in trouble and she would save him even if it killed her. 

One moment she was standing twenty feet away from her best friend. The next, she was right beside him.

She felt more than heard bone and cartilage get crushed beneath her fist.

The next she was pinning a teenager three times her size against the wall, her wand digging in the soft flesh under his chin. Though that might be unnecessary seeing as the guy seemed to have been knocked out by the green electricity coursing over her whole body. 

The guy she had punched was slumped against the wall, blood running down his face from a nasty head wound as well the ugly mess that had once been his nose.

The third seventh year was lying in his stomach, limb stiff and unmoving for him breathing. Severus was standing over him, dark eyes alight with a purple glow.

She cast a quick spell that secured conjured ropes around the two unconscious teens and dashed over to her best friend. They hugged tightly, holding onto each other desperately. She could feel Severus shaking uncontrollably against her.

“I’m fine.” Whispered Severus hoarsely, and didn’t exactly ring true in her ears. He pulled away slightly to lock eyes with her. “I’m not hurt, you saved me just in time, Lils.”

“Thank God for that. Come on, let’s get you checked out by Madam Pomfrey.”

-.-

November 25th 1976

Lily set her book bag on the teacher’s desk in an empty and clearly unused classroom near the dungeons, taking out a quill set, inkwell and half finished homework before sorting her books in neat piles. Sitting down she took a moment to appreciate the blissful silence around her after having to deal with a bunch of Gryffs causing unholy amounts of chaos in the library.

Just as she was about to start on her History homework, Remus Lupin wandered in. Upon noticing he wasn’t alone his whole demeanour instantly turned sheepish and uncomfortable.

“Oh, err… hello. I, um… here?”

She chuckled, gesturing to a nearby chair. Remus was the most tolerable of the Marauders, and while he didn’t intervene when his friends bullied others he did try to reign them in sometimes. 

“Hello to you too, Remus. You’re free to join me, by the way.”

Lily grabbed yet another reference book as they slaved over the pile of homework the teachers had given them to do over the weekend.

“Do you want chocolate?” He asked hesitantly after a while, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them. Lily looked up from her potion essay, glancing at him. 

She smiled at the sight of Remus holding out a chocolate frog with a hopeful look.

“Thanks.” She murmured, accepting the offering before turning back to her homework.

March 15th 1977

Lily grinned at James as he regaled her with a story about how his adoptive father Charlus got trapped in his adoptive mother’s main greenhouse. It was the latter who had rescued Charlus from a patch of Devil’s Snare who had become particularly possessive of the man. Hearing about the way his mother Dorea had admonished the plant as one would discipline a puppy and ordered it to give her "her human" back was hilarious and she couldn’t help but laugh.

The last year had been very hard for her boyfriend.

Fleamont and Euphemia Potter, James’ biological parents, had been killed in a Death Eater attack during the summer. James had been taken in by his uncle Charlus Potter and the man’s wife, Dorea Potter née Black. Dorea had put her newly adopted son through the wringer when she learned about his attitude and bullying. James was forced to sincerely apologize to every single one of his victims in person. Even Severus had received an apology and that had been a great source of blackmail; both boys had been bright red from embarrassment.

Anyways, whatever Dorea had done had a major impact on James’ behavior.

She now enjoyed his company, rather than finding him unbearable to be around.

It was because of his change of attitude and newfound maturity that she finally agreed to go on a date with him.

She quickly fell for him, hard.

She grinned at her boyfriend and pecked his lips.

“I love you, James Potter.”

July 31st 1980

Lily stared into baby blue eyes as she cradled her precious daughter in her arms carefully. She wondered idly if she would have green eyes like hers or brown eyes like her husband’s. 

Her daughter yawned as she blinked her eyes sleepily, making her coo. She was so tiny and perfect and beautiful and delicate… she could gush about her daughter for days on end without lacking the words to do so. 

“Have you decided on a name?” Asked the mediwitch as she bustled around the hospital room; cleaning everything up.

She shared a loving look with James and came to a decision as she stared into the hazel eyes of the man she had come to love more than anything in the world.

“Hazel. Her name is Hazel Potter.”

October 31st 1981

Fuck Peter Pettigrew. He deserved to rot in Hell for betraying them.

As she ran up the stairs with her wailing daughter in her arms, Lily gasped when she felt her husband, her Home, die at the hands of Voldemort.

Something in her soul snapped painfully and she barely bit back a shout of pain. Merlin that hurt like a bitch.

She tried to shake the pain off when she heard Voldemort climbing the stairs.

Lily was well aware she wouldn’t get out of this alive; Voldemort was simply too powerful.

She couldn’t fight him and protect Hazel at the same time, and her daughter would always be her priority.

As she tried to push down the panic in order to think more clearly, she recalled the strange power she had awakened a few years earlier. She’d managed to find out that it allowed her to Protect. She closed her eyes and dove deep within herself trying to find the source of the green lightning. Upon finding it, she noticed that the energy had painfully jagged edges, with tatters of dying orange flames floating around it.

She acted entirely on instinct as she put a hand on her daughter’s forehead and transferred the strange lightning, as well as all the magic she had in her core, into her little girl’s small body. She breathed a sigh of relief when she somehow made it work. Her magic and electric green energy easily mingled with her daughter’ own magic.

Just as Hazel started to fuss, the whole process was over. She pulled her hand away and noticed there was a bleeding wound in the shape of a lightning bolt on her daughter’s forehead. Her heart ached at the fact that she had to hurt her precious little princess in order to protect her, but it was necessary. Better she be wounded and alive, than dead.

She kissed her forehead and hugged her one last time before placing herself between the cradle and the door.

By the time Voldemort burst into the nursery, she felt horribly drained, empty and weakened. It took all of her willpower to stay upright and conscious.

It felt like she was dying.

She probably was.

It was well known that the act of giving one’s magic was a death sentence after all.

That was okay.

James’ death was a soul deep wound that would never heal for as long as she lived.

Death would be a blessing.

So she didn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing her beg; not for her own life nor for the life of her child. The powers she had transferred to Hazel would protect from all threats. 

Instead she simply stared at the pathetic excuse of a man in front of her square in the eyes and faced death with her head held high. 

“Bring it on, you bastard.”

Chapter Text

He hopped off the private jet he had been trapped in for the past eleven hours and onto the tarmac of one of the Triad owned airports in the UK. There was a slight polite smile firmly in place on his implacably serene face. Even he however would admit that said smile was slightly strained around the edges.

After taking a moment to compose himself he crossed the paved expanse of tarmac, his pace sedate, and climbed into the Flame enhanced car the Triad had arranged as his transport for the duration of his stay British soil. Its driver was a Cloudy Mist so at least the trip to the house he had rented would be quick; no one drove a car better than someone who could break the laws of reality on top of multiplying the speed of a car. All the while enhancing their reflexes and all their senses to an impossible degree.

Leaning back into the comfortable expensive leather backseat of the car, he almost wanted to frown as he thought back on what had brought him to England in the first place.

His latest assassination target was a heavily corrupt politician who had been blackmailed and bribed by the Triads consistently over the past few years but had outlived his usefulness. The man had run away from his hometown in Japan the second he caught wind of trouble coming his way. For some reason, the man owned a property in a cookie cutter town in England, and more precisely in Surrey, so he had decided to hide in the cookie cutter neighbourhood most people wouldn’t think twice about checking when looking for someone like his target. 

Unfortunately for his target and fortunately for him, he wasn’t what one would classify as most people; he was the Strongest Storm alive, the Triad’s neutral enforcer, the Greatest Martial Artist in the world and an extremely talented assassin; and most of all he was smart and had all the connections and contacts he needed to find his wayward target. 

The man would die sooner than later; he would make sure of it.

Hazel kicked a stone as she walked back from school under the glaring midday summer sun. She had been walking for an hour already, and it would take her another one to make her way back to her relatives’ house. Usually it wouldn’t take her so long, but Little Whining’s local school was closed because of a rat infestation, forcing the mayor to negotiate with the neighboring town so that all the students of Little Whining Elementary could attend their school.

The Dursleys refused to let her inside their precious and blessedly normal car to bring her to and from school. That meant she had to walk two hours in the morning and as many in the afternoon to get to school and back. Without water, food or even a decent coat during the winter.

Unfortunately since she was given chores until the very last minute she arrived late more often than not.

She let out a sigh of relief when she saw a familiar wooded area; it would give her some well needed shade. She would even be able to get her hands on some water to drink, since there was a small river going through the forest. There was also a small pond where she could bathe and soothe the bruises she had gained from her cousin bullying her!

Grinning as she entered the forest she set off towards the pond.

Fēng was in an isolated clearing going through his katas like he usually did in the morning to warm up and stay in shape and alert when he got the feeling of being watched. Without missing a beat he fell into the loose stance he favored when dealing with unknown threats because it allowed him to spring in motion in a millisecond… only to relax slightly when he spotted who it was and realized that the person who was watching him with wide green eyes that were filled with awe and respect for his skill was an eight year old girl.

She was petite and her pale golden skin contrasted sharply with her tousled shoulder length hair that was as dark as raven wings. 

Further scrutiny revealed that she was too thin and too pale to be considered anywhere near healthy. Add to that her busted and bleeding bottom lip, the black eye slowly darkening around her left eye as well as the nasty bruise covering her entire right cheek and he got a picture that spoke either of grave bullying or abuse. Although taking into account the rags the little girl wore, the scar in the shape of a lightning bolt that looked like it had been carved into her forehead, the large hand shaped fading bruise he could spot on her shoulder and the too old look in her vivid verdant eyes, she was probably a victim of both systemic bullying and long term abuse and neglect. 

It made him grit his teeth and his serenely polite smile became slightly strained as he struggled to keep up his smiling facade instead of letting his anger show. As it was he had to fold his hands in his sleeves to hide his clenched fists–they would scare the girl and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Hello there, little monkey.”

Seeing as she had been discovered, the girl approached him cautiously and sat on a flat stone by the pond in the middle of the grove he had discovered two days ago–once he had used his Flames to disintegrate anything on the ground that could hurt his bare feet, it was perfect for practicing martial arts. He had always preferred the grass and trees as opposed to a dōjō, especially since the one closest to the house he was currently living in, was mediocre at best.

She scowled in irritation.

“I’m not little and you have no room to talk; you’re smaller than I am.”

Fēng raised a surprised eyebrow at the girl’s peculiar wording.

“Smaller but not younger?”

The little girl (because she really was a tiny thing) sent him a deadpan look.

“No toddler would be able to pull off the moves I just saw you do with such ease; if at all. Plus, you have… that look in your eyes that tells me you are older than you look. Besides, an adult trapped in the body of a toddler is far from the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I see. What is your name?” He asked, deciding to file that last comment away for later perusal.

“Hazel Potter.”

There was a fierce glint in her eyes; something that told him that the girl–Hazel hadn’t given up yet and that she may bend, but she would never break. Fēng let his smile widen into something slightly more pleasant than coldly polite, satisfied with the knowledge that the abuse she had been put through hadn’t beaten down her inner fire. 

“I am Fēng. Nice to meet you, Hazel.”

“Likewise.” There was a beat of silence before the child spoke again, her tone and eyes betraying great curiosity. “What are you doing?”

He barely refrained from frowning when the girl gave a barely perceptible flinch immediately after asking her question, as if she was usually forbidden from doing the aforementioned action and was scared she would be punished for ‘disobeying the rules’.

The implications caused his flames to emulate their namesake as they roiled angrily in tandem with his increasingly stormy thoughts at the fact that a child was denied their right to further their knowledge.

“I’m practicing my martial arts so I don’t become rusty.”

Hazel beamed at him, looking relieved by the fact that he hadn’t become angry because she was asking questions.

“Teach me?” Was said in such a hopeful voice that it blew all his reservations aside and he could feel himself nodding.

“I will teach you. I don't know how long I’ll be able to stay in England, however.”

“That’s alright.” Hazel straightened, a stubborn and determined glint entering her eyes. “I’m a fast learner.”

“You are surprisingly flexible, you know that?” He asked in fond exasperation as Hazel went through a series of Brazilian jiu jitsu inspired exercises with ease.

It turned out Hazel was telling the truth; she really was a fast learner and a stubborn one at that.

At first he didn’t teach the girl any kind of combat techniques, merely pushing her through some intense flexibility, agility, balance and muscle building exercises. He also taught her the basics of Chinese and Japanese; meditation and the fine art of wearing a mask of her own craft like a second skin, a shield that would protect her from the sheeple that she should only drop around those she truly trusted. His student had soaked in the knowledge like a dry sponge, her eyes wide and eager to learn more.

He was extremely surprised when Hazel did every exercise he asked of her without complaint. She didn’t always get them right on the first try, or even after a dozen tries, but she never gave up and always sought to get better. One thing was for sure : Hazel had a lot less trouble with exercises that required flexibility.

If he didn't know any better and wasn’t as Flame sensitive as he was, he would’ve thought she was using some kind of Flame–Mist, Sun or Cloud perhaps–to make herself be more limber or something of the sort. Which certainly wasn’t the case since Hazel was latent, though he could feel she had a few flames that could be awakened at any moment. Which Flames they would be, however, he didn’t know. There was something blocking him from determining her Flame types, something like he had never encountered before, but the protection for lack of better words had a definite Lightning feel to it so maybe it was put there by one of her parents for some reason or another.

Then after determining she had made enough progress he spent another month teaching her the basics of hand to hand combat; things like the basic stances, how to throw a punch without breaking your thumb, where to hit, useful pressure points, how to dodge, etc.

“I guess I am.” His xuétú answered his question as she walked towards him while wiping her sweaty face with a towel. “I guess I’ve always been. Have to if I want to fit in my cup–room…”

Fēng narrowed his eyes. He could’ve sworn Hazel was about to say ‘cupboard’. If that was the case, he really wanted to have a long due word with her relatives.

“You have a small room, then?”

He frowned when she shifted awkwardly, avoiding his eyes and fidgeting. She was fumbling with the hem of her shirt–that he bought specially for her because like hell he would let his student wear rags–with her left hand, and was in process of winding a curl of her hair around the index finger of her right hand.

“Yes… they say frea–that I don’t deserve anything better.”

They, he had learned, were her aunt and uncle, the biggest bigoted and racist people he had ever heard of.

“They call you freak?” He gritted out calmly–well as calmly as he could at the moment considering he hated that word with a burning passion. He had been called a freak more than once since awakening his Storm Flames because instead of being a hot-headed moron, he defied expectations by being a calm and composed man. Apparently many found this unnatural.

“They’ve always called me that. Or girl… didn’t know my name until I started school. They never wanted me and always hated me.” She muttered, and the resigned acceptance practically dripping from her tone caused his killing intent to become almost tangible.

Thankfully he was distracted from his stormy thoughts by his xuétú's next words.

“I think it’s because I’ve always been able to do… strange things.”

“Strange how?”

“Well… I was going to tell you after training, but yesterday I teleported onto the school roof when Dudley and his gang were chasing me around the courtyard. I don’t know how I did it; one moment I was on the ground and the next I was on the roof.”

“Anything else?”

Hazel looked surprised that he wasn’t scoffing at her claims and gazed at him with cautious hope.

Then she turned pensive as she tried to answer his inquiry.

“Well… I did shrink that horrid sweater my aunt tried to force on me when I was five, and I accidentally turned my teacher’s wig a rather dashing shade of neon blue when I was about seven.” She trailed off impishly with a mischievous glint in her eyes that told him that there was nothing accidental about the incident.

He hummed thoughtfully. Yes, that definitely didn't sound like flames to him. The closest to it would be Mist flames, but the phenomenons his student described were too eclectic to be Flames. And she hadn’t said anything about seeing indigo mist during any of these instances.

“Were all of those instances intentional?”

“Erm… no. Some of them really were accidental, it felt like the–power I have inside of me–acts up on its own to protect me.”

Fēng nodded decisively. He would teach her how to use her power even if it wasn't flames. Since her abilities seemed to resemble Mist Flames the most and his mother and sister were Mists and he had watched as the former taught the latter, he had the experience he needed to teach his student this skill as well.

“Then I’ll have to teach you how to control your abilities etter.”

“You believe me.” 

While she said it as a statement it was clearly meant as a question and he inclined his head in affirmative.

“I am cursed to be trapped forever in the body of a toddler, Hazel. Why would your claims surprise me?”

“Right. That makes sense.” She muttered thoughtfully. “About the magic tutoring thing, when do we start?” She chirped eagerly and he chuckled.

“Tomorrow, little monkey. I want to ask a few people that have more experience with this kind of thing for advice first.”

She pouted slightly but in the end she reluctantly agreed to wait.

For the time being he had her go through the obstacle course one last time, at least for the day. He had built the course in the clearing for the express purpose of teaching her how to move around accidented terrains. It also required his student to do some impressive contortions and acrobatics to get past some of the obstacles. By the end of it Hazel was lying on the grass, panting in exhaustion but looking satisfied with what she had accomplished. She was getting gradually better at beating the course, but it didn’t mean she had it easy.

After running his student through a series of stretches, the Storm decided to call it a day and pushed a Sun infused water bottle in her hand in case she had any injuries that needed a bit of healing and he sat down next to her while Lichi sat in her lap.

They were silent for a while before Hazel spoke up.

“I found my birth certificate while cleaning the attic a while ago.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I found my full name is Hazel Lily Jasmine Alice Dorea Potter.”

He raised an eyebrow at the long name; it sounded like his student might come from nobility, since it was usually the latter who gave their children so many names.

“A very beautiful name, Hazel.” He said and repressed a frown at the way she latched onto the praise with the desperation of a dying man in the desert.

“I think so as well.” She said, beaming at him with pride shining in her jade green eyes.

Eventually Hazel had to go back to Mrs Figgs’ house where she was staying for the next two weeks because her relatives had gone to France yesterday and left her behind. The fact that she didn’t overtly seem bothered by it filled his heart with cold burning rage, so he started planning his confrontation with the Dursleys.

He would have to wait a month and a half to put his plans into action but once they came back… well, they would regret everything they ever did to his apprentice.

He felt a wicked smirk tug his lips before he schooled it his features once more.

Her mentor soon made the decision to stay mostly in Surrey for an extended period of time in order to teach her how to access her full potential. Fēng still had to leave occasionally do jobs for the Triads so during his absences she was allowed to crash at the new house he had hired a crew to build when it became clear that his stay would become more permanent than they first planned.

Hazel sat in the middle on a padded bench in the garden behind Fēng’s house. Her eyes were closed as she poured all of her concentration into accomplishing her current task. She was trying to levitate twenty metallic spheres simultaneously while making each of them dance in the air gracefully.

Under her Shīfu’s guidance her control over magic improved enough that she was able to harness her previously discovered ability to teleport to the point that she could do it silently and with very little effort. She could levitate small and large objects for a few minutes and even turn invisible with a lot of willpower and concentration.

“Well done, Hazel.” She jumped, her focus breaking at the sound of her Shīfu clapping his hands; the spheres dropping to the grassy forest floor with a chorus of muffled thumps. “That was your last exercise of the day so I believe we are done for now.”

“Yes Shīfu.”

“Are you hungry?” At her shy nod and the subsequent grumbling of her stomach, her Shīfu smiled wider than usual, fond amusement dancing in his warm black eyes. “We should go somewhere and grab a small bite to eat then.”

After wandering around the town with her Shīfu on her shoulder for a while, she stopped in front of a quaint tea shop with an authentic-looking Tudor exterior that was called The Two Skylarks according to the winged navy blue and silver sign hanging over the sidewalk above the door.

They stepped through the door and the tranquil feel emanating from the shop washed over them soothingly. The interior was cosy yet distinguished with a low ceiling, dark cream silk wallpaper that looked so velvety soft she was hard pressed holding back from running the pads of her fingers along them, dark glossy floors partially covered with olive ornate rugs. Deep navy and silver bergère love-seats and armchairs as well as gold oak wood tables and upholstered chairs were scattered around the room and the fireplace.

“Hello! Welcome to my humble establishment. My name is Laurel.” Said the woman who was clearly the owner of the café as she came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her lacy apron. The pink eyed woman had russet hair streaked with grey and dirty blonde that was pulled into a tight bun. Her eyes were those of a woman who had reared up children and maybe even grandchildren. All too aware of the tricks teens and children alike used to get into trouble or butter up their way out of it. “What can I get you, huns?”

Fēng was staring at the woman in shock and Hazel understood why; other than her (and even then she had commented on his height) this was the first time a civilian hadn’t commented on his current physical age upon meeting him.

“We’re not sure… this is our first time here.”

“Then take a seat and let me bring you our menu. I’m sure you’ll find something to your tastes.”

“I'll have some treacle tart and a cup of earl grey tea, please.”

“Do you have any teas from Asia?” Asked Fēng still looking at the menu.

“Why yes I do! My Grans’ best friend was from Namimori and she was the one who shared her love for tea with me as well as the proper way to prepare it. I always have some in stock.”

Fēng nodded in satisfaction.

“Excellent. We’ll have your assortment of finger sandwiches of the day as they sound absolutely delicious; for dessert I’ve settled on your lemon and matcha pie with a cup of oolong tea on the side, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course, Huns~! One plate of sandwiches, one treacle tart and one lemon-matcha pie coming right up.” She said brightly fluttering back into the kitchen. “You’re lucky; the pies are fresh out of the oven!” The owner called over her shoulder.

She grinned, already liking the woman.

“Sounds great!”

After that day, they went back to the tea shop on more than one occasion and Hazel was quickly adopted by the owner as a surrogate daughter or granddaughter. 

The shop became her home away from home.

She spent most of her time not allotted to training at the Two Skylarks, and spent quite a few nights in the apartment above the shops, happy to avoid Mrs. Figgs and her menagerie of cats for as long as possible.

The small library in Laurel’s apartment became her favourite place and she devoured every single book lining the room’s sturdy shelves. Fēng had made it clear that regardless of what the Dursleys told her, she should never be scared of expanding her knowledge. Being encouraged to learn and ask questions for the first time in her life awoke an almost obsessive hunger for knowledge. One that only many hours in the various libraries around town could ever hope to quench.

In the end this thirst for knowledge would only benefit her.

Knowledge was power after all.

“I want you to know that you’ll always be welcome here, Hazel.” Began Laurel as she pulled a tray out of the oven and put it aside to let the cookies cool down.

Hazel stilled, clutching her bag as she prepared to leave for the Dursleys. Apparently they were back from France, and they had called, wanting their slave back.

“You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to.”

It took her a while to register what the woman was offering. When she did, she immediately went to protest. She didn’t want either of the only adults that had treated her with kindness to deal with her relatives.

Laurel shot her a stern look.

“No but, Hazel. Leave the Dursleys to me. The guest room has practically become yours by now. Besides, I can’t keep sending you back to an abusive household. My conscience and my fondness for you will not allow it.”

She swallowed thickly, slowly dropping letting her bag drop back to the ground. Taking a trembling breath, she cast one last hesitant look at the door. Decision made, she joined the closest thing she ever had to a mother in the kitchen.

“... thank you.”

“Anytime, Hazel. Now that we’ve determined that you’re staying, what colour do you want to paint your room?”

“Fēng. Whatever you’re planning against the Dursleys, do it. I won’t stand our darling girl suffering at the hands of those monsters any longer.”

The diminutive man gave her a serene smile that had an edge of teeth.

“It will be my absolute pleasure.”

Fon walked down Privet Drive until he reached number Four, all the while grimacing internally at how identical everything looked. He knocked on the impeccably white painted door and waited. Not two minutes later, a giraffe masquerading as a typical housewife answered the door, fake smile curling ugly red lips set in a face caked with makeup. Said lips were pursed unattractively, making the woman look like she had eaten a lemon. Her prematurely greying blond hair was pulled back in a severe bun. A tacky apron edged with low quality lace was worn on top of a typical housewife frilly candy pink dress and a matching cardigan.

“Well hello little one!” She cooed–sounding every bit a fake and plastic as the rest of her–much to his annoyance. “Are you here to sell cookies? You’ve come to the right place! My Dudder absolutely loves them!”

Not even two seconds later he had the gratification of watching as the vile woman’s smile dropped when his eyes took on a red gleam, as he stared down at the pitiful excuse of a woman despite being physically a two year toddler.

“Let’s have a little talk, Petunia Evans.”

Fēng stared at the woman who had abused his student with cold hidden disdain, disgust and rage. He had to remind himself not to kill her on the spot, no matter how easy that would be.

It would only take a small amount of Storm Flames directed towards her brain and her pathetic life would be ended permanently.

But no, he had to refrain from doing so, otherwise the people who put Hazel there in the first place would be tipped off.

No. He could wait.

He was used to playing the long game after all.

The bitch doesn’t know that though, he thought sadistically fighting back a vicious smirk before frowning as he noticed that the woman was about to scream for help.

“Make a single sound and your life ends here and now. Is that understood?” He stated placidly, his eyes cold and his smile too full of teeth and sharp around the edges. When the bitch nodded his smile widened the slightest bit and if the woman’s poorly muffled whimper was any indication, he had become even more terrifying than before. It was a pleasure of his to send many packing with a single smile. “Good. Now let me in.”

The woman did after a moment of hesitation.

Looking around, he was disgusted but unsurprised to find that not a single picture in the house had Hazel in it; only his xuétú's beach ball sized pig of a cousin. His glare intensified when they passed by the cupboard under the stairs–the same cupboard they were undoubtedly forcing his student to sleep in. 

Finally they entered the living room and he wrinkled his nose at the tacky interior design of the room.

“I’m here to talk about your niece.”

“What about the Freak? What has she done now?”

“You and your husband will leave our protégé alone. She won’t be returning here. If you ever try to contact her in any way or find her, you’ll be turned into a pile of ash. Am I understood?”

“You-you wouldn’t dare harm a perfectly normal citizen like me for that Freak! You will get caught and rot in prison for the rest of your lives!”

“Death is my trade, Petunia. I can assure you; I won’t get caught.” He spat, somehow putting all of his disdain towards the concept of the World’s Greatest Flame users getting caught into one word.

At her whimper Fēng hid a vindictive smirk behind his sleeve; he could almost see the woman’s pathetic life flash before her eyes.

“Now do you promise to respect my rules or should we get rid of you and be done with it?”

“N-no need! We will leave the Fre–Potter alone.”

Suddenly Vernon barged into the house and waddled his way into the living room. The man looked ready to piss himself at the deadly intent filling the room.

He gave the walrus a glare that had him turn deathly pale. 

“I’ll leave you to explain to the walrus how things will be different from now on. Do as I say or you’ll lose everything you are, everything you love and everything you have, even your lives.”

“Hazel, come here please.” Said Fēng, letting the pride he felt towards his student seep into his gaze as the eight year old girl stalked towards with an amount of confidence he had made sure was ingrained into her very being. “You have made enough progress with hand to hand combat that I can start teaching you more complex martial arts, especially those that involve weapons.”

Hazel’s face lit up with boundless enthusiasm and impatient excitement, and Fēng could see she was barely keeping herself from bouncing on the balls on her feet.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting for this for months!”

He let the ghost of an amused smile flitter across his face.

“Let’s start then, Hazel.”

Hazel collapsed on the forest ground, thankful that she had landed on a carpet of thick moss that cushioned her fall. 

She laid there for a while, panting and gasping for air. She grimaced as she tried to move, her whole body was aching from the strain she put it through. Her limbs felt like lead and the bruises littering her body stung something fierce.

Hearing someone approach, she turned her head, seeing her shīfu standing next to her, watching her impassively.

“Hm. Not bad. Now, get up and try again.”

Hazel groaned, getting to her feet with great difficulty.

“Good. Now, show me what you remember.”

Hazel ducked under the descending blow, eyes widening when the tonfa that had been aiming for her head embedded itself into the wall above her, missing her by a mere inch.

Fēng landed lightly on his feet, impassive. Throwing his other tonfa aside he shifted into an stance that was unfamiliar to her.

“Again.”

Hazel clumsily parried the blunt blade aiming for her mid-section, barely managing to block the three next blows raining down on her at inhuman speed.

Letting her trembling legs collapse beneath her as soon a her Shīfu lowered his weapon, she barely rolled out of the way of the next attack, groaning as she hit the ground ungracefully. 

“Let this be a lesson. A real fight for your life is not over until your opponent is dead or unable to continue. When faced with someone who wholeheartedly wants to end your life by any means necessary, learn to always expect foul play.”

Using the last of her strength, Hazel swept her leg in a wide arc, trying to trip Fēng. When he easily backed out of the way, she threw a handful of dirt at him before climbing on a nearby tree to ambush him. 

Only for that to fail when Lichi pushed her off the branch she was perched on.

She tucked herself in and tried to control her landing to avoid injuries. Trying to get up, she found that she couldn’t, the exhaustion from earlier catching up to her.

“Very good Hazel. Using the terrain to your advantage is always for the best. However, you must become more aware of your surroundings. If you were, you could’ve avoided Lichi easily”

“Yes, Shīfu.”

For the next two months, after school, Hazel became very familiar with the forest floor, and felt like collapsing on more than one occasion.

She never felt like giving up, however, because when she trained with her Shīfu and learned how to defend herself–how to stand up for herself–she felt alive for the first time in her life.

Even when it became obvious that she was crap at anything that involved swords and only passable at fighting with tonfas and staffs.

The only problem was that she had come to see Fēng as a father figure and as much as she wanted to receive proper hugs and hair ruffles from him… she knew it would never happen. The occasional cuddling session was good and all, but it wasn’t the same. 

Occasionally she would cry at night mourning the missed opportunity to have an adult figure in her life and wishing she had met Fēng before he was cursed.

She also cried for her Shīfu who was stuck in a body that was way too young.

Much to her pride and joy, once they moved onto short and smaller blades after two months, Hazel quickly discovered that the martial art best fitted for her was an Italian martial art involving stilettos blades that was called Paranza Corta.

It was a while before she got the hang of it, but the knives felt comfortable in her hands, unlike some of the other weapons she had tried.

It took her six month months tireless training, daily practice, countless bruises and sore muscles to become good enough to satisfy her Shīfu. Only then did her start teaching her how to throw her blades while also incorporating the basics of tessenjitsu into her training.

The first time she tried her hand at throwing stiletto blades, she hit a tree two feet away from the target.

The next fifty attempts of the day didn’t give any better results.

Still, Hazel didn’t give up. If it wasn’t for Fēng stopping her, she would’ve probably practiced until her fingers bled. 

She still did.

As soon as Fēng left for a month long business trip, Hazel woke up at four in the morning for the next month, training tirelessly for hours and it was only the necessity to go back to Laurel’s before the woman woke up, as well as school, that kept her from practicing all morning and late into the afternoon. Still, she practiced until the movements were so ingrained into her being that she could do them in her sleep. 

She trained until she could at first hit the outer edge of the target painted on the largest tree of the clearing. Her fingers bled and stung, but it didn’t matter. She had super fast healing on her side and a few cuts and blisters were nothing compared to the pain of her cousin’s beatings.

Then she kept training, unsatisfied with anything less than hitting the bullseye every time. She would not settle for anything less.

As the end of the month grew near, she manage to reach the point where she hit the centre of the target with consistency. 

Her improvement made the scolding she would not doubt receive from Fēng as soon as he came back and saw the fresh scars littering her now calloused hands and the gruelling training she had gone through totally worth it.

Fēng kept a polite smile fixed on his otherwise impassive face as he sent another lackey to the ground permanently; even if he wanted nothing more than frown in annoyance. 

Apparently some low level Mafia Don had decided that the best time to confront him and force him into a guardian bond was when he was mostly away from the Triad’s main areas of influence.

The idiot hadn’t even taken into account the fact that he was a deadly force on his own or that as the strongest Storm alive anyone would be hard pressed to harmonize with him, never mind force him into a bond.

Incurable stupid and idiotic morons; that’s what they were.

Kicking the closest lackey in the stomach, his smile widened slightly when the man coughed up some blood and bent over, clutching his stomach. 

Fēng immediately followed with a sweeping kick to the temple, infusing his attack without a small amount of his Storm Flames and watching with satisfaction as his opponent fell to ground. That one would never rise up again; his Storm flames had essentially disintegrated the man’s brain.

Glancing down, he fought a scowl of annoyance when he saw some blood had landed on his clothes, then shrugged.

Oh well; there was a reason why he mostly wore red–and it certainly wasn’t for aesthetics or because of his Storm Flames. 

Turning around as he ducked yet another attack, he caught sight of a small body coming his way right before a very familiar voice rang through the air.

“Shīfu! Duck, quick!”

He did so on pure reflex, narrowly avoiding the blade the Mafioso Boss slashed where his throat had been moments ago. He cursed himself for allowing himself to be distracted, and could feel his eyes widen when a stiletto blade flew through the air above his head and sunk in the mafioso’s throat, nicking the man’s main artery. Seconds later life quickly faded from the man’s blue eyes as he bled out, and he collapsed to the ground, limp and unmoving, joining his lackeys who had all been taken care of previously.

How had she done that? The last time they had covered knife throwing she had been off target by at least two feet.

Was this a fluke?

Or had she disobeyed him, practicing more than the limits he had set?

He turned towards his student, dropping all masks and pretences; throwing all notions of composure and control in the face of the danger Hazel had been in moments earlier.

“Hazel!? What are you doing here? You could have been hurt, or worse, killed!”

His xuétú didn’t answer and ran towards him, picking him up. He was slightly surprised when she paid no mind to the blood staining his clothes and hugged him to her chest tightly. 

“I don’t care about me! You could’ve died! You could’ve died, Shīfu.” She cried in choppy Chinese, sobbing uncontrollably. Fēng let her do so; only a few days before  she turned nine and she had just experienced her first kill after all. She was bound to be in shock.

Chapter Text

“Reborn. What are you doing here?”

“Well Fon, you didn’t show up at the last summit, so Luce told me to go and get you.”

Fon raised an eyebrow in surprise. “And you obeyed?”

He scowled. “You would too under the pressure of her damn Sky Flames.”

“Point.”

“So… I spend half a week finding you, only to discover that you are staying in england because of a little girl.”

“You point?”

“Who is she, Fon?”

Fon frowned. “Why should I tell you?” 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh I don’t know, maybe because you don’t want anything to do with the chaos that comes with me investigating the girl?”

“Fine. She’s… my student.”

“Ho?”

“That’s all the information you’ll get from me, Reborn. Don’t test me.”

“Chaos. Care to introduce me? I could help hide her.”

“Fine.” Fon ground out.

It wasn’t until he met Fon’s student that he understood why the martial artist had taken her under his wing.

She has talent, that’s for sure, he thought as he watched the lithe and nimble pre-teen go through the obstacle course Fon had built in his backyard with fluid grace. 

He felt his eyes widen when, as soon as she completed the course, she moved towards a field of targets, throwing knives and stiletto blades. Never faltering and missing only once.

Of course there was still room for improvement. He would never settle for anything less than the best.

The Storm next to him was the embodiment of smug pride as he watched his student, and Reborn couldn’t help the fond smirk pulling at his lips. Fon looked… happy. Happier than he had ever seen him. Clearly this was good for him. Teaching someone; having someone to care for.

“Hazel!”

The girl stilled mid-movement and stalked towards them gracefully. She showed no outward reaction to his size, but after studying under Fon it was no surprise.

“Reborn, meet my student; Hazel. Hazel, meet my colleague, Reborn–”

“The world’s Greatest Hitman.” He finished, ignoring Fon’s barely restrained glare at the interruption with his usual smirk. “Chaos. Nice to meet you, Haze.”

The girl grinned brightly and shook his hand, not even batting an eye at the knowledge that he was a hitman or that he had butchered her name. She even seemed pleased at the nickname.

“It’s fabulous to meet you as well, Reborn!”

He frowned internally, mourning the loss of this great opportunity for chaos but quickly recovered.

“Do you know any good restaurants nearby? I’m starving.”

As they walked down the street towards their usual tea shop, chatting merrily about everything under the sun, Hazel decided she liked Reborn very much. He had a dry sense of humour and a tendency for chaos she absolutely loved. Not only that, Leon, his partner in crime (literally) was adorable! 

They finally arrived at The Two Skylarks. “Laurel!” She cried happily, going to hug the woman who had become like a mother over the last year. The motherly woman smiled warmly and hugged back. 

“It’s nice to see you again, sugarplum! What can I get you today, huns~?”

“The mocha cake for me.” 

“And we’ll take our usual, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course huns! Coming right up.”

It didn’t take long for the food to arrive and they immediately dug in.

“So, Reborn, what brings to England?”

“Well…”

“Reborn is going to teach you how to shoot a gun, Hazel.” Cut in her mentor.

“… exactly.”

“Great! When do we start?!” 

As the three of them walked back to his home, Reborn fell into step with him, frowning under his fedora.

“Chaos. Why the hell do you want to teach her how to shoot a gun, Fon?!”

“A low level Famiglia attacked me last week and Hazel intervened. She killed a grown Mafioso at the age of nine, Reborn, and I fear I will bring more danger upon her. She needs to learn everything that has the potential to keep her safe.”

“Mio dio...” He said with grim understanding tinging his voice. “I’ll do my best to teach her as much as I can then.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, Reborn. Think of it as a good way to practice being a tutor.”

“You do have a point.”

Haze turned to them, frowning slightly.

“What are you two doing back there? Come on! I want to show Reborn around!”

He spent the next hour and a half teaching Haze the basics of handling a gun before pushing her towards the target range and putting her to the test. He actually enjoyed the experience; Hazel was a very attentive and competent student who absorbed his teachings like a sponge in the middle of the desert.

Reborn couldn’t help but gape when Fon’s student hit the targets every time–even though in the end she only achieved about five bullseyes out of fifteen shots. 

Then he smirked and rubbed his hands in anticipation, black eyes gleaming with no small amount of chaos and mischief.

He truly had a feeling that this was going to be great!

Hazel spent the next month and a half perfecting her shooting technique with Reborn’s help. The man had tried to bully–err prank her at first.

It quickly devolved into the prank war of the century.

Both sides were forces to be reckoned with; Reborn had years of experience in the art of chaos and Leon as his accomplice, while Hazel had her powers to aid her in all manners of pranks.

Said pranks ranged from turning Reborn’s hair bright purple on Fēng’s suggestion all the way to sticking him upside down to the ceiling for a whole day when he tried to wake her up with a defibrillator.

The former had led to Reborn yelling indignantly and pouting for a whole day while Fēng sent the picture to one of his contacts. Whoever it was, was apparently delighted to have any shape or form of leverage against the hitman

She made sure to take loads of pictures as well because one never knew when they would need blackmail on someone.

Another good thing that came out of the prank war was that her control over her powers improved to previously unseen levels. She was well on her way to becoming proficient in the art of bending time, space and reality to her will.

Back on track, the hitman had become her tutor in maths when he realized her teacher was an asshole who hated her with a burning passion ever since she turned his hair blue. Reborn took this opportunity to teach her observational skills as well. Mainly the art of reading people. She was pretty good if Reborn’s praises were anything, and wasn’t surprised about it; Fēng’s teachings about crafting masks and wearing them until it became a second nature required to learn to see and recognize the facial expressions first. Her Shīfù often dragged her to a local dinner for a session of people watching.

It was one of those rare times when quiet mornings were a thing. There were no pranks, or chaos.

Only companionable silence at the crack of dawn as she and Reborn shared a cup of coffee at the kitchen counter. While her temporary tutor showed her yet again how to disassemble and clean a glock. Say what you will about the guy, he was a thorough teacher and would settle for nothing less than perfection.

She took a sip of her coffee. The small hitman had gotten her utterly addicted to the nectar of the gods also know as espresso coffee after imparting his knowledge on how to prepare it properly. Apparently she had a taste for bitter things. Shīfu had scolded Reborn for weeks afterwards, but she was glad that she would have something to remember Reborn by after he left.

“So Shīfu told me you wanted to start tutoring.”

“I do.”

She hummed thoughtfully and leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm as she propped her elbow on top of the glossy cherry wood surface between them. Nestled in her sleep mussed hair Leon shifted slightly in his sleep with the sudden movement before settling down again.

“Hmm... yup–I can see it working.”

Reborn smirked and gave her a side glance.

“Here’s an exercise for you; I give you a certain type of student and situation and you try to think of a strategy to teach them.”

She snorted, but her whole focus was still on his small yet nimble hands that were cleaning every single piece with minutious meticulosity. The systematic process was incredibly graceful in its own way and she couldn’t help but feel entranced.

“Lazy much? ‘Cause to me it looks like you want me to do the work for you.”

Much to her disappointment, Reborn didn’t rise to the bait and merely arched an eyebrow, placing yet another small piece of his gun on the kitchen towel next to him once he was done cleaning it.

“Meh–why not?”

“Snob arrogant heir?”

“Tort-training for sure, but not to the point that it’s abuse. He would need to know his place and know the harsh realities of the world he grew up with even if his parents coddled him during his childhood and teenage years.”

“Alright, what if… I have to teach a good for nothing civilian how to be a Boss?”

“Persuasive methods, for sure. Nothing like you tried to make me go through. He wouldn’t know anything about your world, and forcing him to accept that world will only break him or make him hate it all the more; make him want to mess up or even destroy the family.” Declared Hazel as she pet Leon. “And for the love of gods–don’t you dare abuse your students or I will learn about it somehow, hunt you down and make you wish you weren’t born. I won’t have a bully as my friend.”

Reborn was silent as he put his prized weapon back together with deft, efficient movements. Not messing up or faltering even once. 

“Who said I wanted to be your friend in the first place?”

She scrutinized him with serious intensity; vivid verdant emeralds meeting cold coal chips. When she finally broke the silence and spoke, her voice was soft.

“Everyone needs a friend, Reborn. Everyone.”

“This is the last time we’ll see each other for a while, Haze. I have been hired for my first job as a tutor that starts a month from now and I have some loose ties that need tying until then.”

“Oh.” Was all she could get out. “Will you stay in touch?”

Her heart sank when the hitman shook his head.

“As much as I want to… it wouldn’t be safe.”

“I… understand. So–I guess this is where we say goodbye?”

“It is, but before that, I have a gift for you, Haze. Leon helped me with it.”

She grabbed the wrapped box and grinned as soon as she had a peek inside.

Nestled in the dark foam interior of the case was a beautiful hand gun decorated with beautifully detailed hazel flowers. 

She looked up to see that Reborn had tilted his fedora to shadow his eyes and for once the movement looked almost insecure. 

He cleared his throat looking uncomfortable under her scrutiny and looked away.

“I have deemed you good enough to receive your first gun. Continue to practice whenever you can.”

“It’s beautiful.” She managed to utter after staring at the gun in a mixture of shock and awe.

She was well aware that this was Reborn’ way to tell her without words that he trusted her skills and sense of responsibility.

Enough so that he was willing to give her a gun of her own without being there to supervise her.

She picked him up and hugged him to her chest tightly, grinning when Reborn let out a long suffering sigh, but let her do as she pleased. 

“Goodbye, Reborn.”

“Goodbye, Hazel.”

Hazel couldn’t help but feel strangely empty as she watched Reborn walk away.

Chapter Text

Today would be an excellent day, Hazel was sure of it for quite a few reasons. First it was a Friday and who didn’t like Fridays? Second, her Shīfu was set to come back from a job today which was just the greatest thing; he had been gone for a week and she had missed her mentor so very much. Third, her cousin had stayed home faking being under weather, and without a "leader" the other spoiled brats that formed his gang were a band of bumbling baboons, so she wouldn’t be bothered today. Fourth, the day ended with gym class and the teacher was also sick so they had a substitute teacher for the day who was utterly incompetent in anything relating to physical effort.

Which meant they had a free period.

Hazel startled when she heard clapping and fell to the ground midflip as a result of her concentration breaking. She had decided to go through the series of acrobatics she had come up with on her own during another of Fēng’s absences. After learning the few acrobatics her mentor had taught her while imparting his knowledge of martial arts onto her, she had fallen in love with acrobatics and stunts that required her by now famed flexibility.

Apparently she had been seen despite her best efforts to be discrete.

The green eyed martial art apprentice looked up from her prone position on the blue mats she had set up in an isolated corner of the gymnasium and was met with limpid sky blue eyes flecked with pale silver and cyan. Said eyes were set in a tan heart shaped face framed by tawny curls interspersed with dark caramel and blonde strands.

“You’re like, really good at this!” The girl–that she recognized as Jade Rockvell, the leader of the gymnastic team that was called the Balance Brigade or BB for short–chirped brightly. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! Why don’t you join the BB?”

Hazel frowned. “What about Dudley? Aren’t you scared of what he’ll do to you when he learns you’ve invited me into the team?”

Jade scoffed, waving a derisive hand. “That– brute doesn’t scare me anymore. You shouldn’t underestimate the strength of girl power and gossip. If he thinks for one second that I will let him do what he did to me again, I’ll turn the school against him in less time than it takes to say the word sorry.” Scoffed the tawny haired spitfire spitefully, placing her other hand on her jutted out hip.

“Meh–why not? Though I have to warn you that I have martial art practice every day between six and eight in the morning.”

The only reason she had accepted was that Jade had never bullied her and tried to defend her multiple times. The girl was eventually convinced to let it be after Dudley bullied the gymnast relentlessly. 

Besides, it might be good to branch out into something that wasn’t martial arts because even she would admit that she was a bit obsessed with her training.

Jade beamed at her with a wide grin.

“Awesome! Swing by the BB homeroom for your uniform whenever you’re free and then we can see what else you can do!”

She grinned back hesitantly and nodded.

“Will do.”

Hazel quickly fell in love with gymnastics. The coach, Clair Hawkins, was a fantastic teacher. She was patient and kind, and knew exactly how to push them to do their best. The team welcomed her with open arms, and for the first time in her life she knew what it felt to be accepted by people her age. They bonded over sweat and bruises in the gym, getting to know each other incredibly well.
Soon they starting spending time together outside of practice, going to her mother’s cafe after school and visiting the mall to do some shopping and grab some ice cream. They even went to the arcade once or twice. They went to each other’s houses very often, for movie nights, sleepovers and study groups.

For the first time in her life she knew what the fuss about having friends her age was all about. Friends that were hers; friends that she would protect with all her might just like they protected her to the point that they would come to her rescue in a heartbeat, no matter what kind of trouble she was in.

Jade, her first friend, loved Shirley Temples with extra cherries on the top from that pizzeria on the corner and lived for Laurel’s hibiscus iced tea mixed with pink lemonade. She fell asleep in the middle of every movie they watched together, unless it was a thriller. She always chose the same blue nail polish when they did each other’s nails during sleepovers. She had her entire career as a journalist already planned on a cork board in her room.

Dudley tried to turn her new friends against her, but he was quick to back down when nasty rumours concerning him and his gang started running around the school. He and his gang very quickly became the school’s outcasts.

She shivered as she recalled her cousin’s fall from grace. Despite her angelical looks, Jade could be a little devil in disguise when provoked. She was a force to reckon with.

She was glad to be the girl’s friend.

All was not roses and rainbows, however. Hazel was unable to trust them completely. There was a slight yet constant fear niggling at the back of her mind. A traitorous little voice that kept telling her that her new friends would turn their backs to her as soon as they became bored. 

Years of bullying and abuse did that to a person, Hazel’s therapist had told her when she shared this with him. No child could spring back from that kind of treatment from his or her peers without any consequences. 

Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop was exhausting, but what was little she could do about it. It’s not like there was a miraculous cure to trust issues caused by years of bullying; of scorn and mocking and beatings from Dudley’s gang and some of the older kids.

Therapy was helping, but it was a slow going recovery process that might take years, according to her therapist.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage the winners of the regional junior gymnastic competition... all the way from Evergreen Elementary... the Balance Brigade!”

Fēng clapped with a proud smile as Hazel and the other gymnasts of her team walked up to the stage and onto the podium, and bowed at the cheering and clapping crowd as the judge slipped a heavy gold medal around her neck. She was hugging her teammates with a massive smile on her face.

He was glad his xuétú had found something she liked that wasn’t martial arts. Something that allowed her to be more of a child.

“Potter, meet me in my office after practice!” Declared coach Hawkins while they were practicing their routines on the low beam.

Hazel froze, wondering what she’d done to warrant a meeting in the coach’s office.

Jade shot her a look of confusion tinged with concern.

“Any idea why she wants to talk to you?”

“None at all. I just hope I didn’t do anything to anger her.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine!! Coach Hawkins loves you, I’m sure this will good news.”

She gave her friend a half-hearted smile, appreciating the girl’s efforts to reassure her.

Hazel resolved to redouble her efforts for the rest of practice, just in case.

Jade cheered when she finally managed to execute her routine flawlessly for the first time after a week of practicing.

Hazel entered the coach Hawkins’ office nervously, still unsure if she was in trouble or not.

She was startled when she met the gaze of a woman she’d never met before. She had brown hair pulled in a severe bun and sharp, but kind black eyes.

“Ah, Miss Potter, perfect timing. We were just talking about you.” Her coach greeted her warmly. “Potter, I’d like you to meet Rebecca Poole, a colleague of mine. She is a professional gymnastics coach. She came to me looking for a new gymnast to teach, and I recommended you. She wished to meet you.”

By the time she left the office, she was officially a professional gymnast under the tutelage of Coach Rebecca Poole. 

Being a solo gymnast made her feel freer than the BB ever did. 

She was able to create her own choreographies with the help of Rebecca and choose which competitions she participated in. All of this soothed the restlessness that had been inhabiting her for a while.  

Fēng did insist to research the woman thoroughly, and she was reassured when the man gave the all clear.

Rebecca quickly found a place in her heart and became something akin to an aunt, and one she actually liked at that. It proved that family wasn’t determined by blood, what with Fēng being a strange father figure to her while Laurel took the spot of a mother in her makeshift family. Reborn like an uncle to her.

The team was excited, supportive and proud of her.

It made warmth bloom in her heart, especially when Jade squealed and tackled her into a tight hug.

They had a sleepover to celebrate and as she laid on her camping bed between Jade and Rosalyn she realized just how lucky she was to have friends who would support her through everything thrown her way.

For the next few months she was on cloud nine; she was free.

It was not meant to last however and like all shooting stars eventually she fell; eventually she was forcefully brought back down to earth.

“I must leave, Hazel. The Triads have been asking unwanted questions and wondering where I disappear to whenever I don’t have a contract.” The last thing he wanted was some of the more immoral Triad members figuring out where it was he had disappeared to. Hazel could be used as leverage against him in an attempt to put a leash on him at last. Or worse they would attempt to recruit Hazel and he didn’t want his student involved in this mess anymore than she already was, at least not until she was old enough to understand everything there was to the crime world.

Even though her eyes were filled with unshed tears, Hazel nodded with an air of resigned acceptance, scuffing her leather boot clad toes into the dirt as she put all her weight on her right leg.

“I understand… I knew it was coming.”

“That doesn’t make it any less painful, little one.” He countered knowingly. “You are allowed to feel, especially around those you can trust.”

“I know…” Hazel managed to choke out.

She felt Shīfu slip a piece of paper into her pocket and looked up at him, puzzled.

“If you ever need help in the domains of finances or information, call the first number and tell Viper that your name is Star and that I transferred my debt from that time in Berlin onto you. They'll be able to help. I also left you my number and Reborn’s. If you ever need anything, call us, alright?”

She nodded reluctantly and looked at her mentor with hope shining in her eyes.

“You will visit, won’t you?”

“I will. As soon as the waters have calmed I’ll be able to see you again. In the meantime, just like Reborn I have a few parting gifts for you.”

“You do? What are they?”

He gave a mysterious smile, handing her two beautifully carved wooden boxes.

She opened the first and largest box and grinned at the set of beautifully crafted blades she found inside. Most of them were long and thin, wickedly sharp and decorated in such way that they could be used a hairpin or a hatpin if the situation required it. The rest were daggers of various sizes.

“These are beautiful, Fēng. Thank you.” She gave him a grateful smile before opening the second box to reveal a deep red hand fan painted with delicate amber hazel flowers. She grinned, knowing that this could be as much an accessory as it could be a weapon. She had learned she could use her magic to turn even the softest objects into weapons with sharp, hard edges.

She picked him and gave him tight hug, clinging to him. After thanking Fēng for the gifts and promising that she would keep up with her training,

“You have to let me go, little monkey. My plane will be leaving soon.” Sighed Shīfu, sounding every bit as reluctant as she felt.

She nodded into his chest as she held back her tears and released him from her octopus-like embrace.

“Goodbye, Fēng.” She whispered tearfully.

“Goodbye, Hazel. We will meet again one day.”

She chuckled wetly even as she watched him walk away, trying to ignore the numb emptiness; the cold gaping hole tearing into her soul.

Viper did not jump when their phone rang.

They did not.

The default ringtone did make them raise an eyebrow however; they personalized the ringtone of all their contacts so they knew who was calling.

It wouldn’t do to be caught unaware because they didn’t know who their interlocutor was. 

The default ringtone meant that someone unknown was trying to reach them. It also meant that Viper needed to murder someone for not informing them there was an unknown individual poking around for Viper’s personal number.

“Time is money; do not waste mine.” They declared dryly as they answered the call. 

“Viper, right?”

They raised a brow under their hood at how young their interlocutor sounded. Yet the voice was void of the innocence that usually characterized a child’s voice.

“Yes.” 

“I’m Fēng’s apprentice; he transferred the favour from that time in Berlin that you owe him onto me and I’m calling to cash it in.”

Well, this just got even more interesting…

“Myu. Name?”

“Sirina.”

“Sirina…?” They demanded impatiently.

“Sirina Star.” 

“Mou. Alright Miss Star, what can I do for you?”

“My relatives are receiving a stipend for taking care of me from accounts that seem to have belonged to my parents, despite the fact that I haven’t lived there in nearly two years. I want those transfers to stop, without the person managing my parents’ account realizing that someone is messing with the transfer. Fēng has told me you have multiple masteries in various domains relating to accounting so I figured you would be the best person to help me.”

“Mou. I am.”

“Great! Let’s get to work then shall we?”

In the end she managed to come to an agreement with Viper who promptly took charge of her finances. In exchange for a quarter of the stipend as well as forty percent of the money the miser made as her account manager, Viper had quickly set up an account for her where the money was deposited, while making it seem like the Dursleys were receiving it. Though the fact she had promised to send loads of pictures of Reborn stuck in ridiculous situations as an aftermath of their prank war (including the one of the hitman with purple hair which had Viper cackling delightedly) to the information broker had sweetened the deal.

Because of this, her relatives were actually in debt due to their reckless spendings that was supposedly at her expense.

Laurel put down the phone, her emotions a cocktail of bemusement, amusement and irritation.

Somehow her phone number had become Hazel’s contact number at school–she heavily suspected her adopted daughter to have a hand in that, the teen was as sneaky as they come–and the principal had called her in order to inform her of an incident at school.

Apparently a boy had decided it would be a good idea to peek into the girl’s changing room, and Hazel and Jade had… dissuaded the kid from ever doing so again. Say what you want about her girl and her friends, but they knew how to leave an impression that would last a few decades on those who provoked them.

She grabbed her bag, packing it with a plastic container of pastries from the fridge. Nothing better could beat food in convincing irate people to see your point. And if that didn’t work, she was a member of the local book club, and well, facts could so easily be misinterpreted. 

Chapter Text

Hazel was bored. So utterly Bored in fact that yes, the word really did deserve a capital letter in this situation.

Twenty minutes later she was still at loss about what to do to cure her boredom when she passed in front of the local zoo and decided; why not? It wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Besides she couldn’t remember the last time she had visited a zoo. 

Easily paying the entrance fee she entered the zoo and walked around at a sedate pace. She took great amounts of vindictive amusement in imagining her giraffe of an aunt, her walrus of an uncle and her pig of a cousin trapped in one of the enclosures.

She might have not been living with them for years at this point, but she still resented them profoundly for how they treated her since the day she was left on their doorstep. 

Once her hunger made itself known quite insistently with the assistance of a chorus of grumbles coming from her stomach, Hazel headed towards the picnic area and made quick work of the lunch she’d had the forethought to pack. It was nothing too extravagant; merely a small selection sandwiches, a bag of veggies, and some apple juice. For dessert she treated herself to ice cream.

Eventually, all that was left to visit was the reptile house. She’d decided to keep the best for last.

As soon as she entered, she was surrounded by voices speaking with sibilant accents. It took her only a few seconds to realize that the voices belonged to the snakes trapped in the vivariums. 

Truthfully she was less taken aback by that realization that she should've been. She vaguely remembered talking to a snake while she worked in the Dursleys' backyard. Petunia had caught her doing it and she had spent four days locked in the cupboard without food or water as punishment for her freakiness. She had never been so close to dying before that incident, that she vowed to never do it again. It didn’t matter in the end, of course. It might’ve been the first time that she was punished so harshly by her relatives, but it was certainly not the last. Incidents like that just kept happening no matter how hard she tried to control it.

In hindsight, she was pretty sure the only reason she was still alive after being repeatedly locked in the cupboard for days, was because of her mysterious powers. There was no way that a normal child could survive so long without water at that age.

She shook off those gloomy thoughts as the sight of a chameleon who looked startlingly similar to Leon lounging on a bright green leaf in one of the terrariums sent a pang of longing blooming through her whole being.

She stopped in front of a terrarium with a boa trapped inside. The poor thing was hissing sadly about how much it missed its home country and wished to go back to Mexico.

She was about to answer now that she didn’t need to hide her abilities from the Dursleys anymore, hoping that like Reborn her ability extended to actually talking to snakes and not only understanding the reptiles.

Sadly she was shoved to the ground by her lovely cousin before she could do anything more than open her mouth.

“Get out of my way, freak!”

She'd forgotten that today was Dudley’s birthday.

Narrowing her eyes angrily as she nursed her scratched palms and bruised shoulder with her power, Hazel willed the glass of the boa’s cage to vanish. She hid a vindictive smirk behind her sleeve when her cousin fell into the snake’s enclosure while said boa constrictor slithered out of its cage.

§Well hello there.§

The boa constrictor let out a hissy laugh and slithered towards her until its nose was touching her hand.

As soon as they made contact, the snake’s darker scales that formed a gorgeous pattern along its spine faded to a dark shade purple that contrasted sharply with the boa’s otherwise light greenish scales and its eyes turned bright glowing violet. The snake also shrunk until it was small enough fit in her palm.

§It’s an honour to meet you, amiga.§

Hazel sat on the ground, utterly unaffected by the chaos surrounding her.

The reptile house had quickly descended into chaos.

Everyone was too busy panicking about the fact there was a snake on the loose and a boy trapped in the former’s cage to notice the snake wrapped around her forearm.

§Well I believe Mexico is way too far for you to reach without assistance.§ She declared quietly with an amused chuckle. §What is your name?§

§Francisco§ Hissed the snake warily.

She grinned in delight and scratched Francisco’s head, making her new friend melt into a puddle. 

§Nice to meet you, Francisco. I’m Hazel.§

§Likewise… may I stay with you, since Mexico is too far away?§ 

§I certainly wouldn’t mind a new friend.§ She acquiesced readily.

She left the zoo, wondering how she would explain her new pet to Laurel.

Chapter Text

Hazel jerked in surprise when there was suddenly a knock at her bedroom door.

“Hazel dear~ you’ve got some mail!”

“Really? Who is it from, mom?” She asked as she opened the door.

“I’m not sure… look, the envelope isn’t even for the right address.” 

“Number four, Privet Drive, the Cupboard Under The Stairs? That means…”

“That the person who sent this letter has a lot to answer for.”

“They are also under the impression that I’m still in an abusive household, which is good.” 

Laurel nodded in agreement, releasing a soft sigh of relief. It would’ve been disastrous if the one who put her with the Dursleys became aware of the fact that Hazel was no longer living with them. 

Using the knife tucked in her boot, she carefully pried the envelope open and unfolded the thick letter it contained.

The words it contained shattered everything she thought she knew about the world she lived in.

.-.

Hazel sat in her room, Francisco curled in her lap, staring at the letter she held in her hands.

Dear Miss Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

The term begins September 1st. You must confirm your attendance to the school by owl no later than July 31st.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore.

Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Member of the Order of Merlin, Supreme Mugwump and Grand Sorcerer.

Her mind was racing. Receiving an acceptance letter from a school of witchcraft and wizardry of all things was a surprise. That emotion however was promptly replaced by pure relief once she processed the fact that she wasn’t the only one who could do strange things, things even Fēng and Reborn couldn’t do.

She wasn’t a freak.

Relief and anger swirled in her heart.

The letter had been addressed to her cupboard.

That could only mean one thing.

Someone knew of her previous living conditions and didn’t have any intention of doing anything about it.

She had a pretty good idea who it was, Hazel thought as she glared at the name signed at the bottom of the letter, Albus Dumbledore.

There were no valid excuses to justify the crime of knowingly keeping a child in an abusive situation. Especially someone with so many titles.

There was also the fact that it was glaringly obvious that her letter had been censored. It said nothing about where she had to go to board the train. No information about where she could buy all the things on the list. The letter didn’t offer any introduction to the Wizarding World either. It didn’t say how and where she could find an owl in order to write back to the school and confirm her attendance.

She pursed her lips in thought as she pondered on her next move.

After considering all her options, Hazel decided that she would find a way to write back to the school.

She needed more information.

Only then would she decide whether she wanted to attend Hogwarts or not.

Decision made, she nodded to herself and grabbed a wade of paper and a pen before writing down her request, making sure to use her best penmanship. First impressions counted for a lot after all.

Headmaster Dumbledore,

I write to you, humbly asking for a teacher to visit me at my home give me more information about Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I have quite a few questions about the establishment, mainly if this is a prank or if the letter is telling the truth. Moreover, it seems my acceptance letter is lacking some essential information as there is no clear information of where I should go to purchase such eclectic items or where the train station is.

P.S : The address listed on my letter is the wrong one. I will jolt down my new address on the back of this letter.

Thank you for you time and consideration,

Hazel Potter.

Minerva McGonagall stared at the letter in her trembling hands, slack jawed and wide eyed.

She quickly made the decision of dealing with this the same way she did with any other student and didn’t bother informing Dumbledore that she had received a letter from his precious saviour that was destined to him. It would teach him to stop dumping all his work on her.

Besides, the man didn’t deserve to know after he left her with those damn muggles who by the looks of things, didn’t explain anything to the poor girl. 

Running through her options Minerva decided that she would ask Severus to meet with Hazel.

He and Lily might have fooled Dumbledore when it came to their faked animosity but their little act didn’t work on her.

She nodded decisively, determination flickering in her eyes like the flame of a brand new candle.

Yes, Severus would be Hazel’s best bet for a proper introduction to the Wizarding World.

Decision made, she walked over to her fireplace and threw a pinch of floo powder into it.

Around a minute later Severus answered the floo call, his hair bedraggled and his eyes still blurry with the haze of sleep.

“What do you want at this inordinate hour, Professor?”

“You can call me Minerva, Severus, you know that. You haven’t been my student for years now.”

“The reason for your call?” He snapped impatiently.

“Can you come through? It would be better if I could talk to you face to face?”

Severus nodded sharply and ended the call without another word.

The potion master stalked into her office exactly five minutes later. If she was to be honest he looked eerily similar to an offended, disgruntled and puffed up cat. He was still wearing his pyjamas which were a shade of red with thin gold stripes. She hid her amusement. For a man who was known for his undying house pride, he sure did rock the colours of the House of the Lions.

“What do you want, Professor?” He grumbled, throwing himself into the armchair across from hers.

She decided not to comment on the formal form of address this time and merely handed the letter to her fellow teacher.

“Read this.”

Severus leaned back in his seat, staring at the black lettering penned neatly across the sheet of paper; the penmanship elegant and flowing in a way not many children could achieve.

“What do we do about this?” 

“You should go and meet her.” Minerva paused, letting that sink in, but pushed on before he could retort. “That’s why I called you here. You’re the best option, I know it and you know it. You might have fooled the Headmaster because he is a blind old coot, but your little tricks never worked on me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

The feline animagus shrugged. Severus could see she was fighting the urge to eye his pyjamas with barely hidden laughter in her eyes, but refused to be embarrassed. The pyjama set had been a Christmas gift from Lily in their seventh year, and he would honour her memory by wearing it as often as possible despite its horrid colour.

“It was none of my business, and even less Dumbledore’s.”

“Very well. I’ll go.” No matter how much, he wanted to deny it, he was curious to see how Lily’s daughter had turned out.

Now if only he could find a way to wipe off the satisfied smirk off Minerva’s face… 

Hazel opened the door the next morning to the unexpected sight of a tall long black haired and eyed man with a fair complexion, instead of the salesman she had thought was at the door when she’d heard a knock.

“Hello, sir.” She said with a serenely polite smile. “May I have the honour of knowing who I am talking to?”

The blink she received in return was the only sign of surprise she could observe from the man.

“Severus Snape, Professor at Hogwarts.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Professor Snape.” Hazel’s smile grew slightly when he shook the hand she held out. “What can I do for you today, Professor?”

“I’m here to inform you of everything you need to know about Hogwarts. I will also be the one helping you with your school shopping.”

She dipped her head gratefully. “Then I thank you for taking some of your time to come and help me, sir.”

The first thing he noticed about Potter was that she looked nothing like his childhood tormentor. In fact she bore a startling resemblance to both her adoptive grandmother Dorea Black, and Lily. 

She had long curly black hair, pale golden skin and Lily’s bright green eyes. She had her mother’s mouth and nose, and Euphemia Potter’s cheekbones. Her eyebrows and smile were extremely reminiscent of Dorea and Euphemia’s sister, the infamous Cassiopeia Black. It had always been funny to him, how two out of the three sisters had fallen in love with a Potter, brothers at that. Cassie was the only one who had never shown any interest in getting married, or men in general. She was also the only one who inherited her mother’s smile, with those distinctive dimples, and those eyebrows she now shared with her great-niece.

Severus had only met Cassie’s mother once, during a party he’d been forced to attend by Regulus. Violetta, despite being nearly ninety-eight years old at the time, had left him with a strong lasting impression. The woman had been so obviously dangerous when he met her. She had fought in the first Wizard World War after all. Apparently even back then it was perfectly acceptable for women of the Black Family to fight on the battlefield and drench it with the blood of their enemies–then again he couldn’t imagine anyone saying to someone like Violetta that she couldn’t fight and living to tell the tale. The woman had been a force to reckon with, and bloody terrifying.

The only thing he could vaguely recognize as being from Potter was Hazel’s chin and the texture of her hair.

She was a bit short, and considering the way Petunia had treated him when they were younger, he was leaning towards abuse being the cause. 

While he hadn’t interacted long enough with her to get a good impression of her personality-wise, he was slightly baffled by her generally pleasant demeanour that bordered on excessive.

He held out an arm and gave the usual warnings one gave to someone who was going to go through side-apparition for the first time once she latched onto his arm.

“Hold on tight and hold your breath on my count of three.” With that said, he apparated, shocked by the fact that Hazel seemed completely unaffected as they landed in Diagon Alley. She must’ve noticed his surprise, since she smirked.

“I’ve been able to teleport since I was eight. I nearly emptied my stomach of all its content the first time.”

“I see.” He muttered, trying his best to not to let it be seen how much the admission left him reeling. “Well, we should start our shopping, before the crowds hit the alley.” He said the word crowd with a vicious sneer before sending Hazel a wry grin. “You’ll soon find out that I hate crowding.”

The raven haired girl nodded seriously. She seemed to agree with him wholeheartedly, which was a surprise. Both Lily and James loved nothing more than being around people.

“Where should we start, sir?”

“Gringotts. The bank.” He elaborated when she stared at him blankly.

“Lead the way then, Professor Snape.” 

He snorted but complied nonetheless, trekking his way through the beginnings of a crowd that was already forming in the alley.

“You will bring me to my account manager, teller Hellthorn.” She ordered nonsensically after glancing at the solid gold nameplate on the Goblin’s desk.

She took Hellthorn’s scrutiny with stoic grace and calm. The teller seemed to find what he was looking for because he grunted approvingly and picked up his quill.

“Name.”

“Hazel Potter.”

Hellthorn looked up, giving her a stern look of warning.

“We have people claiming to be Potter every single day. For security purposes we require a blood test to give access to the accounts in any way.”

She bit back a smile. Their non-sense attitude reminded her fondly of Viper. 

“Of course. I thank you for taking all necessary measures to insure the safety of the Potter wealth.” She said. “How much blood?”

“Seven drops.”

She refused the atame the goblin handed her. “I will use my own blade, if you don’t mind.”

There was a glint of respect in the goblin’s eyes as he accepted, stowing the ceremonial blade away. “Very well.”

She drew one of the knives disguised as hair pins from the tight bun she had wound her into that morning and pricked her finger with the sharp tip before holding it above the rune covered parchment the goblin had prepared for her.

Slowly her name appeared on the paper and said paper promptly disappeared. She wiped the blade until none of her blood remained; she had read too many sorcery books while trying to figure out how to control her powers to leave blood lying around unnecessarily. Hellthorn grunted approvingly at her actions before hopping off his stool. He was promptly replaced by another goblin.

“You identity has been verified, Heiress Potter. Follow me.”

She did as ordered and soon she and Professor Snape found themselves sitting in hardback chairs in a spartan office.

A few minutes went by before two goblins entered the room. One of them, the one who took a seat across from them, was significantly older than the other. He had so many scars marring his skin that it was hard to distinguish them from the wrinkles grooving his face. He was staring at the her with eyes that held untold amounts of wisdom and knowledge. Hazel idly wondered how many years goblins could live, and how old this one was.

“Heiress Potter.” Greeted the younger goblin with a terrifying grin, dropping a stack of folders and scrolls onto the desk. “My name is Skyholder, I am the Potter account manager. This is War Master Steelheart, defeater of Tirius Malfoy the Banished. He has been managing the Peverell accounts for over four centuries.”

“Well met.” She greeted with a low bow, taking inspiration from the fantasy novels she’s read to greet the goblins properly. She might not know any of those names, but she could tell that Steelheart was someone she should show the proper amount of respect to. “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about the Peverell name.”

“The Potter Family descends from the Peverell name, Heiress Potter. Which means that the Peverell Ladyship will be yours if you are accepted by the family ring.”

“I see. Shall we get that out of the way, then?”

“Indeed.”

.-.

Skyholder brought out two ring boxes encrusted with onyxes and garnets respectively.

The brat opened the first box to reveal detailed silver ring set with an octogonal garnet that was embossed with the Potter crest with a small diadem above it that indicated that this was the heiress ring. When she became of age, Hazel would be able to claim the Ladyship ring and her husband would wear the Lordship band.

Potter put the ring on and it immediately resized to fit her rather small fingers, indicating that the family magic had accepted her claim to the heirship.

“Next.” Was all Skyholder said before holding out the onyx covered box.

Hazel wasted no time slipping the jet ring mounted with an obsidian that was carved in the shape of an incredibly detailed rose and engraved with the symbol of the deathly hallows. It shrunk to fit her as well.

“Hrm. It seems the rings have accepted you. If you want to pay for something expensive, simply press your ring on the receipt and the amount will be withdrawn from the heir vault. Anything else Gringotts can do for you today, Lady Peverell?”

His goddaughter frowned, looking rather perplexed. “Why do you refer to me using the name Peverell now?”

“Using the name Peverell will give you credence based on your ancestors’ accomplishments instead of relying on the fame the Potter name currently has, which, admittedly, is terribly fickle.” Severus paused when Steelheart snorted in agreement. “Moreover, the Peverell are a senior House in terms of social and political standing. You would receive more respect if you used the Peverell name in private social circles.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Master Snape.” The goblin grunted in approval as he shuffled sheets of parchment around.

“Oh, that makes sense.” Muttered Hazel, giving him a thankful smile for his explanation. “Now, what is the state of my accounts?”

Skyholder scanned through the folder that had just been brought in, and when he looked back up he seemed to be filled with dread.

“There seems to be some… inconsistencies in your accounts.”

“Inconsistencies?”

“Some of the Peverell and Potter artifacts have been… displaced.”

“Displaced?” She repeated once again.

The edge that could be heard in his goddaughter’s voice made the goblin shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t help that War Master Steelheart was now staring at his younger colleague with heavy judgement in his beady black eyes.

“Displaced.” Confirmed her account manager in a weak voice.

“Why have you not noticed before now?”

“The accounts were frozen upon your parent’s death and technically nobody could access them. They have just been reopened with your return to the wizarding world.” Explained Snape. 

 “Indeed. It seems we have a traitor in our midst.”

The goblin looked furious and she grinned in vicious satisfaction; it didn’t bode well for the traitor. Good.

“Is there any way to get them back?”

“Of course. We at Gringotts tag all the artifacts entrusted into our care as to be able to summon them with a ritual if one of clients crosses a line and we are within our right to claim them back.”

“Do it.”

Her account manager gave a feral grin.

“With pleasure.”

One quick ritual later, she was staring at the pile of heirlooms on the goblin’s desk in surprise and rage at the fact that so many items that belonged to her family had fallen in the hands of others. A beautiful silvery silk cloak that seemed to radiate magic caught her eye.

She reached for it without thinking. It was cool and smooth to the touch, and flowed between her fingers like liquid silver.

“What is this, I wonder?” She murmured in awe.

She couldn’t help but drape it over her shoulders, gasping when her body disappeared. Curious, she rose from her seat and allowed the cloak to cover her entire body.

“An invisibility cloak.” Muttered Severus. “I’ve never seen one like this. They’re usually not made with this level of quality. I can’t even feel your magical signature or detect your mind anymore. You completely invisible, Hazel. This is an invaluable artifact, probably the only one of its kind. Make sure to take great care of it.”

“Yes. I want you to move everything from the Potter vault into the Peverell vault. It is clear to me that I can’t trust you to manage the Potter Account properly, Skyholder.” She shot and stern glare at the goblin in question when he opened his mouth to protest. Shutting up the account manager instantly. “War Master Steelheart, do you mind taking on the managing of the Potter account as well?”

The elder goblin gave the girl a sharp grin. “Not at all.”

“Perfect.” She drawled out a bit too cheerfully. “Skyholder, you’re fired.”

The disgraced goblin looked crestfallen but didn’t bother attempting to fight his goddaughter’s dismissal, walking out of the office with his head lowered with shame.

“Now that that’s out of the way, I must warn you that have an account manager for the non-magical side of my finances. Their name is Viper. They know about the magical world and want them to be involved in the management of my magical accounts. They will come to the bank at some point this week with a letter written and signed by me and I ask you kindly to cooperate with them, because time is money and I will be extremely unhappy if you waste both of mine. Am I understood?”

“Crystal.” The goblin grunted, and Severus thought he could glimpse a hint of approval in the account manager’s beady black eyes. “Anything else?”

“I was hoping you could tell me if I have any living relatives.”

Steelheart nodded briefly and shuffled through the folders before pulling out a parchment with a miniature family tree.

“You have two godfathers who are currently alive; one is incarcerated for betraying your parents and killing their best friend Peter Pettigrew; the other is sitting next to you.” The goblin seemed to notice the utter shock he had no doubt was showing on his face, and paused, looking at him inquiringly. 

“Am I correct in my belief that you knew nothing of this?”

“No I did not.” He managed to choke out, still reeling over the fact that he had a goddaughter and he hadn’t been aware of it! Lily had jokingly said something about it, but he didn’t think she would really go through with it! 

“We will investigate what happened; you should have been informed as soon as you were designated as Lady Peverell’s godfather.” Seeing his nod, the goblin turned to Hazel and cleared his throat.

“Excellent. Moving on, you also have a few Black relatives left, mainly Cassiopeia Black and Arcturus Black.”

Here Severus felt the need to give his input. “I know Cassiopeia Black quite well. While she might be ruthless and cunning, she wields considerable influence in the socials circles of magical Britain, not to mention the Wizengamot. Choosing her as your new magical guardian would be your best bet.”

“I couldn’t agree more. Lady Black has been one of our top clients for years. We at Gringotts will be happy to reach out to her on your behalf, for the right price.”

Surprisingly, Hazel–who had straightened in interest during their conversation about him–went back to lounging in her chair with boneless grace and absolute readiness to jump up and defend or attack. Her lips curled in a confident smirk and she gave a laze dip of her head in acknowledgment.

“Of course. Time is money, after all.” Agreed Hazel with a definite air of undisguised amusement mingled with grudging respect and… satisfaction—that her account manager was on par with her when it came to dealing money perhaps? “Do that, please.”

“Excellent. It will be done.”

His lip twitched; Hazel had only been in the bank for all of two hours and she already had the goblins wrapped around her little finger.

“Actually.” He interjected. “I will be having a cup of tea with Cassiopeia tomorrow. I’ll be able to relay the message to her in person.”

“I would be grateful if you did that, Professor Snape. Thank you.” 

His lips twitched again because of her answer; her whole demeanour practically ozed with well practiced politeness, serene control and good manners, but to someone who was a spy like him it was no challenge to see it for what it was. The pleasant facade was just that; nothing more than an act, a mask she wore in public.

“I can see in your file that you are related to the Alombria Family from France, as well as the Patil Family from India, who are well known for their ability to speak the noble snake dialect. Both from your mother’s side. The Alombria Family are very reclusive, so contacting them will be difficult. However, the Patil Family is sending their twin heiresses to Hogwarts, so it will be easy to contact the family once in school.”

“Could you leave a copy of the document with me as proof in the eventuality that they don’t believe me?”

“Of course.”

“Perfect. Is there anything else I should know about?”

“Finally you have a godbrother, Neville Longbottom. I’m afraid he will be harder to reach. His grandmother put the Longbottom Manor under lockdown right after Lord and Lady Longbottom were tortured into insanity. It’s still on lockdown to this day despite the fact that the Lestranges have been captured and are rotting in Azkaban.”

“That’s fine. I’ll talk to him once we’re both at Hogwarts.”

“Excellent. Is there anything else I can do for you today, Lady Peverell?”

“No, that is all.”

“Then it seems that we are done for today.” The goblin declared, closing Hazel’s file with an air of finality.

“We are.” Hazel dipped her head respectfully. “Thank you for everything, War Master Steelheart. I’m looking forward to our continued partnership.” 

“Likewise, Lady Peverell. May your gold and the blood of your enemies never stop flowing.”

She gave him a sharp smile, making a mental note to herself to learn about goblin culture and greetings. “Good day, War Master Steelheart.”

Chapter Text

“Where should we go first, Professor Snape?” She asked pleasantly. 

“First and foremost we will look into the acquisition of a wand, that way I can teach you a handful of helpful spells that will facilitate our shopping endeavours. Then we’ll find you a top quality trunk with maximum security–don’t look at me like that it never hurts to be too careful–to store all your purchases.”

“It will hurt if I end up bankrupt.”

“Which won’t happen because you are filthy rich.” Retorted her future teacher dryly.

She chuckled as walked down the alley.

“Point. Hey, aren’t we going there?” She pointed to the shop with the sign that read Ollivanders–Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.

Snape snorted derisively and shot her a look that clearly said this is the first time you’ve been here while I’ve been here more times than I can count. I know what I’m doing and where I’m going, you don’t, so shut up.

She grinned unrepentantly and hid a silent laugh behind her hair.

"Ollivanders is a Ministry controlled shop that is forced to put the trace on their wands. They force barely suited pre-made wands onto their customers. I know somewhere much better.”

“The trace?”

“It alerts the Ministry of Magic if an underage wizard practices magic outside of heavily magical areas.”

“Isn’t that unfair for muggle-born students?”

“Nothing is fair for those who aren’t born within the magical enclaves. They don’t have the same opportunities on the job market, and they don’t get to be involved in the decision making of the Wizarding World. Likewise, since the wizard raised children are taught everything they need to know from the cradle–even spells, potions and tidbits of our history–they are dragged back by the muggleborns since the school’s courses are tailored while keeping the muggleborn students in mind.”

“That’s horrible!” She breathed out, unable to keep her horror and indignation from mingling with her tone. “There must be something we can do to change that!”

Snape chuckled next to her and she grinned, proud of the fact that she had been able to garner such a reaction from the gruff man.

“I’m sure if you put your mind to it you would be able to make a difference.” He said mildly and she absolutely beamed at him for the compliment. “We have arrived.”

They stopped in front of a towering building situated in the shadier part of the shopping district. There was a sign hanging above the door that read Blackthorn Emporium.

She followed Snape inside.

They walked out of the wand shop an hour later. Severus couldn’t help the twitch of his lips as he watched his future student stare at her new wand (aspen, beech and redwood; phoenix feather combined with a sliver of a basilisk fang, as the core) reverently.

“If you are done, brat, we can get this shopping trip out of the way.”

“Of course Professor!”

“Have a good day.” Shouted the shellshocked shopkeeper.

Severus could relate. As soon as they stepped foot inside the trunk shop, Potter had spent twenty minutes bombarding the poor employee questions about the trunks they sold, such as the quality-price ratio of their product, the security measures they came with, and the properties of the various materials they used to craft the trunks, and many more questions about things most customers wouldn’t even think of. She eventually chose a trunk made of Hungarian Horntail leather with three compartments. One of them was fitted with a revolving bookshelf that could fit up to two hundred books, and a built-in writing desk to store her calligraphy tools. Another compartment could be used as a potion cupboard and was layered with integrated preservation wards. The last one was expandable wardrobe with dedicated spaces to store jewelry and cosmetics. Once her choice was made, she had relentlessly interrogated the man about the additional enchantements she could choose for her trunk. She demanded that most of them be integrated into the spellwork that had already been weaved into the trunk. Finally, she had spent ten minutes bargaining with the shopkeeper to pay a better price. Using sound and well thought out arguments, she left the man at loss about how to react or what to do.

The worse part was that throughout the whole ordeal, never once did she drop her polite facade.

He hated to admit it, but he was impressed.

“No. Absolutely not.”

Hazel stood in front of a collection of quills and parchments, sneering at this utter waste of money. She understood the desire of the magical community to protect traditions, rituals and family magics, truly, she did, but this wasn’t the right way to go about it.

“Why ever not?” Drawled Professor Snape, arching an eyebrow.

“All of this garbage is so impractical that buying any of it would be an utter waste of money.”

“... would you care to elaborate?”

“Gladly. A hardbound notebook is so much easier to manage than rolls of parchment and let’s not get started on the utter stupidity of using quills of all things! I mean, is that really–”

Her indignant rant was unfortunately interrupted by the owner of the shop, who approached them and spoke up timidly.

“If I may, Miss, I overheard your conversation and I’m glad to inform you that I have the perfect thing for you. Please, follow me in the back, I have to hide that kind of product because one of the patrons of this establishment is a hardcore blood purist with a unmeasurable hatred for anything muggle.”

She turned to the man and smiled pleasantly.

“Lead the way then, sir.”

The man led them into a room filled with notebooks of all colours and size, and an immense selection of fountain pens, graphite pencils and other calligraphy utensils.

“The scaly notebooks are bound with various types of dragon hide. They are quite resistant to damage. All the fountain pens are charmed to never run out of ink. Some of them have additional enchantments for things like colour-changing or erasable ink, amongst other things. The enchantments are listed on the label.”

She looked at the man like he had just told her he was the one who hung the moon in the sky. “Thank you.” 

George stood on a stool in Madam Malkin’s shop with an assistant fluttering around him, measuring, draping and pinning the fabric that would be turned into his new school robes.

Fred was in the same position close by, but unlike him, Fred didn’t have the luck to be catered by a young, gorgeous woman. He was stuck with Mme Malkin instead.

They both had a growth spurt during the summer and none of their older siblings’ old school robes fit them. Since they had four O’s each in their end of the year exams, their father had decided to work overtime to have to buy them two new uniforms each. 

His attention was drawn to the door when the tinkling of the bell above the door announced the arrival of a new customer. 

A raven haired girl with green eyes walked in. Her eyes were bright with mischief and chaos, all of it hiding behind a perfectly innocent and polite facade. She was a little devil in disguise.

Could she be a potential partner in all things mayhem? He couldn’t wait to find out.

He exchanged a grin with his brother. The girl was welcomed by the elderly shop owner, who guided her to step onto the stool next to his.

“Well hello there! May I and my brother have the honour of knowing your name, Princess of Chaos?”

The girl quirked an eyebrow, amusement glinting in her eyes.

“Princess of Chaos? Hmm, I suppose you could call me that… I was taught by the best after all. I’m Hazel.”

“How benevolent of you to grace us mere humans with your wondrous presence, Your Highness of Chaos. I am Gred.”

“And I am Forge.” Finished his brother with a wide grin that widened when the girl chuckled in delighted amusement.

“Nice to meet you, Gred, Forge. So you go to Hogwarts?”

“Unfortunately. For two long tedious years we’ve suffered through it all.”

“Homework.”

“Classes.”

“Detention.”

“Lines.”

“Cauldron duty.”

“Trophy Room duty.”

“Toilet bowl duty.”

“Potion ingredient duty.”

“Mortally boring history of magic lessons.”

“McGonagall’s death stare.”

“Filch and his cat.”

“The wretched point system.”

“And we survived!” They finished together, wearing matching mischievous grins as they watched Sirina trying to hold back her laughter even as one of Malkin’s assistants tutted at the girl, reminding her to stay still. 

“Well join me on the Hogwarts Express if you manage to find me.”

“We’ll hold you to that invitation.”

Hazel gave them a bright grin.

“You better. See you later, then; Gred and Forge.” She said as she stepped off the stool. He and his brother were left gaping; this was the first time someone could differentiate them as soon as their first time meeting. Even their very own mother could rarely tell them appart.

“Why hello there, beautiful.” Cooed Hazel down at the gorgeous snowy owl perched on her arm. Just like Francisco, the tips of the owl’s wings and tail had turned a beautiful amber colour as soon as her claws made contact with her arm. “Would you like to come with me?”

The owl gave an affirmative hoot.

“So very glad to hear that.” Hazel shifted the owl onto her shoulder, and her smile widened when the bird of prey instantly started preening her hair, radiating exasperation not unlike Laurel’s at the way her more unruly strands fought every attempt to wrestle them into a semblance of order with fierce determination. “You need a name… hmm… What about Sukai?”

She was graced with a pleased hoot.

“Are you quite done?” Drawled her soon-to-be potion professor impatiently while glaring at a bunch of loud children cooing over a kitten.

“Coming!” She yelled, glancing at the newly named Sukai with a small smile. “I’m glad you chose me, partner.”

“We should go eat something.” Declared his goddaughter determinately. “It’s important to stay well fed.”

“Indeed. Shall we grab something at the Leaky Cauldron?” He said, secretly hoping she would say no or drop the idea of eating all together. He had standards, thank you very much, and the Leaky Cauldron was far below said standards.

He couldn’t help but let out the breath he was unknowingly holding when she shook her head, curls bouncing wildly. 

“Neh–we should go somewhere in the non magical world. This place is great and all, but I think I need a break. The culture shock is getting a bit too much.” Hazel tilted her head to the side slightly as she thought. “Oh! I know just the place! There is a restaurant a few streets from here that sells sushi that is to die for! Do you like sushi?”

“I do.” He answered, feeling lips twitch upwards at her enthusiasm.

“Great!” The brat grabbed his hand and dragged him out of Diagon Alley. “The sushi place is owned by a Japanese couple who moved here last year and wanted to share their culture with us westerners. It’s been a great success!”

Hazel led him through the streets of London all the way to a small quaint shop with a brick facade that was painted a very pale shade of sky blue with wide windows framed with vines.

Hazel pushed the establishment’s door open and entered the sushi shop without further ado.

She greeted the owner in fluent Japanese, babbling away enthusiastically at an impossible speed.

He shouldn’t even be surprised at this point.

The man behind the counter gave her a warm smile, listening to what Potter was saying with rapt attention. With a grateful smile, Hazel led Severus to a table that offered quite a lot of privacy despite its emplacement by the window. As soon as they were both sat down, she started asking him intricate questions about potions. She must’ve ordered for them because shortly afterwards the owner came out of the kitchen with two trays laden with food and placed them on their table.

Half an hour later he polished off the last of the sashimi and leaned back in his seat. He looked out the window before glancing at his goddaughter who was clearly having an internal struggle over something extremely important to her.

Finally she seemed to come to a decision and pulled out what he instantly recognized as her Hogwarts letter from a pocket of her ever present shoulder bag and placed it on the table between them.

“Tell me you didn’t know anything about this, Professor.” Demanded his goddaughter, and his usual snappish response at having that kind of tone directed his way got stuck in his throat when he registered the hope and desperation lacing her voice.

Slowly he picked up the letter with a trembling hand and suddenly he couldn’t breathe; couldn’t think with the utter rage roaring in his chest as his black eyes traced the elaborate dark green script scrawled on the back of the letter that read Hazel L. Potter - The Cupboard Under the Stairs, Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey.

He startled when a soft yet calloused hand covered his own as it rested on the table, clenching and loosening periodically. He absently noticed that amethyst flames were dancing on the skin of his hands and around his fingers and took a deep breath as he reigned them in.

“I’m alright. Calm down. I don’t stay with them anymore.” Explained Hazel with a soft smile as the purple flames retreated. “A woman took me in, she’s great, my mother in all but blood.”

He took a deep, steadying breath. She was safe. Lily’s girl was safe, and happy. Away from her abusive relatives.

“I can assure that I didn’t know anything about this.”

Hazel sagged in relief and gave him a thankful nod.

“I thought so, but I had to be sure.”

“I understand. I’ll make sure you never have to go back there.”

“Thank you.”

Severus fell into step with his goddaughter, deep in thoughts as they walked back to  her and her adoptive mother’s house.

The day he had spent with the Potter–Hazel–had cemented the fact that she was nothing like her father.

She was proud and confident in her abilities without being arrogant; calm and tempered instead of the hot headed Gryffindor her father had been; polite and pleasant to a fault whereas her father had been a spoiled brat before his seventh year when Dorea had apparently put him through the ringer.

She was smart, and extremely curious with an impressive thirst for knowledge–as proven when she had ranted with righteous indignation about the stupidity of the wizarding world for twenty minutes straight after learning that she couldn’t learn Arithmancy and Runes before her third year. One thing was for sure–the girl had no shortage of swear words in her vocabulary. Once she calmed down enough, she decided to learn Latin to improve her understanding of spells. Sadly she seemed unwilling to show her academic side too overtly. It was probably a result of the abuse she had had lived through and the obvious favoritism her relatives showed towards her cousin.

Hazel Potter was ruthless, driven, focused, cunning and she had a sharp and nimble mind. 

He had watched with no small amount of pride as she played the goblins like a fiddle like she had been doing so her whole life. 

Despite all of this she had a heart of gold. Her soul may not be pure and untainted, but it wasn’t a dull grey. Her soul was bright; a galaxy of golds and ambers and purples.

Eventually Hazel broke the silence, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Snape? I was wondering if… we could see each other again before the start of the term? I really enjoyed our time together and I would be glad to have another occasion to discuss the intricacies of spell creation with you.”

Severus froze, unable to believe someone–other than Cassiopeia, Barty, Lucius and his godson–actually wanted to spend more time with him than strictly necessary.

He hesitated–should he really do this? Did he really want to do this? In the end he already knew the answer.

Yes, he wanted to. 

He wanted to get to know Lily’s daughter better. Wanted to learn more about his amazing goddaughter who had a magical boa–whose name was  Francisco of all things–as a pet.

Wanted know more about this incredibly talented eleven year old girl who was fluent in Chinese and Japanese. Who had regularly participated in solo gymnastics competitions in the past and won them all, and was proficient least three different forms of martial arts.

He smiled.

“Of course. I’ll write as soon as I can with a time and date.”

The beaming grin he received in response made him feel lighter than he had in years.

“Great! I’ll wait for your letter then, Professor Snape!”

He shook his head slightly, making her brows–Cassie’s brows–crinkled into frown of confusion.

“Call me Uncle Severus, brat. It’s what you would’ve known me as, if your mother had survived.”

A complicated emotion he couldn’t even begin to decipher flickered over her face. 

“You knew my mother, then?”

“We met when we were eight. She was my closest friend. The closest thing I ever had to a sister.”

“Alright then, Uncle Sev.” She grinned at him. “Until next time.”

Viper was checking the stock market for the nth time when their phone rang a familiar tune. Picking up they couldn’t help their fond thoughts for the person on the other end.

Over the years since Sirina had first contacted them, they had taught the girl enough things about dealing with money that they could almost consider her their protégé. Sirina shared their talent when it came to money, though there was still room for improvement.

“Viper, I have a new job for you.”

“Mu. I’m listening.”

“I recently discovered that I am a witch. I transferred all the funds I inherited from my parents into a vault of my own and I want you to manage them because as much as I like the goblins from what little I saw of them, I trust you more. The goblins have been notified of your imminent involvement and warned of the consequences that await if they even think of wasting my time and money.”

“Mou. How much money are we talking about?”

“Enough to last me seven life times.” There was a slight pause before Sirina spoke up once again. “I cannot tell you the exact amount, but I’m sure the Goblins will give you all the info you need.”

“I demand a third of what the money made by the investments and some more incriminating pictures of Reborn as blackmail.”

Sirina chuckled.

“Works with me. I’ll send you the best of them along with the letter to give to the goblins.”

Severus apparated to Blackrose Cottage, the current home of one Cassiopeia Black. The scent of roses and iode hit his nose as he stalked towards the door after taking a second to appreciate the scenery. The sea was literally at the cottage’s doorstep, crashing relentlessly against the plunging cliff that looked over an isolated anse. As always, mist cloaked the great body of water during hot summer afternoons. Minuscule sea shells that were charmed to be unbreakable shifted underfoot as he let his footsteps lead him along a familial path that was surrounded by a maze of bushes splotched with indigo, amber and black roses in full bloom. The path came to a smooth stop as it transitioned into stone steps. The web of curses and jinxes trapping the stairway remained undisturbed as Severus made his way up, his footsteps following a distinct pattern he knew by heart; he had tread this path countless times. He trailed his fingers along the fieldstone wall closest to him, feeling its roughness under his fingertips. Contrasting with the dark timber that framed them, the cottage’s walls offered a palette of numerous shades of grey that were pale because of the iodine air and weathered by the sea breeze. 

Above his head, the slanted roof gleamed under the harsh glare of the sun, slated with tesseras that reminded him of the scales of the illustration of the Norwegian Ridgeback in Magical Beast Encyclopedia; both in pattern and color. For a long time the large tome had been one of his favorite books out of the few his mother had brought along when she ran away. Written by a Prince–his great-uncle if he recalled correctly–Magical Beast Encyclopedia was the source of his fascination for brewing; containing information about magical creatures,  but also potion ingredients. It detailed how to harvest thousands of potion components. 

Large stained glass windows pierced the walls of the cottage, offering plenty of light to the inside. At the right angle you could see the shimmer of the countless protective spells layered over the glass. Blacks truly were paranoid to the bone.

Straightening proudly he felt a previously unnoticed tension leave his shoulders as he tread familiar terrain, and knocked on the dark hardwood front door.

He had met Cassiopeia–call me Cassie dear–at the same ball he had met the woman’s mother. The renowned owner of the Black Book of Blackmail didn’t look a day over thirty at the time even if she was well past her fifties. She had taken an instant shine to him when, for some reason that to this day eclipsed even to him; though he was slightly inebriated at the time so that might explain it, he had told her what had happened with Dumbledore and his and Lily’s scheme. The woman had practically adopted him, much to Regulus’ amusement. 

Cassiopeia had promised to help him in his endeavours to trick both the headmaster and Voldemort, who he had never really joined. Apparently it was possible for him to mix the strange purple flames he had awakened back when he was still a student at Hogwarts with his magic in order to create a clone of himself. Once his double had received the Dark Mark, Severus had researched the disgusting brand with Cassie’s help and managed to create a spell that transferred the magics in the dark mark into a bracelet that he always wore. The accessory had been set to pulse three times when the Dark Lord summoned him during the Wizarding War, after which he sent a clone to the meeting. The clone gathered all the information he needed to stay two steps ahead both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. 

Luckily the dark lord very rarely asked him to show him the dark mark, and Severus made sure to cast an extremely complex illusion charm on the clone’s arm that made it look for all intent and purpose like there was a mark branded on the clone’s arm. He’d even managed to copy the spells that had been located in his mark and quickly transfer them into the fake mark.

Then he made the mistake of his life when he relayed the damn prophecy to Voldemort in an attempt to earn the so-called Dark Lord’s trust. It was only later that he realized how he’d been played by Dumbledore, because what kind of Headmaster interviewed someone who was applying for a teacher position in a dingy pub instead of the headmaster’s office? So he played along with the man’s sick game and went to "beg" Dumbledore for Lily’s life as well as her baby’s and even James’. Because they had been his, just like the Hogwarts dungeons were his; just like all the Slytherin students under his care were his to protect, his to nurture and raise in the absence of their parents, his to teach and his to mold into the best version of themselves they could become. 

He didn’t bother begging Voldemort for Lily’s life however, because he wasn’t stupid thank you very much, and he knew Lily better than anyone else. She would never step aside and let some stupid psycho kill her child.

It didn’t matter in the end; they were all dead safe for little Hazel despite the fact that he had patrolled the Potter house in Godric’s Hollow every single night like a prowling feline ready to kill anyone who posed a threat to those who were his.

It was just his luck that he had been summoned by Dumbledore that fateful night. Which had been suspicious in itself and had convinced him that Dumbledore really was planning for the Potters to die.

He blinked those dark thoughts away when the ornate door he had standing in front of opened to reveal Cassie’s lady in waiting and closest confidant, Stella Greengrass. Cassie was uncomfortable with house elves, preferring to rely on people she trusted to run her household.

“Severus! It is good see you! Come in, come in!”

“Stella.” He greeted the woman as he stepped in the house. “Good to see as well. Is Cassie here.”

Stella smiled warmly. “She’s waiting for you in the solarium.”

He smiled, a feeling of calm washing over him as he took in his familiar surroundings.

“Cassie, it’s good to see you.” He greeted his aunt in all but blood warmly.

He sunk into the armchair across from the woman who bore such a strong resemblance to the teenaged girl he had spent the majority of the previous day with. “How are you feeling today?”

Cassiopeia had fallen ill a few months ago, but he wasn’t overly worried–at least not anymore. Thanks to his talents in potion, he was able to find a cure and she was fully on her way to recovery instead of the long drawn out death that would’ve awaited her otherwise. Nevertheless, it was better to ask than to lose her to some unpredicted complications.

“I’m doing perfectly fine, don’t you worry about me; that’s my job.”

He grinned in amusement at the familiar situation and sentence but didn’t say anything as he busied himself by pouring the tea in the delicate porcelain tea set that had been provided by the Cassie’s maid. The ceramics’ abstract hand painted embellishments were quite tasteful done in black acrylic; elegant and detailed without being gaudy and quite appropriate on a pure white background. The attention to detail that could be observed in every brush of the paintbrush; every swirl, dot and line made the tea set a true art piece.

Pouring the tea in two assorted cups he admired the rich dark red colour of the black darjeeling tea. It contrasted sharply with the immaculate white interior of the tea cups.

“You won’t believe who I met yesterday.” He began conversationally, smiling slightly when Cassie raised a prompting eyebrow.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Hazel Potter, who is apparently my goddaughter. I accompanied her to Diagon Alley for her school shopping.”

The only sign of surprise from the only positive parental figure in his life was the minute widening of her intense blue eyes.

“Really now? What is she like?”

“You would like her.” He said with a wry, yet fond twitch of his lips. Out of all of his goddaughter’s relatives, the brat reminded him of Cassie the most; they had the same cunning mind, as well as a similar thirst for knowledge and information. “Quite frankly, she reminds me a lot of you.”

“Oh? In that case do you think she would agree to come if I invited her to an afternoon of tea and gossip?”

“I believe you will be pleasantly surprised with her response to your invitation.”

“It’s settled then. Are you still in contact with her or will you have to wait until school begins to talk to her again?”

“She managed to wrangle an agreement to meet again out of me before we parted.” His voice was a drawl tinged with no small amount of amusement as his lips twitched upward in remembrance of how well the girl had played him, the goblins and everyone else she’d crossed paths with in the alley to get what she wanted. He wouldn’t be surprised if she ended up in Slytherin–if her thirst for knowledge didn’t win out and land her in Ravenclaw that is.

“Then please pass on an invitation for an afternoon of tea this Friday.”

He nodded his understanding under her suddenly intense and hungry gaze. He was glad she would finally have a relief from boredom that plagued her so often these days, even if it came in the form of a talented eleven year old girl.

“Now Sevvie-dear,” she began, leaning forward gracefully even as she easily ignored his grimace at the horrid pet name. “Tell me about your experiments with the Felix Felicis potion. Did you have any more breakthroughs since the last time we saw each other?”

Severus grinned and lost himself in a discussion about the intricacies of potions.

Chapter Text

“Mou. Bring me to Sirina Star’s account manager. Time is money; do not want to waste mine.”

Sharpaxe stared at the cloaked individual no taller than a human toddler hovering in front of him at eye level with a glowing indigo pacifier around their neck and a snake floating above their head.

“Do you have the letter?”

An envelope floated towards his desk and dropped onto its hardwood surface.

He scanned the letter and nodded in approval; everything was in order. Sliding off his stool, he placed a closed sign on top of his desk.

“Follow me.”

They soon arrived in front of Skyholder’s opulent office and the fake toddler entered without prompting, demanding in a monotone, nonsensical tone that her client’s financial records and statements be promptly brought out. Viper then hovered around the room, picking up various items and trinkets and seemingly weighing them as if evaluating how much money they were worth.

As soon as the requested documents were sent up from the archives, the fake toddler drifted back towards the desk, snatching the folders out of his hand and perusing them attentively.

“Mu. There is room for improvement.” Viper glanced at them before turning back to the sheets of paper in their hands. “Take careful notes of everything I say, because I won’t be repeating myself. If anything is not done following my exact instructions or up to standards I will not be pleased. Time is money, do not waste mine.”

“Cassiopeia Black told me to pass on an invite for tea Friday afternoon.”

Hazel looked up from her tea and her slight smile widened minutely, betraying her keen interest.

“Oh? Do tell her I accept her gracious invitation then. I would love to meet the woman you spoke of with such fondness the last time we met.”

“Excellent, I’ll pass on the message then.”

“Good.” His goddaughter gave a firm nod before looking at him with eyes filled with hope that nearly hid the mischievous glint they also contained. “Can you teach me more about runes now, Uncle Sev?”

He groaned in exasperation but gave in to the brat’s puppy look readily, unable to stop the smile pulling at his lips when she pumped a fist in the air in a show of delight and excitement. His goddaughter leaned forward with attentive and eager eyes while she pulled a leather bound notebook and a pen out of her ever-present purple and black shoulder bag with gold zippers. It had been a birthday present from Hazel’s best friend apparently. 

Hazel was perched on the window sill of her room at Laurel’s. Her back was propped comfortably against the window frame, her bare foot was resting on the backrest of the futon placed directly under the window. The other was dangling over the ledge, clad in a fuzzy baby blue sock. 

Green, purple and amber threads that she had knotted together at one extremity were tapped to the top of her bent knee as she painstakingly wove them into a friendship bracelet she intended to give to Jade. 

Hazel looked up from her work when Sukai landed on her other knee, mindful of digging her talons in her knee. She cooed at her gorgeous companion, running a finger through her familiar’s soft feathers. There were two letters attached to her leg and she smiled, recognizing the loopy writing scrawled on the back of the first as being Fred’s while the other was from Severus.

She put Fred’s aside for the moment, wanting to take her time reading it later when she had confirmed that Severus had nothing urgent to say.

Plying off the seal with her nail she pulled out a slip of crisp white paper covered with neat, elegant writing.

Hazel, it began. I will be picking you up at the Two Skylarks at half past ten. I expect you to be ready to leave as soon as I arrive. 

Your godfather,

Severus Snape.

Smiling, she set the letter down and switched out of the lazy outfit she had thrown on this morning; tugging the gorgeous dark purple dress her mom had helped her choose. Then she fought with the clasp of the necklace her mother in all but blood had gotten her for her tenth birthday. She smiled faintly when the familiar weight of the hazel flower shaped pendant settled a little below her collarbone, taking a moment to gaze at the picture of her and Laurel enclosed inside. It had been taken the day Laurel had officially adopted her. Snapping the pendant closed with a faint click, she spent the next fifteen minutes wrestling her curls into a neat braid.
She shot a glance at Francisco, who was dozing on her bed.

§Fran’? Severus will be there any minute to pick me up. Do you want to come with?§

The snake lifted his head blearily and let out a lazy, incoherent hiss before going back to sleeping on her pillow.

She let out a fond chuckle as she grabbed her bag and keys.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

She dropped a kiss on Laurel’s cheek on the way out. “See you later, mom. Love you!”

“I love you too, sweetheart! You look gorgeous, daughter of mine. Have fun!”

She beamed at her mother. “Thanks! I will!”

Cassiopeia thanked her butler as he placed her favorite tea set on the table of the sunroom.

At the sound of two approaching voices, one belonging to Severus and the other to a young girl, she made sure that everything was perfect, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress as she rose to greet them properly.

She listened to her butler welcoming her guest inside and guide them towards the sunroom, impatient to meet Severus’ goddaughter.

The first thing she notice of course, how could she not, was that Peverell resembled her dear sister Dorea strongly. 

The girl had a calculating glint in her eyes, paired with an intarissable thirst for knowledge. It was well hidden behind a facade of serene politeness, but the girl still had a long way to go before she could hope to fool her.

“Well met, Lady Black.” Said the girl with an unwavering pleasant facade, bowing from the waist down. “I thank you for your gracious invitation.”

“It is a pleasure to have you in my home, Heiress Peverell. Please, take a seat.”

There were a few beats of silence as they all placed a few macaroons, delicate pastries and iced biscuits onto small plates from her favourite tea set; it was decorated with detailed hand painted roses in shades of black, purple and indigo. It had been Black Family heirloom ever since a French aristocrat had given it to a daughter of the Black family as a courtship gift six generations ago.

“I hope apparition wasn’t too hard on you, Heiress Peverell. I know from experience that it can be quite unpleasant for beginners.”

Peverell’s smile was as sharp as her own now.

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Black, though you don’t need to worry. I apparated accidentally quite a few times as a child, so I’m used to the feeling.”

“Oh? That’s quite rare, even for a child experiencing regular cases of accidental magic.”

“So I’ve heard.” She drawled with a sharp, yet cheeky grin. “And please, call me Hazel.”

“Then it’s only right that you call me Cassie; I am your aunt after all. Now, Severus told me you had some rather diverse interests for someone so young.”

Hazel gave her a pleased smile and told her about the multiple martial arts forms she had learned from a master of the art, who was also the one who taught her how to control her magic at such a young age. On top of all that, he taught her Cantonese, Japanese and Chinese.

She spoke of her love for books about all kinds of subjects ranging from psychology (apparently another of her mentors had taught her the basics of reading people) to biographies and historical books. To learn from others' mistakes, the girl explained with a whimsical tilt to her voice.

Better yet, she already understood the immense value and power of blackmail according to her many tales about bribing her account manager with embarrassing pictures of her mentors, who were acquaintances of the former.

Hazel would be a marvellous Snake.

Despite having just met Cassiopeia Black, Hazel could find herself admiring the older woman– a lot.  

Lady Black had a keen mind and a sharp intellect so very similar to hers. She was an excellent conversationalist.

She was also an intarissable well when it came to magic, the magical community and its people. 

Her home was decorated beautifully, using tasteful dark tones with the occasional splash of colour that made the decor look classy and elegant as opposed to gaudy. The walls were covered in dark silk wallpaper and elaborate woodwork that went well with the wooden flooring. Expensive rugs could be found in every room. Vases filled with exotic flowers throned proudly on numerous pieces of furniture, and exquisite art pieces were hung on the walls and above the fireplace.

The tea room they were in was beautiful in its own right, with three walls made completly out of glass that allowed for a stunning view of the the marvellous rose garden surrounding the house, as well as the cliffs and the sea in the distance. Nearly every available surface of the room was covered in plants. They were sitting around a delicately iron wrought table surrounded by matching chairs with black velvet cushions.

Cassiopeia herself was an exceptionally beautiful, poised, smart, well-spoken and graceful woman; the kind of person Hazel strived to be when she was older. The woman was also shamelessly ruthless, cunning and ambitious. She was ready to do everything to reach her goals and protect those she held dear–to protect her family.

Severus watched in amusement as his goddaughter and aunt bonded over their love for knowledge; as Hazel opened up to a perfect stranger without realizing it. It was a talent of Cassie’s; the main reason she was so good at gathering blackmail. People tended to drop the walls guarding their deepest, darkest secrets when they were in the woman’s company.

He resolutely ignored the feeling foreboding running up his spine as he watched Hazel and Cassie chat like old friends, laughing as Hazel regaled her great aunt with a truly hilarious tale of her abysmal talent in arts and craft; struck by the feeling that he had just unleashed utter hell on the wizarding world by introducing those two to each other.

Instead Severus smiled slightly as his amethyst fire practically purred in contentment and satisfaction at the sight of the two most important women in his life getting along. 

Now if only his brothers in all but blood were present as well–but he knew that that was wishful thinking. A week after the end of the war, one of them had packed up his belongings and gone on a self-imposed exile of shame in France before moving to Italy of all places. His sworn brother still paid Cassie regular visits, but other than that he rarely ventured into the British wizarding world. The other, Cassie’s only officially adopted son, was studying in the magical part of the Alexandria Library and nothing in the world could pull the man away from his beloved tomes, other than Cassie.

Oh well; it was not his fault if those two were stubborn dunderheads. For now Severus would enjoy what he had.

Hazel spent the next month putting her affairs in order and spending as much time with those she would be leaving as possible. She also had tea at The Two Skylarks with Uncle Sev every Tuesday. It turned into a routine for the both of them. She would order oolong tea in remembrance of her Shīfu paired with a large serving of treacle tart; Severus on the hand always went with the blackest, most bitter tea the tea shop had to offer with a slice of toffee pecan pie on the side.

No matter what subject of conversation they started out with, they always drifted to one academic subject or another, especially magical ones.

At first they discussed the first year school books after she had read and annotated all of them. She made the decision to write a condensed version of every book in a different coloured notebook. It contained the raw theory, her personal notes and thoughts on the material and the useful tips and precisions about the subject provided by her godfather. After that was done, they discussed magical theory and she even received a crash course in potion theory. 

Severus spoke of her mother quite often. There was always a fond glint hidden in the depths of his dark eyes and a soft smile perched on his lips when he did.

She came to enjoy the man’s company a lot. His sharp wit, sarcastic remarks and caustic sense of humour always made for some very enjoyable and entertaining conversations.

Their time together never failed to remind her of countless battles of wits she indulged in with Reborn before he left. It also brought to mind fond memories of Fēng’s countless lessons on the art of subtly delivering hidden barbs. Who knew making the victim look like a bumbling idiot could be so entertaining?

Hazel shifted slightly to shield her eyes when the school of clouds she could glimpse through the stained glass windows scattered in tandem with the wind yet again. It allowed the sun to slant across the spacious room. The warm sunlight caught the small, pure gold roses emblazoned in the pale marble floor. It reminded Hazel of the winter aconites scattering the small courtyard of her home, when the ground was still covered in a splotchy white coat; still blanketed by the snow that became coarse as it alternated between thawing and freezing as winter transitioned into spring. 

She smiled as Cassie hovered next to her, nudging gently her this way and that to adjust her stance. Her aunt had decided to take over her magic lessons so that once at Hogwarts, Hazel would be prepared for every eventuality. “Now that we’ve gone through the basics, the first spell I want to teach you is a simple privacy charm. The risks of harming yourself in the eventuality of failure is very low.” At her nod her great-aunt continued her lesson. “Now, the spell is babella; putting an accent on the two a’s. The wand movement is a loose circle followed by a sharp slash bisecting said circle.”

“What does it do?” She inquired as she went through the wand movements a few times to familiarise herself with them. “I mean if the spell merely muffles conversations it will only make other people more inclined to listen in.”

“Very good Hazel. Knowing the downsides of a spell is essential to a good understanding of its limits.” Cassie rested her hands on her shoulders and she leaned into the touch. “Eavesdroppers will hear a conversation in a language they can’t understand.” 

Hazel let out an impressed noise, letting Cassie adjust her grip for the nth time in the past hour.

“Simple, yet ingenious.”

“Indeed. One of the very last spells that were created before the British Wizarding Community’s common sense went down the drain; never to come up again.” Drawled Severus from where he was leaning against the wall next to the door.

She snorted, putting her wand away and running the spell through her mind a few times, only to jump when she felt a shift in the ambient magic. 

“Now dear, are you ready to try out the spell?” Spoke Cassie only for Severus to raise an eyebrow in obvious surprise.

“What is it Sevvy-dear?”

Realizing what happened, Hazel closed her eyes and brought Fēng’s teachings to front of her mind before going through the familiar motions her mentor had hammered into her head.
Undoing what she now knew to be her own spells was on the top of the list of things Fēng decided she had to learn. She grinned when she successfully dispelled the privacy charm she had unknowingly put up.

After a few beats of silence Severus turned to her, a mix of shock, pride and awe gleaming in his gaze. “Was that wandless magic?”

At Cassie’s gasp she shrugged and went back to practicing the wand movements.

“I had a good teacher.”

“Hazel is going to be a Raven, Cassie.” Drawled Severus, making Cassiopeia scoff.

“You are delusional, my dear. She’s going to be a Snake, Sev.”

She watched as the two adults descended into an argument like the children they pretended not to be. Of course, they were too prideful to ever admit doing something so undignified, calling it verbal sparring in an effort to save their faces. It didn’t change the fact that this exchange of snide insults and because I said so’s (she wasn’t kidding, Sev and Cassie had blurted out that particular sentence once and twice respectively and those two were supposed to be the epitome of everything Slytherin) was childish and nothing else.

In the end they had decided that it was an almost fifty-fifty split. Though according to Uncle Sev the odds were leaning towards the eagles more than it did with the snakes. 

Her thirst for knowledge was after all her main quality and while she had cunning and ambition running through her veins in spades, she simply didn’t have the required patience to deal with Slytherin's political games for seven years in a row. 

Cassiopeia agreed, though she looked slightly disappointed that Hazel wouldn’t be an addition to Slytherin. One who actually deserved to be there, according to her, which was high praise coming from her.

Despite this, Cassie wanted to make sure she had all the necessary ammunition to survive in the event that she was sorted in Slytherin. By the end of their visit, the Black Lady had slipped a sleek, pocket sized black book into her bag. It was charmed to never run out of pages. Over twenty-five of its pages were already filled with interesting tidbits of gossip. The information was mainly light sort that could be slipped discreetly into a conversation and used as an underhanded insult against an annoying party. However there were also some truly juicy pieces of scandalous gossip that could be used as blackmail, in the instance that someone really pissed her off. 

Which was a good thing because she had a feeling that someone getting on her bad side would happen sooner than later. A great majority of the population, magical and not, were absolute dunderheads.

During their next visit, one week before school started, Cassies became interested in her witch wardrobe, dragging her on a shopping spree without giving her time to protest.

Their first stop was Place Cachée. They spent the first part of their afternoon getting pampered first at the famous Vinyl & Valériane Spa, then at La boîte à coiffer, a hair salon. Cassie was a regular and had been for years. The hairdresser, Antoine Desrousseaux, was a man with flamboyant clothes, makeup and hairstyle; a charming french accent and an extravagant personality. He was one of her aunt’s long standing friends who knew about everything that went on in Paris and to a certain extent, France as well. By the time their haircuts were completed, Hazel had a much better idea of the happenings, political climate and differing opinions in France, in both worlds.

“Merci, Antoine. I’ll be coming back for sure.” 

The hairdresser gave her a blinding grin and elegant wave.

“You are welcome anytime, ma chère~”

She smiled back even as Cassie guided her towards their next stop. They proceeded to raid no less than three different shops, and she got caught in a dizzying wind whirl of fabric, colour and texture. In the she got some new school robes of much higher quality at Cassie’s insistence :

“You’re going to be wearing robes like these almost every day for the next seven years. Might as well make sure you’re comfortable doing so.”

In the end it was Cassie’s specifications to the tailor to ensure a better freedom of movement that convinced her. She had been horrified by how little range of mobility those monstrosities witches and wizards called robes allowed. Her new robes were much better in that department despite looking pretty much the same except perhaps for the quality of the fabric that was visibly superior, being acromantula silk and all.

Cassie had given her a smug little smirk and a wink when she agreed and went through her favorite katas to test out the limits of the outfit, making her hold back a roll of her eyes. She was still unwilling to let down her masks in public, after all.

Once done, the older woman apparated them to a place called Le Bazar Cherche & Trouve, where they spent the rest of the afternoon drifting from one colourful stall to the other, buying whatever caught their fancy. Well, her auntie did; she was much more reserved about what she purchased. Laurel had taught her the distinction between meaningful and superficial, and how important it was to take a moment to ask herself in which category would the item she was planning to buy would eventually fall into. 

That night she came home with a big smile, telling her mum all about her day over supper.

“Oh you have to hear about this one, Hazel!” She said in french, carefully placing her cup on her saucer as she chose from the extensive collection of sweets she had ordered down from the kitchen.

“Do tell, I’m all ears.” Drawled her niece in the same language, leaning forward. Cassiopeia had been delighted to have the opportunity to teach French to the girl at the latter’s request. She was very proud of Hazel, who took to the language with surprising ease and was making progress through leaps and bounds every time they met.

How she had survived so long without an apprentice who’s love for blac–erm… gossip and knowledge rivalled her own, she had no idea.

“Do you remember the french ambassador Antoine told us about? Hubert Dupont? Well it’s a little known fact that he and his wife have become regulars at Madam Magnolia’s Bathhouse in Knockturn over the past year.”

“There is more isn’t it?”

“The Dupont heir was born yesterday.”

“And since his wife is rumored to be infertile…”

“They might have gone for the desperate approach to acquire an heir. They blame a faulty diagnostic for the fact that they now have a child, and his wife has not been seen for over nine months for security purposes, but there are reports of a courtesan giving birth at St-Mungos whose bill was paid by an anonymous contributor a month in advance. The woman and child disappeared shortly after birth. There is now a woman in their entourage, whose hair is the same shade as the wife’s and consequently, the babe’s.”

“I suppose you acquired those records and made sure there were no other copies?” She only smiled; Hazel knew her too well already. “Now how about that Brazilian official you told me about? What has he been up to?”

“He is up to no good as usual, dear. His dealings with that diamond quarry in Africa are becoming shadier every year.”

Hazel took a sip of her favored oolong tea, the action was impossibly graceful, measured and full of the kind assurance even old blood heirs struggled to master. It always was when it came to her dearest niece; she had to meet Hazel’s tutor one day, he seemed like a fascinating man. She shifted forward with a slightly wider smile.

“I’m simply dying to know more, Cassie.”

As September drew closer, she couldn’t help but feel nervous about going to Hogwarts where she would be under Dumbledore’s influence, but at least she knew for a fact that she wouldn’t be alone; Severus would always have her back.

Finally September first came around, and with it the smell of banana-chocolate chips pancakes spreading through Laurels’ apartment. Hazel rubbed her eyes, her usual ingrained grace thrown out the window as she stumbled into the kitchen in a near perfect emulation of a zombie.

She took the time to peck Laurel’s cheek as she dragged herself towards her usual stool and was rewarded with a delighted laugh and a warm hand ruffling her hair that was already tousled by sleep.

By the time she drained the last of her daily cup of coffee and gone through at least six of Laurel’s delicious pancakes, she felt human once more. All the while Laurel watched on with a soft fond smile that radiated warmth and affection. She was going to miss this; these moments of home and family.

By the time Hazel climbed into Laurel’s bright yellow Beetle, she had triple checked that all her things were already packed away neatly in her trunk and she had told Sukai to fly ahead. There was no reason to trap her beloved owl partner in a small cage for more than eight hours straight when Sukai was perfectly capable of finding the school on her own. Unfortunately she couldn’t just ‘port to the train station because she had never been before. Having visited the location was the main limit to her teleportation skills. Oh well, at least she got to spend some more quality time with her surrogate mum, singing along with the crappy tunes on the radio.

Hazel stared at the brick pillar located between platform nine and ten. Her shrunken trunk tucked in her pocket and Francisco wrapped around her upper arm hidden from prying eyes. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and casually walked towards the pillar. For a split second, all she could see was black as she walked through the column. Once she was on the other side, she gazed at the bright cherry-red steam engine train. It gleamed proudly in the noon sunlight pouring through the train station’s high windows. Thick white steam hovered lazily above the train. 

It was beautiful.

She deftly wove her way through the crowd of parents, students of all ages and young children. Avoiding the numerous pet owls, cats and occasional toad roaming around. As she reached the train she breathed out in relief, glad to finally get a reprieve from the deafening cacophony surrounding her from all sides.

Welcome to Wonderland, she couldn’t help but think wryly as she boarded the train.

Chapter Text

Hazel sat in the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express waiting for the train to depart. A glance at her watch informed her that it was three minutes past eleven leaving her wondering what the hold up was; the Express should’ve left already. 

Sighing she looked back down at the book in her lap. Not even fifteen minute after boarding the train, she had become engrossed by the leatherbound notebook Cassie had given her on the sly that had “The Black Book of Blackmail : Starter Edition” embossed in gold into the rich black cover. Maybe not the most subtle title of all time but hey, at least Cassie had charmed it to look like a Potions school book for everyone but her. It was truly fascinating and there was an entire three pages consacred to her cousin Draco Malfoy, with a cheerful You’ll need it scrawled in the margin of the first page in Cassie’s elegant penmanship. From the tales she heard from Severus about the boy, she should really make sure to remember to send a nice gift to the woman in thanks. 

After the cacophony of the platform, the silence that reigned in her chosen compartment, only broken by the rustling of paper every time she turned a page, was pure bliss to her ears.

Mere minutes after the train finally departed, Hazel was interrupted by a slightly chubby and painfully nervous boy with short sandy hair and deep blue eyes. A croak brought her attention to the fact that he was holding a toad in his hands.

“Hello. D-do you m-mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not! Please come in, there’s plenty of space for the both of us.”

As her fellow first year stumbled his way through thanking her, there was the shadow of a relieved, grateful smile on his kind, round face. He took a seat across from her gingerly.

“N-Neville Longbottom. Nice t-to meet you.”

“Likewise. My name is Hazel Potter. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be my godbrother, would you? When I asked the goblins about any remaining family they told me about you since we share a connection.”

“Erm… yes?”

She beamed at Neville, glad to see him relax slightly. 

“Great! It’s nice to finally meet the closest thing I have to a brother.”

Neville smiled shyly and went to speak but the blue eyed wizard was interrupted by a first year witch with kind, intelligent brown eyes and bushy hair

The girl stood in the doorway awkwardly, scanning the compartment. Her whole demeanour brightened considerably as soon as her eyes landed on the book Hazel was still holding in her hands.

“What are you reading? I can’t remember seeing that title on the school book list, where did you–” Her fellow first year snapped her mouth shut audibly, a pale blush dusting her cheeks as an apologetic expression flashed across her face. She cleared her throat. “Sorry, I’m Hermione Granger by the way. Do you mind if I sit here?”

Hazel grinned at the girl waved her in readily. This, was someone she could see becoming her friend.

“Not at all. Come in, make yourself comfortable; there’s more than enough space for the three of us.”

“Thanks. And sorry about before–I guess I’m what you can call an enthusiastic reader.”

“It’s no p-problem.”

“No harm done; birds of a feather gotta stick together, right?”

Hermione snorted wryly, sitting next to her godbrother; back straight and hands folded primly in her school robe clad lap. 

“Sounds like a cheap fairytale to me.”

“Well why don’t we make it true, huh?” 

The bushy haired witch stared at her silently for a while, eyes filled with too many emotions for Hazel to decipher. A seed of cautious hope shone above everything else though. The witch nodded slowly.

“I’d like that.”

“I’m glad. I’m Hazel by the way, if you could please nod and move on instead of starting to worship me, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Hermione snapped her mouth shut with an embarrassed squeak. 

“I wasn’t–”

“You were, but you managed to stop yourself in time… so I’ll forgive you this time.”

From there they devolved about the Hogwarts curriculum. It was Neville who spoke up first, telling them about his love for plants and herbology and how the class was the only one he was looking forward to because he was certain he would suck at the other courses. She frowned at that, making a mental promise to herself to help Neville with his studies and do something about the boy’s self-esteem issues. She had the feeling what she had seen so far was barely scratching the surface.

No friend of mine should think so lowly of himself.

At the end of Neville’s passionate rant about all things plant related, her godbrother paused, looking awkward as if suddenly remembering where he was. It took the kind eyed boy a while to gather the courage to speak up again. “So… what house do you think you’ll be in?”

With that the conversation was right back on track as Hermione brightened and started rambling animatedly about how she had heard that Gryffindor was the best House, and how she wanted to be sorted into the house of the brave chivalrous lions.

She opened her mouth to protest against this undeserved shining endorsement of the Gryffs, but her godbrother beat her to it.

“Actually, I-I think you would have a rather hard time in Gryffindor. F-from what I understood about what my G-gran told me, the Gryffs are essentially the sport obsessed jocks of the school. Y-you seem like the studious type, and you won’t find anyone similar in that house.”

Hazel found herself agreeing entirely; she had heard enough rants from Uncle Sev to know that Gryffindor was not the best house, especially for someone like Hermione.

The way the brown eyed witch looked like her whole world had shattered underneath her would’ve been hilarious if not for the fact that this was another of Dumbledore’s tricks. Severus had told her all about it. The old man would give McGonagall the task of introducing the wizarding world to the muggleborns despite how busy she was, what with holding both the Deputy Headmistress and Head of the Gryffindor House position. The muggleborns’ first contact with the wizarding world was through the one who ran the house of the lions and Mcgonnagall had a tendency to shamelessly praise her house. Because of that a lot of the first generation wizards readily associated the Deputy Headmistress, and thus the house she was the Head of, with the first time they felt belonging after living in a world that often ostracized them for no reason whatsoever.

The rest was history.

“B-but! It’s the house in which Dumbledore was sorted.”

“So?” She asked in a deadpan. “You are not that senile old coot–thank Morgana for her small mercies–and Neville is right; you would be downright miserable in the red and gold house.”

“Why do you call the Headmaster that? Isn’t it a bit–disrespectful?”

“Let’s just say I have my own personal reasons to dislike the man.” She almost snorted; dislike was the understatement of the century. “Think about it though, how awesome would it be if we both ended up in Ravenclaw?”

Hermione nodded slowly, a thought look settling across the messy haired witch’s features.

“You’re right. It does seem like we would have a great time together in the same house.”

“And you, Neville, could be our ambassador in Hufflepuff. No! Please, don’t feel embarrassed.” She went on hurriedly as she saw her new friend redden in shame at the insinuation that he would be sorted in the house of the "leftovers". “You are brave, don’t get me wrong! You do have the potential to be great and stand up for yourself; I can see it clearly in your eyes. However, from what you told us about your greenhouses and how much work and effort you put into making your plants grow and flourish all by yourself everyday of the week, I think you are hardworking enough to qualify as a Hufflepuff.” She offered Neville a soft smile when he turned red because of a different kind of embarrassment at the unexpected praise.

Any further conversation was halted by the hollering of the trolley lady a few compartments down.

She and Neville were their feet in mere seconds. While she had some sweets and pastries in her bag that Laurel had packed for her, she wanted to keep those for school where there would be no way for her to acquire any.

In the end, with the trolley lady’s help, she settled for three chocolate frogs, one liquorice wands, five sugar quills, one barley-sugar crystal ball and box of tiny dark Honeyduke chocolate bats.

“Thanks for you help, Madam! May I know your name?” She said as she rummaged through her brand new purse that Cassie had helped her choose while on their shopping spree. It had elaborate bronze clasps and zippers and was made from supple yet sturdy Sweedish Short-Snout dragon hide. The inside was lined with green silk so dark in colour that it looked black unless light hit it a certain way.

With a triumphant noise she fished out her wallet and retrieved her brand new Gringotts card from it. Plain black and tastefully discrete, the card was rectangular. It was embossed with an elaborate gold G and when she handed it to the trolley lady, it gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. 

Accepting her card and candies back, Hazel caught the surprised but pleased look that flashed over the woman’s face.

“You must be the first to ask me that in years, sheila.” Uttered the elderly woman with a smile and a thick Australian accent. “Name’s Charlotte, call me Charlie.”

Hazel gave the woman a blindingly bright smile.

“Like in the book Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”

“Never heard of it. Is it any good?”

“It’s a truly magical tale. Thanks again for your help, Charlie.”

Nev was next, greeting the woman with a smile and politely asking for some cauldron cakes. Unlike her, the wizard paid with galleons.

Accepting the handful of candies he had just purchased, Neville only barely noticed Trevor attempting a mad dash for the door.

Of course Trevor tried to escape. 

Again. For the fifth time since he stepped foot outside Longbottom Manor. 

On second thoughts, he should’ve named the toad Houdini.

That his familiar with troublesome escapist tendencies had stayed put as long as he did was a miracle in itself. Trevor must’ve been really exhausted from the noise of the packed crowd Neville had to painstakingly make his way through to board the Hogwarts Express.

An exasperated groan escaped him as he hurried to put his money pouch away. He was about to stop Trevor’s escape attempt when Hermione snatched his familiar from mid-air right before he made it to the door. The witch handed him Trevor, and he internally cursed the fact he couldn’t even thank his new friend–one of the first he ever made in fact–without blushing or stuttering.

Why couldn’t he do anything right? He bemoaned, slumping back into his seat and taking a bite of a cauldron cake. Sadly the tooth curling sweetness of the pastry wasn’t nearly enough to keep the bitterness of self-loathing crawling up his throat like an insidious poison.

Even the shy smile Hermione gave him and the lack of rejection didn’t do much either to soothe his embarrassment and the constant fear of losing his first friends once they realized how much of a failure he truly was.

He knew very well that it wasn’t healthy to hate yourself and constantly question your own worth, but how could he not when even his own grandmother, the woman who practically raised him from the age of one, thought so lowly of him that she never bothered stopping his uncle’s attempts to murder him?

He wasn’t even using the word "murder" lightly here. The man truly wanted him dead even to this day; he could still see the sick glint in Uncle Algie’s eyes as he let go of his ankle that day Neville finally proved he wasn’t a squib. The truly depraved man was clearly after the Longbottom fortune and it was only his weak accidental magic that kept him alive for eleven years.

As for his parents, well— Gran always said that he should try harder and be better so that he could make his parents proud. That could only mean that they weren’t proud of him yet, right?  They probably thought he was a failure, like everyone else who heard about him.

If only he didn’t feel so sluggish all the time, or disassociated from everything happening around him, then he could actually amount to something...

He shook his head to shake away those thoughts when the compartment door slid open to reveal two grinning redheads. He shouldn’t be thinking about that right now; not when he now had friends who actually seemed to think he was worth their time and acceptance. 

“Hope you don’t mind if we join you?”

Hazel gave the two third year a broad grin, and waved them in. He idly wondered how she knew the twins.

“Feel free to come in, my dear cavaliere.”

Hazel gave the redheads a beaming smile. The girl gathered up the sweets strewn haphazardly on the bench next to her. He did blink bemusedly when the witch looked around and promptly dumped the treats into his lap with a laughing wink. Feeling no ill intent coming from his friend; only playfulness and camaraderie, he allowed himself a huff that had no real heat behind it. Carefully moving the sweets off his legs, he made sure none of them would fall to the ground due to the movement of the train and leaned back in his seat.

“It is wonderful to meet you face to face again, Hazel!” The twins declared in unison.

“You three already know each other? How did you meet?”

Hazel gave a half-smirk to Hermione, who had unknowingly voiced her question.

“I met those two very fine gentlemen when I went shopping for my school robes. We’ve been corresponding for the past week.”

The Weasley twins mock-gasped in their usual dramatic fashion, throwing themselves on the seat, either sides of Hazel and looped an arm around her shoulders as they returned the witch’s grin. 

“Did my ears deceive me, Fred?”

“I don’t think they did, George. You have the most reliable ears out of the two of us, and you cleaned out the earwax this morning.”

“That I did. Does that mean you heard it too, dearest brother?”

“That I did, Gred.” Intoned the twin on the left, nodding solemnly. “Heard it loud and clear.”

“She called us gentlemen! Us!”

“Very fine gentlemen, I believe is what she described us as, Fred.”

“This is too much Princess, you flatter us so. I think I’m going into shock.”

“I think I might cry.” Drawled one of the redheads, fanning himself theatrically with a rudimentary neon green paper fan the third year had pulled out of nowhere. 

“Fred?”

“Yes George?”

“If I faint, catch me.”

“What if I faint before you do? I’m feeling quite lightheaded, little star, why do you fluster us so?”

Fred snorted softly.

“If you faint, dearest brother, then I won’t catch you.”

George let out a loud gasp.

“You can’t mean that.”

“You of all people should know, I say what I mean–or is it the other way around?”

“Fred! Why must you be so mean to me?”

He and the others had long lost the battle against their laughter. Clutching his side while he wheezed and hiccuped, Neville realized that he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so freely. If this was what friendship was all about, he never wanted to let go of it. He couldn’t imagine himself surviving if he was forced to go back to the choking, drowning loneliness from before. 

“So, how was your last week of the summer? 

“Well, your Majesty, with those prank ideas you so graciously bestowed upon us this summer we managed to drag our dearest Ginny into a prank war that lasted two weeks.”

“She even stopped sulking about being left behind for another year.”

“Asked us to teach her our craft.” Added Fred with a proud grin.

“I’m glad.” Said Hazel with a fond smile. “After all, what is life without a bit of chaos to spice things up?”

“Couldn’t have said it better, little star.”

-.-

By the time the sun had gone down enough that he—as the person who was the closest to the window who wasn’t occupied planning pranks—had to shut the blinds so it wasn’t in his eyes anymore, there was a lull in their conversations as hunger made itself known to him despite all the sweets he had eaten. 

Hearing his stomach grumble, his godsister got up and grabbed a clearly muggle shoulder bag from the racks. Rummaging through it she pulled out a large lunch box that was filled to the brim with delicious looking finger sandwiches.  Another container was brought out and his new friend pried it open, revealing the miniature meat pies and quiches piled inside. Napkins, paper cups and plates came out next.

Hazel turned to them with a wide grin.

“Hungry, anyone? It’s all homemade and testified for deliciousness by my mom and myself.”

Neville accepted the offer shyly and the others did as well. Pulling out his own lunch box from his trunk, he quietly insisted on sharing with his new friends, wanting to show them how much he appreciated their friendship. They all thanked him with wide grins.

The twins and Hermione followed suit, adding their own food to the improvised potluck.

Only breadcrumbs were left in their plates and everything had been put away when George managed to rope everyone into a game of exploding snap, promising to regrown any singed eyebrows. A thermos of tea and a tin of homemade cookies were placed in the centre of the foldable table.

By the end of the third round, the sweets had somehow become their main currency as Hazel tried to teach them poker the same way Reborn did to her–which ultimately involved shameless cheating and taking advantage of the others being new to the rules to get as many cookies for herself. 

Luckily for the others, Fred was a very quick learner and had no qualms playing dirty right back at her.

He won six rounds effortlessly before she threw her cards down and admitted defeat. The insufferable smirk he had given her then still hadn’t left his face, and didn’t seem to be inclined to do so anytime soon.

The next few hours went by like a flash of lightning, and soon the countryside was bathed in the warm glow of the sunset that lined the horizon in a flamboyant array of purples, reds, oranges and yellow to create a watercolour of sunshades. Before long sky was shrouded by a canopy of clouds. A downpour battered the verdant landscape for an hour before leaving as abruptly as it had arrived, followed by thick mist crawling through the corn fields and twining around the evergreens playfully.

Feeling a weight on his left shoulder, Neville turned his head and barely held back the chuckle bubbling in his throat at the sight before him. It seemed that rhythmic rocking of the train had lulled Hermione into a light slumber and that his friend had unconsciously sought out the closest thing that resembled a pillow. 

Catching the others attention with a few gestures of his free arm, he wasn’t even surprised when Hazel pulled a camera out of nowhere and immediately started snapping pictures of the two of them with a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Neville straightened from his lazy slouch when he felt the Hogwarts Express slow down gradually. Next to him Hermione was roused from her light nap when the train came to a screeching stop. She sat up, and winced apologetically when he took a moment to rub the feelings back into his arm. He gave her a reassuring smile and waved off her apologies.

What followed was a chaotic mess as they all tried to retrieve their trunks while being mindful of the other occupants of the compartiment and the limited space of their current location.

Everyone but Hazel it seemed, since she was still lounging in her seat with a lazy smirk firmly in place on her face.

“Do you not have a trunk as well, Hazel?” Hermione blurted out as she sat back down with her trunk held securely in her lap. Neville, Fred and George did the same. His godsister leaned back in her seat with more grace than should be possible considering their current location and situation, her smirk widening as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a miniature trunk the size of a matchbox after a few seconds spent rummaging through what was undoubtedly a magically expanded pocket. He stared at it in surprise, wondering how wealthy she was to be able to afford something like this. Magical trunks with that kind of enchantments on them and probably a lot more features as well (because from the short time he’d known the green eyed witch he knew enough that he didn’t believe she’d stopped at the shrinking charm, There was undoubtedly a panoply of features that had been added to the trunk he was decidedly better off not knowing about) were nothing short of exorbitantly expensive.

“Blimey… is that a shrinkable trunk? Must’ve cost you a fortune.” Uttered Fred. Hazel nodded as she tucked the miniature trunk back in her pocket.

“It did, but it was more than worth the expense, I can assure you.”

He let out a noise of agreement, eying the pocket in which the trunk had vanished from view appreciatively.

“Of that, I have no doubt. Those are awesome.”

“They seem great! Where do I get one?”

Hazel gave Hermione a grin and jumped to her feet as the chaotic cacophony outside calmed down a bit, holding out a hand for the witch next to him to take.

“I’ll get you one, don’t worry. Now, let’s get out of here.” Declared Hazel as they stepped off the scarlet train. 

He stared around the crowded platform, her gaze instantly drawn to a gigantic man with an equally massive lantern dangling from his large fist. The giant was hollering through his messy beard for the first years to follow him and in no time all of them were gathered around him. Fred and George, on the other hand, met up with their friend Lee they’d told them about. The trio of third years followed the other older students towards the carriages that could barely be seen in the distance.

They followed the giant man down a sinuous path that weaved its way through a forest of evergreens, down to a rocky shore where a dozen boats were moored to rickety docks.

“No more’n four to a boat!”

Hazel was starting to understand what Sev meant about his dislike towards crowding as she sat next to Hermione at the table that was decked in blues and bronze. A second year boy with bright blond hair sat on her other side, which she would have been fine with if the teen had not proven himself to be a sexist, prejudiced moronic dunderhead who made her itch for her beloved knives so she could stab him in the eyes. 

Luckily for the moron, Fēng had hammered her with the value of self-control into her head and she knew better than to attack someone for no reason in the middle of a crowded dining room. 

It was great difficulty that she managed to keep smiling pleasantly as she concentrated on her plate that was laden with a chicken breast, a good portion carrots and a slice of bread; Fēng had introduced her to healthier foods when she told him her stomach often rebelled at the smell of fatty food, bacon and eggs–in an effort to reign in her temper.

She locked eyes with Neville, who was in a cheerful conversation with an older Hufflepuff with stood out amongst the crowd with her neon pink mohawk. He was visibly biting back a smile at her clear annoyance. She rolled her eyes at the boy’s amusement at her expense, unable to fight back the fond grin etching itself onto her face.

The meal seemed to drag on forever by the time the desserts materialised in gold dishes, she found herself twirling her steak knife between nimble fingers as she wondered just how much longer she was going to have to endure this circus. 

Growing restless, she glanced towards the head table and was amused to note that she wasn’t alone in her predicament; Uncle Severus was gripping his knife with whitened knuckles as he glowered at everyone.

Hazel startled when she felt a soft hand cover her own. Turning her head, she found herself at the receiving end of one of Hermione’s smiles. 

“Odds of surviving this horror?” Murmured her new friend in a low voice that conveyed genuine concern, panic and disgust. She let out a wry chuckle, sending the Dunderhead on her left a frigid glare when he tried to get her attention yet again. The blonde moron blanched, finally shutting up and deciding it would be in his best interest to leave her alone.

There was a faintly amused smile on Hermione’s lips when Hazel’s focus switched back to her friend. Dumbledore rose from his gold plated throne-like monstrosity of a chair, but they both opted to ignore him in favor of continuing their hushed conversation.

“Terrifyingly high. You?” 

“About the same.” Quipped the brown eyed witch tersely, only to wince seconds afterwards. Hazel wasn’t far behind as her usually pleasant expression twisted into a pained cringe as the most horrifyingly atrocious cacophony she ever had the misfortune of hearing invaded the hall. 

It was at that moment, that she decided how much she hated everything about the Hogwarts song her godfather had complained about during one of their weekly meetings. 

The melody was unimaginative; the lyrics, puerile and unoriginal. 

Considering the sheer number of people singing dramatically different melodies all at the same time, on top of the fact that more than a seventh of the school didn’t know the lyrics; the whole thing was anything but harmonious or synchronized. To make matters worse, only a handful of students were actually able to sing without being off-key so the majority of the voices filling the hall were horrifyingly off-key.

By the time it was over, she felt like she was seconds away from passing out from the sheer sensory overload, and she was sure at least one of her eardrums had burst.

Hermione wasn’t in any better shape; Uncle Sev looked both a little worse for wear and utterly disgusted by this farce; Francisco’s coiling around her arm tightened and Neville looked shell shocked. By the look in his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to run away as far as physically possible from this utter madness that mascarated as a school. 

She couldn’t help but agree wholeheartedly with the sentiment. There were many places she’d rather be than this hellish hall. Preferably somewhere like Australia, or maybe America. Only an ocean would keep whatever this shit was from reaching her. As it was, the mere thought of having to go through this kind of torture every year filled her with dread.

“Mio dio. I take that back. Those odds from earlier have grown considerably.” She muttered lowly as the twins–who were the only ones of her friends who seemed unaffected by the whole ordeal–finished up the song. Since they had gone with a slow funebre tune as their melody they were the only ones still singing. 

Hermione snorted softly and nodded her fervent agreement. Hazel managed a faint, smile that was tinged with amusement at the edges.

Their focus was redirected towards the head table Dumbledore spoke once again, radiating a harmless grandfatherly aura that grated her nerves in all the wrong ways. She knew damn well that the facade was just that, a masterfully constructed mask that was fake despite how well it worked at convincing the blind and the ignorant.

The Headmaster’s parting words met various reactions. There were many quirked eyebrows–both sceptical and puzzled. Mostly from the students surrounding her and those sitting at the Slytherin table though others seemed uncomfortable as well. Disgust, disdain, disbelief and annoyance were sentiments shared by a majority of the aforementioned. The rest of the students were split between being reverently awed, awkwardly amused, dubiously disconcerted, faintly uncomfortable, utterly confused, or just plain done with the old man, and the world in general. Others had looks of concern etched on their faces, mingled with a good dose of caution and an inkling of skepticism. 

As soon as she humanely could, Hazel extirpated herself from her seat and followed the prefects clad in blue and bronze out of the Hall.

This was going to be a long year.

Chapter Text

Neville was filled with dread as soon as an ominous crimson red envelope landed on his empty plate just as he reached for the platter of sausage. 

Knowing that any attempt at delaying the inevitable would only result in the howler getting exponentially worse, he gulped wearily. Resolutely ignoring the heavy weight of the other students’ curious and eager stares, Neville braced himself for his grandmother’s latest verbal abuse session and the horrible humiliation that would ensue. Picking up the scarlet enveloppe he carefully pried the seal open with the butter knife laying next to his plate, well aware that getting on the bad side of the howler by roughening it up was another way to make the whole experience considerably worse than it would’ve been otherwise.

As soon as he was done with his task the enveloppe slipped out of its grasp and flew up abruptly until it was hovering right in front of his face. His feeling of dread rose to unbearable levels when it became animated and shifted until it had taken the shape of a pair of lips and he couldn’t help but cringe and flinch away from the magical letter when said lips parted.

“NEVILLE FRANK LONGBOTTOM! A HUFFLEPUFF?! HOW DARE YOU! NEVER HAVE I BEEN SO ASHAMED TO COUNT YOU AS PART OF MY FAMILY! YOU ARE AN UTTER DISGRACE TO THE LONGBOTTOM NAME AND YOUR PARENTS’ MEMORY–”

A pale elegant hand snached the letter and slammed it against the hardwood surface of the table. He jumped despite the strange detached numbness and intense shame spreading through his body like lead. His grandmother’s irate screeching was promptly silenced by the blade of a steak knife as it was stabbed through the howler with a level of viciousness that was quite unnerving to be honest. The loud thud of the knife as it sank into the wooden table rang through the suddenly silent hall made him flinch again despite his best efforts. The enveloppe self-combusted seconds later, with one last dying howl.

Even if this whole ordeal was over, he remained petrified for quite a while before he regained his ability to move and talk. Or rather, to do anything that didn’t involve staring at the charred remains of the howler.

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, a supportive and comforting touch. He turned around and barely refrained from gaping when he saw Hazel Potter was standing behind him with an impassive yet pleasant demeanour that was as unreadable as her eyes. 

He swallowed nervously, wary of what his godsister would do next. Her entire demeanour was at odds with the girl he had met on the train the day before and the stark contrast was a bit unnerving. 

He blinked in utter bemusement when Hazel simply held out her hand. The same one that had held a steak knife like the world’s deadliest weapon mere minutes ago. 

He stared dumbfounded at the offered limb for a heartbeat before glancing back up to scrutinize the green eyed witch's face. He took in the calm expectant look that had settled over her features as she held his stare steadily. Then, he placed a hand on top of hers. 

A small, barely there smile flashed across Hazel’s face as she held his hand in a firm grip. Hauling him to his feet with surprising strength. He allowed himself to be led out of the crowded hall and followed the first friend he ever made down the hallways. Eventually Hazel stopped and they entered an unused classroom that was quite a distance away from the Great Hall. He took a moment to scan his surroundings; satisfied when it became obvious that the room hadn’t been used in quite some time.

Neville jumped when the layer of dust lingering around the classroom suddenly vanished. Whirling around, he stared at the obvious perpetrator of the deed, his mind hazily registering the fact that Hazel didn’t have her wand in hand and wasn’t in the process of putting it away. The obvious conclusion that she was proficient in wandless magic left him gaping in shock as he gazed at the witch in awe. 

Eventually his gaze moved past his godsister and landed on the trio standing behind her, only now realising that they had company.

Fred and George looked uncharacteristically serious as they leaned against the wall near the door while Hermione gave him a supportive smile, her kind eyes glinting with righteous indignation.

Without a word being exchanged, he and the others made themselves comfortable around the classroom. 

Hazel headed straight for one of the few remaining pieces of furniture, the teacher’s desk. She perched herself on top of it, still dragging his unresistant self along by the hand. Hermione claimed the only chair in the room and sat down with her back straight, her legs crossed and her hands clasped in her lap in a prim and proper way.

Fred was perched on the lone student's desk that was next to Hermione’s chosen seat. He had one leg drawn up to his chest, an arm looped around it and his chin resting on his bent knee.

Last but not least George hadn’t moved from his previous spot, merely sinking down to the ground and made himself comfortable on the stone floor. The taller redhead of the two present in the room was half-sagging against the wall and seemed to suffer from a temporary nervous tick of some sort because his right leg bounced every few seconds. Further proof of how unsettled the third year was laid in the way he was absentmindedly fiddling with a dark brown quill that had definitely seen better days. Staining his fingers with ever-changing rainbow ink by doing so. 

Neville hefted himself on top of the desk and made himself comfortable next to Hazel.

For a while none of them spoke, too high strung on an explosive cocktail of negative emotions. 

Gradually the others dropped their masks a little bit, allowing him insight on how they really felt about the situation.

Hermione seemed to be silently fuming, her hands clenching to the point her knuckles were white, only to relax minutely a second later. Neville gave her a wary look; the brunet looked like she was barely restraining herself from punching someone; preferably his gran.

Fred was going for that fake relaxed demeanour of his, but the redhead’s usually clear blue eyes were getting stormier by the minute.

George on the other hand had broken the quill at some point and was now bouncing a bright fluorescent indigo ball against the wall with a certain viciousness that convinced Neville to give him a wide berth for the moment.

Having met the twins a few times before, seeing this new side of the two older teens was very strange for him. Fred and George were usually so bright and cheerful; so full of life. Now that he was witnessing this side of the redheads he wondered if he’d ever known the real Weasley twins and how long it had been since the last time they had felt comfortable enough to drop all pretense and just be themselve. 

It was Hazel’s behaviour that took the cake. The witch was twirling a thin, slender knife between nimble fingers and her face was blank even if her verdant eyes showed anger and worry–for him of all people it seemed. They had only met yesterday; how could she be worried about him?

And how in Merlin’s name had Hazel smuggled such a deadly looking weapon–the blade was wickedly sharp–into the school?

Fred went to speak but was interrupted before he could by Hazel’s knife. It sailed through the air at lightning speed and embedded itself into the solid stone wall like it was made of butter, a web of cracks forming around the blade.

They all turned to her and stared in speechless shock, while Hazel shrugged indifferently with a pleasant smile on her placid face. Neville fought the shiver of fear crawling up his spine before he pushed it down.

Hazel was dangerous, yes, but deep down he knew with unwavering certainty that she would never hurt him.

The silence stretched a little longer and Neville was fiddling restlessly with the hem of his yellow and black lined uniform by the time one of them finally opened their mouth.

Unsurprisingly that someone was Hazel, who rearranged herself until she was leaning against the–thankfully clean–chalk free black board and treated him with a steady gaze.

“Are you alright?”

He opened his mouth to answer that he was fine–whining never did him any good back at Longbottom Manor–but Fred cut him off before he could even get started, fixing him with an intense, serious look.

“Honest answer, please?”

“Receiving a howler can be rather rough.” Continued Fred as he jumped to his feet, strode across the room and sat on the desk on Neville’s other side, throwing a comforting arm over his shoulders. George let out a small noise of agreement.

“Believe us, we’re speaking from experience, mate.”

“We receive at least three or four a year, and that’s if we’re lucky enough that our parents don’t learn about most of our, erm, exploits.” There Fred reached over and ruffled Hazel’s hair easily ignoring his godsister’s half-hearted protests and indignant squawks.

“Good job on getting rid of the thing, by the way, Princess.”

“We’ll have to keep it in mind so that we can try the technique ourselves when the occasion presents itself.”

Hazel threw her head with a laugh and sent them a fond grin.

“Always glad to be of service, my cavalieri. Tell me–those howlers you receive, are they worse or milder than the one Nev got from his gran?”

The grimace that flashed across Fred’s face and the pained look George sported said it all.

“Worse, definitely. Our dearest mother has quite the pair of lungs.”

“It can also be said that she is quite imaginative when it comes to chastisements and threats. It's alright though. We probably deserve it, what with all the grey hair we give her with our stunts.”

Hazel let out a small noise of disagreement. 

“No one deserves that kind of verbal abuse directed towards them, and you two even less.”

He could see how much the heated passionate statement affected the redheads as they were unable to hold Hazel’s gaze for more than a few seconds before breaking eye contact.

Hazel let the fragile yet comfortable silence linger a while longer before she spoke up once more.

“Personally I don't think there's anything wrong with being a Hufflepuff.”

Neville turned to Hazel in surprise, hope blooming in his chest.

“Yo-you don’t?”

The green eyed witch gave an answering hum leaned into him slightly, still holding his hand.

“Uncle Sev once told me about a Gryffindor moron who messed with the wrong witch in Hufflepuff. Nothing happened at the time, but when he tried to get a job as an Auror a few years later, he was systemically refused. Turns out that a lot of the Hufflepuffs of that time had become Aurors once they had graduated and they had taken offence to the dunderhead who tried to mess with one of their own. What’s worse was that he couldn’t find jobs in many other departments of the Ministry because it’s composed majoritarily of graduated Snakes and Badgers both of whom didn’t like him one bit, the latter especially because rumors of his crimes in school had spread around.”

“But–but! That’s… systematic discrimination!”

“Hermione. This wasn’t the guy’s first infraction. He was a known bully and attacked Hufflepuff firsties in the corridors, more often than not sending them to the infirmary, in tears. Do you really want someone like that working as the magical equivalent of a police officer?”

“He might have reformed after graduation!”

Neville scoffed in derision, causing the others to turn towards him in surprise. He offered them a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head shyly.

“The man is currently in Azkaban for fraud, attempted blackmail and harassment of more than twelve woman with accusations of multiple offences.”

“... oh.”

“Anyways, this story is the proof that Badgers can be as vicious as Lions or Snakes because they are loyal to each other and are a tight knit family that will stop at nothing to protect their own. I can see that same unyielding loyalty in your eyes, Neville Longbottom.”

“I–I guess I never saw it that way. Gran always wanted me to be in Gryffindor” He muttered, fiddling with his cheerful yellow trimmed sleeve–not red, and thank Merlin for that. He didn’t think he would’ve survived Gryffindor, even with the twin’s support and his newfound confidence. “Sometimes I feel like she would have prefered if my father was the one who’d come out of the attack on my family intact instead of me.”

Neville looked up from his lap gingerly, gauging his new friend’s reactions but instead of the rejection he was so terrified of seeing on their faces, they were the incarnation of indignation, and he could see it was all on his behalf.

“That’s terrible!”

“And now she’s stuck with me; the clumsy near-squib Neville who’s never been good at anything except growing plants and has always been and always will be a disappointment.”

“That’s not true!” He looked up in  surprise at the righteous exclamation. “We will help you! We’ll go over everything with you and make sure you master even the toughest magicks out there, even if we have to spill blood, sweat and tears to get there!”

Neville stared at his new friends who were nodding along with steely determination glinting in their eyes, and had a hard time not bursting into tears.

His godsister smiled brittlely with a sad kind of understanding and jumped off the desk, holding out a hand that he readily clasped. He was pulled to his feet for the second time in one day and led towards the door.

“Come on, we first years have potion class to get to.”

Walking back to the Hufflepuff dorms, Neville smiled as he listened to Hazel and Hermione chattering about the Potion class they had just left minutes ago. It had gone awfully in his case, despite Professor Snape being a fascinating teacher who knew his craft like the back of his hand and clearly loved potions more than anything else. The main problem was that his and Hazel’s shared cauldron kept exploding despite both of them making sure they had followed the instructions to the letter.

At least Hazel had promised to look into the issue so he felt a bit better about the whole thing.

Without warning, a pink haired seventh year popped up next to him with a bright grin, making him jump as he hadn’t noticed her, lost in thoughts as he had been. She looked like quite the rebel, wearing piercings and bold makeup, with her hair short on one side while another portion of it tumbled in messy waves over her ear and eye, barely brushing her shoulder. Her eyes were a deep ocean blue.

"Wotcher, firsties!”

“Er… hello?”

“Hello to you too! I just wanted to make sure that you were doing alright after that howler this morning. I’m Tonks, by the way.”

“Y-yeah, thanks. My friends helped with it.”

“Great! You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, by the way. Hufflepuff is the coolest House!” Declared the older teen with a dazzling grin, her hair promptly turning into an awesome Hufflepuff themed mohawk before going back to how they were before. “Hey, if you’re feeling lonely at the Hufflepuff table sometimes, you’re more than welcome to join me.”

“Thanks for the offer, but we’ve already decided that from now on we’ll eat our meals together.” Chirped Hazel, ignoring Neville’s surprised “We did? When?” before turning to the pink haired teen with a bright grin when the older Hufflepuff threw her head back with a bright delighted laugh.

“Oh I like you guys! You know that you’re going to cause loads of chaos, right? People aren’t going to like this.”

Hazel raised an eyebrow and shot the seventh year a deadpan smirk, reshouldering her school bag when the strap slipped.

“I say screw them. You’re welcome to join us, if you don’t mind ruining your reputation by hanging out with firsties.”

Tonks gained a thoughtful look as she ruffled Hazel’s hair, willfully deaf to his godsister’s indignant protests.

“You know what? I think I’ll take that risk. You seem like an interesting bunch and it’d be a shame to miss out on some free entertainment.”

Hazel knocked on Severus’ door, trying to stop the fact that she was a jittery bundle of nerves from showing. Uncle Sev had asked her to join him in his quarters after supper. She was both excited and nervous because he hadn’t told her why he wanted to see her.

“Come in, Hazel. You remember what I told you back in August?”

“We spoke about many things back then, Uncle Sev. Care to elaborate?” She drawled with a shit eating grin as she threw herself in her favorite armchair, earning herself a fondly exasperated eye roll. She truly didn’t know where he was going with this though.

“Hazel.”

“Yes Uncle?”

“Occlumency and Legilimency lessons, brat. Ring any bell?

“Well now that you mention it…”

“Stop acting like a dunderhead, Hazel, and get to work. I want you in my office Saturday until you’ve mastered both techniques to my satisfaction. This is not a joke, Hazel. The Headmaster can read your mind and if he finds out about Laurel he might do something to her.”

She gave a solemn nod.

“I understand.”

“Legilimency is an equally useful skill to have, as it allows you to be a step ahead from your enemies.”

“Sounds awesome. When do we start on that?”

“Once I’m satisfied with your mental defences, brat. That’s final. Invading an alien mind when yours is not protected is suicide. Do you understand, Hazel?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Now let’s start, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Two weeks.

Two weeks and she was already done with this farce; torn between disgust, exasperation and irritation.

She had thought; she had strongly hoped that the disastrous opening feast wouldn't set the pace for the school as a whole.

She had realised how wrong she was in no time.

Hogwarts was a sinking ship wrapped in a glamourous illusion of grandeur. It was only her small group of friends and the threat of Dumbledore’s unhealthy obsession of her that kept her from leaving.

A few conversations with the portraits had revealed that this was the case ever since Dumbledore had been named Headmaster. 

Not to mention the curriculum had been striped down to its core classes. According to the other students and based on her own experiences, of the fourteen teachers currently employed by the school, less than half were actually qualified for the job.

Oh don’t get her wrong; the castle itself was magnificent and the echoes of the school's spirit that she could feel in every crook and corner were nothing short of welcoming. 

But the people—they were another matter entirely.

The division of students was utterly flawed in the way it blatantly encouraged a climate of prejudice and unhealthy competition. Similarly, the lack of neutral parties to take on the role of Head of House made it flagrantly easy for the teachers to show blatant favouritism. 

Threats to the student’s wellbeing were dealt with in a very hands off attitude that infuriated her to this day.

Cazzo... Professor Hoot had done nothing but twiddle her thumbs when Neville had lost control of his broom! Her friend could’ve been really hurt if not for Hermione’s quick intervention and impressive spellwork!

Unfortunately, bullying was met with the same attitude of "live and let live" from the staff.

Then there was the staring (made worse by the fact that she and her friends always ate together, doing a rotation between the tables), the useless attempts at bullying her and her friends (again, a lot of people didn’t appreciate her and the others showing that kind of blatant house unity and made sure to let them know their discontentment), the worshiping that set off every single one of her instincts. She might like people but it was always on her terms; might’ve tolerated the inevitable crowds during the gym competitions, but it didn’t mean she liked it.

While there were some decent people in this school, it was filled with sheeple, dunderheads, gold leeches, sycophants, fakes and suck-ups. 

A third of the Snakes hated her on principle. Draco Malfoy, for one, kept trying to rile her up after being turned down the first time he offered her his friendship. She took every insult with practiced impermeability and the most passive-aggressive pleasant smile she could muster. In the end the moronic peacock only succeeded in embarrassing himself at every turn because of his rather–explosive temper. The rest of Slytherin was undecided on how to act around her; evidently her ending up in the raven’s nest was quite destabilising. 

The Lions–or the House Cats as she’s taken to call them–didn’t know how to deal with their wounded pride over the fact that she wasn’t sorted in their house. They split their time between harassing her into demanding a resort, and bullying her for refusing to do so over and over again. 

She’d quickly come to find out that the Hufflepuffs loved her. Apparently befriending two of their own and willingly eating at their table without a care for anyone’s opinion made her and the others honorific ‘Puffs. Especially after Nev apparently told his House what she thought of the Hufflepuff House. 

Her roommates… were tolerable. Ravenclaw had a buddy system when it came to the dorm arrangements, every year the prefects paired each newbie to a second or third year student of the same gender who would show them the ropes and help them navigate the school. Two pairs were assigned to a dorm room. Her “buddy” was a girl who was more interested in reading every book in the Hogwarts library before graduation than in dealing with her so she was mostly left alone. Which suited her just fine since it gave her an excuse to spend time with Gred and Forge and they knew countless shortcuts. The first year who shared her room was Padma Patil, to her great delight. 

While they weren’t that close, mainly because her cousin usually hung out with Sue Li and Lisa Turpin, the girl had put her in contact with her uncle back in India as soon as she learned Hazel was a parselmouth. The man was more than happy to correspond with her, teaching her about the different branches of parselmagic. It had been fascinating to learn that parseltongue was a language that was imbued with magic. It could heal, harm, protect, and it also gave parselmouths a certain amount of control over all snakes as well as an immunity to the basilisk’s stare and the venom of various minor non-magical snakes.

Hazel was  drawn out of her musing by the–by now familiar–faint hissing of Francisco’s scales as her familiar slithered across the floor, climbed on top of her bed and coiled onto her stomach.

§Have you found anything of interest, Francisco?§

§Yes. I found a parselocked door leading to a room on the first floor. There was a red stone on a pedestal inside. I found out after further exploration that it was protected by moquery of an obstacle course. The room connects to the forbidden third floor corridor.§

§This must be what Sev warned me about. Did you grab the stone?§ 

In place of an answer, Francisco dropped a red gem the size of her fist in her lap. She took a moment to beam proudly at her partner’s forethought, scratching her familiar in that particular spot that turned Francisco into a puddle of goo.

Hazel looked up from her ministrations and gave her best friend an amused glance when Hermione threw herself onto Hazel’s bed with a tired groan. The brown eyed witch didn’t show any outward reactions beyond giving Francisco a tentative scratch under his chin as the reptile cuddled in her lap.

“Hey there. Did Francisco find anything interesting yet?”

“Of course he did. He’s the best at what he does.”

“And what is that exactly?” Muttered her best friend in wry amusement, fiddling with the quill she held between ink stained fingers that were littered with small paper cut scars. Truthfully she was still amazed by how well Hermione had taken the news that she could speak to snakes. After she was done interrogating every single detail about the ability out of her with gleeful methodicality that is.

“Sneaking around, gathering information and doing recon of my surroundings, to list a few.”

“Hm.” Hermione shifted into a more comfortable position, laying her head in Hazel’s lap. “What did he find?”

“There was a strange stone in a room on the first floor.”

“Oh?”

“Here, Fran’... retrieved it.”

Hermione leaned forward and eyed the stone with a speculative glint in her eyes that Hazel was starting to get used to seeing in her friend’s chestnut gaze. “Intriguing… I wonder what it does?”

Hazel hummed thoughtfully in response, turning the stone this way and that, interested by the way the various facets of the blood red stone reflected the light.

“Who knows? We’ll find out eventually.”

“Wait, does this mean we’re keeping it?”

“Of course we are! Why wouldn’t we? It’s shiny and mysterious and interesting and I’ve been so bored recently.”

“But surely that’s against the rules! We should tell a teacher about this!”

“Are you serious? The protections around the thing were abysmal if Francisco was able to get through them and grab the stone. It’s safer with us.” She shook her head when her friend went to protest. “No, seriously; there’s nothing in the school rules that forbids the heroic act of liberating a random stone from an even more random room on the first floor.” Seeing the hesitant look on her friend’s face she sighed inaudibly and went to way more. Hermione beat her to the punch.

“Alright–I won’t tell–”

“Great!”

“On one condition.”

“Shoot.”

“I want to be able to study the stone to my heart’s content.”

She beamed at her friend, and tackled her in an enthusiastic hug.

“Deal!”

Hazel threw herself onto her ridiculously comfortable bed. One week and no one had raised a fuss about any stolen stone.

“See? Nothing happened.”

“–yet.” Hermione pointed out in exasperation. “Who knows what kind of repercussions this could have?”

“We’ll deal with it as it comes, Hermione.”

Her friend slumped against the closest bedpost, shooting her a partially convinced glance before relenting.

“I guess that’s all I can ask.”

“Great! Now who wants to investigate this shiny mysterious stone we have at our disposition?” She drawled, tossing said blood red stone  in the air a few times for good measure.

The deadpan look Hermione sent her was absolutely priceless.

“Do you even need to ask?” 

“There is absolutely nothing here! Nothing!” Hermione threw her hands in the air in absolute irritation. 

Hazel looked up from the book on magical ores and gemstones in her lap and stared at her friend whose hair was even more frizzled than usual in her frazzled state.

“We’ll find what we’re looking for eventually, Hermione.”

The witch huffed irritably, slumping back into her seat. “Even the tests we ran on the damn thing didn’t give any results.”

Was that a swear that came out of her friend’s mouth? Hermione must really be pissed off; she rarely swore, but when she did it was best to run for cover and wait for the thunderstorm to pass through.

Sadly that was not an option right now; the librarian was looking increasingly twitchy as her friend’s voice rose in volume steadily.

“How about… we dump the thing on our favorite mad scientists and let them play with it at their heart’s content?” And she really wasn’t kidding when she called them that; the twins’ lab was a perfect emulation of everything a mad scientist lair was supposed to be.

Not to mention how those two got when they were in a creative mood. 

They would be perfect for the task and they both knew it. The hard part would be convincing Hermione to let go; the witch was more stubborn and driven than Reborn and Jade combined.

“I guess that could work.”

Or not.

Well, that made things easier, she thought with relief, grinning in triumph; barely swallowing back a startled curse when two heavy arms draped themselves across her shoulders seconds later.

“Did someone say mad scientists?”

She rolled her eyes, slapping George’s upper arm playfully in mock reprimand.

“You two almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Awareness of your environnement is important, Hazel-dear.”

“I was taught that kind of awareness by the time I was eight. It doesn’t do much good when people literally appear out of thin air without warning.”

George leaned back in his seat with a mysterious smirk. “Trade secret, I’m afraid.”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “So... just how did you know we were talking about you?” She mused, flipping a page as her redheaded friends dragged chairs over to their table.

“We are always close by.” Drawled Fred in a show of casual seriousness.

“Even when we aren’t.”

“We’ll always be there as soon as you need us.” Fred threw her a grin leaned forward eagerly.

“Now what is this we heard about a "thing" you wanted to hand over to us?”

“And more importantly; what does it do?”

“That, my friends, is what we’re trying to find out.”

Chapter Text

LEVEL ‘INSANE RANDOM’ ACTIVATED.

He took a deep, steadying breath, levelling his guns as he automatically adjusted his stance to compensate for the extra weight on his left shoulder. 

STARTING IN FIVE… FOUR… THREE… TWO… ONE—

Twelve gunshots rang through the large training room in quick succession, interspersed with the sound of bullets impacting steel.

Without pause Xanxus reloaded both his guns in seconds, and shot another round with both weapons. He hit one or more of the targets every single time. Said targets appeared out of nowhere in the shooting range and moved in ways that it was impossible to predict where they would be in the next movement.

For non-Flame users at least. 

Throw some Cloud and Sky Flames into the mix like he was currently doing and this kind of target training became a whole new story altogether.

A ringtone echoed through the room, and his tutor hopped off his shoulder, forcing him to adjust his stance yet again as he nearly missed his next two shots.

“Chaos. You’ve reached Reborn, the World’s Greatest Hitman.”

His smirk widened in satisfaction and a smug glint entered his blood red eyes when he managed to hit a particularly tricky target near the ceiling. Five more made an appearance, forcing him to reload one gun in between shooting the few remaining bullets in the other one. 

“Of course, of course. Business is business, after all. What do you need me to do?”

Thirty more targets materialized at once. Some of them had a timer in their centre, because the midget hitman Trash was a sadistic piece of Trash who liked to make his life difficult.

Why did he like the Trash again?

Right, he was the only Trash who had the balls to tell the old fart to go fuck himself when he tried to push things too far.

He took a few seconds to snap a new clip inside his previously empty gun. 

Shit. 

He didn’t have enough bullets to hit all the timed targets. 

Which meant he was going to have to up his reloading speed or face whatever consequence his shitty tutor had in store for him in case of failure.

Fuck.

This shit was going to be fucking tricky.

“It will be done for a total of one million lira, paid in advance.”

Clang.

He dropped the gun in his left hand, reloaded the remaining gun and pressed the trigger three times within a second of interval, letting out a small sigh of relief when he hit the last target at the last second, literally.

“Is that doubt in my abilities I’m hearing, Signore Wilder?”

Fucking moronic Trash. Underestimating a fucking Arcobelano is the highest level of Stupid. Xanxus barely smothered a snort as he took aim again and pressed the trigger of his two guns simultaneously, grinning in satisfaction when he hit the bullseye both times. 

“That’s what I thought. I expect payment in the next five minutes.”

Only three left, Xanxus thought gleefully as he quickly dispatched said targets, feeling the sharp gaze of his tutor pinned on his back. The third was reduced to a puddle of molten steel that vanished as soon as it hit the ground.

“Not bad, Xanxus. At this rate you could take over the Varia before you turn sixteen.” Drawled the tiny hitman, Leon turning back into his chameleon form. Reborn hopped onto his shoulder again and gripped his hair for balance. He made a note to himself to shave it at least on the sides, purely out of spite. “You have five minutes to pack, Hothead-Xanxus. We’re going to England for a week.”

Xanxus smirked and called up his tertiary Cloud Flames, increasing his speed to ridiculous levels. Four minutes later he was packing his duffel bag in the saddlebag of the vintage motorbike Massimo had bought him for his birthday.

The older teen really tried his hardest to make him feel included, unlike the rest of the scum he was supposed to call his brothers.

Massimo was the one who taught him how to drive a bike and a car, despite the old fart being against him learning the skill because he was too young.

He threw a leg over the gleaming dark red leather seat, Reborn hopping in the side car with startling ease considering his toddler-like proportions, and snorted derisively.

Massimo might be the only brother he liked, but he was still Trash.

They all were.

Strolling down a street he hadn’t bothered catching the name of, Reborn let his lips twist in a satisfied smirk that didn’t belong on his cursed form’s face as he shed the last bit of the fire fighter costume he was forced to wear in order to get close enough to his most recent target. The British man, Thomas Granger, had been a paranoïd veteran with many enemies who later became a firefighter. Granger had quickly risen through the ranks before retiring and somehow getting into trouble with the British Underworld to the point that they had hired him to snuff him out. The man never left his home for anything, until a firefighter veteran party at the fire station became the exception to the rule. Usually Reborn would infiltrate the man’s house, but his employers wanted him to set an example, and he couldn’t do that if the man died alone in his recluse home. So he had pulled a few favours and managed to get invited. The rest was history.

I have a weakness for brats with unrefined potential and murderous tendencies, Reborn realized not for the first time as he put his hat back where it belonged, his student falling into step with him to allow him to hop onto the kid’s shoulder.

When he met the kid, Xanxus was a ball of anger and resentment against life in general. He had good reasons too; his suspicions that the kid wasn’t really Don Vongola’s true son came mainly from the blatant bias the old mafioso subjected the red eyed boy to compared to the brazen favouritism he showed for his other sons.

It was so painfully obvious that it made Reborn pity Xanxus, not that he ever let it show. The last thing he wanted was to lose the trust he had managed to painstakingly build between them. Mio dio, the kid really had the bad end of the rope in the situation. He had been thrown into a situation he knew nothing about, where he was at a clear disadvantage. To make matters worse, Nono hadn’t lifted a finger to help him feel more at home. Nor did he let him feel the slightest bit in control of the situation. Most of the ninth generation was no help either, treating his student with scorn and disdain because of his less than reputable background. The Ninth wife despised her husband’s bastard and his sons were too old to form any meaningful connection with the Wrath. 

That meant that Xanxus was left to his own devices. It got to the point that he didn’t know how to ask for soap that had a different flagrance than the floral shit Vongola Housekeeping usually stocked the guest rooms with. He was constantly berated by his father for things the fool just expected Xanxus to know. Nono was fully aware that the kid had lived the six first years on the streets with a mother who was barely there and worked as a prostitute in a seedier part of town. So why in the name of chaos did the mafioso expect Xanxus to know everything about the Mafia when he’d been shoved into that world less than a year ago?

It made no sense! 

Anyways, Nono had heard of his debut in the tutor business and had decided to hire him as a tutor for his son after Xanxus set his fifth tutor on fire, and refused to extinguish the flames that could not be put out by any other means. 

As soon as he laid his eyes on the kid, with his blood red that burned with anger and determination, his spiky hair, his impressive glower, with the way he was decimating the targets at the shooting range and his beautiful Wrath Flames; he was delighted by the opportunity presented to him. 

Mio dio the amount of chaos the brat could cause with his flames alone, he thought gleefully. 

Reborn knew right then and there that he would teach Xanxus how to thrive in the world of organised crime. He would relish in the face Vongola Nono would make as Xanxus took flight and became his own person. 

That was two years ago.

In that time he ensured Xanxus knew how to shoot, and shoot well at that, even with his eyes closed while under the fire of multiple machine guns on an unstable boat in the middle of a shark infested lake during a thunderstorm.

He had cashed in the favour Fon owed him for teaching Hazel and both of them beat the brat into the ground mercilessly for months until Xanxus got the hang of hand to hand combat. It was the same with Colonello, who was delighted to help with the brat’s training whenever they visited Mafia Land.

He spent a lot of time tutoring the Wrath in all the subjects Nono wanted him to learn and more, delighted to find out that once introduced to the subject Xanxus was as fascinated by complex mathematical theories as he was.

He made sure his student knew how to act around women and in social gatherings, while being extremely careful to avoid stifling the kid’s personality. Nono deserved every headache the boy’s clashing personality gave him.

Besides, if there was one thing that could make things interesting, it was Xanxus’ mind. The now eleven year old was sharper than most despite what people thought and when properly motivated (which mostly involved bombs and guns pointed at his heads while asking him to do something seemingly impossible–Xanxus loved challenge as much as Reborn thrived on Chaos) Xanxus was very adept at thinking outside the box. His student was an endless source of entertainment in the form of pranks and revenge plots. Especially when he went to his grandmother Daniela for help. Those two working together were the makings of Hell, he was sure of it.

As he neared the outskirts of London he was struck with the sudden and irresistible impulse to drop by Privet Drive to see how Hazel was doing. It had been her birthday not long ago after all and what kind of tutor would he be if he didn’t visit his first student from time to time?

Yes, a visit wouldn’t much harm, and he could bring Hazel a late birthday gift. What that would be though...

He stilled in front of a small corner shop, staring at the mannequins on display and let a small smirk creep its way onto his face.

Yes, this would do perfectly.

“Chaos, Laurel.”

“Reborn! How good to see you!” Laurel gave him a big smile that only widened when her eyes zeroed on the eleven year old behind him. “And you brought a guest as well. How wonderful of you. Come in, come on in!”

He let a small smile flitter across his face as he stepped into the warmth of the woman’s home; his first student’s home. From the corner of his eye he saw Xanxus stepping inside as well. 

Reborn glanced around the house; it looked the same as always; the walls lined with pictures of the tea shop owner and her girls, as well as framed drawings and awards. There were a few gymnastic trophies on the mantelpiece and plants on every available surface. A chess set sat on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. The woman’s favorite tea pot was placed in the center of the circular dining table as usual. It was surrounded by the rest of the tea set and a selection of teas and biscuits stored in colourful tins. Cooking books, well used and cared for, lined the shelves above the fridge. Stuck to the front of the fridge with magnets were shopping lists, small reminders, postal cards and loving notes from Laurel to her daughter and vice-versa. In the centre, framed by the collage of post-its and post-cards, was a custom-made calendar. It displayed a picture of Hazel all dressed up to go trick or treating. 

“Would you like some tea?”

“Please. Xanxus?” 

His student didn’t bother looking away from the window. “Hn.”

Laurel’s brew was the only tea that had ever made him break his oath to only drink expressos for as long as he lived. It was that good.

“Oh is that your name, dear? Nice to meet you, how did you meet Reborn? Are you another student of his?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful! I always knew that you would be a wonderful tutor, Reborn-dear.” She drawled even as Xanxus returned the greeting as abruptly as always; must be his Cloud Flames acting up. Laurel didn’t seem fazed by his student’s attitude in the slightest. His student sat at the kitchen table.

Reborn, on the other hand, scrutinized the trophies while Laurel puttered around the kitchen expertly. The trophies were obviously a source of great pride in the household. There was not one speck of dust on them and they were gleaming and polished to perfection with great meticulous care.

“Gymnastics, hn?”

“Mmhm. Hazel picked up the discipline shortly after you left. It was so great to see her make friends.”

“I can imagine.”

“Hm. She quit a few months ago, sadly. Something about annoying crowds and too many people getting in her personal space.”

Reborn withheld a snort; the girl was so obviously a latent Cloud it wasn’t even funny. Even when he was teaching she only tolerated the company of a few select people–those she found worthy. Anyone else was a necessary evil at best; he was surprised she lasted this long in the gymnastic business. 

Settling around the round table in the kitchen they let the comfortable silence stretch as they sipped their strong, straight black tea and ate Laurel’s famous mocha cookies from a small hand painted tin; Hazel’s handiwork for sure. She was good at many things, martial arts and marksmanship to name a few, but she was hopeless when it came to drawing or painting. He would recognize the ragazza’s clumsy style anywhere.

“It’s been awhile since you came around, Honey. I assume you came to see how Hazel is doing?”

“Chaos. Is she coming home soon?” Drawled Reborn, slipping Leon a cookie. His shape changing partner scurried back onto the brim of his fedora with the treat in his mouth and wasted no time nibbling onto it.

Xanxus grabbed one as well, looking more relaxed in the home of an unknown woman than he had ever seen the teen being. He gave a secretive smirk, amused despite himself; it seemed not even Xanxus was immune to the effect Laurel had on people.

“I’m afraid not. She’s off at a boarding school in Scotland.”

For some reason he chose to ignore, his flames whined in disappointment. What the fuck? He knew his Flames had been acting weirdly lately, seeming almost reluctant to cooperate at times as if they were unhappy with him, but this was the first time they had this kind of reaction.

“Ho?”

“Her parents enrolled her at birth, apparently. It seems those abilities of hers are more widespread than we first thought. She got her powers from her parents, who died protecting her from a terrorist.”

He frowned, not liking the sound of that.

“Is the man dead?”

“No one really knows for sure… but she does have people watching her back. She made friends in high places. They’ll keep her safe.”

“How sure are you about that?”

“One of them is her great-aunt. From what Hazel told me, the woman is a Black, who are known to be ruthless fighters and politicians. She is the infamous owner of The Black Book of Blackmail. She knows everything about everyone, managed to never marry and not only survive, but thrive in a sexist, backwards society.”

Well then. If that woman was as similar to Viper as he thought she was, then Hazel was definitely in good hands. As much as he hated to admit it, sometimes blackmail was a lot more powerful than bullets, at least until the person who was blackmailed grew a spine and decided that he didn’t care what people would think when their secrets got aired. When that happened, well, all bets were off.

“Chaos. Anyone else?”

“She found her godfather, he’s as cunning as one gets, faking being a spy for both the terrorist who attacked Hazel and my girl’s headmaster. In reality he’s loyal to Hazel and no one else. Extremely territorial of her.” A Cloud, then. And one who considered his ex-student his territory. That was good; Clouds were infamous for their tempers over what they claimed as theirs. “From the man’s rants, she also got the bankers of her community wrapped around her little finger.”

“Chaos. That sounds like the Haze I know. Glad to know she’s not alone. When will she come back?”

“She’ll be back for Christmas.”

He hummed and finished his tea and hopped onto the floor.

“We have to leave before I bring trouble your way. Do you mind giving this to Haze for Christmas? It was supposed to be a birthday gift but...”

Brightening, Laurel sent him an understanding smile and snatched the large cylindrical box topped with a purple bow out of his hands.

“Of course. Anything you want me to pass on?”

Reborn tipped his fedora to shadow his eyes as he headed for the front door, a thoughtful Xanxus following after him.

“Tell Haze I’m proud of her.”

“Who the fuck was that?” He asked, kicking a pebble as he let his midget tutor perch himself on his shoulder again. Their afternoon had been… interesting. It was the first time that he met one of Reborn’s friends who was so fucking ordinary. The woman’s only distinctive feature was her shitty pink eyes; otherwise the woman reminded him of that character in Sherlock Holmes–Mrs. Hudson.

“My first student’s mother.”

Haze then. His midget tutor had spoken about the girl in passing a few times and from what he’d gathered the girl was a perfect shot and an even better martial artist. He would be jealous if the girl wasn’t so damn Quality; as anyone from the Varia would say.

“Flame active?” The woman had said something about abilities, hadn’t she?

Reborn shook his head.

“Chaos, Haze has… abilities that aren’t Flames. This is all you’ll get on the subject, bambino .”

“Hn. Trash.”

A gunshot rang through the air and he didn’t bother dodging, wrapping his Wrath around his body and disintegrating the bullet instantly.

“What you tongue, Hothead-Xanxus. Don’t think for a second that your shield trick is enough to stop me from killing you.”

Xanxus rolled his eyes, mind already running as fast as his Cloud Flames allowed it.

Abilities that weren’t Flames?

Hm.

Interesting.

That might explain all the strange things that happened around him when he was younger. Things that, now that he thought about it, could not be attributed to any of the Flames he possessed.

Chapter Text

“What do you want, brat? Tonight’s not an occlumency night.”

Hazel shot Sev a bright grin and invited herself into the man’s quarters without prompting, revelling in the eye twitch she received in response. “Hello to you, too, Uncle Sev!” 

She did so love to rile up the man. Pushing her godfather’s limits truly was a source of endless entertainment.

“Nice pyjamas by the way; the red goes perfectly with your skin tone and the gold brings out your eyes.”

She threw herself in her favorite armchair, enjoying the heat from the fireplace as she absently followed her godfather’s progress in the kitchen; placing a kettle on the cooktop and retrieving two plain mugs from the cupboards.

It only took a few minutes for the both of them to be settled in front of the hearth with a cup of tea in their hands. Sitting up slightly from her slouch in the comfortable armchair she had claimed as her own the first time she visited Sev’s living quarters, Hazel rummaged through her school bag and pulled out a tin of Laurel’s famous cookies with triumphant smirk. It shifted into a cheeky grin when Severus let out an amused snort and gestured at the low coffee table between them. She set the cookies down and Severus threw a few napkins next to the tin.

“Brat.”

She shot her godfather a perfectly innocent look as she snatched a biscuit from the tin and placed it on a napkin in her lap. The arched eyebrow she got for her efforts was the epitome of unimpressed and she hid a grin behind the rim of her mug. She’d have to remember that one; it would be useful during her confrontations with Malfoy. 

However impressive it was; it wasn’t enough a deterrent to stop her from messing with him. 

“Am I not allowed to spend time with my godfather? And here I thought you would be dying to know how my first two weeks in school went.”

“Hazel.”

“Fine, fine.” She rolled her eyes. “I need your help; there’s something seriously wrong going on with my friend.” 

Severus straightened, the sudden sharpness in his gaze betraying interest and concern that caused the warmth of fondness to bloom in her chest.

“Hm. Which one?”

“Neville.”

Her surrogate uncle hummed non-committaly and took a sip of his tea.

“The Longbottom boy.”

She shot him an exasperated look, leaning back into the comfy chair she had claimed as her own.

“I don’t understand why you dislike him so much.”

“I do not dislike him! It’s just… his brewing skills are abysmal! The boy blew up three cauldrons in one single class!”

“That’s exactly what I mean! I’ve been his partner since the start, and we always follow your instructions to the letter.”

“Then what’s wrong with the boy?”

She rolled her eyes. “I was getting to that, Uncle. His magic output is the thing that messes with the brewing process.”

Sev relaxed back in his seat. “Explain.”

Hazel stayed silent, taking a few seconds to rearrange her thoughts back into a semblance of order as she tried to remember how Neville’s magic felt.

“My mentor helped me become more sensitive to magic while teaching me how to harness mine and I can tell that Neville is part of the top one percent when it comes to magical strength and core size. He’s a few notches above Dumbledore when it comes to power levels. But it seems–muffled–somehow.”

Severus stared at her intently over the rim of his cup, arching a prompting eyebrow imperiously.

“He goes to cast a spell, his magic surges strongly in preparation but then there's something choking his magic like a noose and only a small quantity actually gets used to cast the spell while the rest dissipates.”

Severus sat up, eyes sharp and thoughtful and mouth set in a grim line.

“Have you seen his wand?”

“I did.”

“Did it look well worn to you?”

A thoughtful noise escaped her as she bit her lip, staring into space.  She nodded.

“Now that you mention it, it does look like it’s been in use for years.”

“So either Augusta Longbottom gave him a wand early, which is unlikely considering that everyone thought the boy was a squib or–”

“He’s using someone else’s wand… tiān he’s using his father’s wand! Neville told me that his whole childhood,  his gran had tried to mold him into a perfect copy of his father.” She shot Sev a worried look. “Is there anything we can do to help, Uncle Sev?”

“Bring him here next saturday. We’ll go purchase a wand for him in Knockturn.” Said Severus with a long drawn out sigh, probably dreading the fact that he would be forced to go on another shopping trip so soon.

“Thanks, Sev!” She gave him a loose hug and headed for the door after checking the time; it was near curfew.

“And Hazel?”

“Hm?”

“Watch your language.”

She did the mature thing and stuck out her tongue at him before hightailing her way out of there.

“Welcome to Blackthorn Emporium, what the bloody hell can I do for you Unca'?” Drawled drawled Faelyn, Frank’s daughter, from behind the counter, the beads and trinkets braided into her bright cyan hair clinking every time she shifted and the pale blue triangles tattooed on both her cheeks glowing faintly in the dim lighting.

“Faelyn, good to see you. I was expecting Frank to be holding the shop today.” 

The teen gave an attempt of a smile that resembled more an awkward grimace. It was tinged with the pain of grief and anger, making his brow crease in worry.

“Ah yeah… Pa died a week ago; got killed by the Ministry dogs for "resisting arrest" or some bullshite like that. Hippogriff dung if you ask me. No damn reason for the arrest either; the pigs tried to pick him off the street when he was minding his own bloody business. Didn’t stand a chance; they cut his throat in broad daylight and got away with it ‘cause we have nymph blood in our veins.”

Severus’ concerned frown deepened, dark eyes scanning Faelyn’s body searching for any injury. This was the reason why he hated every side of the damn war. They were all arseholes of the worst kind.

“So you’ve been running the things ever since.” He concluded grimly.

“Yup. It’s been doing bloody great if you ask me. Pa did a great damn job teaching me the ropes.”

“Have the Ministry dunderheads given you any trouble?”

Faelyn snorted in pure derision and sent him a sharp blood thirsty smirk as she bustled around the shop gathering seemingly random boxes. The teen gave a jerk of her head as she disappeared through a door behind the counter and they did the same, entering Frank’s–well Fae’s now wouldn’t it–workshop.

“They bloody tried alright–but I’m more than capable to take care of the bastards. Blimey, every time they patrol around here they’re skittish like a unicorn in a brothel. Don’t worry so much about me.”

He smirked unrepentantly and leaned against a workbench, glancing around the familiar room. It was cluttered with half finished wands, blocks and chips of wood of all kinds. And plants; a lot of plants of all shapes and colours and sizes growing, flourishing, hanging and climbing everywhere. The walls were built out of rough stone and shelves crumbling under the weight of hundreds upon hundreds of jars, tins and ornate wooden boxes lined three walls out of four. The last one was dedicated to rows upon rows of tools; some more bizarre looking than others. Frank had done a damn good job building this business from the ground, especially since he used to be a street brat who now had one of the most flourishing businesses of the alley. But more importantly, the man had managed to create a home for his late wife and teenage daughter. It was the kind of thing they used to dream of having when they met in this very alley that one summer when he ran away from home. Frank had been a sarcastic shit with a crass mouth; a downright asshole on his good days, but he had been a good man when it truly mattered, who always had Severus’ back. Even Cassie held a soft spot for him because he had no qualms in sharing the juicy gossip going around the alley. His death hurt more than he’d like to admit. 

“You know I can’t help it. I promised your father to look after you.”

“Hn. Anyways, what can I do for you today?”

“The boy needs a wand. His grandmother has forced his father’s wand onto him. Acacia wood.”

Faelyn gave a wince, looking a bit sick with the implications.

“Shite… that’s a shite thing to do. Get your arse over here, squirt, I’ll walk you through the process. You’ll have the perfect wand in no time.”

“I see you’ve met Diva.” Chirped the cheery teen who couldn’t be older than twelve, her brightly painted nails a sharp contrast with the black box in her hands. Her hair was now kept away from her face by a psychedelically patterned bandana.

Neville tore his gaze away from the truly fascinating glowing, bulbous plant with tentacle-like roots that had that crawled all over the table it was placed on that had caught his attention as soon as he had stepped foot inside the workshop. It was very obviously deadly and there was thick, bright neon pink sap dripping from its wide toothy maw.

“Err… yeah.” Feeling a bit awkward and nervous at being the focus of the girl’s intense cyan gaze, Neville rubbed the back of his neck, blushing slightly. “F-fascinating plant you have there.”

“Ta, Sunshine! I’d tell you its species, but Pa finished Altering it a month before he got killed. Didn’t have time to name the specie; didn’t have the heart to come up with one after he went and died.” The girl shook her head sharply. “Anyways, this wand should work like a damn charm.”

“Should?” Drawled Professor Snape, making Neville jump. The man didn’t scare him anymore, it was hard to be when the Slytherin House Head bought him ice cream earlier, but the man had a talent for making other people forget about his presence when he wanted to. “You’re usually more confident about your work than this.”

The cyan haired teen frowned, eying the box she still held with something like frustration and puzzlement.

“Yeah, well, this time I had a bloody hard time connecting the wand to Sunshine’s magic, well go on, mate! Pick it up and give it a wave.”

He grinned his thanks as Faelyn opened the wand case and held it out towards him. Gulping nervously he clasped his wand hand around the long polished stick.

He held his breath, bracing himself as he gave the wand a little wave.

Nothing happened.

His heart sank, and he saw Severus shoot him a worried look while Hazel drew him into a comforting hug, radiating concern.

The teenage wand crafter tucked an ornate braid hanging in front of her eyes behind her ear as she scrutinized him and he almost took a step back at the intensity in her gaze.

Shakily he let out the silent breath he had been holding when she finally took the wand back and put it back in its box before placing it on a nearby table.

“Don’t go blaming the bloody wand. We have to get Sunshine to the hospital right now. Something’s wrong with his core.”

Chapter Text

In the end they decided that Faelyn would walk with them to Knockturn’s illegal apparition point, so that she and Neville could discuss plants some more. It would also allow her to catch up with her surrogate uncle she hadn’t seen in months.

They walked down the alley, Faelyn pointing out a few shops that might be useful to the other teens in the future. The others seemed grateful for the distraction.

They were almost there when her hand was grabbed. She looked down to see Hecate sitting in her usual rocking chair, grief clear in her eyes. 

“I know you Blackthorns don’t mourn, but your father was a bloody good man.” The hag’s eyes grew distant, and Faelyn swallowed tightly, bracing herself for the wave of grief that soon overcame her. “I watched him grow all my life, saw him run down this bloody alley in his nappies when he was three; caught him trying to steel my strawberry pies a few times, the damn brat, but when he swore to run this place like little Freddy did, it was the damn proudest day of my life. You ought to be proud of him too, girl. He was a good man at heart under the sarcastic shit he gave all of us.”

She gave quick thanks to the woman who was her gran’s drinking buddy; who gave her slices of strawberry pie (made from the berries the hag grew on her roof) every time she visited and always had time to tell her stories of Knockturn Alley’s creation and the numerous revolts against the Ministry when they tried to encroach into their territory. 

Croaked yet reverent condolences still ringing in her ears, Faelyn glanced at the group behind her as she released her hand from old Hecate’s grasp.

“They respect you, look up to you almost like they’re expecting you to lead them.” Remarked Sev’s goddaughter.

She cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away from emerald green eyes.

“The Blackthorns have always run Knockturn. And now Da’s pushing daisies, so…”

“You’re expected to take up the mantle.” 

“Yup. Pa raised me to take over ever since mum died and Loki up and vanished.”

“At least they support you. The people here, I mean.” Muttered Sunshine, sending her a shy glance that betrayed his worry.

She smirked in amusement.

Huh.

How cute. 

Sunshine was worried for her.

She cleared her throat, running a hand through her hair and down her cheek, the tip of her finger skimming over the downward triangles inked into her skin. Remembering how proud her dad had been when she got them, his beaming grin distorting his own tattoo; triangles like hers, like all Blackthorns before them, marking them as leaders, only his were more narrow and dark green as opposed to the cyan her gran had chosen. She flexed her fingers, feeling echoes of the warmth of her mother’s hands wrapped around hers, seeing her mum’s smiling dark eyes, surrounded by tattooed echeverias like a domino mask as they shone in pride. She could still hear Syl’s laughter as he gave her bunny ears in the mirror, Loki’s mutterings about the colour gran had chosen and how predictable she was being and Gran’s low humming as her weathered hands wielded the needle that was inserting ink into her skin.

She shook off the memories with a fond eye roll and a twinge of longing she studiously ignored. Blackthorns do not mourn their dead, my little faerie, her gran’s voice rang in her mind. We welcome Death like an old friend.

She hated that bloody saying with all her heart, even if she could find some logic in it. Mourning was a waste of time, especially when she was supposed to run things now.

“I’ll leave you here. Gotta go back to the shop.” She sent Neville a smirk. “Don’t worry your pretty head over me, Sunshine. I know how things are run around here; how my people think. I’m one of them after all.” And I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Neville followed behind Professor Snape at a quick pace, trying and barely succeeding to keep up with the man’s long strides. 

Falling into step with him, Hazel shot him a concerned glance. There was a frown creasing her brow and he tried to smoothen his features. 

“Alright there, Nev?”

“Y-yeah… I–err... not a fan of this place, is all.”

Hazel smiled in soft understanding, slipping her hand in his in a show of support. His godsister had been his closest confident when it came to his family, or lack thereof. They had discussed in length about how his gran treated him, and he had finally accepted it for what it was; emotional and psychological abuse. Not to forget a truly worrying disregard for his health and safety, and his gran’s refusal to offer any kind of positive reinforcement through words, actions and touch. He’d been raised by house elves for Merlin’s sake, only interacting with his grandmother when she wanted to berate him; preying on his weaknesses and insecurities; destroying his sense of self-worth, self-esteem and self-confidence; trying to mold him into a replacement of his father; into something he wasn’t.

They had also talked about his parents, she was already roughly aware of what happened to them. Tonks joined them sometimes, she was able to relate because her family still lived with the sequeleas of the Lestranges’ attack on her family. 

They stopped in front of the reception desk and Professor Snape stared down the witch who was ignoring them in favour of reading the newest edition of the Witch Weekly. He cleared his throat as his glare intensified, making the witch jump as she scrambled to put the magazine away.

“Hullo, w-what can I do for you?”

They waited for what felt like hours before the Healer finally emerged from her office. By that time the others had somehow learned what had happened and found a way to join them at the hospital. 

Hazel was on her feet the moment the Healer stepped through the door of the room her god brother had been in for the past hour.

“Is everything alright with Neville?” She blurted out as soon as the woman was close enough. 

One look at Healer Mumford’s face caused her anxiety to skyrocket, a feeling of foreboding settling heavily in the pit of her stomach.

“Unfortunately, Heir Longbottom’s core was sealed at a very young age.”

She and the others all stared at her uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before it gave way to shock and outrage.

“What!?”

“Who dared!?”

“Who did this? I’ll make their life Hell! Right Forge?”

“Bloody hell yeah!”

“Is there anything that can be done? Can you remove the seal?”

Thank god Hermione was there to be the voice of reason or they probably would’ve made the healer run away.

“Unfortunately we cannot. The ritual that was used to do the despicable deed has been classified as black magic centuries ago. Anything related to sealing magic usually is.”

Hazel tilted her head in puzzlement.

“Black magic? Not dark? What’s the difference?”

“Let’s just say that despite the similarities in the name, very few Black family members have sunk so low as to use the spells classified as black magic–and for good reasons. The last Black to do so was the one who started the Black Plague.”

“That’s… horrifying.”

The healer sighed tiredly and ran a hand over her face.

“It is. Let’s continue this conversation in my office. I had Mister Longbottom floo over there before coming to see you.”

Hazel frowned as soon as she laid eyes on her friend who sitting listlessly in an armchair by the healer’s paperwork ridden desk, staring unseeingly at the awards covered wall. Hazel rushed to Neville’s side, perching herself on one of the chair’s armrests and cupping the back of his head with her left hand when he sagged against her, resting his head against her chest. She laced her free hand with his knowing it would reassure him.

“Speak.” She commanded the healer imperiously, paying no mind to the others’ curious stares.

Healer Mumford gulped before sitting behind her desk.

“First of all there is a twenty-six percent chance that Neville will become an obscurus upon his coming of age birthday.” Announced the healer gravely, pausing as the others reacted with outrage and Nev whimpered in distress into her chest. She was no better than the former.

“We have to remove it then!”

The Healer shook her head sharply.

“That won’t be possible.”

“Why ever not?” Drawled Hermione with a sickeningly sweet smile full of barely dissimulated sharp edges that told everyone that there would be consequences if she didn’t like the Healer’s answer. She did so love it when her friend got in this kind of mood. In was in those kind of moments Hermione reminded her of a more impulsive version of Reborn with some of Fēng’s personality thrown in.

The healer gulped.

“The seal has been in place for so long it is nearly impossible to remove. Especially when we are limited to the current methods.”

Hazel’s frown turned dangerous and she fixed the woman with an intense look; green eyes narrowing minutely.

“What do you mean; the current methods?”

“Well most of the rituals of the old days that have even a small percentage of a chance to work on Mister Longbottom have been classified as dark magic and thus highly illegal.”

“So what? You’re going to condemn my friend here–an eleven year kid–to a life of feeling incomplete because you’re squeamish?! You’re going to leave a seal on a child when there is a risk that he will become an obscurus?!”

“The Ministry doesn’t mess around when it comes to eradicating dark magic, Miss Potter. They would have my head if I went through with this. I would be sent to Azkaban faster than one can say diagnosis –a life sentence.”

Hazel ran an restless hand through her hair as her other hand clenched into a tight fist.

“I hate this. Can you at least give us any books that could help?”

The healer stared at her impassively for a long time by looking away.

“Sorry, Miss Potter. There’s nothing I can do.”

His goddaughter rose to her feet abruptly and headed for the door dragging a still catatonic Longbottom with her. The Weasleys and Granger followed. 

Severus was the last to leave, face grim and dark eyes stormy. Just before he walked through the door he stilled and turned around.

“Have you been able to analyse the magical signature of the one responsible?”

“We have. Here, there we go–I have the chart… right here.” 

He accepted the file and rifled through the various sheets of parchment.

“Thank you. Can I keep them? I know how to read this kind of chart.”

“Normally I would say no, but in this case… it’s the least I can do. Promise me you’ll catch the one responsible for this.”

Severus said nothing but gave an almost imperceptible nod before striding out of the door.

Sipping on his third glass of Scottish whiskey (the bottle was a Christmas gift from Minerva) Severus stared at the two identical charts spread across his dark hardwood desk, cold calculating rage and loathing bubbling in his gut.

The sheet of parchment on the left was the chart he’d had in his possession for the past seventeen years. He had cast the spell that had generated it on Lily during his sixth year to make sure she wasn’t under the influence of any spells. It turned out she was; his best friend had been obliviated no less than five times over the span of three years. Unfortunately the memories were forever lost so they had never found out what the caster wanted her to forget.

The other parchment was the one Healer Mumford had handed him.

Both matched the chart of Dumbledore’s magical signature he had managed to get his hands on years ago through a series of questionable means.

That meant that the one responsible for sealing Longbottom’s magic with the help of a black magic ritual was the man most of the british magical population trusted with their children.

He circled his desk and collapsed in his chair, running a hand over his face as he let out a weary sigh.

What a bloody mess.

Hazel was going to be a pain to deal with, what with having to watch her at all times to make sure she wouldn’t try to murder the most powerful wizard in magical Britain without taking all the necessary precautions.

What was he thinking; Hazel was smarter than that–a true Slytherin with Raven attributes on top of that. His goddaughter would sooner wage political war against the man rather than do something so blatant and uninspiring as killing the man and taking the risk of him becoming a martyr.

The thing was; he was certain she would win.

Done with her lessons for the day Hazel set out to find her twins; she really needed their help. They knew the castle better than anyone and she needed to find Neville who had vanished as soon as they got back from the hospital the day before. He had even missed all his lessons today, which had never happened before.

Reviewing the twin’s timetables she headed for the greenhouses, knowing that on Mondays they finished their classes with Herbology. 

She grinned despite her worry when she saw two heads of red hair standing out in the crowd that was walking back from the greenhouses.

“Little Star! How wonderful to cross paths with you on this glorious day.”

Her grin brightened as she slipped between them and linked her arms with theirs.

“Hey guys! Have you seen Nev?”

Fred turned to her with a worried frown that his brother echoed once he was done writing his sentence.

“Hm. Have you checked that super dangerous greenhouse he somehow got the permission to enter without supervision?”

She shivered in remembrance. “Yup. Bloody traumatizing experience.”

“The library?”

Hazel shook her head. “Hermione was there just now and he was nowhere to be found.”

“The dungeons?”

“If he was there Severus would’ve dragged him out of there by the ear for skipping class.”

The twins shared a weighted look before apparently coming to a decision as they nodded simultaneously. Dragging her to a nearby alcove they pulled her down to sit on the ground with them.

“We weren’t planning on showing this to you until next year at the earliest.” Declared Fred as he pulled out a piece of blank, folded parchment.

“Wanted to let you explore the secrets of this castle by yourself, you see.”

She snatched the parchment out of the twin’s hands and examined it closely. It was yellowed by the ages and well-used; the worn edges attested to that.

“What is it?”

“This, my dear Princess of Chaos, is the secret of our success.”

Fred tapped the blank map with the tip of his wand.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”

Staring in awe at the map of the castle that slowly revealed itself at those words, Hazel felt her eyes widen when her eyes caught the Headmaster’s name in his office.

“Is that…”

“Dumbledore?” Interrupted George with a wide grin.

“Pacing in his office?” Completed Fred.

“He tends to do that a lot.” The twins finished in sync and she rolled her eyes.

“Ah! There he is!”

Hazel looked down and saw that Fred was pointing at a small alcove where was situated a dot with the words Neville Longbottom floating above it. She beamed and gave them a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Thanks guys! I’ll be right back.”

“Neville?”

Lifting his head from where it was buried in his lap, he tried to muster up a smile, but failed miserably going by his friend’s concerned frown.

He didn’t move when Hazel tucked herself into the small space next to him and let her head rest on his shoulder.

“You know, I’d want to be your friend even if you were born with no magic at all.”

“Really?”

“Hm. There’s more to you than your magic, Nev; bound and caged as it is right now. You’re an amazing, caring, sensible and reliable wizard that I’m honoured to count as a friend.”

He said nothing, merely leaning his head against hers. He couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with him, why most of the adults in his life were hellbent on making his life hell. His gran, his uncle and now his Headmaster... how could he trust adults when all they had to offer was pain and betrayal?

“It’s not your fault either, you know.”

“What?”

“This whole situation, you have no responsibility in what happened. The one at fault is a senile old man who was terrified of your boundless, truly amazing potential and decided the best way to take care of the perceived threat to his ego, pride and reign over the sheeple was to bind your magic. You have done nothing wrong.”

“... thank you. I think I really needed to hear that.”

Hazel gave him a soft smile, wrapping her arms around him. He leaned into her embrace readily.

“I stand by what I said before; we’ll get through this, together. Fred, George, Tonks, Hermione and I, we’ll be right beside you. Always.” She tightened her hold on him and he buried his nose in her hair, breathing in the smell of ink, parchment, treacle tart and spice that was simply Hazel and always soothed him. “You’re not alone, Nev.”

Chapter Text

Sipping his frankly subpar cup of oolong tea, Fēng let his gaze roam placidly over the four toddlers around. They were doing their own thing in the main meeting room at Arcobaleno Manor waiting for Luce to join them.

Letting the sound of his fellow cursed colleagues wash over him, he smiled in amusement. It was funny how little the others had changed even after being cursed.

Skull was in the middle of a tug war with Oodako, the red octopus unwilling to let go of the playboy magazine the stuntman had brought to the meeting.

Next to him Verde was muttering unintelligibly as he fiddled with a strange contraption that kept beeping and flashing intermittently, Cayman curled at his feet. There was a sleek tablet next to the mad scientist. It was filled with neat and meticulously organized notes, Verde occasionally typing in a few words or numbers.

Across the room Lal was standing in front of the window closest to the door, her posture militaristically coiled as usual; her spine ramrod straight, her hand folded neatly behind her back. He felt his lips twitch into an amused grin and was quick to hide it behind his sleeve; the stance was quite comical on a toddler. She was doing her best to ignore Colonnello, who was cleaning his sniper rifle as he shot kicked puppy looks at the COMSUBIN woman. 

Viper, hood concealing their identity or even their gender, was sipping a glass of strawberry milk that was almost as tall as them, clearly taking advantage of the fact that the drink was technically free. Fantasma was perched on their head, dozing in the warm sun rays streaming through the window behind Viper.

Cosmos was already in the room, squabbling with Litchi over a hazelnut in a corner of the room. 

Reborn was not in attendance, using the excuse of having a student to avoid the meeting and especially the Sky Arcobaleno. Reborn had taken Luce’s betrayal the hardest. The hitman had trusted Luce. His hope of finally having a Sky to call his own had blinded his jugement. The hitman had changed drastically after the curse, becoming bitter and angry at the world. Lashing out at everyone. He developed a sadistic streak that was tinged with longing, confusion and grief. It was only after meting Hazel that he started healing.

Fēng muffled a sigh behind his sleeve; he really didn’t want to be here. Too many memories. Good or bad, it didn’t matter. Every single thing here reminded him relentlessly of what he had lost to the Arcobaleno curse.

Focus snapping to the door, he suppressed a shiver of revulsion when Sky Flames swept through the room. They rubbed against his Storm in greeting; in a pitiful attempt of a caress that felt more like sandpaper, nails on a chalkboard and sickeningly sweet sludge clogging his lungs, all at once.

He lashed out with his Storm, burning through the perversely invading Flames. “Are you unable to show even an ounce of common decency, Sky Arcobaleno? Has no one taught you how to reign in your Flames?”

Ignoring his colleague’s shocked faces at his hissed outburst to glare coldly at the offending party, Fēng folded his hand back in his sleeves to hide the blood red Flames licking at his fingers. Luckily the matching fabric was Flame treated specially for him so it didn’t disintegrate.

Luce pouted in a way she probably thought was cute.

He was utterly unaffected.

“You’ve never had a problem with my Flames before, Fon.” She simpered.

“Things change. Sometimes betrayal takes some time to be labelled as such, Giglio Nero.” He leaned back in his seat gracefully, paying no mind to the gloomy atmosphere he had just invited into the room. “Shall we begin the meeting?”

“Fon is right. This meeting was scheduled to start twenty-seven minutes and thirty-three seconds ago. Do you enjoy the power trip you get in making us wait, Luce?”

“Mu. Do not think I won’t charge you for making me wait. Time is money and you wasted mine.”

Luce gave them all a contrite look. It was so obviously fake it was kind of insulting. How dumb did she think they were? He wasn’t the only one who thought that, considering the faces the others were making.

“Please, hear me out–”

“Don’t bother.” Snapped Skull, tone uncharacteristically serious and snide. Well, maybe from the others’ point of view, bar Viper. Fēng knew that Skull was smart and skilled–he was the World’s Greatest Stuntman for a reason–and that he wore masterfully crafted masks, to make people underestimate him. Masks that had undoubtedly been fabricated out of necessity, probably to avoid drawing the scorn or attention of his peers at the circus, or maybe even before. The few times the stuntman’s facade faltered, allowing him glimpses of Skull’s true self, hinted at someone who was much more interesting than he let on. “We’ve heard all of your empty excuses before. Nothing will change the fact that you took everything from us; our adult forms, our lives, our careers, our dreams. You lied to us, led us to our doom with a smile on your face and now you’re expecting forgiveness?”

“The Lackey has a point, as much as I hate to admit it, kora. Is this meeting another way to get us to forgive you and become bonded, Nero? If that’s why you forced us to come to this wretched place, I’m out of here, kora. Lal?”

“I’ll be right behind you, idiot student. CEDEF doesn’t run by itself.”

Fantasma turning into its snake form, Viper floated towards the door.

“Mou. If that’s the case, I’ve got some accounting to do. I’ll send you that bill, Giglio Nero.”

Verde put away his notebook and device, hopping off his chair. 

“Skull, pass by anytime to pick up that toddler-sized motorbike you asked me to design. I’ll run some tests while you take it out on a test run.” The scientist checked his Flame-Tech watch. “I have a Flame-based bomb waiting for me in the labs that will raze half of South America if I don’t tend to it in the next five hours. Viper if you could—? I’ll pay double the usual fee.”

“Of course.”

They both vanished in Viper’s signature Mist portal.

“Please, Skull I—”

The purple haired toddler walked out without a glance, leaving Fēng alone with Luce.

“Talk. I don’t have all day.”

“You found a Sky.” 

Fēng fought back a frown, mind racing.

What was she talking about? On one hand it would explain his reaction to her Flames, but on the other hand, who on earth was strong enough to bond with him? It couldn’t be—oh.

Hazel.

Of course it was her, it would explain why he felt so empty after leaving England and tiān a he had a Sky who was also the student he left behind in England—

… He’d deal with the implications of that later.

It really did explain his reaction to Luce’s latest attempt to ensnare him with her Flames. Flames could have a very strong reactions when they experienced to what poaching attempts. 

“You didn’t know.” Stated Luce, a hint of surprise tinging her voice. 

He remained impassive as he held her scheming gaze and got to his feet abruptly, Lichi hopping onto his head, leaving the room without another word.

He had to find his Sky.

“Gone?” 

Skull winced at the almost catatonic disappointment in Fēng’s voice as he stood on the doorstep of a house in Surrey of all places, talking to a woman who was very obviously civilian. He probably shouldn’t have followed Fēng all the way here, but he couldn’t resist the impulse. As he left the meeting the martial artist had looked agitated and anxious below his usual facade. Skull couldn’t help but feel worried and had decided to stalk Fēng, one of the only two Arcobalenos his Cloud had marked as part of his territory. The man was the only one to see through his masks, smiling indulgently when he put on an act in front of Reborn and Colonnello. Whenever those two were in his vicinity he would pitch his voice higher, making sure to speak at a headache inducing volume and adding flourishes upon flourishes for the sake of it. Fēng had also made sure he could defend himself, teaching him hand to hand combat and Flame tricks, on top of helping him become fluent in both Chinese and Japanese.

The other Arcobaleno his Cloud had claimed as theirs was Viper, who thought he didn’t notice their attempts at protecting him with their illusions. It had all started when he had given them strawberry cake on their birthday, and all the others afterwards. After that the Miser had started giving him discounts, on top of protecting him from Reborn and Collenello’s bullets and hits. But the main reason why he had laid his claim on the miser was because they were family. The indelible marks they both wore their cheeks attested to that fact.

“Come in, Fēng, and have a cuppa with me. You look like you need it.” The woman’s gaze sharpened, staring straight at him. “You too. No need to hide in the bushes.”

He gaped, staring at the magenta eyed woman for a long while before swinging down from the branch he had chosen as a perch and onto a lower branch. He couldn’t resist adding dramatic acrobatics as he scaled down the tall oak tree, and was rewarded with a slight widening of Fon’s smile and an amused chuckle from the unknown woman.

The martial artist gave him a smirk.

“Xiàwǔhǎo, Skull. Why don’t you come in and have some tea? Laurel has some of that oolong tea we both enjoy.”

Chapter Text

Green eyes snapped open as Hazel stretched leisurely. Snuggling further into the warmth of the massive furry body she was leaning against, Hazel took a moment to bask in the warm sunlight streaming through the window set high into the wall across from her. As she petted the scales of the large snake curled around her, the rumbling snores of who she now knew went by Fluffy resonating through her body soothingly. She had to admit that “Fluffy” was a truly ridiculous name for a bloody cerberus, but who was she to judge when she had a snake with a mexican accent whose name was Francisco? She had met the three headed dog because of her familiar, who’d taken a liking to the mutt and wanted to introduce them. 

She should’ve been terrified of the dog, but she wasn’t. Fluffy was nothing but an overgrown, three headed puppy.

Thanks to her and Hermione raiding the library whenever the opportunity presented itself, she knew exactly how to deal with Fluffy and while she was absolutely dreadful at playing instruments (at least the ones she’d tried out), she did have a relatively nice voice. It was nothing special, but she could manage to hold a good tune. 

Hazel smiled in remembrance of all the times she and Laurel had sung together while the radio was playing in the background when they cooked or cleaned up after supper.

After the first time her singing turned Fluffy in a puddle of goo that was eager for scratches behind the ears, Hazel had taken to singing a lullaby every time she visited. It was the lullaby Laurel used to hum to her before bed when she was younger and her nights were plagued with nightmares about the Dursleys.

The naps had come soon after, when she realized that Fluffy would protect her from all harm, which allowed her to sleep with both eyes shut instead of being constantly alert. 

Whenever being around other people started to overwhelm her, she would come here, play with the three headed dog and then nap for a few hours.

There was something about being alone–leaning against Fluffy’s warm furry body, basking in the equally warm afternoon sun and humming under her breath until she fell asleep–that soothed a restless part of her that had been growing bigger and stronger for a while. 

Hazel hesitated slightly in front of the Groundskeeper’s door. Two or three times her size, it dwarfed her like the owner of the hut. She and Hagrid had become acquaintances over the last month or two when he had caught her napping with Fluffy two weeks ago. She and Hagrid had bonded over their love for the massive dog and as she grew fond of the fluffy giant she had started trusting him a bit. It was the only reason she was taking the risk of bringing her sick and highly controversial familiar to him.

She knocked, a small smile blooming over her face when Hagrid appeared in the doorframe, his entire demeanour brightening when his eye fell on her.

“Hazel! Come on in!”

She did and was soon sitting in an armchair that dwarfed her comically, a cup of tea in her hands and a plate of rock cookies in her lap.

“How have yeh bin, Hazel?”

“I’ve been good, I need your help though… and I need you to promise you’ll keep this between us.”

Hagrid looked puzzled, but nodded slowly.

“Alrigh’.”

"Thank you!”

She held out a hand and let Fran’ slither around her shoulders sluggishly.

“Gallopin’ Gorgons, Hazel! Is that a cobra?”

“Hagrid, meet Francisco. He’s been my familiar for years, and I’m scared that if people learn that I have a snake they’ll try to take him away. That’s why you can’t tell anyone.”

“Got it, Hazel. I won’ tell; gotta few secrets of me own meself. He’s bin sick?”

Hazel nodded, holding out her familiar and smiling when Hagrid handled the snake gingerly, looking fascinated by the snake’s unusual colouring.

“Blimey, yer a beauty fer sure. Never seen scales like yers before. Cryptosporidiosis, no doub’ about that. Nasty buggers those things are. Yer lucky, Snape gave me some potions so I’ve got what you need.” He walked over to a massive cupboard next to his equally large patchwork covered bed. “‘Here.” The half-giant announced cheerfully as he walked back to her. “Should do the trick. A spoon a mornin’ fer a week an’ yer friend should be righ’ as rain.”

She beamed at her giant friend and pocketed the potion, placing Fran’ in the hood of her sweater.

“Thanks Hagrid! You’re a lifesaver!”

Hazel entered the hall with a skip in her steps, chatting with Francisco under the privacy charm Cassie taught her. As everything she learned from the woman over the summer, the charm was extremely useful, and, coupled with the notice-me-not spell she picked up from laying a few pranks around the castle with the twins, it made it easy to hide the fact that she was speaking snake.

“Hazel,” the greeting slunk over her senses like a summer downpour; warmed by the Sun, yet refreshing on a hot day. She sent her friends a wide grin as she altered her path to join them at the Hufflepuff table. “You seem more relaxed now, little siste.”

She sat down and dipped her head as she grabbed a small bread bun and tore it in half. In her lap, still hidden from sight with her magic, Francisco dozed off. She pet him absentmindedly as she took a bite of the bun she had selected and smiled, glad he would be fine.

“I am. How’s Diva today?”

Neville brightened as he started rambling about the plant Faelyn had sent over by owl-post, fondness seeping into his voice as he told that Diva had finally gone into bloom.

“They’re amazing! They’re flowers, but they can feel emotions. They giggled when Fred came by to tell me about his latest prank; cried when I had to leave for lunch–”

Somehow Faelyn and Neville had become penpals overnight, exchanging at least three of four letters per week. The relationship was clearly platonic, at least for now; she didn’t think Neville was the slightest bit interested in that kind of stuff, not yet anyways. Hopefully. She wasn’t anywhere ready for her brother to be into that kind of relationship. Nev was doing better regarding the revelation that his core was partially sealed; he had gone back to his usual self at least for the most part, though there was a small, yet constant ember of worry in his eyes nowadays. It made her hate Dumbledore a bit more everyday, ever since Sev had told her he was the one responsible for sealing away her godbrother’s magic.

Shaking her head before she got too caught up in her musings of different ways she could utterly destroy the man until he begged for death, she sternly reminded herself of the reason why she was here instead of eating in the kitchens as she tended to do when she forgot about lunchtime for a while. 

Leaning forward she took the time to raise complex privacy wards around them; the ones Hermione had found in the restricted section of the library a week ago while searching for a cure for Neville’s blocked magical core. One could never be too careful about privacy and secrecy, especially with an artifact as powerful as the Marauder’s map.  “Hey Gred, Forge? Can you pass me the map for a second?”

George’s ever present grin turned anticipatory as he rubbed his hands in his impression of a cartoon villain while Fred slung an arm over her shoulders.

“Why mia principessa, looking to cause some mayhem? We would be delighted as always to help in your endeavor to liven up this dreary castle.”

“Not today, mi cavalieres. There’s something that’s been bugging me ever since you showed me the map a few days ago.”

Her friends shared a dark look of concern that actually suited them even better than their usual mischievous smiles, before Fred pulled the map out of the inside pocket of his school robes.

One quick I solemnly swear I am up to no good later, a map of the whole castle was spread across the table.

She scrutinized it for a short while before letting out a triumphant sound and pointing to a specific spot in the Great Hall. 

“There. What is Peter Pettigrew doing in the castle when he’s supposed to be dead?” She said, pointing the name on the map and narrowing her eyes when she noticed Pettigrew seemed to be taking a piggyback ride on another person since his name was always above another that she unfortunately knew very well.

Ronald Weasley.

“We have to tell Uncle Sev about this.”

“Agreed.” Mumbled George, already heading for the door with single-minded determination.

“Uncle Sev, we need to talk.”

His goddaughter bore his scrutiny with practiced ease. Severus didn’t have to look further than the discrete crease of her brow and the slight tightness of her jaw to assess how serious the situation was. Whatever had happened, it was serious enough to bleed through Hazel’s well crafted masks, and make the redheaded twins flanking her look solemn and worried. The rest of Hazel’s little gang didn’t look any better.

“Come in, brats.”

They didn’t to be told twice and were surrounding his desk staring at the worn sheet of parchment they had brought with them. One he was pretty sure he had seen in the possession of Potter and his gang. Intrigued he joined them, eyes widening at the sight of the scrawled lines of black ink that formed a detailed map of Hogwarts complete with the location of all its occupants. It would be incredibly useful to have during patrols. 

“Hazel?”

The green eyed girl didn’t bother answering and pointed at a spot on the map. Right there on the map was the name Peter Pettigrew floating above the name of the twin’s dunderhead brother.

“How accurate is this map?”

The twins exchanged a look, but it was gone too fast for him to decipher. 

“It’s never lied before.”

“Hm. Your brother, he has a pet rat, doesn’t he?”

Hazel and her friends nodded in sync, a look of disgust flashing across their faces at the mention of the decrepit-looking rat.

“Is it missing a toe, perchance?”

“Yes — are you saying that you think that Scabbers is Pettigrew?”

Severus turned to Hazel with a serious, solemn glint in his dark gaze.

“Your mother once mentioned that your father and his friends had managed to complete the animagus transformation. Pettigrew was a rat.”

He turned to the brats, feeling the concern he felt crease his brow, jaw clenched in anger and determination.

He would not let one of his friends rot in jail if he had anything to say about it. Sirius might have been a real pain in the arse when they were younger, but as they grew older and eventually graduated, the mutt had mellowed out, especially after that infamous telling off he received from Cassie. Sirius had apologized sincerely for all the torment he had heaped upon him and they had bonded over their dark sense of humour and their brotherly love for Regulus. 

They weren’t the closest of friends, but they were close nonetheless and he wouldn’t let his worst enemy rot in that wretched hellhole the British wizards liked to call a prison. Besides, he knew that Cassie and the others would be relieved to find out Sirius had not committed the crime he was accused of. Cassie had tried to get the MoM to give the mutt a fair trial, but she had been blocked at every turn, not even succeeding when she got blackmail involved. Clearly whoever was pulling the strings concerning Sirius–meaning Dumbledore of course, and some high placed individuals in the Ministry–was going all out in order to keep the man in Azkaban. The Black Lady had raged for days on end, and the gardens at Grimmauld Place would never be the same.

“Brats. You have until Friday to acquire the rat by any means necessary. Now out; I have floo calls to make.”

After all if there was even the slightest chance that Sirius was innocent there were quite a few people who needed to be informed. 

Chapter Text

“Out after curfew, Heiress Greengrass?”

Daphne jumped, barely stopping herself from dropping her school bag.

“So are you, Weasley.”

“I’m a Prefect on patrol.” 

She rolled her eyes.

“And I was in detention with Filch. Can I go now?”

“I think not. I will escort you to your common room, Heiress Greengrass. The other Prefect who is on patrol tonight has a reputation of targeting Slytherins.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”

“Why would I?”

“You’re a Gryffindor, and a Weasley. It’s practically in your blood to hate us Snakes.”

The redhead hummed noncommittally. “As long as they don’t break the rules, I’m fine with them, really. And since Professor Snape rules your House with an iron fist, I don’t really have a problem with most of your house.”

“Really?”

“Well I guess you could say I have problems with Snakes who bully other students, but we have those in any House so is that really a reason to hate a whole House? I don’t think so.”

“I guess you’re right.” She murmured, still reeling from what she had just heard. Yes, the Weasley twins left Slytherin mostly alone, only targeting them with their pranks when they either did something to them or one of theirs, or when they pranked all four houses at once. But the fact that their little brother was so antagonistic towards anything Slytherin as well as the stories she had heard about the Weasleys lead her to believe the whole lot of them hated Slytherin.

“I heard you wanted to work for the ministry?” She asked, desperately trying to change subjects.

He grimaced. “My mother wants that for me, more like.”

“Ah. Overbearing parents, I take it?”

“Unfortunately. You?”

“I’ve been raised as a broodmare my whole life.” She admitted before she could stop herself. It was true though. Despite being from a neutral Family, her father was a traditionalist to the bone, and in his mind the only role women had in their society was to further or create alliances between their families. She was dreading the day he decided to officialise the contract between her and Malfoy. He had been eying for long enough for it to be a real possibility.

“That sounds unpleasant. You don’t seem to be the type to stay at home and raise a gaggle of children by yourself.”

She snorted elegantly, as she had been taught from the moment she could walk. “Thanks.”

“So what do you want to be?”

“A dragon keeper.”

She had always been fascinated by dragons. She had dozens of dragon animated figures in her room and an entire bookcase reserved to books about the mighty creatures. “I’ve always dreamt of riding one.”

“You do know that’s not possible, right? They’re not tame beasts.”

She couldn’t help but chuckle lightly. “It never hurts to dream, Prefect Weasley.”

He snorted. “Too true.”

“We’ve arrived.” Drawled the redhead, releasing her arm. “Good night, Heiress Greengrass.”

She nodded politely, only now noticing they were in the dungeons, in front of the Slytherin Common Room’s entrance.

“Thank you for escorting me here, Prefect Weasley, and good evening.”

“It was my pleasure.”

Smiling slightly Daphne spoke this month’s password and stepped inside the common room that would be her home for the next seven years. 

She wasn’t surprised but rather fondly exasperated to find Tracey and Lilian cuddled on the couch and wide awake. 

She sat down next to them with a sigh. “You know you don’t have to wait for me every time, right?”

Ace rolled her eyes. “Of course we do! We’re your best friends!”

“Besides,” began Lillian as she walked up to her with the grace of a dancer that seemed almost ethereal in the moonlight pouring through the window. “I am the desert that recites itself grain by grain*, like an hourglass. Time doesn’t affect me the same way it does you.”

“That might be, but you still need some sleep.”

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. The sandman wouldn’t have granted me sweet dreams with you away from the dorms.”

Daphne shook her head wryly, used to her friend's riddles by now but not in the mood to decode them tonight. 

Luckily her wonderful friends understood that entirely and followed behind her when she headed towards the dorms.

“Sweet dreams, Ace, Spade.”

Stepping outside, Percy took a big breath, the fresh mountain air filling his lungs along with the scents of fall. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself bask in the wonderful sensation of the warm afternoon Sun caressing his skin for the first time in a while. He had spent the last three days in the Library reading about laws and the fonctionnement of the Wizengamot, and it was only when Penelope bullied him into going outside that he put down his books, quills and notes to appease her.

He let his feet guide him around the school grounds, letting his mind drift as he imagined the law firm he wanted to start for years now, if only his mother wasn’t always pressuring him to become a ministry employee. He had made plans for it to work, before he made the mistake of announcing to his parents what he wanted to become. To say his mother had been pissed and disappointed was a true understatement.

The sound of splashes and laughter made him realise that he had ventured all the way down to the shores of the Black Lake. He watched fondly as his twin brothers played catch with the Giant Squid.

They looked happier than he had ever seen them, hanging out with this strange group that didn’t seem to care for House prejudice or anything of the sort.

The group of truly heteroclyt witches and wizards had even gone as far as to eat at a different table every meal. He had been impressed when they had given little mind to the uproar and protests that had risen in the hall back then. Even attempts by the teachers to make her and the others eat at their appropriate tables was met with calm rebukes and sound arguments backed up by the school rulebook.

Percy had spent days analysing every single one of his brothers’ new friends to make sure they wouldn’t hurt Fred and George, or be a threat to them.

Neville Longbottom was a far cry from the shy boy searching for a compartment he had encountered on the platform. He had spoken to the Longbottom Heir briefly before Penelope dragged him away to the Prefect’s compartment, and had gotten the impression of a insecured boy who had been nearly crushed by his grandmother’s shadow and expectations. Now the boy seemed to be chatting animatedly with the bushy haired muggleborn who was also part of the group.

Which led him to the next person on his list, Hermione Granger. The witch who reminded him the most of himself, to the point that he was considering taking her on as his apprentice if he ever got the chance to become a lawyer like he wanted to. She had the kind of book smarts required for this kind of career, and even her view of the world became more and more nuanced by the day. Which was a given with the twins as her friends.

Nymphadora Tonks had been his tutor in potions last year, so he was well acquainted with her already. She had been very supportive of his dreams, too. He knew he could trust her with hid brothers.

Hazel Potter was a Ravenclaw that could’ve been a Snake; a girl with a brilliant mind who wielded politeness like a deadly weapon without most people she interacted with noticing.

“Prefect Weasley.”

He startled when Potter called out to her as he walked by them.

Potter had settled down while he was lost in thoughts, reading a book with her head in Granger’s lap. Said witch was still discussing Herbology theory with Longbottom at a rapid speed, the sandy haired wizard nodding along with a fond glint in his eyes.

“Heiress Potter. What can I do for you?”

The greenest pair of eyes he had ever seen glanced towards him. Potter put her book back in her school bag that was laying next to her and rose to her feet in a fluid movement, holding out her hand to shake.

“I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Percy quirked a curious eyebrow. “Of course. It is my duty as Prefect to help other students. Besides, any friend of my brothers is a friend of mine.”

“Thank you. It’s about your former pet rat. We have strong suspicions that the rodent is an illegal animagus and the Death Eater who betrayed my parents to Voldemort. We need you to confiscate it from Ronald Weasley.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all. If he had put his youngest brother in danger, even unknowingly, he could never forgive himself.

“Who?”

“Peter Pettigrew. Seems the news of his demise were greatly exaggerated.” 

“How do I know this isn’t a prank? You and my brothers are close after all.”

Unfazed by his skepticism, Potter explained everything about her findings and suspicions before handing him a slip of parchment signed by the Potion Professor’s own hand. “Professor Snape is supporting this endeavour and insists on the fact that this should be handled discreetly. Who knows how the Ministry would react if this came out? That there is a possibility they sent the wrong man to the pit of Hell? It wouldn't be the first time they've swept something like this under the rug.”

He nodded in agreement, knowing full well how corrupt the Ministry was. He hated the fact that would be working for such a corrupted institution once he graduated. It was the last thing he wanted to do with his life, but he didn’t have a say in this. His mother was always harping him about getting a respectable job at the Ministry, like his father. His brothers had fought tooth and nail against their mother’s expectations, leaving the Burrow as soon as they graduated to pursue their dream job.

Percy couldn’t find the courage in himself to follow in their footsteps.

Unlike his older brothers, or the twins, he had no siblings with whom he was close enough in age to stand up against mother with him. 

He had given up his dreams of starting his own law firm or even his earlier plans of opening a small bookstore.

“Consider it done.” He declared seriously as the privacy ward surrounding them flickered out. Potter had put it up at the start of their conversation. He had to admit he was quite impressed. He’d had to reinforce the ward, as this particular privacy barrier was a spell one perfected over time, through a lot of trials and errors, but she had done an adequate job for a beginner. He idly wondered who had taught her this privacy ward.

It was necessary for him to learn it so he could get a job at the Ministry, as privacy wards were one of the main pillars of politics in the wizarding society, but other than that it was not a ward a lot of magic users knew.

He was about to leave when he felt a delicate yet calloused hand on his arm.

“Prefect Weasley. Despite what you might think, the twins do pay attention to what you have to say. If you ever need help to establish that law firm you dream of, I’ll be glad to offer my assistance. You’d make a great lawyer.”

He smiled slightly, feeling lighter than he had in years. For the first time in ages, he allowed himself hope that he would be able to choose his own path.

He gave a grateful nod. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So of course Parkinson, the jealous prat, sent a letter to her parents and–” Suddenly noticing her best friend’s distracted state of mind, Tracey followed Daph’s gaze and withheld a sigh when she saw that it was Hazel Potter and Percy Weasley who had caught her blonde friend’s gaze. Her friend had been, well, not obsessed with the redhead, but certainly very interested in the prefect for the past week.

“What do you think they’re talking about?”

She gave an elegant, yet vague shrug. “Who knows? Could be the weather for all I care.”

Daph sent her a look that was clearly meant to say ‘really, Ace?’ and she muffled her laughter. She did so love to tease her best friend.

That was until Daph’s eyes narrowed at the sight of a solemn Hazel putting a hand on the redhead’s arm, while the Weasley Prefect Smiled back slightly. 

Hurriedly clasping her friend’s hand with her own, she wrapped her magic around the currently pale blue eyed witch. The ice that had started spreading on the surface of the Black Lake stopped its progression. 

While her Rapids were too wild and agitated to help in this kind of situation, her Magic had always had a soothing effect on Daphne. At the touch and familiar brush of her magic, the stunning blonde teen relaxed.

“Calm down Daph. There is no need for that here.” She frowned as she glanced at her friend’s unadorned fingers. “Where on Earth is your ring?”

“I forgot it in my room this morning. I’ll get it on my way to potions.”

“Daphne,” she sighed, raking a hand through her friend’s hair soothingly. She wished Lillian was here; the quirky bluenette always knew exactly what to say to Daph to calm her down. “You know how unstable your Ice has become since Weasley escorted you to the dungeons after your detention with the old cat last week and your Magnetism decided to become possessive of him.” She had come up with the name for Daph’s other unique ability, knowing about magnets since her father insisted she be educated in both Magical and Muggle subjects. The first, Ice, had been passed down from generation to generation for centuries apparently, so they had tools to control it, like the ring Daphne always wore. Her friend’s Magnetism however was as rare as a unicorn in a brothel according to Daphne’s aunt, who also told them to keep it a secret.

It was Lillian who had come up with a name for her own bluebell fire. Rapids really described the tumultuous energy the best.

“I know Ace. I was distracted by Malfoy’s inappropriate advances this morning, if you can’t recall.” 

Tracey grimaced. “Alright. I get your point.”

She tightened her grip on her friend’s hands when she felt Daph tense next to her when the whiny blonde ponce also known as Draco Malfoy sat next to them on a tree branch lounging back on the trunk like a spoiled brat trying to be a king.

“Potter has made another friend, I see.” Said Malfoy in a grumble that was trying to be a drawl. “How typical of her.”

Next to her Blaise snorted elegantly as he turned a page of his book.

“Amused, Zabini?”

“Very.”

The blonde wizard huffed, making a few of the more stickler purebloods sitting near them twitch.

Her lips curled into an amused smirk that widened when Blaise sent her a wink as he passed a magically cooled water bottle to Theo. Said wizard didn’t look up from his book, merely taking it and taking a sip mechanically. There was all encompassing and possessive fondness plain as day in Blaise’s indigo eyes as he shot his friend a warm look. For a moment she could’ve sworn his eyes even glowed purple.

It made her smile internally; those two were so close it wasn’t even funny, considering they had only met a month ago. 

“Did you get it?”

Fred nodded, holding up a cage that was barely big enough for the cowering rat trapped inside. Next to him Hazel was twirling her wand between idle fingers. Her mouth had a slight edge that betrayed satisfaction and her eyes held a smug glint. 

“Excellent. Come in; I’ll introduce you all to our guests.” He let go of the doorframe to wave them in, closing the heavy oak door behind them and activating the wards. “Hazel, Tonks you already know Cassie, but for the sake of the others; meet Cassiopeia Black. Cassie, meet Hazel and Tonks’ closest friends; Hermione Granger, Fred and George Weasley and Neville Longbottom.”

As soon as the usual greetings were over, Cassie’s sharp eyes landed on Tonks, softening almost imperceptibly. She strode forward and folded the seventh year into her arms.

“It’s good to see you again, my little Nymph. It’s been a while.”

The pink haired seventh year hugged back with a small smile, before pulling away when he cleared his throat.

“Ditto Aunt Peia.”

He felt dismay when Cassie ignored his attempts to move things along.

“How is Sylvestris? Has he found his way back home?”

“Sorry Peia, Syl didn’t come back like usually does, when he runs off because he needs some space. Dad thinks he ran away because mom’s condition got worse. He and I believe my brother couldn’t take seeing her in pain anymore, especially since he blames himself for the attack for some reason I can’t fathom. He’s been AWOL for years. No contact, no nothing. I don’t think he’s coming back and with since we share the same gift it won’t be easy to find him.”

Cassie pursed her lips, visibly displeased, and Severus understood perfectly why she wasn’t happy about this. Cassie was the one to take Andromeda in when Andia discovered she was pregnant with Sylvestris and had helped the teenage mother raise him until Andia reached her majority. Severus wasn’t as close to Tonks’ mother as he was to Cassie’s other strays. He had met the latter only after Andromeda had moved out.

“What about the tracking charm I placed on the motorcycle Sirius willed to him?”

“It got deactivated somehow. Mum had another episode when she learned–”

Severus cleared his throat. “As riveting as this conversation is, we are all here for a reason. Back to the introductions; brats this is Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” He paused as the stern witch who seemed to have inherited the entirety of the Ministry of Magic’s common sense exchanged firm handshakes with his students. “And this is my sworn-brother Regulus Black.”

Chapter Text

Water. Murky. Wet. Ice Cold.

Muffling. Numbing.

Water.

Choking him. 

Invading his mouth. Flooding his throat. Filling his lungs.

Killing him.

Deadly.

Killing him.

Grey eyes snapped open.

Black grey.

Pain. Insanity.

Pale eyelids fell shut.

A jolt.

Green eyes snapped open. 

Neon green.

Pain. 

Soul deep pain.

Insanity. 

Both dissipated.

He kicked his leg, successfully dislodging the cold, clammy hands clutching it in a death grip; nails digging painfully into his skin as he was dragged into the depths of the accursed underground lake that was the first layer of protection set up around Riddle’s horcrux. 

The thing was… he really, really didn’t want to die in this wretched cave, forgotten with no one knowing how he died.

He couldn’t do that to Severus, his best friend and sworn-brother who had so little support in life but was so, so strong. Always standing up for what he wanted and believed in, always scheming some insanely elaborate plan to get his way with his victims remaining blissfully unaware of the fact that they had been played like a fiddle. Barty would never forgive him for leaving this world so soon either; the teen had grown attached to him in very little time, as Regulus did in return.

He couldn’t do that to Cassie, his favorite relative who punched his father after learning how Orion had let his wife force him into bending the knee. Blacks do not bow, Blacks do not bend the knee, Blacks do not submit or serve, his amazing aunt had gritted out, radiating fury as she herded him into the fireplace and threw some floo powder at his feet, calling out the name of her residence sharply. He’d stayed with her after that, and hadn’t spoken to his parents even once.

He didn’t want to die.

He wanted to live. Plain and simple.

With that realization came green lightning originating from his body spread through the whole lake, frying every last one of the undead abominations dwelling in its depths.

The lightning coursed through him as well, and it hurt like a bitch, worse than the cruciatus curse. Twitching uncontrollably he barely managed to swim back to the island and crawl to relative safety.

His muscles were spasming intermittently and his limbs felt like lead even as they were wracked by uncontrollable shivers from the cold and the adrenaline still coursing through his veins. He laid there limply for a while, breathing heavily as coughed out the water he had ingested during his unwilling swim in the icy cold inferi infested lake surrounding him. 

“... Kreacher… take me home.”

When Regulus resurfaced he was in his room at Blackrose Cottage and Severus was shoving vile concoctions down his throat with single-minded meticulousness.

He winced at the slap he received on the underside of the head; it seemed that despite his near-death experience and the deplorable state he was currently in, Cassie didn’t feel the need to go easy on him.

“You stupid, foolish, idiotic boy! What in Merlin’s name were you thinking?”

Her purple eyes were glowing a faint orange as she fussed over him in a motherly way that would have most people staring in shocked befuddlement.

He glanced down at his bare chest as his brother took off the bandages wrapped around it and winced again; it was covered in an intricate network of barely healed spider web-looking scars.

From the way parts of his face hurt every time he tried to speak or smile, his face wasn’t left unscathed by his near-death experience either.

He was sitting up against a mound of fluffy pillows Cassie had insisted on rearranging to herself, guiding a spoonful of soup to his mouth when he noticed something that had him nearly dropping his spoon. He froze, staring at his left arm; his bare forearm. He was still unresponsive by the time Sev came in with a tray that was clinking with potion vials. His brother in all but blood took one look at him and set the tray down before pulling his unresisting form into a tight hug while still being mindful of his barely healed injuries. 

“You’re finally free, brother.” Sev whispered in his ear.

Everything was going to be just fine.

He was alive.

He was free.

But more importantly he was home.

Nothing else mattered.

A month later he was itching to leave; to get away from the English Enclaves and their stupid civil war. 

Who was he kidding?

He was running away.

Running away from the prejudice and the pitying, disgusting, falsely compassionate stares.

He sneered.

As if having scars made him any less of a person.

He was thoroughly done with their shit.

He packed his belongings and left on a self-imposed exile in France. 

Sitting in the bedroom of his new apartment, Regulus took some time to think.

One thing that was for sure was that he needed to disappear. So he came up with a plan for that to happen.

To make sure nobody could track him down, he had to change his name. To cover his tracks, he had to be unpredictable, so he opened an encyclopedia and closed his eyes. He opened the heavy tome at a random page and let his index finger skim over the worn parchment.

Ulysse.

Rinse and repeat.

Shamal.

He stared at his new name, scrawled messily on a scrap of parchment.

Ulysse Shamal.

… there was a nice ring to it. 

Only Cassie, Barty, Andia and Severus knew where he was and saw him regularly.

To the rest of the world, he was dead and buried six feet under.

“My oh my, I never thought I’d see a Black this far away from the Isles.” 

He choked on his drink when a smooth melodic voice sounded right next to his ear in a low flirtatious purr. Glancing to his left he met wine red eyes head on. 

His interlocutor’s lips curled into a lazy smirk. “Relax, boy. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

Tensing, as he reached for his wand. 

“How did you know?” He asked abruptly as he pulled his hand away from his wand.

The woman swirled her drink in her glass, taking a sip before turning to him.

“We’ve met before. Once. Those scars may change your features quite a bit, but I could never forget eyes like yours.”

“Oh?”

“Grey, with such pretty flecks of green.” She took a sip of her drink and gave him a coy smirk. “They make you fascinating.”

He fought down the blush rising to his cheeks. No one had ever complimented him in such a way.

He cleared his throat.

“So if not to cause trouble, what do you want with me?”

The woman threw her head back and laughed, her pale blonde curls–that reminded of the pictures he had seen of Apolline Delacour in the French edition of the Witch Weekly–shifting with the movement. “Why, to buy you a drink, what else?”

“I– I guess I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

“Now we’re talking! Any preferences?”

He smirked and shook his head wryly. “Not at the moment, no. Surprise me, if you will, Miss–?”

“Call me Amandina Zabini.”

“Then surprise me, Miss Zabini.”

The smirk he got in return was predatory and mischievous and for a moment he regretted what he just said as he wondered what he was getting himself into.

He couldn’t help but feel utterly stupid when Sev sent him a deadpan look before sighing. 

“She’s courting you, you moron.”

“W-what?!”

“Seriously? Invitations to expensive restaurants, owl-delivered coffee beans–of your favorite brand on top of that–every month, expensive chocolate, an artillery of weapons, goddamn flowers… Merlin how more obvious do you need her to be? Don’t act like the Dunderhead I know damn well you’re not.”

“But that’s not how it’s supposed to work!”

“Really? Forget what your parents taught you Ulysse. A relationship doesn’t have to follow any other rules than the ones the individuals involved put in place.”

“Oh…”

His friend snorted and shook his head in amusement. “Now you get it.”

“What should I do then?”

Sev stared at him for a while, making him a bit nervous.

“I don’t know. What do you want to do?”

“I–”

“Don’t tell me now. Think on it, brother.”

Then he was left to stare at the now orange coloured fire as he knelt in front of his fireplace, Sev having hung up on him unceremoniously.

His lover was an assassin. Apparently it was a family business.

Really I should’ve guessed ages ago, he thought wryly as he blocked a wild slash from a knife and knocked out his opponent with his Electro. He tossed the man aside, sending him barreling into one of the few chairs that were still intact in the pub Amandina had dragged him to as soon as he came home from working at the Italian Ministry of Magic.

Their nice evening had been rudely interrupted by a bunch of morons who wanted to avenge a relative who had been assassinated by Amandina’s twin sister, Amaretta. Not the best time to learn what kind of profession his lover had, but he wasn’t really bothered by it.

“Hey handsome.” Drawled Amandina as she imolated her opponent, her hands alight with blood red Flames mixed with raging Fire.

“Yes?”

“How does marrying me sound right now?”

He burst into laughter.

He said yes.

Without hesitation.

They were married two months later.

“Can I please hold my son?”

In response his sworn-brother brought Nebuleo closer to his chest and shot him a glare.

“No.”

“Sev… please give me back my son.”

“No. I won’t let go of my godson.”

Ulysse sighed and gave up, letting Severus get his fill of cuddles with his godson. Born on February first, 1980, Nebuleo Scorpio Shamal was only a few months old but he had already wrapped him and his godfather around his little finger. 

He smiled slightly when his wife draped herself over his body, wrapping her arms around his shoulders affectionately. Her body was shaking and his smile dropped when he realized she was laughing at him. 

“You two are adorable.”

“Are you sure? I don’t recall you calling me that last night…”

“Don’t you dare say another word, brother. There are children present.” His affirmation was backed up by childish giggling when Andromeda’s four year old son ran into the room and collided with his legs, hair a mixture of bright red and purple.

He sent his wife a smirk that was promptly returned. “I’ll say no more.”

“Happy birthday little one.” Cooed Cassie as she tickled his one year old son’s foot. Nebuleo giggled in delight, prompting his nephew Blaise–Amaretta’s son who was nearly the same age–to do the same.

Cassiopeia went to say more only to be interrupted by the doorbell. 

Ulysse frowned, they weren’t expecting anymore guests so who–

“Sir, this boy was at the door asking for you.” Declared Amy, the head of Zabini-Shamal Housekeeping, as she walked in guiding a tall and lean teen who looked about sixteen towards him with a firm hand on his shoulder. “He says he’s Marius Black’s son.”

Now that he was closer, Ulysse couldn’t deny the blood relation. The teen had Uncle Marius’ eyes and more than a few Black family physical traits.

“What happened, cousin?” He asked only now registering how much of a mess the teen was. He had dark bags under his eyes, his clothes were covered in blood and dirt, he had tear track crusting on his cheeks and bloodshot eyes. 

His cousin didn’t answer verbally, merely handing him a crumpled letter.

He read the hurriedly scrawled words quickly and locked eyes with his wife, conveying the gravity of the situation and his intentions to her without words. At her slight nod, his lips twitched into a slight smile as he ruffled the teen’s dark curly hair.

“Welcome to your new home, kid.”

Keeping an eye on the woman who was bustling around the bedroom he had been assigned to not long after his arrival at the Shamal residence, he glanced around, already missing his old room. At least he liked how the room was decorated, he thought as he unpacked the bag his father had shoved into his arms before he… Nope, not going there.

The woman seemed to have finished and turned to him with a smile. 

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Leo.” He answered shortly, not in the mood to talk.

“Nice to meet you, Young Master Leo.”

He didn’t bother answering this time, garnering a sigh.

“Look, kid. I know your father just died–”

“Murdered. He was murdered.” He turned to the woman and glared, daring her to spout out a shitty excuse of a comforting speech. “There’s a difference.”

“You must be angry.” Retorted the maid without batting an eyelash. “Do you want to get your revenge?” The woman chuckled at the “do you even need to ask” look he gave her, and headed for the door decisively. “Come, Young Master. I’ll teach you my speciality. You’ll need the skill if you ever want to avenge your father.”

“What skill could possibly help me right now?” He couldn’t help but ask, his curiosity prompting him to follow her.

She turned to send him a mischievous grin.

“Why, marksmanship of course.”

When Severus told him about Sirius’ supposed betrayal of the Potters and his brother’s subsequent incarceration in Azkaban without a trial, Ulysse knew he had never made a better decision than to run all those years ago.

He wouldn’t have survived the backlash of his brother’s arrest if he had stayed in England.

“How about you name her, Leo?” Said Ulysse as he watched his adoptive son hold his new baby sister gingerly.

Leo’s head shot up and the teen stared at him with wonder in his black eyes.

“Me? But I’m not-”

“You’re as much part of this family as anyone here, Son. Go on.”

“Arietta.” His mother’s name slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. The name fit his little sister. “Arietta Zabini-Shamal.”

His adoptive mother came over from where she was talking to her sister Amaretta and little four years old Blaise.

“It’s perfect.”

Chapter Text

Ulysse let an amused smirk flash across his features when Sirius’ goddaughter returned his scrutiny, intense green scanning his person and cataloging his every quirk. The girl was a Cassiopeia in the making, that’s for sure.

Gently clasping her offered hand, he kissed the air above it.

“Well met, Heiress Peverell.”

The girl dipped her head as etiquette required and took a seat in the armchair across from him with an air of smooth familiarity that told him she had done it countless times before—must be her favorite chair, then.

“Likewise, Mister Black.”

“I go by Shamal now. Ulysse Shamal.” He drawled, sending Severus a mild glare of annoyance. 

His brother shrugged unapologetically, conveying the clear message that this was necessary and that it wasn’t his problem if Regulus wanted nothing to do with his former name. He understood this perfectly well; his birth name was unfortunately necessary to explain his presence at this meeting. It didn’t mean he had to like it however. 

He was surprised when the green eyed girl took it all in stride; nodding briefly and giving him a smile.

“Mister Shamal, then. You may call me Hazel, we are family after all.”

Severus cleared his throat, garnering the attention of the whole room as he stood in front of the fireplace with his hands clasped neatly behind him.

“Hazel, Regulus is your godfather’s brother. I felt it was only fair that he be included in the proceedings of proving Sirius’ innocence.”

Hazel nodded in understanding and leaned back in her seat, an expectant look settling over her delicate aristocratic features. Glancing at the tall redhead teen holding a cage, a dark look bloomed in her eyes as her soft smile took on a sharper edge. It was very reminiscent of the one Cassie wore when she helped Severus get closure when it came to his drunken bastard of a father… the traditional Black way of course.

“Shall we begin?”

“Fred, if you would be so kind?”

“It would be my pleasure, mia principessa.” He drawled, garnering a few raised eyebrows at the term employed; he and George had insisted she teach them how to say it after learning she was passable at speaking Italian. 

Her cavaliere placed the cage he was holding on the coffee table, but not before sending a glare that promised retribution to the rat trapped inside of it. Pettigrew had slept in the same room, in the same bed even, as two of his brothers. He and George were very unlikely to ever forgive the man for living off their parents’ hard work, and violating their brothers’ privacy.

The three adults spent the next ten minutes casting a complex looking spell they had assured her would prevent the rat from being able to transform into his animagus form. She let their collective chanting surround her, hearing the innate power in their voices, and the harmony of her godfather’s smooth baritone mixed with Cassie’s melodious voice, Lady Bones’ distinct Irish brogue and Shammal’s smooth italian tilt with hints of british accent peeking through.

Eventually they stopped chanting and the walls shimmered with the magical residue of a newly cast ward. Hazel took a moment to look around, staring at the complex network of irised layers of magic that intertwined playfully, blending together to create new impossible shades of magic. It was beautiful.

Her godfather cast a silent spell that had the rodent become stiff as a board and took the pest out of its cage unceremoniously before tossing him onto the rug next to the table. 

Lady Bones took over, and with a flick of her pale wand she sent a pale murky green spell hurling towards the rat. They all took a step back when Peter Pettigrew was forcefully turned back into his decrepit, pitiful, snivelling human self. 

Severus stepped towards the traitorous bastard and fingered his wand as a stormy shadow overtook his features and a vicious sneer twisted his lips.

“Peter Pettigrew. What a pleasant surprise.”

She had the pleasure to watch the rat freeze as all blood left his face. Uncontrollable shaking wracked through his hunched over frame as his eyes darted around the room nervously.

“S-Sev-verus.”

Huh. Apparently the spell still allowed the victim the ability to speak.

That… sounded quite useful actually. She’d have to remember it when she needed to interrogate someone. 

Though it was too bad the moron didn’t realize who was the real threat in the room, she thought idly as she stalked towards him, twirling her wand like she tended to do when she felt particularly nervous… or murderous.

“Well hello there, Wormtail~ ”

Pettigrew was battered and bruised by the time Ulysse dragged him off to his estate, where he would be kept in the dungeons until it was time to hand him over to the authorities. From there Ulysse’s wife would start working on clearing Sirius’ name. Regulus would use every last bit of influence the Zabini name wielded to ensure his brother got a trial even if it’s the last he did.

Lady Bones hadn’t been exactly happy about their plan at first, but had to admit defeat when faced with the fact that the Ministry was extremely corrupted. After all, the Minister was more than likely to execute Pettigrew and give Sirius the Kiss to cover up the Ministry’s failure.

In the end the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement agreed to let them take the matters into their own hands as long as they made a vow to not make waves and make sure to not endanger anyone during the operation. Her request was quickly granted and she had left before the fun could truly begin.

Though Hazel could see that her inability to follow the proper protocols really irked the witch. Hopefully there would be no problems there and Bones could still become an ally. She had spoken to her niece Susan a few times and quite liked the Hufflepuff. Having met the woman who had a part in raising her fellow first year, she could now see why. Lady Amelia Bones was a force to be reckoned with.

Now all the others could do was wait and hope for the best. 

If all went well Sirius would be free by the end of the school year. He would go through intensive therapy to recover from his time in Azkaban and remain in Italy even after his trial was over.

Hazel had point blank refused to let Sirius try and claim guardianship of her; Laurel was her mom and there was no way hell was she going to let him take her away from her. Cassie had already taken over her magical guardianship and she had no desire to change that.

Hazel whooped in delight as she pulled up from a steep dive that had her grazing the surface of the water below her. Gaining altitude with a series of complicated rolls and tight loops, she glanced towards the familiar cottage overlooking the sea she was flying above. The cosy building looked beautiful in the moonlight, nestled in a garden of roses.

This, she thought absentmindedly as she prepared for another high speed dive. Is how it feels to be free. 

After spending an entire day suffering Dumbledore’s scrutiny, Hazel needed out. Out of the castle. Out of the old coot’s domain. 

Hermione took one look at her and knew that she needed to get away. She was great like that. 

She had been flying for well over an hour by the time she had enough, heading back to the cottage. She felt a lot more settled now. She put the broom away in the shed and apparated back to the castle, directly into a room filled with couches and armchairs surrounding a roaring fireplace. The room had previously been an empty classroom and its connected living quarters that she and her friends had transformed into a headquarters of sorts.

They had decided that since they were split between three of the four Houses, they needed a neutral space where they could hang out without making things awkward for them and their housemates. Especially their housemates who seemed befuddled every time they saw their ragtag group. Was House segregation that big of a thing? Tch–people were Stupid.

Between Tonks, the Twins and herself–she was unreasonably good at permanent transfiguration–they had make quick work of converting the out of the way, abandoned classroom into an cozy common room furnished with comfy couches and sturdy furniture. Bookshelves the walls, already packed to the brim with tomes. 

The living quarters connected to the classroom was a family suite, which meant there was more than enough rooms for all of them to sleep in the headquarters.

The scent of flowers and herbs Neville had taken a delight in growing absolutely everywhere in their headquarters hit her nose.

She greeted the Dandy-Lions Neville was growing on one of the window sills. She scratched gently the junction between their bright yellow flowers and their stem, making them purr.

She headed towards the bedroom she and Hermione had decided to share. Hermione was still awake, curled in her favorite armchair that was right next to the window and reading a book on ancient rituals and Hazel smiled at the fact that her friend had waited for her to come back.

Hermione was quickly becoming one of her closest friends. There was a closeness, a connection almost, between them that she had never experienced before.

“Hey, Hermione.”

Her friend looked up from her book, utterly unsurprised to see her there as if she had unconsciously been aware of her presence from the moment she’d arrived.

“Hazel! You’re back! How was your flight? Are you feeling better now?” She finished while worrying her lower lip.

“It was everything I desperately needed and more, and yes, I’m feeling better now.”

Hermione smiled, and it was as if Hazel could feel how happy the girl was for her. “That’s great to hear!” The witch closed her book and set it aside, yawning. “We should go to bed now. We have a DADA test tomorrow.”

Hazel groaned, grabbing her hairbrush as she headed for the bathroom, leaving the door ajar so they could continue their conversation.

“I’d forgotten about that. By Morgana, I hate Quirrell, the guy gives me the creeps.”

Hermione’s chuckled. She joined Hazel in the bathroom and plucked the hairbrush from her hand. Hazel leaned into Hermione’s touch as she began untangling her curls, which were even wilder than usual after her flying session. 

“I don’t like him either. We should keep an eye on him, I don’t trust that stuttering fool one bit. I know that Professor Snape is watching him closely but we can never be too careful.”

She nodded as Hermione secured the end of the loose braid she had just finished weaving her curly hair into. 

“You’re right. We need to be prudent.” Suddenly feeling tired, she faced Hermione and pulled her into a tight hug. “Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Goodnight, Hazel.” The other witch smiled back. “Sweet dreams.”

Chapter Text

Nebuleo tucked the time-turner his mother had given him so he could study curse breaking and attend muggle medical school at the same time. By using his time-turner to attend both courses at the same time on top of keeping up with his magical education, he had recently turned fifteen, instead of being eight like he should be.

“Young Master Neo, how wonderful of you to finally come home. The assignment was successful, I take it?”

“It was. It’s nice to see you too, Amy.”

Other than those of his blood, Amy was the only woman he had never flirted with. She had worked for the family since he was a toddler and he saw her more as family than anything else.

“Is Father around?”

“You’ll find him in the study.”

“Thanks, Amy. I’ll see you at breakfast, then.”

“Hmph.”

With a smile he climbed the stairs and headed down the hallway, the jazz music his father favored becoming gradually louder as he neared his father’s office.

He entered without knocking and gave his father a lazy wave. The man was standing in front of the portrait of one of Neo’s main tutors, Polaris Black, discussing trading rates. 

Polaris Black was the first–but not the last–Black Family member to venture into the piracy business. He was one of the main reasons for the Family’s wealth. Rumours were that he was one of the founding fathers of the Blackshore Market.

The man had introduced him and his siblings to everything related to explosives. He and Leo took to the craft like a duck took to water, while Mira preferred their mother’s more... subtle methods. 

“Hey dad. How was your day? Mine was great, met this gorgeous woman who agreed to a cup of coffee next Saturday–”

He cut off when his father came over and engulfed him into a hug.

“I knew I shouldn’t have introduced you to Alphard.” Drawled his father before giving him a soft smile that twisted the web-like scars covering most of his face and the rest of his body for that matter. “It’s good to have you home, Nebuleo.”

“How’s everyone?”

“Arietta has been asking for you.”

“Missed me, hasn’t she? I knew I was her favorite brother!”

His father chuckled. “Go on, go see her. She’s in the sun room with your mother.”

“The one next to the east garden that connects with the greenhouse?” The Zabini mansion had three sunrooms, but that one was his sister’s favorite.

“Yes.”

“I’ll be off, then.”

The strong perfume of hundreds of herbs and flowers–most of them deadly–hit his nose as soon as he stepped into the sunrooms

Nebuleo felt himself relax as the sound of soft chatter washed over him. He could recognize his mother’s voice, and Callidora’s. Even as a portrait, Dora was his main tutor since childhood. She allowed him to find his true calling; the woman had taught him everything about diseases. She was a ruthless healer who never took any oaths; she could heal her patients just as easily as she could kill them.

While that kind of reputation would usually be bad for business, she was so talented that people took the gamble and threw themselves at her.

His father despaired every time he spent time with the woman, but his mother always had a proud glint in her eyes when she walked in on his lessons with Dora.

“Hello mother.”

“Neo! You’re home! Come here and give me a hug, will you?”

He obliged with a soft smile, burying his nose in his mother’s curly blonde hair and taking a moment to breathe in his mother’s familiar perfume; the scent of honey, vanilla and almonds of her favorite shampoo mingling with undertones of spruce. 

“How have you been?”

“Never better. Leo reached out to me on his own. We’re sharing a drink this afternoon.”

“Oh how wonderful. Has he gotten any close to finding a cure?”

Nebuleo’s mood dimmed as he remembered how painful and traumatizing it was to discover his brother on his doorstep, looking no older than two years old. 

The realization that Leo had lost his magic because of the curse, was worse.

Watching his usually strong and resilient brother crumble with the loss of his magic was heartbreaking.  

Making Leo forget all about magic at the man’s request, however, was the worst thing he’d ever had to do.

“Nope. I think he’s just lonely.”

He winced internally when his mother deflated. Amandina Zabini had loved Leo like he was her own son. When he sixteen years old, Leo showed up on their doorstep with a letter from his father, the late Marius Black. Nebuleo was three at the time.

“Oh. I see.” His mother cleared her throat, eyes shining with unshed tears. “Well, you better go see your sister.”

Arietta carefully put a stopper into the vial she had just used to collect the blood red sap from her bleeding heart flowers. Right now the inner petals of most flowers, called lady in-a-bath because that’s what they looked like, were made visible because the two darker outer petals had pulled apart. While the normal variant was toxic in large quantities, magical bleeding hearts secreeted sap that was extremely deadly. It had strong anticoagulant properties that could make even a grown troll bleed out in less than a day. Its petals were used in love potions and in various rituals, the main one being a revenge ritual for by scorned lovers.

Picking another vial from the box next to her she turned the plant next to the bleeding heart fern; another variant of the bleeding heart plant named crying hearts. Its outer petals were as clear as crystal while the inner petals were a translucent white. The flowers produced a colourless nectar that, depending on how it was handled and used, could cause incurable depression; break up a perfectly happy couple or even make someone cry all the water in their body. It was also used in the brewing process of antidotes for numerous love and cheering potions.

Hearing the greenhouse’s glass doors open, Arietta shot a glance in that direction, going back to the task at hand when she saw her brother walk through the door. 

Not reacting when he carefully hugged her from behind, she spoke without turning around. “You’re late, Neo.”

Resting his chin on top of his sister’s head, a few stray locks of blonde hair tickling his nose and cheeks, Nebuleo chuckled.

“I missed you too, my little song.”

Arietta huffed, Shrugging out of his embrace, his sister stepped outside, her gardening attire morphing into a pair of form fitting denim trousers and a sturdy sleeveless blouse. The blonde absentmindedly waved away the wisps of her Mist Flames still lingering around her and plucked her archery gear from thin air. Without pause she started shooting the many targets set up around the garden, as she always did when she felt restless or annoyed. Well, she also did this when she was happy, but sometimes there was a certain viciousness in the way she moved that could only be associated with annoyance. Today was one of those times.

He frowned. She must’ve been really unsettled by his absence, then. But no… it was more than that. Something had happened.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair tiredly as the lack of sleep he had endured for the last three weeks finally caught up to him.

“Arietta… what’s up?” 

His sister pursed her lips, still not looking at him as she single mindedly decimated the target she had been fixated on for the past three minutes or so.

“Grandfather came to visit last week.”

He winced. Okay, his little sis had good reasons to be angry. Their mother’s father was… well, the less said the better.

The man was loudly opposed to Arietta having any kind of weapon training or self-defence, deeming it un-ladylike. Archery was his sister‘s passion, and nothing could make her stop practicing it. So they always ended up fighting.

“Shit… that sucks.” He gave another sigh. “Look, sorry I wasn’t there.”

“If you ever leave me for so long again I’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t that beat the whole purpose?”

His sister huffed and finally put away her bow.

“I’d bring you back to life afterwards, of course.”

He groaned. “Of fucking course you would.”

“Hiya, L–Reborn.”

“Shamal.” Nodded the cursed toddler who was a pale shadow of who his brother had once been. Nebuleo ignored the twinge in his chest at the fact that his own brother didn’t remember him enough to call him by his first name. “How about you tell me about the man your parents are keeping in the dungeons below your house?”

Shamal had to stop himself from groaning. Of course he knew. Le-Reborn always knew everything. Out of all the abilities his big bro could’ve retained when he lost his magic to the curse that also robbed Reborn of his adult body on top of a large fraction of his Sun Flames, it had to be his brother’s insanely strong passive legilimency skills. 

“He’s a rat.”

“Hm?”

“Both figuratively and metaphorically. His favorite Mist trick was to possess rats and spy on the people who considered him their friend.”  Shamal couldn’t hold back the exhausted sigh rising in his throat. He went on to explain how Pettigrew sold two of them out as well as their daughter, led to them being murdered by an insane terrorist. 

“And the girl?”

“Luckily she survived, but the rat went as far as to frame another of his friends for the crimes he damn well committed. The poor lad was sent to the worst, Vindice level, hellhole of a prison to exist on the planet.”

“Chaos. Fuck. That’s fucked up. I mean–“

“I know.” He cleared his throat nervously when the diminutive hitman glared at him for interrupting. He threw back his shot of firewhiskey-spiked bourbon and sighed pleasurably at the familiar, comforting burn of the magical alcohol in the back of his throat. If there was anything that beat a woman’s attention it was firewhiskey–nope, on second thoughts, nothing beat a nice, hot, willing woman in his bed. “I reacted the same way when I learned the whole story. “

Reborn hummed thoughtfully. “Have you found anything to help with the curse?”

“No luck, sorry.” He checked his watch and winced; he was late and it looked like he was going to have to use his time-turner sooner than planned to get back on schedule. “Speaking of curses… I’ve gotta go right about now.”

He vanished in a Mist portal of his own making without leaving Reborn any time to react or stop him from leaving. 

He landed in his designated room in the tent he shared with his long time mentor. 

Pulling out his time-turner he gave it two careful turns and waited for the whole time travelling process to be over before striding out the door where he found a tall muscled man with fiery red hair leaning over the kitchen table that was currently covered with various maps, opened and closed books, and intricate drawings. 

“Where are we going this time, ‘Liam?” 

Said redhead was his boss and mentor since a year after he had started learning curse breaking and ward casting, William “Bill” Weasley. The eldest Weasley was a favorite of the goblins working for the Egyptian branch of Gringotts on top of wielding Desert Flames of which he had only ever heard of before. 

At the time Nebuleo had risen through the grades so fast that in less than a year a decision was made to send him to Egypt for some true practical learning. ‘Liam was the only one to automatically treat him like an adult, much to the relief of his nine year old self at the time.

The red haired man twisted on his heel and grinned. 

“Nelo! You’re back! Great, you’ve arrived just in time, we're heading to that tomb Viger told us about last week.”

He couldn’t help but grin back.

“Let me grab my equipement and we can be on our way.”

‘Liam nodded and turned back to the table. “Alright be ready in ten, we’re heading out as soon as we can hoping to make some headway before it gets too dark. With how some wards react negatively to the use of the simplest spells like Lumos–“

“Go it, ‘Liam.”

Chapter Text

“Chaos, Hothead-Xanxus.”

Xanxus rolled onto his side, his glare a true piece of art as he glanced between his tutor’s pint sized form and the alarm clock next to him that read 5:05 a.m.

“Reborn. What the fuck are you planning this fucking early?”

“You will be enrolled into Mafia Academy by this time next week.”

“The fuck why, Trash?”

The midget raised an eyebrow and shot him a deadpan look.

“Because you have no friends.”

He snorted wryly. Talk about being blunt… but the  Trash did have a point. He needed fucking allies, people who weren’t Trash or manipulative Scum. People he knew he could rely on, who wouldn’t whisper about him to his scum of a father. And, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed to interact with people who weren’t pre-approved by the old fart.

“Hn.”

“You also tossed your eighth dance tutor out the window yesterday.”

“The Trash bitch was groping me!”

“Chaos. Exactly my point. That kind of behavior by the teachers isn’t allowed at the school.”

“Do I even have a choice in this?”

“Of course you do.” Drawled the hitman, adjusting his fedora. “Humiliating and hellish tor-training and pranks, or Mafia Academy. Take your pick.”

“... so no; I don’t have a choice.”

The Trash gave him a shit-eating grin.

“Not really.”

“... fine.”

“Absolutely not! I refuse. Xanxus will stay here and complete his education with the tutors I kindly provided him!”

Reborn took a calm sip of his espresso as he stared down Vongola Nono.

“Chaos. This wasn’t a request. I am informing you that my student will be attending Mafia Academy from next week onwards.”

“He can’t! It’s too dangerous!”

Arching a brow, he took another sip, and stared at the dark liquid mournfully, bemoaning the fact that it wasn’t Haze’s brew; chaos the girl made some damn good coffee. 

“Oh? Are you telling me that the establishment all Dons send their heirs to isn’t safe? When you sent three of your sons to the very same academy that you yourself attended?” Placing the cup down on the armrest next to him, he smirked. “I wonder what the other Dons would think of your mistrust… it is after all Vongola who established the institution… and became the Academy’s main benefactor.”

“You would do well to remember who you are addressing, Reborn.”

“You seem to have the same problem, Timoteo.” He replied evenly and adjusted his fedora, channeling his flames through his eyes which made them glow an eerie yellow-gold from the shadow cast by the brim of his signature hat. He saw Nono’s eyes widen minutely in caution; saw how the old man’s left hand twitched for his scepter, and smirked in dark satisfaction. He loathed this toddler body he was currently stuck in and it was so incredibly satisfying to know that even in this form he was able to intimidate grown men. “Has this contract we have going on made you forget that I am the World’s Greatest Hitman and that I can destroy you without lifting a finger?”

Looming behind the Vongola Don like a good guard dog, Coyote looked ready to snarl at the repeated offences against his Sky. Timoteo tensed and filled the room with his Flames. 

The man’s Sky was full of edges and threats of violence, but Reborn didn’t bat an eye, smirking at the shocked looks the Don and his Guardians sported. 

Yes, the pressure the man’s Flames exuded was impressive, but Reborn had experienced much worse. Timoteo “Nono” Vongola had nothing on an angry Hazel Potter. He had seen the girl well and truly pissed once and that was when he had her pegged as a latent Cloud. The sheer weight and all around strength of her aura was as terrifying as it was awe inspiring. 

That day was the first time he caught himself wishing his first student was a Sky and more precisely, his Sky.

Turning to Don Vongola he smirked in triumph.

Barely keeping himself from gaping at the fact that Reborn seemed utterly unaffected by his Flames, Timoteo shifted forward and laced his fingers together with his index finger extended and pointing straight ahead. “Are you threatening me, Reborn?”

“Chaos, no.” The hitman gave him a smirk. “Consider my words a reminder of what I’m capable of. You seem to have become so… forgetful these days.”

Feeling his patience run out, he rose from his seat and slammed his hands on top of his desk.

“Enough! I tire of your mind games, Reborn. As your employer I demand that–”

The Arcobaleno scoffed in pure derision and suddenly he could almost taste the killing intent weighing the air. “Demand? Of me; the World’s Greatest Hitman? The fact that you believe you can order me around is so laughable it’s pathetic. I answer to no one.” The hitman slid off his chair and headed for the door. “I’m glad we could come to an agreement, Don Vongola. My student will be gone by next week.”

Then he strode out, taking his killing intent with him.

Timoteo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“So I heard you’re going to Mafia Academy, Grandson.”

“Hn. Reborn’s doing.”

“I thought that was the case.” Drawled his Nonna with impish laughter in her eyes. “Well, you can’t go without a good luck gift, so here.”

Xanxus smirked, grabbing the box and peeling off the wrapping carefully, as he always made sure to do when it came to his Nonna’s gifts. Daniela Vongola was the only one who gave him thoughtful, age and personality appropriate gifts.

He stared at the multitude of beautiful exotic feathers he found inside. There was an implement made of pure gold at the end of every feather that allowed them to be attached to about everything; hair, clothes, ears and other accessories.

“I remember when you first came here you showed me your collection of feathers like these ones. You were so proud of them, wore them in your hair… and Timoteo threw them away, deeming them dirty and full of fleas. I couldn’t give you some new one before today because there was a risk my idiotic son would’ve taken them away again.”

Xanxus swallowed thickly, clipping two blood red feathers behind both of his ears. 

“Thanks, Nonna.” 

Grumbling about receiving yet another detention because they refused to respect the school dress code, Paolino –call me Paon or else– Scarletti pushed the posh, ornate hardwood double doors of the academy’s gym open. They stilled at the sound of flesh impacting leather.

Huh. How strange. Usually the gym was empty at this late hour.

Paon walked towards the area reserved for punching bags and the likes and stared at the teen currently unleashing a flurry of powerful strikes against the punching bag in front of him. The Sun watched in interest as the teen flowed smoothly between at least eight different martial arts and other fighting styles.

Impressive.

Noticing the feathers dangling from behind the guy’s ears, Paon had to resist the urge to coo over the fashion accessories. The feathers were beautiful, exotic and their coloring was a mix of vibrant and deep reds with hints of bright yellow and dark indigos remenicient of their own flames. The reds matched the cutie’s red eyes and Paon was hard pressed not to interrogate the guy to learn where he found them.

By that point the still unknown teen had moved on to punching the bag without any particular style, simply venting out his obvious anger. Only stopping when one of his blows tore the punching bag apart. He drew a trembling breath, staring at the blood dripping from his absolutely massacred knuckles. 

Without thinking, Paon closed the space between them and quickly went to work healing the self-inflicted damage with their Flames.

The red eyed teen tensed but didn’t do anything outside of staring at them with a narrowed gaze that made Paon want to coo over him even more.

“Sun Trash.” They would’ve bristled at the insult if they couldn’t hear the lack of heat behind those words. “Your name?”

They grinned brightly. “You can call me Paon, Honey.”

“Peacock.” He instantly translated, sounding thoughtful. “Suits you. Name’s Xanxus, Trash. Use it.”

“Of course, Xan-Chan!” They chirped, revelling in the way the other teen’s left eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Burning Sky Flames suddenly engulfed Xanxus’ fists, forcing Paon to pull away.

“Shitty bird. Fight me.”

Jumping to their feet as Xanxus did the same, Paon gave the other teen a predatory grin and fell into their preferred Muay Thai stance. “With pleasure, Xan-Chan.”

Wiping some blood from his chin, Xanxus barked out a laugh as he pulled away, ending the impromptu sparring session.

The Sun Trash did the same, giving him an absolutely savage smile.

“You’re not trash, Shitty bird.”

“Such a flatterer Xan-Chan!” Retorted the Sun with a flirtatious smirk. “You’re not so bad yourself. Tell me, where did you get those gorgeous feathers by the way? They are to die for~”

“I’ll ask around.” He drawled as he grabbed a nearby towel to wipe off the sweat covering his body. “I like your boa. The Trash here must give you so many fucking detention. I know I’d get a shit load of them, if I wasn’t who I am.”

“You’re Vongola, then? I thought that was the case as soon as I heard your name, honey bun.”

“Hn.” He wiped the sweat off his forehead. “The fuck is it so hot in October? I’m starving, Trash. Gelato?”

Paon beamed. “I would love to, Xan-Chan! Any place in mind?”

“Know a place. It’s not far from here.”

The Sun beams at him. “Lead the way, then, sugar.”

“You know,” Paon looked up to meet Xanxus’ gaze, preening at the slightly impressed glint in the beautiful hell filled depths of the other teen’s eyes at the way they enthusiastically and meticulously attacked the absolutely decadent monster of a gelato they had chosen. They had chose five flavours; cherry, lemon pie, caramel & orange, blueberry & Blackberry and last but not least, dark plum. Caramel sauce, cookie crumbles and peanuts topped it off. “There’s nothing in the school rule book against dyed hair. Too many people get coloured hair from activating their Flames so...”

“Honey bun, sweetheart, Xan-Chan. If you were older I’d ask you to marry me.” Paon couldn’t help but breathe out in lustful awe. Such a great way to defy the school’s regulations without actually risking getting detentions all the time~!

Xanxus gave them a smirk that made them want to coo. “Glad to be of service.”

Paon headed home around half an hour later, leaving with a promise of hanging out together at the gym the next day.

Xanxus didn’t bother smothering his grin of smug satisfaction at the fact that the oddball of a Misty Sun who was not trash was his –fuck, had he bonded with Paon? If so his father would have an aneurysm, that’s for sure. Especially when Massimo had rejected Paon for being so flaboyantly gay.

He pulled out his phone, dialing a familiar number.

“Nonna.” 

“Grandson! How nice of you to call, I was getting worried I would have to kill someone to get you back and make sure you’re safe! How has school been?”

He grinned, putting his FlameTech cellphone – a birthday gift from Reborn who was owed  a favor by the rumoured to be Da Vinci’s reincarnation, the Lightning Arcobaleno Verde – on the table and switching to speaker mode as he finished off his coffee flavoured gelato and wiped his hands. 

“Great, Nonna. I think I found my first element today.”

“You did? Who?”

He smirked in dark amusement and satisfaction. “Remember the Misty Sun Massimo rejected for being overtly gay?”

“Xanxus, grandson dearest,” Murmured his Nonna with equal parts of pride and amusement laced in her voice. “You didn’t… you did, did you?”

“Hn.”

It was all it took for the previous Vongola Donna to burst into uncontrollable laughter, soon joined by what sounded like all of his Nonna’s Elements. Must have the phone on speaker too, then.

“So I was thinking–”

“Hold on! Is that your plotting voice I hear? Let me grab something to write on! I have a feeling I’ll need it.”

Xanxus smirked in amusement, and waited until he couldn’t hear the sounds of his Nonna’s puttering around on the other end of the line before he started talking again. “I need your help acquiring and delivering a courting gift for my new Sun.”

“Oh?”

“Hn. Want to do things the right way. Paon deserves it.”

“I’m listening, then. What did you have in mind?”

Paon pushed the doors of the Academy’s main entrance, half their hair dyed a dark pink while the other half was bright indigo. The dyes they had used came from a leather case filled with a vast collection of dyes they had found in front of the door of their dorm room, protected by a Mist barrier. The case was a gift from Xan-Chan, who had become their sky during their first meeting as they had found out the same night while they meditated as they did every evening.

“Hey! Stupid okama!” Sneered a tall, stupid looking teen who was in two years below them if they recalled correctly. Either way the guy was totally not their type, nor in any way worth their time or attention, so Paon royally ignored him. 

“Hey fucking gay cunt! Don’t ignore me! I’m fucking talking to you! What’s up with the pink crap in your hair? Are you trying to prove even more that you’re a fag?”

They resisted the urge to sigh, catching the clenching of their Sky’s fists with the corner of their eye.

They barely had a second to react before Xanxus’ hands were engulfed with ominous looking flames that didn’t look like any of the seven Flames of the Sky Paon’s adoptive parents had told them about when they activated their Sun and Mist Flames.

Then he moved.

In mere seconds Xanxus had the rude teen tackled to the ground and started punching him repeatedly. With flaming fists. By the time their Sky pulled away from the teen who had dared to insult them, said guy’s face was a complete and utter mess. Half of it was scorched, charred and blistered beyond fixing, and even the strongest Sun in the world would be hard pressed to mitigate the scarring that would inevitably remain after the burns healed.

Xanxus got to his feet smoothly, a satisfied smirk splitting his handsome features.

“Any Trash or Scum who gets the idea that they can insult what is mine, will wish I only burned their face off.” Xan-Chan’s burning, blood red gaze turned upon the fallen form of his victim and Paon followed his gaze, reluctantly impressed when the idiot managed to stumble to his feet and move closer to them. He attempted to throw a punch at their head, only for Paon to dodge and take the offensive.

Xanxus moved away from the ongoing fight and gave them a savage grin. “He’s all yours, Birdie.”

“Thanks, Xan-Chan!” They drawled pleasantly and the smile they gave in return was equally filled with bloodlust and violence. Punching the scum who had insulted them in the guts, their grin widened as they watched their opponent bend over with a pained, wet wheeze. “Never diss the fashionista, dearie~ You never know how they’ll get back at you.”

Chapter Text

Hermione hummed happily as she skipped down the hallway towards the abandoned classroom that she and her friends had turned into their headquarters of sorts. The others were already there, having retired from the Halloween feast early, and were waiting for her so they could celebrate Samhain together. They were going to do an old Samhain ritual Hazel had read about in a book she'd found in the Peverell vault at Gringotts. Feeling like her teeth were falling off because of the amount of sugar Hazel had convinced to eat, Hermione decided to go to the bathroom so she could brush her teeth, telling the others she'd join them in the headquarters soon.

She wrinkled her nose when a rancid smell clogged her senses. She looked around, trying to find the source of the stink. She barely withheld a scream when her path was blocked by a massive troll and a rudimentary club collided with the floor not even a feet away from where she stood. 

She stared at the large spider web pattern of cracks that formed in the stone floor; flinched when debris and shrapnels went flying, quite a few of them nicking her. Blood dripped into her left eye, making it that much harder to see.

Yet she still stared at the cracked floor, an unpleasant cocktail of shock, terror and panic slowly crawling up her spine.

Holy shit.

That could’ve been her.

She could’ve died right there and then.

She promptly turned on her heel.

And ran for her life.

Her life flashed in front of her eyes. For so long she’d been alone; ignored and mocked and belittled by her peers, but now she had friends who would move heaven and hell for her. 

She’d grown to crave Hazel’s warm impromptu hugs whenever her friend was excited about some new juicy morsel of information they would unearth while scouring the library for all its worth. 

Had been on the receiving end of the fondly amused look Fred would get in his eyes when she scolded him and his brother for landing themselves in detention. 

Had grown acquainted to spending evenings sprawled on Hazel’s bed in their HQ every Friday evening, safely ensconced in the heavy hangings, drawn shut as if to protect her from the outside world. She and Hazel would snack on the food they smuggled from the kitchens and exchange theories and ideas until they lost the battle against sleep.

She had experienced George’s hair ruffles, and the warm laughter that always followed as she warned him against touching her hair again and making it even messier than it already was. 

She now knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of Neville’s smiles, so very shy and fragile, but radiating calm and warmth and sunshine all the same.

For the first time in her life, she had friends. She had people who cared about her. 

And, she thought as she avoided the troll’s club by a hair’s breadth, now that she had it all, she didn’t want to let go.

She didn’t want to lose the first thing that made her truly happy and alive–to death by troll of all things. This was supposed to be the safest place on earth! Where the hell were the teachers?!

She tripped and scrambled backwards until she hit a wall as the troll lumbered forward at a slow clumsy pace. She could not hold back the squeak that escaped her mouth when the beast reached her and hefted his club in the air. 

The sentiment from earlier heightened in intensity. 

She did not want to die! 

Not here! Not like this! 

Not when she had finally experienced true sincere friendship for the first time in eleven years. Not when her life was finally looking up!

The troll brought down his club and she clenched her eyes shut bracing herself for the impact and the agony that would undoubtedly follow.

Only to pry her eyes open cautiously seconds later when nothing happened and the blow never landed.

She felt her eyes widen as she took in what could only be described as a forcefield of green lightning that was surrounding her, and the charred body of the troll that laid unmoving a few feet away from where she sat on the cold stone floor.

Right then her friends ran towards her, and relaxed from their previous frantic state when they saw she was alive and well.

Hazel approached her cautiously, obviously wary of the force field considering the state the troll was in. 

She didn’t need to worry about it for too long because as soon as she was within a one foot radius of the green lightning bubble flickered out of existence.

Immediately Hazel was by her side, wrapping strong arms around Hermione’s slighter frame and pulling her close in a tight, desperate embrace. 

Hermione was still sobbing hysterically in the crook of her best friend’s neck when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from somewhere down the hallway. 

Hearing someone move closer to her current position, she looked up just in time to witness Professor Snape being allowed through the protective barrier Neville, Tonks, Fred and George had formed around her.

She caught the weighted look the Slytherin House Head and Hazel shared right before he crouched next to her and pulled out his wand. For all of thirty seconds all that could be heard was the potion master’s hurried muttering as the man cast a panoply of diagnostic spells over her and Hazel with professional efficiency.

Seemingly satisfied with the results for the moment Professor Snape stood and headed straight for the other teachers. Fred broke formation and crouched next to her, prying her away from Hazel’s body before slipping an arm under her knees before hooking another one around her shoulders. Task done he straightened from his crouch and cradled her against his chest.

They shared a single look before trapesing out of there, not stopping until they’d reached the HQ.

The familiar scent of the various plants Neville had happily scattered around the room hit her nose as soon as they passed the threshold of the formerly abandoned classroom.

She was set down on the couch carefully and Hazel’s warm calloused hands guided her head gently to lay in her lap. Immediately Hazel’s fingers started carding through her messy locks, carefully prying the tangles apart. Nym conjured a damp towel and proceeded to clean the shallow wounds littered all over her face and arms, taking the opportunity to wipe off the blood on her face as well. She closed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over her now that she wasn’t in immediate danger.

Feeling a hand wrap around her own, she opened eyes to see that it was Neville kneeling next to her. Looking closer she realized that her hands were trembling. They were also covered with green static. For a second Hermione was worried that the strange lightning would hurt Neville as her mind flashed to the troll’s fate. Her fears were mollified when she noticed that the small tendrils and sparkles of electrostatic arcing over between her fingers were seeping into her friend’s skin harmlessly. 

There was energy pooling around Neville’s fingertips that she could only describe as flickering water with wisps of yellow fire mixed in. Just like her Static, it was seeping into her skin and making the lingering aches in her entire body disappear. Just like the smoky purple fire she’d long since written off as another case of accidental magic, but now remembered in startling clarity engulfing her and her kidnappers when she was shoved into a nondescript van after displaying her magic. Her Smoke had made her stronger than normal, allowing her to punch a hole through the steel walls of the van to get out. It had also healed the wounds she had gotten from her kidnapping.

Neville’s flickering water was soothing away the last vestiges of the blinding terror she’d felt during the whole ‘almost getting killed by a troll’ debacle. His sunny flames had already healed all of her injuries.

It felt a lot like her Static, like her Smoke.

.

But different.

.

She felt better now.

.

She looked up, her wide hazel orbs meeting Neville’s steady blues as he smiled at her warmly even if his eyes were both haunted and filled with wonder.

“They awakened when my uncle dropped me out of a window to force my accidental magic to manifest.” Her friend paused, obviously needing a moment to recollect. “It didn’t, but this did in its place. It took some pretty thorough experimenting, but I eventually determined that the blue magic–I call it Hypnos–is emotion based. It gives me the power to Influence not only my emotions but those of others. Anyways, I mostly use it to calm my plants and it took me quite a while to master the technique until I could control the Hypnos dosage of ‘Passivity’ as I like to call it.”

“What happened before that?” She asked, genuinely curious as well as thankful for the temporary distraction from her panicked, spiralling thoughts. She would deal with her memories of the traumatic event later, when she’d somewhat recovered from the attack. Right now listening to her best friend as he told her about his mayhaps with the blue water-like magic and his beloved plants sounded like a great plan.

“Well…” one look at Neville’s sheepishly embarrassed face was all it took for her to know this was going to be good. 

He told her how, at the time, he was taking care of a magical variation of the cannabis plant that had been recently discovered in America. The plant, which was somewhat sentient unlike its non-magical counterpart, had a tendency to become agitated when it felt it hadn’t not been given enough attention. Neville had tried to calm it with his Hypnos.

“I take it you injected it with too much Passivity?” Drawled Hazel, amusement clear as day in her voice.

“I did. It acted drunkenly dazed for over a week before the effects wore off.”

“What about the fire?” Asked Fred from where he was sitting at the other end of the couch with her feet in his lap.

“I call it Phenix.”

“Phoenix?” Repeated Tonks. 

“Same word but without an o.”

“Right. Tell me more.”

“Like its namesake it has regenerative properties that draw from its ability to stimulate, activate and reactivate many things including but not limited to plant, human and animal cells. By directing a certain amount of Phenix towards certain parts of my body, I can increase my mental capacities, my strength, my speed. I can also speed up the growth process of most plants; make them grow bigger than they normally would; and even bring them back even when they are on the brink of death. Anyways…”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel amused when her friend trailed off when he finally noticed the impressed stares she and the others were sending in his direction. His eyes widened slightly, a nervous glint entering his oceanic gaze, and a faint blush dusted his cheeks; he looked like a deer caught in the headlights. He cleared his throat, shifting into a more comfortable position.

“I also managed to activate some dormant genes in quite a few plants and created a more vicious and deadly version of Devil’s Snare who can be tamed and will do anything to protect the ones it has taken a liking to.”

“That’s awesome, Nev! I am absolutely going to experiment with this.” She lifted a hand and smiled when bright green lightning curled around it before sending Nev a stern look. “And you’re going to help me.”

“Of course, 'Mia.”

Chapter Text

A hand came down to ruffle her hair and Hazel smiled, warmth blooming in her heart. “Well, this is where we part.” Chirped Tonks. “We’ll see each other tonight in HQ, alright Zel?”

She grinned. “Sure thing, Nym.”

She and Tonks had a one on one lesson on how to harness her metamorphmagus abilities planned that evening, right after her detention. They had discovered she had the ability a week ago while swapping stories about their accidental magic. When Hazel had recounted how she always regrew her hair to the same length every time her aunt cut it, Tonks had asked if Hazel wanted to do a few tests to determine if she had any potential in that area. Turns out that she had Metamorphmagus abilities, though she was limited in what she could do for many reasons. The main difficulties she had encountered were anything related to gender, height or body mass. The first remained unexplained, but the troubles with height and mass rooted from the fact that every time she did, she became extremely clumsy as her balance was automatically messed up by the feeling of being in a new body. She hated it because it stopped her from being in top shape when it came to her beloved martial arts.

She and Hermione waved goodbye to the seventh year and headed down the hallway for their defense class, entering the classroom with a few minutes to spare. 

Hazel’s eyes immediately zeroed onto their teacher.

“Are you doing alright, Professor? You seem a bit—pale.”

Hazel was being deliberately provocative, she knew.

She couldn’t help it. 

Honest.

The guy gave her the creeps.

Everything about him rubbed her the wrong way.

His obviously faked stutter.

The best way to be inconspicuous is to make people underestimate you, bambina. Remember that.

His turban.

The way his dull brown eyes occasionally flashed a bright scarlet red and gain a calculating glint.

The predatorial smirk the man was wearing right at this moment.

“Detention, Miss Potter. Right after class.”

Shit.

“Mio dio. What the fuck just happened?!”

“I– honestly don’t have a clue?” Hermione whispered back, eyes slightly widened as their teacher started telling them about the origins of his ridiculous turban once again.

As the bell rang and the students started to file out of the class, Hermione couldn’t help but linger, worried about Hazel.

Her best friend turned to her and gave a reassuring smile. “Go get Severus, Hermione. Tell him what happened.”

“Are you sure?”

Hazel nodded with a fond smile. “This is the only course of action. I can feel it.” 

Hermione stilled mid-step when, not even two minutes after she left the classroom, she heard a muffled thud followed by a louder cracking sound that resemble the sound of the gunshots she had heard when she went with her father to a get-together with her dad’s friends where they all did some clay pigeon shooting.

Running back to the classroom her Smoke became visible around her and lashed out at the walls as she took in the fact that someone that was hers was gone.

Hazel’s head whipped to the side sharply, a hand print slowly reddening. Biting her lip to stop herself from making any sound, she tugged at her restraints while trying to rouse her strangely despondent magic.

Quirrel, who was now confirmed to be acting as a host for Voldemort, smirked wide and triumphant.

“Don’t bother trying to cast anything, girl. There’s a ward around this room that will stop you from casting any magic. Now, let’s try this again; tell me where the Philosopher’s stone is and your death will be quick.”

“What stone?”

Quirrel frowned in annoyance.

“Could it be that the old fool didn’t tell his golden girl anything?”

She practically snarled out her next words, her eyes flashing purple. “I am nobody’s golden girl.”

“Hm. Interesting. But irrelevant. Where did you put the stone? I went in through that pathetic obstacle course your bumbling fool of a headmaster set up and it wasn’t there!”

She let her lips curl into a vicious smirk. “You’re too late–It’s already out of your reach, Voldemort.” She spat spitefully, even though she didn’t feel that way; better to let him believe that she had a short temper. It would be a great advantage in the future–if she made it out of here alive.

“Figured it out, didn’t you?”

“Of course. You’re not exactly subtle about it.”

“Where is it?”

She remained stubbornly silent, face blanking over and lips pressed in a thin line. Internally she was bracing herself for the pain that would undoubtedly follow her refusal to talk. Deep down, she couldn’t help but be scared of what awaited her. For all the training she had gone through with her mentor, they had never done anything to prepare her for torture or increase her natural tolerance to pain. Yes, Dudley’s gang had used her as a punching bag for a few years, but this would be a different kind of pain. She knew without the shadow of a doubt that this was going to hurt.

QuirrelMort sighed in fake disappointment and gave a saccharine smile that was as much sweet as it was fake. Its vicious and cruel edge was unmistakable under that tooth rotting sweetness.

“I was hoping we could do this the easy way,” She barely refrained from snorting in disbelief at the blatant lie.

“But oh well, seems like I’ll have to use more… drastic methods.”

“Bring it on, old bastard. I can take the pain.”

“Can you really?” Wondered the so-called Dark Lord (even Grindelwald was smarter and more competent than this twat) with a smirk that was equally amused and condescending. “I believe we’re about to verify the veracity of that statement, aren’t we Hazel.” 

She couldn’t hold back a disgusted shudder at the way the bastard practically purred out her name. Voldemort leveled his wand between her eyes and she fought her body’s impulse to go cross-eyed as the tip of the wand lit an ominous shade of crimson red.

“Crucio.”

And then suddenly all there was was pain; pure blinding pain. What must have lasted only thirty seconds to a minute felt like hours had gone by the time Flames erupted from her body. 

First came beautiful amber flames that latched onto the body in front of her. They were quickly joined by purple fire that seemed to make the amber flames grow in strength and intensity exponentially.

She stared dispassionately as her teacher burned alive, before shaking off the remains of her bindings that her flames had burned while they were at it. She rose from the chair Voldy had bound her to, ignoring the uncontrollable shaking wracking her limbs as she left the room and ended up in a long hallway with stone walls darkened by the ages. She felt a satisfied smirk curling her lips. 

Well that was— interesting.

She had to show the others. She had to leave this place before she truly freaked out in enemy territory. That couldn’t happen. There was nothing left for her here anyways, and she was sure Uncle Sev would deal with the mess.

With that in mind Hazel apparated back to the HQ, where Tonks was waiting for her. She stumbled upon landing, her legs weak and her limbs trembling – an after effect, no doubt, of the cruciatus curse. “Wotcher, Zel–what in Morgana’s saggy left tit happened to your face?!”

Oh, right. 

That. 

Hazel lifted a hand almost unconsciously, cupping her swollen, angry red cheek. It appeared that Voldy didn’t take any slight to his ego or dick size particularly well.

Tonks sighed, placing a warm hand on her head. She leaned into the touch readily, smiling as warmth seeped through her body, and something within her purred possessively, purple and amber curling around energetic bright bubbly yellow and a tight ball of soft and steady red that had the ability to flare and lash out when triggered.

Hermione smiled in satisfaction as Hazel wisely remained silent and unresisting while she spread some of  thick goop all over her bruised cheek. Severus proclaimed it to be a bruise balm when he pressed into her hand as soon as he saw the state of Hazel’s face. It could be worse. At least the smell was actually pleasant; evergreens mixed with mint and the freshness of clouds.

As she took care of her injuries, Hermione was ranting nervously.

“You got tortured into almost insanity by your parents’ killer! I almost got crushed by a troll! We’re too young to be worrying about dying, life or death situations and goddamn teachers trying to murder us! This is supposed to be the safest place on Earth!”

“Hermione.”

“What’s gonna be next? A vengeful demon who has a grudge against the school for some insane reason?”

“Hermione.”

“We’ve survived so far, but how long until our insane luck runs out and people start dying for real?”

“Hermione!”

“–what?!”

Her best friend settled a hand on both of her shoulders and she unconsciously relaxed as a warmth that felt so very familiar seeped into her body and a feeling of belonging and family and acceptance and home bloomed in her chest. Like a puppet whose strings were cut she slumped onto Hazel’s bed, curling into her friend’s side.

“Hermione, deep breaths. We’ll deal with whatever people throw our way the same way we do for everything; together. We’re both Ravens and birds of a feather stick together, remember?”

“Yeah. Yeah, alright. Sorry–sorry for overreacting, I guess.”

Haze draped an arm across her shoulders and leaned her head on top of hers.

“Hey, no harm done at all, Hermione. Remember, you’re my best friend, my sister in all but blood. We are in this together.”

Chuckling wetly she wrapped her arms around her friend’s shoulders and embraced her tightly. The feeling of finally being Home, grew stronger.

“I love you, you know that right?”

“Love you too.” Hazel grinned. “Hey, want to see a cool trick?”

Hermione nodded in the crook of her best friend’s neck before pulling away a bit.

Smirking like a cat that caught the canary, Hazel lifted a hand and moments later it was ignited with amber-orange flames and purple fire that curled around her limb lazily. 

“Leave nothing out, Haze.” She breathed out, eyes gleaming with unadultured interest. 

“There we go, my lady. All done.” Drawled Nebuleo – call me Trident – Shamal as he put away his various tools. 

Severus had asked him to come as soon as he’d learned about her being captured and tortured by Voldemort.

She kind of liked him. He might be a shameless flirt, but he was also very competent in his craft.

“So I’ll be fine?”

“Yup! As long as you take the post-cruciatus potion Uncle Sev will undoubtedly brew for you, and do it every day for the next two weeks, you will be right as rain.”

With a barely there smile, Hazel nodded politely in thanks.

“You have my gratitude, Dr Shamal.” 

“Anytime.”

Hazel hummed thoughtfully. “In that case, we need your help once more. You are a curse breaker, yes?”

“That I am. What do you need, little lady?”

“Do you possibly know a way to break a seal on someone’s core?”

“Who the hell had their magic sealed?!”

Glancing to her left, Hazel sent a comforting smile to her godbrother as he gulped nervously.

She couldn’t be more proud of the fact that Neville’s voice was steady when he finally spoke up. “That would be me.”  

Shamal had such a dangerous look on his face then that she couldn’t help but feel impressed.

“Whoever did this, I’m going to kill them.” The doctor cum assassin gritted out.

“Sorry, Doctor, but all of us have already called dibs on that man’s life. He’s harmed us in more than one way.”

The handsome Italian man gave her a pout. “Hm, oh well… at least let me take care of that abomination of a seal. I’ll pick up Heir Longbottom on Friday, once I’m done with the preparations.”

Hazel offered another smile, softening slightly. “Thank you, Dr. Shamal.”

Chapter Text

The weeks remaining until the Christmas holidays went by like lightning. 

She spent hours in an empty room of the HQ helping Neville in regaining a better control of his newly freed magic. It was hard, but rewarding work, seeing the delight on her godbrother’s face when he managed to cast spells that were out of his reach before without causing any explosions. Not only that, together with Nev, Hermione, Tonks and twins, she experimented with the strange coloured fire powers they had awakened. 

They managed to figure out that the smoke-like purple fire – that they ended up naming Echo – could propagate and multiply. 

Hermione’s Static remained just that in their minds, Static. They discovered that it had conductive and hardening abilities.

Fred, George and Nymphadora as it turned out had a variation of the same power they all seemed to possess. The twins shared the same wispy fog that was still unnamed, but allowed them to create or alter anything in any way, as long as they could think it up. Nym had bright bubbly yellow flames like Nev on top of red fire that destroyed everything it touched. It ended up being called Cataclysm, or Clysm for short. 

The amber flames were called Cosmos after much trial and error because they seemed to be one of the factors that drew their group together, made them turn on the same axis and made them resonate with one another. Made them each other's home. She’d smiled when Nev described her as the Cosmos that held them all together, declaring that if that was the case then he and her other best friends were her beloved Stars.

Soon the sign-up sheet for those who wanted to stay at the castle made an appearance on the notice board of the Ravenclaw common room. 

Both she and Hermione ignored the notice, already having plans for the holidays. Within a week the sheet was filled with a few names, taken down and promptly dismissed from their minds.

Two days before they were set to leave, an official school owl delivered a summon from the Headmaster to her.

With a put upon sigh she made her way to the old fool’s office and knocked. 

“Ah, Miss Potter, enter please.”

“You wanted to see me, Headmaster?” She said with faked reverence.

“Yes, my girl. I couldn’t help but notice that your name wasn’t on the list of those who would prefer to remain at the castle for the holidays. Do you not want to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas?”

“No, sir. Is there any reason why I would want to?”

“Of course not, my dear girl.” It took her all of her will to stop the plastic yet convincing smile plastered on her face from turning into a disgusted grimace. How nobody had ever pressed pedophilia charges against the old man was beyond her. In the no-maj world, the simple use of that moniquer would be enough to raise alarms at least. “Only you seem to like this castle so much that I’m surprised you would want to leave it.”

On one hand, now at least she knew that the little act she kept up in public was convincing enough to fool Dumbledore himself. On the other hand… dannato Morgana … how the hell could a man who fancied himself a puppet master, be so bloody gullible?

She gave the meddling dunderhead the best fake strained smile she could muster on the spot. She had practiced it in the mirror and it was apparently very convincing; the twins had said so and they were masters at acting. Not as good as Fēng, Sev or Cassie, but still amazing at it.

“Well you see, sir, the Dursleys sent me a last minute letter declaring they wanted me home for the holidays. Something about them not wanting to miss out on my famous christmas log, I think.”

Her blood boiled in her veins when she caught the sick satisfied glint in the old fool’s eyes.

“Ah, I see my dear girl. Well in that case I see no reason to stop you from going back to your family.”

Her smile tightened around the edges, for real this time.

“Thank you, sir… is it alright if I go now? I have to finish packing and my friends…”

“Of course, my girl. I won’t keep you from your friends any longer.”

“Thank you sir.”

“One last thing before you go, my girl? Here, I have a Christmas present for you.”

She accepted the gift reluctantly, thankful at the fact that she was wearing her favorite dragon leather gloves as she felt the strong compulsions woven into the colourful wrapping.

“Thank you, Professor.”

“So, Xan-chan,” drawled Paon as they draped themselves across the back of the couch their Sky was currently sprawled on. They were in the luxurious living room of Xanxus’ suite at school, as he got a special treatment for being Vongola and thus the heir to one of the Academy’s main benefactors. “What do you usually do for Christmas?”

Tazio, the idiotic Lightning who had made the mistake of insulting Paon, perked up at the opportunity to the learn more about his idol. Instead of being angry or avoiding Paon and Xanxus for making a very clear example out of him, the guy had started following after Paon’s Sky like a loyal lapdog. Xan-chan had shrugged and let him do so, never one to pass up the opportunity to gain a lackey to torment. Paon was alright with that, as long as the moron never bonded with Xanxus as a Guardian.

Xan-chan opened one lazy eye and grimaced.

“The old fart forces me to be at his shitty Christmas ball, where he lets all the airhead Mafia heiresses slobber over me and never lets me have a drink.”

“That sounds like an awful time.”

Tazio looked up at Paon’s Sky, eyes filled with fervent adoration. “Don’t worry, Vongola. I’ll personally make sure you have the best holidays you could ever wish for. I swear on my life!”

Xan-chan scowled in annoyance and kicked the guy away from him, clearly uncomfortable at the unwelcome way Tazio was encroaching his personal space as the disfigured Lightning fawned over their Sky. Trying and failing to bond with Xan-chan, whose raging yet steady flames rebuffed the Lightning every single time the rigid, pushy, overbearing green reached out for blazing, steady orange.

“Shut the fuck up Trash.”

Fred looked up when Hazel stormed in and headed straight for the couch with the sort of single-minded intensity he had come to associate with his adorably homicidal little sis. Collapsing onto it as her legs visibly gave out, the witch buried her head in a dark pink knitted cushion with a dark purple dirigible plum in its center. Then Hazel screamed and raged and sobbed. 

Slowly he moved to her side, wrapping his arms around her trembling form and drawing her to his chest. When she quieted down, he pried the cushion away from her face before she suffocated herself.

Immediately Hazel threw her arms around his shoulders and he felt a wet patch growing steadily on his knitted jumper as she sobbed painfully in the crook of his neck.

“Hazel…?” He began only to trail off when his little sister tensed noticeably and the shaking made an unwelcome return, wracking through her body.

“I hate him.” She murmured quietly.

“Hm?”

“Dumbledore. I hate him! I hate him, hate him, hate him–”

The same words spilled from Hazel’s lips again and again like a litany, eventually devolving in rage filled mumbles as she went back sobbing violently on his shoulder.

The others burst through the door, and he immediately gestured to them to stay silent before turning his focus back to the now quiet witch in his arms. Despite having calmed down a bit, Hazel was still noticeably shaking with the strength of her silent sobbing. 

Fred felt the first stirrings rage in his gut and tightened his protective hold on his best friend; the first person outside of George to truly see him for who he was as an individual. Frowning darkly at the wall he vowed to make sure that whoever had hurt his friend, his sister, his principessa in such a horrible way; he would make them pay. And he would do so with a smile on his face.

“Tell us all about it, Hazel.”

“Hermione?” She croaked out.

His sister lifted her head and took a glance around, visibly relaxing even further when she saw the others were there as well.

George smiled and ruffled her hair. “We’ll always be there for you, principessa.”

Hazel chuckled along with the others in the compartment as Fred grimaced in disgust and made a show of wiping his tongue, every one of his movements dramatic and exaggerated.

“Yuck, yuck, urgh… bloody hell, what in merlin’s name is that flavor?”

Neville laughed, picking up the box in the middle of the table. “Mhm… let’s see… It says on the box that it’s either mojito or coriander. I guess you’re one of those people who despise coriander?”

“You bet I am.” Groaned Fred.

Hazel leaned back, content in listening to the banter as they played All Flavours Poker. In other words, a poker game where the one who lost the round had to eat a random jellybean from a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans.

She smiled when Hermione nudged her.

“Up for another round?”

Hazel nodded. “Sure. Count me in.”

“Paon, what the fucking hell are you doing?”

His Sun looked up from the pine tree sapling they were growing at high speed with Sun Flames. It was tall enough that it almost touched the ceiling, Paon used their secondary Mist Flames to decorate the tree with black and red ornaments. Their signature sunglasses that usually covered their eyes to hide their unusual coloring that had been warped by their Flames, were nowhere to be seen, a testament to how comfortable and at home Paon felt in his school suite. Usually the Misty Sun wore their sunglasses everywhere they went to hide the fact that they had Mist Flames. After all, it was always better to have an ace up your sleeve.

Then they grinned brightly. “Xan-chan! Don’t you like it? I thought you’d enjoy a Christmas tree in your room, to make the place more festive.”

Xanxus threw himself on the couch, rolling his eyes fondly. “Hn.”

His Sun brightened and beamed at him, doing a wiggling victory dance on their toes. “You do? Great! Now all that’s left to do is to place the presents under the tree.” They declared musingly, pulling a large brightly wrapped box topped with an extravagant bow out of nowhere. He snorted fondly. Mists. They loved breaking laws of physics on a daily basis just for shits and giggles.

Closing his eyes, Xanxus relaxed into the cushions of the sofa, his head propped up on one of its overly stuffed armrests, and let the chattering and happy humming of his first and only guardian wash over him. It was so very rare that he got to spend some time alone with his Sun, what with Reborn tutoring him and the shitty Lightning lackey trash that insulted Paon following him everywhere. Today however, Reborn had a job in Greenland and Xanxus had knocked out the Lightning and tossed him at a Cloud who had some beef with the scum in order to keep him occupied. 

Slowly he drifted into sleep and the last thing he registered was a blanket being tossed over him by his Sun.

“Have a good time and don’t forget to write to me, you hear me?”

Standing on the platform, she felt Nev’s smile against her neck as he hugged her back. “Crystal clear, Mione. I’ll send you a letter every week, I promise.”

Hermione nodded firmly, satisfied. “Good.” She let go and gave him a wave and a smile. Spotting her parents in the crowd, she headed towards them and threw herself in their arms. 

Only for her mom to tease her as soon as their little reunion was out of the way. “So who was that, hm?” She drawled, a glint of mischief and good humor in her brown eyes.

“Hopefully not a boyfriend for me to worry about.” Added her dad. “Because if that’s the case I’d have to go over there and threaten him into not harming you.”

“Mooom! Daaad! Stop it!”

Her dad let out a booming laugh and ruffled her hair. “Alright, alright.”

“Anyways he’s more like my brother in all but blood than anything else.”

Her mom smiled, pulling her against her side and kissing her cheek lovingly. “Well I’m glad you’re making friends either way. I’m proud of you, Hermione.”

She gave her mother a grin in return. “Thanks mom.”

“You’re welcome. Now how about we get in the car so you tell us all about your new friends while we’re on our way back home, hm?”

“Sounds great!”

“Mom! I’m home!” Announced Hazel as she ‘ported in the middle of the entrance hall, toeing off her shoes. 

“Hazel! Come here so I can hug you, sweetie. I’m in the kitchen!”

Hazel smiled softly and followed the sweet smell of cooking cake batter wafting from the kitchens. As soon as she stepped foot in said room she was engulfed in a tight hug.

“Welcome home, Hazel.”

Laurel pulled back and smiled tearfully when she took in how much Hazel had grown, both in body and in mind, since they’d last seen each other.

Hazel stretched and sent her a grin, glancing around the kitchen in interest.

“Smells good in here. How can I help?” Chirped her daughter, grabbing her apron from its flower shaped hook next to the fridge. 

“Can you get started on the icing? I was getting started on your welcome home cake.”

Hazel sent a mock salute her way. “Yes, mom, yes,” she laughed out. “Mocha icing, coming right up.”

“Shut up, Richard! How could you do this to me? To us?”

“Listen Honey I–”

“No! You listen to me! Did you even think of the consequences of your actions? I understand that your uncle is dead which means we’re not getting the money he sent us every month but we were doing just fine without the money of a retired firefighter!”

“You don’t understand—”

Creeping down the stairs, Hermione winced as the sound of flesh hitting flesh resounded through the house. She froze and hesitated on the last step of the stairs.

“What don’t I understand, Richard? That you were so greedy that you got involved with the British mob? That you acted like a moron, did some truly stupid choices and got indebted? That you can’t pay those scums back? That you put us in danger?”

The Mob. Her dad had gotten them involved with the Mob of all things for a bit of money they didn’t need. Brown eyes widened, Hermione evaluated the danger she was in, and the very real possibility that her holidays would be overtaken by her parents fighting all the time. 

She slowly crept back up to her room as the screaming match downstairs became more and more heated. Accusations, insults and plates – by the sound of it – were being hurled around mercilessly and suddenly she finally had enough.

Her decision was made in a jolt of clarity.

She couldn’t stay here any longer. Knowing from experience, this would certainly not be a one time thing. No, this would last for most of the holidays and that meant more screaming, more violence between two people she loved and more noise and fear and anxiety. It meant awkward meals and loaded silences. It meant discord within the Granger household.

She had to get out of here.

Five minutes later she had packed two weeks’ worth of clothes, her favorite books, her toileterie, Hazel’s gift she had finished wrapping just a few hours earlier, her homework and her favorite plushie she still couldn’t part with.

With one last look around her room, she signed the small note she wrote for her parents and opened her window. Using the branches of the lilac in her courtyard she made it to the ground safely. Shivering at the cold that her multiple layers of warm clothes couldn’t ward off as efficiently as a winter coat would have, she adjusted the strap of her bag before heading for the closest bus station.

Hazel blinked twice when she found her best friend on her doorstep, shivering from the cold and looking like it was only because of her strong will that she was still awake. Her lips had a bluish tint and there was a bulging duffel bag tucked under her arm.

She smoothened the concerned frown that wanted to overtake her features and did the first thing she could think of.

“Hermione? You look half frozen to death. Come in, make yourself at home. Can I offer you anything? Hot chocolate? Tea?”

“Doing better now, Hera?”

Nodding in reassurance, Hermione cuddled into her friend’s – her Cosmos’ – side and sighed in contentment as the warmth of the fireplace she was sitting in front of seeped into her bones.

Sipping her second cup of delicious triple-chocolate hot cocoa, she allowed herself to soak up the comfort Hazel was offering her unconditionally.

Hermione felt a few rebellious tears sting her eyes and pushed them down firmly. No, no more tears. She had already cried too much for one night as she explained as much as she could about the situation and cried herself dry on Hazel’s shoulder.

She cleared her throat and forced herself to smile. Everything would be alright. She would be staying here for the holidays, Laurel having arranged the whole thing with her parents. By Morgana, Hazel’s adoptive mother could be persuasive.

“So I’ve become Hera now, huh?”

Hazel gave her a soft smile, and gazed at her seriously before softening slightly.

“You’re my best girl friend, Hera; you getting a cool nickname was bound to happen sooner rather than later.”

“I–erm, really like it, actually.”

Hazel brightened considerably at that, leaning her head against her shoulder.

“I’m glad.” She said with a satisfied smile that turned a tad bit mischievous. “You do know that means I’m never calling you Hermione again, right. You’re stuck with the nickname.”

“I don’t mind… Haze.”

Chapter Text

Hermione woke to the sound of music, singing and someone puttering in the kitchen; and the delicious smell of banana and chocolate. 

Turning around as well as she could while trapped in the cocoon that had become her sheets and blanket, she checked the alarm clock, squinting as she tried to read the bright pink digits while her sight was still blurry from sleep. 

7 : 30 AM

Following her nose Hermione stumbled into the kitchen and grinned fondly at the sight of her friend cooking cheerfully; Haze was practically dancing around the kitchen and humming along the song that was playing on the radio–it was called Mellow Yellow if she remembered correctly–as she cut some fruit, brewed some delicious smelling coffee and baked a batch or three of banana and chocolate chip muffins.

Hazel noticed her just as she poured the muffin batter into a well buttered tray and grinned brightly.

“Hera! Good morning! How are you feeling? I hope you like banana and chocolate chip muffins!”

She couldn’t help but laugh; usually she was the one who tended to bombard others with questions.

“Good morning, I’ve been better, and they’re my favourite.” She answered, still chuckling. “Also, since when have you become me? I’m supposed to be the one drowning people in question while you drive them up the wall with that trademark smile of yours.” She couldn’t but tease gently as her best friend placed a plate of muffins in front of her.

Haze blushed to the tip of her ears as she turned to face the oven hurriedly to take out a batch of muffins before they burned.

“I’m just excited that you’re here.”

Hermione smiled. “Me too.”

“Good morning, girls~” Chirped Laurel as she entered the kitchen and dropped a kiss on the top of Hazel’s head. Hermione sent her friend’s adoptive mum a smile coupled with a greeting.

“‘Morning Maman.” 

“It’s smelling good in here, honey. How about we move the food to the living room and eat breakfast while unwrapping the presents?”

Hazel beamed at her mum as she began to pile the food onto a tray. She had made quite a lot; there were muffins, blueberry parfaits, fruit salad, and a plateful of bāozi that Fēng had taught her how to make. She also included some of yesterday’s pastries that hadn’t been sold.

“That sounds like a great idea. Here’s your tea, maman.”

“Thanks Hun.”

Soon they sprawled across the thick rug, Laurel handing out the presents to be added to their respective pile of Christmas gifts.

She leaned back with a grin and let her mum’s happy exclamations wash over her as Laurel cooed over the small kneazle kit she hadn’t been able to resist buying for her mum.

Hermione was next, and she was tackled in an enthusiastic hug when the brown eyed witch figured out what the blank tapestry and murky green potion were for.

“Thank you! I’ll finally be able to find out about my ancestry!”

She grinned and let Hermione hug her to her heart’s content.

“Here, Hazel; this one is yours.” Said Laurel as they pulled away, handing her a black cylindrical box decorated with an elegant golden swirling pattern.

Grabbing it curiously, Hazel froze when she recognized the writing on the tag.

“Is this–”

“Reborn came by.” Confirmed Laurel with a nod. 

Her heart squeezed painfully for a heartbeat and her breath caught in her throat. “When?”

“Around the second week of September. He left the box behind for you so I figured I would include it with the other Christmas presents.”

Lifting the lid hurriedly, she stared at the magnificent hat inside in awed shock. It was an elegant tophat encircled with a dark orange ribbon embroidered with golden suns. Her hand hovered above it for longer than she would like to admit. She picked it up with trembling hands.

“How do I look?” She smirked as she tilted the stolen fedora just so, the rim casting a shadow over her eyes. She did a little pose. 

Reborn quirked a brow; amusement dancing in his button-like eyes and she reached out to touch his hair, still not over the fact that his hair was a mess of curls under his ever-present hat.

“A fedora isn’t the right hat for you, ragazza. You’ll find yours eventually.”

She put the hat on.

It fit perfectly.

Of course it did.

Reborn never settled for anything else than perfection after all.

Letting out a trembling breath as tears stung at her eyes and her heart twisted uncomfortably, running a finger along the brim, feeling the subtle flowers embossed into the velvety felt under the pads of her fingers.

Looking up, she cleared her throat roughly and locked eyes with her family.

“How do I look?”

Laurel sent her a soft smile and tilted the hat slightly to kiss her forehead.

“Gorgeous.” 

“Incredibly snazzy.” Drawled her best friend with an approving grin. “Here, this one is from me.”

Thankful for the provided distraction Hazel reached out for the silver snowflake covered present and set about unwrapping it.

Inside was a medium sized painting portraying them and their friends studying and having a fun time by the Black Lake. Hermione was sitting beneath a massive willow, using the trunk as a backrest as she read a thick book. A bubble gum pink haired Tonks was sitting crossed legged, talking animatedly with Fred and Neville while playing with Hazel’s hair, the latter’s head resting in her lap. George was half-crouching behind their pink haired friend and in the process giving Tonks bunny ears. The whole thing looked almost photographic, but there was a warmth, a lively feel to it that couldn’t be ignored. Mainly because the painting was actually moving in a thirty seconds loop.

“It’s magnificent, Hera. I didn’t know you could paint.”

Her friend fiddled with her hair sheepishly, glancing at her with wary shyness through her bangs.

“Back in elementary school people didn’t like that I was good at this, so they ridiculed me; called me a freak. I guess I just… stopped after a while, but then I saw the paintings at school, and wanted to know how the animating process worked so… there.”

“Thank you, Hera. I absolutely love it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She grit her teeth, trying to keep smiling even though she was seething inside when Hera sagged in relief. Leaning her head against her friend’s shoulder she smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“You won’t have to hide anymore, Hera. I promise.”

The brown eyed witch gave her a small smile and turned back to unwrapping her presents. 

From time to time Hazel’s hand reached for her new hat, fiddling with it almost unconsciously.

“Hello Sirius.”

Sirius froze, the voice sounded so familiar, sounded just like Lily’s…

Turning around, the animagus choked on the sob bubbling up his throat at the sight of a teenage girl hovering in the doorframe of his room who could only be his goddaughter. Clad in a modest black and white checkered dress and a fashionable top hat, she had black, curly hair; the same shade as James’ but less messy, more like Andia’s. Her eyes were the exact same shade of green as Lily’s, same with her nose and mouth. It was obvious, however, that quite a few of her facial features came from her Black heritage, mainly her cheekbones and chin.

All in all she had grown into a beautiful young woman, just like her mother, not that he had ever doubted that would be the case. From the moment he had first held his little doe of a goddaughter in his arms, he had fallen in love with everything about her. Even as a newborn, Hazel had been a gorgeous little girl, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he had a picture of her, his pup, in his wallet, the same one he had gotten one in the muggle world as a teenager in a bid to piss off his parents, that he had carried everywhere he went before getting arrested.

“H-Hazel…” he croaked, getting to his feet as quickly as his weakened body would allow. He reached for her, desperate to hold her in his arms after so many years, to make sure she was truly alive and safe. He watched as her fixed, polite smile became more genuine as she stumbled straight into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around her, grabbing the tophat on her head before it could topple over. 

“I missed you too, Padfoot.”

He choked back a sob, barking out a rough, almost painful laugh instead. Clinging to her as tightly as he dared, never in a million years wanting to hurt her in any way. 

He eventually pulled away, grinning madly as Hazel gave him a smile tinged with happiness, longing, hope and relief. 

Scrutinizing his goddaughter more closely, Sirius could see that Hazel was doing well; she seemed comfortable in her own skin, well-fed and while a bit smaller than he would’ve expected with parents as tall as Lily and Prongs, still quite tall for her age. He had been terrified at the prospect that Hazel had grown up with Dursleys, but it seemed his fears were unfounded. He would have to thank whoever had raised her for taking such good care of his little doe. 

“Tell me, Hazel, are you by any chance a prankster?”

His goddaughter’s smile gained a mischievous edge.

“Me? A prankster? Whatever gave you that idea?” Drawled Hazel in mock-indignation.

He barked out a laugh. 

Meeting her godfather face to face for the first time felt… surreal.

She and Sirius had been corresponding by owl-post for a while, her godfather becoming more and more coherent with every letter he sent. But this wasn’t the same. This meeting was what cemented the fact that this was real; that they’d gotten her godfather out of the hellhole he had been forced to call home for the past nine years. Seeing the man in the flesh after so long, with his haunted grey eyes and thin frame, but looking so alive and sane compared to the stories she had heard of Azkaban, was amazing. Someone who was hers, who had always been hers for as long as she can remember, being back in her life soothed an itch in the back of her mind she had never noticed until it was gone.

What she had come to identify as her Echo purred in satisfaction the back of her mind, reaching out to curl possessively around her godfather as he showed off his animagus abilities.

Sirius barked a few times, licking her hands before changing back with a wide grin. “Bloody awesome, isn’t it!” He crowed proudly. “I can teach you if you want!”

Hazel nodded fondly.

“Not so fast, Sirius Orion Black.” Drawled Cassie as she entered the room, making her godfather brighten with an overjoyed shout of “Cassie!”

“Cassie.” She greeted the woman with a quick, but nonetheless warm hug. “How was tea with Amandina?”

Cassiopeia smiled gracefully, taking a seat next to Sirius with an equal amount of elegance. “It was wonderful as always, thank you. Now, nephew, what is this about teaching Hazel how to become an animagus?”

Sirius coughed awkwardly. “Err… well…”

“Either way, I would prefer it if you waited a few years before teaching her the practice behind the theory. She’s too young, learning it now could have permanent and undesirable side-effects.”

“What? But I learned at twelve and was totally fine!”

Cassie gave a pointed stare at the positively dog-like grin on her godfather’s face and Hazel couldn’t help but chuckle. “Exactly my point.”

The Black Lady turned to Hazel. “We must be off, Hazel. Laurel and your friend shouldn’t be left waiting, especially on a day like Yule.”

“You have a point.” Turning Hazel gave her godfather a tight hug. “See you soon, Padfoot.”

“I’m already looking forward to it, pup.”

Cassie smiled slightly, slipping a pendant around both their necks. “Come along then, Hazel.”

With one last wave they were whisked away by the portkey.

The sound of puttering around sounded from the kitchen as Laurel put the finishing touches on their traditional Christmas meal. Christmas tunes played in the background and the crackling of the fire roaring in the fireplace filled the living room. The delectable smell of baked goods and cooking turkey had long since invaded the house, mixing with the scent of the Christmas tree. 

She and Hermione were in the living room in front of the fireplace, wrapped up in ward knitted blankets, cups of hot chocolate cradled in their hands as they warmed up after spending most of the afternoon playing in the snow outside.

Engrossed in a debate with Hermione about the intricacies of the fifth Goblin war – or at least what little she understood of the conflict as History was by far her worst and most disliked subject, but only because of the teacher – Hazel paused mid-sentence when the sound of the doorbell rang through her home.

“Hazel? Would you mind getting that for me? I’m in the middle of checking the turkey.”

Hazel smiled, getting to her feet gracefully and heading for the door. “Of course, mum!”

Opening the door, she froze, her heart skipping a beat and tears pricking her eyes as longing and happiness flooded her whole being.

“Fēng?!”

Chapter Text

Sliding out from underneath the car he was repairing, Skull let out an undignified yelp when he saw Fon standing right above him, his polite smile tinged with barely hidden amusement.

“Fon! What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

“Hello, Skull. Nice to see you too.” Fon’s smile widened. “Laurel has invited us for Christmas supper this year. I’ve come to get you.”

“She did? Really?! That’s great! Can’t wait to be able to taste her pastries again!”

“Do you want to change before we go? Or grab anything for the trip?”

Skull glanced down at his oil stained work clothes and flushed. “Uh yeah… gimme a sec… I won’t be long.”

Skull fiddled with the sleeve of his custom sized winter coat.

“Relax, she invited us. She won’t mind us coming.”

“Are you sure?”

Fon hummed in affirmative, climbing the snow covered stairs that lead to Laurel’s home. 

Fēng couldn’t help but feel nervous as he knocked on the door. 

What was he going to tell his Sky?

As much as he wanted to tell her everything about Flames, the fact was that she wasn’t Flame Active. Omertà had to be taken into account, as the last thing he wanted was for his Sky to be taken away and thrown into the depths of Vindicare.

One didn’t mess with the Vindice if they valued their freedom. Not even the World’s Strongest Storm.

The door opened to reveal his student, and his eyes locked onto the top hat perched on her head looking like it always belonged there. The hat had traces of strong Sun Flames all over it that he easily recognized as Reborn’s. 

Sneaky, possessive bastard. 

And oblivious too if he still hadn’t realized that Hazel was his Sky.

His student stilled in shock, glistening eyes roaming all over his person, fingers clenching around the door frame. 

“Fēng?”

“Hello, Hazel. You look well.”

Faster than his eye could see, he received a kick in the jaw.

Huh. It’s been a while since he’s been taken off guard.

“Hn. You’ve gotten rusty, Shīfu.”

“And you've been practicing. I’m very proud.”

Hazel chuckled wetly and he froze in shock when a Flame Active, sobbing Hazel picked him up and hugged him tightly.

Sky Flames - so strong and pure and not at all repulsed by his too angry, too calm Storm Flames – reached out and brushed against his Flames tentatively, as if asking permission to reach further. They flooded the fledgling bond between him and Hazel when his Flames let them.

Hazel was Flame active.

What had Hazel been through for her Flames to activate?

The girl pulled away from Fon and her sharp gaze snapped to him. Scrutinizing his face that was devoid of makeup for once. Lingering on the purple triangles inked on his cheeks.

“Are you a Blackthorn?” 

“Guilty as charged. I'm Skull.”

She gave him an appraising smile. “Come in.”

He could only gape at the girl’s back as she turned without another word and walked away, deeper into the house.

He could feel the Cloud and Sky Flames saturating the air.

How could he not? They were so strong they took his breath away, making him crave the possibility of a Home all over again.

(He hadn’t felt this way since Luce promised them somewhere they could belong, then betrayed them just as he was about to try bonding with her.)

Hazel’s Sky was brushing against his Cloud with infinite care. Not trying to claim, or trap his Flames.

Simply curious about him.

Her Cloud was meeting his in middle. Greeting him.

Inviting him into her territory.

Fon followed Hazel into the living room to see Laurel handing a large mug of hot chocolate to a girl of Hazel’s age with bushy hair and sharp brown eyes.

She felt like a Cloudy Lightning, a frightening combination of Flames. Territorial, forever seeking freedom and obsessively driven? Terrifying for anyone who got in the young lady’s way. She was also Hazel’s Element, and he couldn’t help but wonder if his student had bonded with anyone else.

“Fēng, Blackthorn, this is Hermione Granger, my best friend. We go to school together and she’s staying here due to… family complications.”

He gave the girl his usual polite smile tinged with a slight bit of warmth. “It’s an honour to meet someone so close to Hazel. I hope we can get along.”

Granger blushed slightly. “Nice to meet you too. You can call me Hermione.”

“You can call me Skull, Miss Granger!” Chirped Skull as he shook the girl’s hand enthusiastically.

The girl chuckled. “Call me Hermione.” 

His student – his Sky – held out a hand.  “Name’s Hazel, use it. Hey, are you the stuntman who crossed the Great Canyon on a tightrope?”

Well, that was news to him. Impressive.

“Err… yes?”

“Mom’s a huge fan! She has loads of tapes from your very first shows!”

“Really!? That’s great! I didn’t even know those existed.”

“I made sure to film every one of your shows I could get a ticket for.” Explained Laurel as she came back from the kitchen. “I’m Hazel’s mother, nice to meet you. Fēng, it’s good to see you again.”

“Laurel.” The martial artist dipped his head warmly. “How have you been?”

“Better than you, from the looks of it. Are those bruises under your eyes? Have you not been sleeping enough?”

Fēng hid a wince. “You have no idea.” 

His Flames had been restless and petulant and impatient, nagging him to find his Sky. Hence the lack of sleep, but at least they had settled now that the bond between him and Hazel was solidified.

“So how do you know about the Blackthorns?”

“We met Faelyn.”

Skull winced. He loved his adoptive little sister more than anything, but Faelyn could be an assole towards strangers. “Ah. That explains everything. How is that little devil doing?”

“Frank died. She’s running Knockturn now.”

“Wait, WHAT?! Really?” He yelped. “I’ll have to pay a visit to Knockturn, then. She’ll need help preparing for The Meeting on Blackshore Island this summer.”

“Blackshore Island?”

Seeing no reason not to, Skull explained that the island was home to an international Black Market, on top of being the seat of operation of the Magical Underworld. The Blackthorns were always invited to assemblies and meetings because of their direct blood relation to one the founders of The Black Market, Polaris Black.

“Wow. I had no idea the Magical Underworld was so developed.” Hermione cut in, eyes alight with curiosity.

“That’s only a small part of it, actually. There are quite a few other markets all around the world, on top of the dozens of families running the Underworld, most of which are races wizards see as lesser and evil.”

“That’s so interesting!” Beamed Hermione, looking like she was itching to take out a notebook. “How do the goblins play into this?”

“Well, they are the ones who, with the help of a tribe of giants and a long dead nation of dwarves, built the Blackfyre Citadel on Blackshore Island. It’s built inside a volcano that covers a quarter of the Island, and is home to the main port of the Black Market. The Council Room is situated at the top, and the view from up there is magnificent.”

“That’s a sight I’d like to see.” Said Hermione, sounding as dreamy as Skull sounded wistful. 

It was after supper that Fēng interrogated the girls about their Flames.

“Flames?” Repeated Hazel, cocking her head to the side. “Oh you mean these?”

Both he and Skull were left staring at the pure Cloud and Sky Flames twining above Hazel palm.

“We ended up calling the purple smoky fire Echo after figuring out it could multiply things. Fred named the amber fire Cosmos. Something about feeling safe and included and like everything and everyone will work together flawlessly when I use it.”

Skull lets out a thoughtful noise. “Any other flames you know of?”

“Well there’s Neville’s Phenix, which he seems to share with Tonks. It activates, I think. Neville has another water based ability we call Hypnos that can influence emotions to a certain degree. There’s also Tonks’ Clysm, that’s almost as destructive as her clumsiness. It disintegrates.” 

Hazel smiled in fond amusement, she loved when Hera got this passionate about a subject. It was beautiful to watch how her whole demeanour became more open as she gestured in excitement. “I think Fēng has the same fire?” 

“I do. We call it Storm Flames.”

“Hm. Something to discuss later, for sure. The twins have indigo mist we called just that, Mist. It can be used to create anything from illusions to reality-warping alterations and solid but temporary objects and the twins have been cackling like maniacs from the moment they figured out how to use it properly.”

“… we call them the same thing, Mist Flames.”

Hazel snorted. “Figures. Finally we have Hera’s Static, which has conductive, protective and isolant properties.”

Fēng nodded.

“Well, I see you’re well informed. That makes things easier.”

Truthfully, Fēng was really impressed at how much they had figured out by themselves.

With that out of the way, he and Skull proceeded to explain all they knew about Flames, promising to teach them how to use them. The exchange was fascinating, since his student and her friends had already come up with Flame techniques he had never heard or thought of before.

Skull was having a blast. Swapping ideas about Flame techniques with the girls was great, and impressive. They were so young yet their control over their Flames was better than a lot of mafioso out there. 

The fact that Hazel knew his sister would be something he would think about… later. Though it seemed Nymmy had bonded with Hazel. His little sister now had a Sky, one he and his Flames were considering courting with. A Cloudy Sky was a rarity. To have a chance to bond with someone who understood his need for freedom would be like a dream come true.

Then came the serious talk. 

They needed to know how the girls activated their Flames.

The answer they got… was not good.

Skull could see Fēng’s face darkening by the second.

Skull and Fēng stayed for a week. 

Skull taught them about car and bike maintenance. He taught them how to handle a bike and how to drive as recklessly as he did. He didn’t have to worry about them getting hurt, because they both had Cloud Flames just waiting to be used. 

Fēng dragged her and Hera to his old house–which was now hers–and proceeded to test how much she had improved. Then he left her to train her knife throwing skills while teaching Hera the basics of self-defence.

They both taught them how to use their respective Flames. Skull was a lot of help with that, having Cloud Flames and all that.

“So… magic, hm?”

Hazel allowed her smile to widen into something a bit more genuine and nodded, shoving her hands in the pockets of her long checkered coat, grateful the fact that the rim of her top hat kept the light dusting of snow from landing in her eyes. Feeling festive, she’d lightened the colour of her hair to red, dark enough that a shift back to black wouldn’t be noticeable if her control slipped.

“Did you know?”

Fēng shook his head, the simple gesture as graceful as ever. They, along with Skull and Hera, were in London for the day. Her friend was grilling the poor ex-stunt artist for more information about the Underworld as they headed for the commercial district.

“Not until Laurel told me, no. It seems your kind is very secretive.”

“I’m surprised so little people from your line of work are in the know. It’s not like the Ministry it doing a particularly good job at keeping our existence a secret.”

Fēng hummed in agreement. “I spoke about it with Skull. It seems that while the Ministry are rather lax in maintaining the Statute, the Underworld has a group that is better described as the magical Underworld equivalent of the Vindice. They go to any lengths to ensure the information is not spread around.”

“We must be careful, then. If they are the equivalent of the Vindice, then…” she shivered, remembering the stories she heard about the infamous institution.

Skull hopped onto Hazel’s shoulders’ as they exited the bakery they had stopped at for lunch. 

From the corner of his eye he noticed Fēng shift into a subtle fighting stance, and decided to head for a nearby alley. If something was to happen, the less witnesses, the better. They did not need the Vindice breathing down their necks for breaking Omertà.  

The instant they had ventured far enough into the alleyway, it happened. 

In a blink Hazel was pressing her gun against the forehead of the man closest to her. Her stiletto knives, that had been pinning her hat in place, were now glinting in her other hand. He could feel her magic wrapped around him, keeping him frozen in place.

He raised his hands to his ear and took off one of his piercings. It grew in size, becoming a sharp throwing knife before multiplying five times. Just in time to pin a thug’s hand to the wall.

He glanced around, taking stock of the situation.

Fēng had one of his opponents pinned to the ground by the throat, a pile of ash next to him.

Hermione seemed to have used Fēng’s teachings to break her attacker's nose, before taking him down with a kick in the balls.

“What the bloody hell? Who the fuck are these guys?!” Screamed one of the few remaining thugs, sounding a bit hysterical.

“Do I look like I know? According to the file the Boss gave us, the Granger girl should've been defenceless!”

Hermione frowned. “You’re after me?”

“Yeah Little Lady.” The downed man managed to get out with a wet bloody chuckle. “You Dad’s in real trouble with our Boss right now… you were meant to be a message.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Drawled Hazel, pressing her gun harder against her opponent's forehead. “How about you become the messenger instead?"

Eyes glowing an eery purple, Hazel pulled the trigger, using her magic to insure no blood got on her.

Blood stains were such a pain to get rid of.

“Tell your Boss that if he dares to attack me or my people, I shall repay that foolish act of violence a thousand time over." She drawled coldly as Fon disintegrated his opponent, now that there was no need for other survivors. "Try to hurt my Hermione again, and your lives are forfeit.”

Despite that rather unfortunate event, the holidays went on peacefully.

By the end of the holidays, there was a strong bond between Skull and Hazel that had been formed tentatively over insane bike rides around the city and broom flights in a nearby field she and Hera had warded. It was the first time Hazel had gone through process of bonding with someone consciously and she could not be happier about it.

Chapter Text

While exploring the older teacher quarters attached to their HQ, the Twins had jumped in delight when they stumbled upon what must’ve been the teachers’ personal lab. Then promptly claimed the room as their own.

At the time she’d taken one look at what they’d done to the place and walked away; for her own sanity she’d rather not know. 

Now she was standing next to George, Hera by her side, staring at the stone they had liberated at the beginning of the year. All the while trying to concentrate on Fred’s rambling account of their findings instead of focussing on the bubbling concoction next to her that was threatening to spill over any second.

“–we ran the usual test spells and they all came back negative. So we moved onto making it interact with various substances. It wasn’t until we put it in contact with some lead we filched from the transfiguration storage that we were able to confirm that it’s the real deal. Take a look at this–” He mumbled, taking a piece of lead from a nearby tray with a pair of pliers. She took a step back, expecting everything from an explosion to the beginning of the Apocalypse.

None of that happened, thankfully. Instead the plain ore turned into pure gold and she felt her eyes widen in shock, a sentiment that was mirrored by the others as well by the looks of it. It was one thing knowing that something she found by chance might be the Philosopher’s stone. It was something else entirely for the possibility to become reality and to be able to see the legendary stone in action.

“That confirms it, ladies and gentlemen, this stone really is the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“You two stole the only existing source of immortality and infinite gold.”

Hazel hummed thoughtfully, picking up the stone as soon as she made sure it was safe and toying with it. “While I have read about it, you seem to know a lot more about the subject than I do. Explain.”

What followed was a detailed exposé about everything there was to know about Nicolas Flamel, courtesy of the twins. By the end of it everyone else in the room was staring at them in beffedulment.

“How do you know so much about this?” Uttered Neville.

George gave his signature lopsided grin and slung an arm across her shoulders. He always did that; always found a way to have some kind of physical contact with someone in the group.

It felt like home so she always let him do it without protest.

“Nicolas Flamel is our idol! He’s the World’s most badass prankster for finding a way to get around the goblin’s laws on gold.”

.

“... right. Anyways, what should we do with the stone?”

Hazel mentally thanked Hera for being the voice of reason.

“We should send it back to its owner.”

As soon as the words came out of her mouth the twins sent her identical pouts.

“What? Why?”

She sent George a sharp smile.

“You never know when we might need help from a man who has been alive for over six hundred years.”

He sent her a wary yet fond look. “Sometimes I wonder how you didn’t end up in Slytherin.”

“Oh believe me, the hat was torn between the two Houses.”

George let out a loud laugh, ruffling her hair and somehow avoiding her hand that was trying to bat him away half-heartedly.

“Why am I not surprised?”

She slumped into his side and sent him a winning smile. “Because you know I’m not a shallow person who only corresponds to the personality traits of a single House.” 

“Point.”

Hera cleared her throat, eying a scroll of flaming runes warily as she inched closer to Neville. “So… we send it back?”

“That would be the best course of action, yes.”

George smushed his cheek against hers. “Oh come on Pipsqueak! Can we at least experiment with it some more?”

Where the twins mastered the puppy eyed look she would never know,  but it was strangely effective. 

Hazel sighed in defeat. “Fine. Just– try not to blow it up.”

“Of course we won’t!”

“Who do you take us for?”

Hazel hitched her best polite smile onto her face, the action as easy as breathing after so many years of wearing masks, this one in particular.

As she stood in front of the door to the Headmaster’s office, she couldn’t help but think back on the last time she had been called up there.

She could remember the disgust, the hate, the way she broke down as soon as she was in private. Because the Headmaster condoned and encouraged her relative’s abuse. It didn’t matter if she’d gotten out of that nightmarish, rotten household years ago. The bastard that pretended to care for her didn’t know that.

She hated the man. 

With every fibre of her being.

Had to hold herself back from killing Dumbledore – it would be so easy, she had over twenty plans on how to murder the bastard without getting caught – lest he become a martyr.

She had to control those urges, those murderous urges towards the man who wanted to control her, lock her in a gilded cage.

The man who wanted to take away her freedom. 

She couldn’t kill him so she had to content herself with psychological warfare for now, playing a twisted game of chest with the puppet master himself. But she will win, she will destroy his reputation and then when everything he worked for has been reduced to ash and dust, she will kill him.

Knocking she made sure her mental shields and occlumency decoys were in place as she was allowed in.

“Hazel, my girl! How wonderful of you to pay an old lonely man a visit! Come in, and sit.”

“Thank you, Headmaster. How are you today?” She murmured demurely, taking a seat in the comfortable chair in front of the bastard’s desk but subtly not allowing herself to relax into the cushy padding covering the chair.

The old coot smiled but it didn’t reach his twinkling eyes. 

“Wonderful, thank you.” 

Lie .

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Hm. Could I tempt you to anything, my girl? Tea? Biscuits? A lemon drop perhaps?”

“Thank you for offering, Professor,” more like Creep. “But I’ll have to refuse. I try to avoid sweets so close to noon. My appetite is already lacking, so I tend to make sure I don’t spoil it.”

There it was again, that please gleam in his eyes that never failed to make her sick.

“I see.”

Hazel made a point of fiddling with the hem of her school robes. “Was there anything you needed, Professor? I’d like to be at lunch on time.”

“Ah, yes. I was wondering if you knew anything about a red gemstone in the school going missing?”

“No, sorry Professor. Should I have?” 

“It’s quite alright, my girl. No need to worry, it’s just that your father was such an adventurer, a thrill seeker who was too curious for his own good. I thought that maybe as his daughter, those mischievous genes would’ve been passed down to you, and you would’ve known something about this.”

“Oh! Well, I’m sorry to say that while I am a bit of a prankster, my aunt made sure to nip at the bud any nosy habits I could’ve developed.”

Hazel’s stomach turned again and she slammed her occlumency shields up as satisfaction bled into the old coot’s gaze again.

“That’s alright, my girl. I know that quite a few teachers on my staff will be relieved to hear that. But you should still allow yourself to enjoy your youth, my girl. It won’t last long, trust me.” 

Hazel wanted to scoff. Dumbledore was the last person on earth she would trust.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Professor. Thank you for the advice. Now if that is all…?”

“Of course, my girl. I won’t keep you away from your friends and food any longer. You may leave.”

“Have a good day, Professor Dumbledore.”

Fighting her instinctual reaction to bristle at being ordered around by someone who hadn’t, and would never, earn her respect, Hazel nodded smoothly and exited the cluttered office, never dropping her facade until she was in the safety of the HQ.

Sipping his delicious cup of tea his wonderful wife prepared him, Nicolas Flamel looked from his edition of the IWC Daily when an owl flew through the wide open window of his solar and landed on the back of his chair.

Delicately placing his cup down in the saucer his wife had matched to it for today, Nicolas folded the papers he was reading in his lap. Rewarding the majestic bird perched by his shoulder with a few scratches to its white feathered chest while admiring the unique amber highlights littering its feathers, the renowned alchemist carefully untied the heavy and bulky envelope tied to the snowy owl’s leg.

Examining the letter, he could see that the envelope had a glossy quality to it that spoke of high quality paper. The wax used to seal it was a royal blue and the crest stamped into the wax was appropriately the Peverell coat of arms. 

His name was scrawled on the back of the envelope in dark blue ink. The writing was graceful and sharp yet unpracticed, and by the way it had dried and been absorbed by the paper, the ink was of higher quality.

The envelope was larger and bulkier than it should be if it only contained a letter, so someone had sent him something else. 

He grabbed his ornate letter opener, the one his great-great aunt Gigi had stolen from his great-great grand-father Lyon during their historic fight over marriage contracts. It had been in her secret safe until her death, at which point she had revealed its location to him in a letter to him that came with her will.

He was her favourite, apparently.

Crazy old lady.

Inside was a folded letter and a small object wrapped in an expensive silk tissue. 

Picking up the wrapped object, he froze when the fabric fell away easily to reveal his greatest creation, the Philosopher’s Stone.

He put it down on the small table next to his favourite armchair and moved onto the letter, interest peaked. After all, the stone had been stolen months ago.

Pernelle Flamel strode into the solar with a plate of homemade pastries, pausing slightly when she saw that her husband was smoking his special blend of herbs, his favourite pipe tucked in the corner of his mouth as he muttered angrily. It was a pipe he had hand carved himself at least five centuries ago, still in good shape after all this time as it was lovingly taken care of and spelled with rudimentary durability spells, yet polished by years of use until it gleamed in the morning sunlight streaming through the window.

“My love, what troubles you?” Her Nicolas never smoked this early unless there was something  troubling him. 

Her husband glanced at the letter laying open on the small round table next to him, weariness and anger warring across his young yet wizened features. “A child was tortured.” 

She gasped, wondering if it was anyone they knew and how such a horrible thing could’ve happened.

“A child was tortured.” Repeated Nicolas. “By the egomaniac self-proclaimed Dark Lord Voldemort.”

“What happened?”

Nicola held out his left hand, and resting in his palm was the Philosopher’s Stone, gleaming faintly in the light streaming through the open window.

“It was at Hogwarts. Dumbledore broke our trust. He stole the stone and hid it in Hogwarts. The protections surrounding it were so subpar that it was found within the first two weeks of the school term by a student who had no idea what it was. Said student, Hazel Potter, was interrogated and tortured by Voldemort when the maniac came for the stone and found out it was gone.” Her husband sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “This is my fault. If I managed to protect the stone better then–”

“Enough. This is not the time to cry over spilt milk. We have to figure out how to fix this.”

“You’re right, my dear. Thank you. Now, in the letter Miss Potter mentions that two of her friends experimented on the stone for a while before it was here. Their findings are quite insightful if I do say so myself. How about a offer of an apprenticeship for those two?”

“That would be a good start, yes. Maybe we could extend the invitation the Hazel Potter as well? As a show of our good will?”

“Excellent.”

Heiress Hazel Potter,

Thank you for returning the Stone to us. I’m afraid to say it was stolen to us months ago and its unexpected return into our hands is a relief and nothing less than a miracle. We wish to sincerely apologize for the trouble this breach in our security has caused you and yours.

I invite those twins of yours to come and apprentice under me. You are welcome to join them as well. The doors of the Flamel Manor will always be open to you and yours.

Sincerely, 

Nicolas Flamel.

Hazel threw the letter onto her desk, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied smirk.

A new ally, and opportunities handed to her and hers on a silver tray. 

What more could she ask for?

“Heiress Greengrass, Prefect Weasley.”

Explaining to Daphne how he had contacted his brother to set up a correspondence between Charlie and this girl he was starting to consider a good friend, Percy turned around, stopping mid-sentence.

“Heiress Potter. What can I do for you?”

“I apologize if I’m interrupting, only I wanted to inform you that I got in contact with my aunt, and she sent me a list of potential law firms that would accept you as an intern, if that you’re still interested?”

His eyes lit up as he accepted the roll of parchment from Hazel. “Of course! Thank you, I’ll make sure to peruse the list seriously before I get back to you.”

The girl smiled warmly. “I’m glad I could help…”

“Mingling with the wrong crowd again, Potter?”

Percy stiffened, he hated dealing with the spoiled Malfoy brat. Not even a year and it was already growing tiresome.

“You know,” Drawled Potter, tilting her new top hat to shadow her eyes. He had to admit it was stylish and a tasteful choice of headwear. Maybe he should look into getting a hat himself. “I was quite surprised when you ended up in Slytherin. What with the way you ruined your father’s business dealings last year because you didn’t bother knocking and burst into his study blurting out Family Secrets for everyone to hear.” The girl leaned against a nearby tree in a graceful lounging position with a pleasant demeanour that had yet to leave the teen for the entirety of the conversation. “I must admit I was expecting you to break the tradition and be the Malfoy Family’s first Gryffindor.”

“H-how do you know that?”

“You’re not the only one with connections, dearest cousin.” She drawled, and his eyes caught a glint of gold as she leafed through with a small black leather bound journal, barely making out the word "blackmail" embossed into the cover.

Malfoy seemed to recognize the book, if him paling drastically was any indication.

“You-you know auntie?!”

“You mean Cassie? Of course I know her! What a wonderful woman, don’t you agree? Must I remind you that Severus is my godfather too?”

“What are you on about?!”

“Oh you didn’t know about this, godbrother?” Cooed Potter, pleasant grin still firmly in place. 

“Sh-shut up! Don’t call me that, you blood traitor! How can you be Auntie’s protégé? She would never choose someone of your kind!”

Potter’s expression shifted for the first time since the beginning of the conversation, darkening drastically. “Shows what you know about Cassie, godbrother. No wonder she gave me so much dirt about you.” Drawled the girl, patting the cover of her book with what he could only describe as fond smugness. “You are clearly in need of a lesson on proper social behaviour.”

“Why you half-blood bitch!”

“Ah ah ah! Careful, Draco. I have enough information in this notebook to utterly destroy you. Do not test me.”

The rest of the year was as uneventful as it could be in a magical castle serving as a school for young witches and wizards.

Explosions and strays or mispronounced spells made every day eventful and filled with comic relief.

Hazel and the others spent their free time studying ahead, practicing and experimenting with their Flames, being taught self defence by their leader and simply hanging out. 

The month came and went in a flash of lightning, the end of year exams were aced by all of them and soon they were piling into a compartmented, one more person with them than at the beginning of the year. The journey home was filled with discussions about plans for the summer, card games, sweets. 

When lunch time came and stomachs began growling, Hazel pulled out a basket filled with food she’d gotten from the kitchens.

They parted ways after a tearful group hug and drawn-out farewells, knowing they’d see each other before the beginning of the next term.

Chapter Text

Whistling cheerfully he continued his round, eager for it to be over so he could go back home where his gorgeous wife was waiting for him with a delicious homemade meal; his precious seven year old daughter playing in the yard.

Just as he rounded a corner, an infant’s wailing rang through the area; mixing with cacophony the mad rambling, crazed cackling, soul deep sobs, insane screams and tortured begging. He glanced through the bars of the cell that belonged to the Dark Lord’s most fervent supporter, guilty of attacking the Longbottoms as well attempting to murder her own sister.

(The British Wizard Community had heaved a collective sigh of relief when Lestrange and her husband had been handed over to the British MoM by its French counterpart nearly a year ago. The insane couple had been caught while trying to cross France’s borders and it had taken three squads of fully trained Aurors to subdue the two Lestranges.

It would’ve taken a lot more Aurors to captured the two if Barty Crouch Jr. hadn’t shared many of their weaknesses to the DMLE before deciding to leave England permanently. Or at least that’s what he’d been told by a veteran Auror when he’d started working here eight months ago. 

During his trial Igor Karkaroff had accused the Crouch heir of being a Death Eater, but when the latter’s own father had tried to get him arrested, Barty Crouch Jr. had calmly pulled his sleeves up and showed off his arms. Both were bare, not a hint of the dark mark anywhere in sight.

To make matters worse, the one and only Cassiopeia Black had been sitting next to him. Bristling imperiously, the woman had thrown Lord Crouch a contemptuous look, before pressing charges against everyone who had been involved in the attempted arrestation of the young Crouch. The Black Lady had gone as far as to request to formally adopt the Crouch heir. Within three days Barty Crouch Jr. had become Corvus Black, Cassiopeia’s only son and heir.)

Once a legendary beauty coveted by many, the infamous Bellatrix Lestrange was but a shadow of her old self even after less than a year of imprisonment. Usually when he passed in front of Lestrange’s cell he would just move onto the next and ignore the insane woman’s screeched insults and insane cackles, but this time he stopped short at the sight in front of him. Cradled by filthy, scraggly arms was a wailing babe. 

The woman’s thighs were coated in blood, her face red from exertion and covered in heavy beads of sweat. Yet she was practically glowing as she gazed down at the baby in her arms with smug pride and disarming tenderness and–dare he say it–love. The Auror blinked twice, and when nothing changed realized that yes; this was real and that the most insane witch in Britain had given birth in the most hellish prison on Earth despite not showing any signs of being pregnant before now.

He instantly conjured a patronus, calling for reinforcement. He watched as his faithful pug patronus trotted down the hallway.

Within minutes the babe was torn out of Lestrange’s grasp despite the woman’s desperate wailing and useless attempts to stop them. The rabid witch collapsed to the ground as she was stupefied by an Auror.

“Date of birth; June 5th, 1992. It’s a boy.” Drawled a nearby Auror coldly while jotting down said information on a notepad. The man was a muggleborn and introduced the item a while ago, tired of how impractical the usage of parchment was, especially in a prison like this one.

The man, Josh, handed him the wailing brat and he nodded before portkeying to Italy and abandoning him in a random alley without regret. This was the child of two psychopathic criminals who had served under the worst terrorist in History.

The brat deserved whatever he got.

.-.

A balding man wearing a business suit that had seen better days entered a non-descript alley, holding onto his gun as he tried to avoid detection from the various famiglias who wanted nothing more than to kill him. 

He stilled when he heard a whimper coming from behind a dumpster. Intrigued he moved closer and stilled at the sight of the naked baby laying on the dirty ground. 

A smirk made its way on his face as he took off his lab coat and wrapped it around the brat as he picked him up. He would take the baby back to the main headquarters. A brat like this one could have his uses, and they were running out of test subjects.

This one would do just fine.

.-.

Hazel sat on the window ledge of her room, an old looking book titled Advanced Arithmetics III in her loose grasp as she stared at the sky. The kneezle kit she offered her mom, now a lot bigger and named Pistache, was sprawled across her lap.

The first half of the summer had gone by quickly between her martial art training with Fēng and the Cloud Flame training she’d gone through with Skull and Hera.

She had spent a week at Laurel’s family cottage and another week at Cassie’s. Being away from the suburban hell that was Surrey was just what she needed after spending so much time at Hogwarts. 

Hazel was drawn out of her reminiscence when she heard a knock at the door and looking down she caught a flash of purple that made her grin. She ‘ported to the entrance hall and opened the door, only to stagger slightly as a familiar cyan haired teen threw her arms around her neck in a tight hug.

“Hazel!”

“Faelyn?!” Now that she had regained her balance, Hazel could see over Faelyn’s head that Skull was standing on the doorstep as well. “Skull? What are you two doing here?”

“Was visiting her in Knockturn, and she decided to come along when I mentioned I was coming here next. Something about inviting you to the Market next week. And the others if they’re available.”

“Really? That would be great!” Cheered Hera as she joined her in the doorway.

“Sparky, what’s up?”

Hera gave their friend a smile. “Faelyn. How nice to see you.”

Faelyn grinned as she entered her home, making herself at home without waiting for an invitation. Hazel rolled her eyes fondly, Faelyn would always be the same when it came to entering a new territory. It was like the girl felt she had to lay her claim, to make sure she was in control and there were no traps to be sprung.

Hera, who was visiting for the week, barely looked up from the book she was reading as she greeted the cyanette.

“Here.” Faelyn gestured towards the two neatly wrapped boxes she had placed on the coffee table before sprawling onto the couch.  “Those are for you, early birthday gifts if you will.”

Hazel grabbed the first, and smaller gift of the pile. “Thanks Faybelle.” 

“Don’t fucking call me that.” The cyan haired girl grumbled half-heartedly, gesturing towards the box in a attempt to laziness that didn’t entirely cover up her jittery nerves. “Open the damn thing already, you nutcase.”

Hazel did so carefully, not wanting to ruin the wrapping. It was a habit she would probably always have that came from not receiving any gifts for the first seven years of her life, which made the ones she did receive incredibly precious in her eyes. Prying off the wrapping revealed a small, beautifully designed jewelry box made out of dark wood. Opening the box, her eyes widened at the collection of trinkets carved out of various types of wood. 

“Made them myself to put on bracelets, or necklaces. Hades, if you want I can help you braid them into your damn hair.” Drawled Fae, tugging at one of her own braids.

Hazel swallowed tightly, incredibly touched. “Thanks, Fae. Would you mind braiding them in my hair?”

Faelyn rolled her eyes, pulling out a flask that had seen better days from the scaly, well-worn  jacket draped over her shoulders and taking a generous swing whatever it contained. Hazel wondered for about a second before mentally shaking her head. She’d rather not know. “Wouldn’t have bloody offered if I didn’t want to, Nutcase.”

“Right.” Clearing her throat, Hazel moved onto the next present, which turned out to be a strawberry pie.

“Old hag wouldn’t let me leave Knockturn without a promise that I’d give you this. Said to tell you that she adopted you as a granddaughter last time you visited.” 

She couldn’t help but chuckle, placing the pie onto the table with a soft, tearful smile.

“Is it weird that I really don’t mind?”

“Nah. The old hag has granny powers. No one can resist her. Anyways, I’m going to the Market next week and I want you two to come with me.”

Hazel nodded, an eager glint in her emerald eyes. “I would love to. Hera?”

Her friend was practically bouncing in her seat which was enough of an answer.

“Of course I’m in, Haze.”

“Great! So how is it going to work?”

“Well, usually we get there by portkey, but I’m thinking for your first time, you should get the full experience.”

“Meaning?”

Faelyn leaned forward with a mischievous smile. “Do any of you have any problems with boats?”

Chapter Text

Hazel leaned against the railing between Hera and Faelyn, watching the large island in the distance approaching at high speed. 

Blackshore Island was aptly named. 

Situated somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, it was massive, with beaches of black sand, steep cliffs, but the centrepiece was an extinct volcano surrounded by a dense, sprawling city. Towering buildings were carved into its plunging cliffs, or protruding from its flanks.  

Centuries ago the island had been a stronghold for pirates to store and trade their loot. It had since become the largest black market in the world. 

You could get anything here. It didn’t matter if it legal or not. Anyone was welcomed as long as they didn’t wish to harm the market itself. The people however... no anyone’s safety was guaranteed the moment one stepped foot on the blackened shores of the island.

Hermione gasped in awe as they entered the lowest level of the Blackfyre Citadel, a structure that was nothing less than a work of art. According to Skull, the Citadel has been built before the market even existed. Two clans, one of dwarves and the other of goblins, had become allies during one of the goblin rebellions. They had excavated the volcano together, transforming it into a massive city. The lowest level of the Citadel was a wide open area supported by intricately carved obsidian pillars. Being two dozen feet below sea level, it was partially flooded. Stone bridges connected the various docking areas, allowing people to circulate.

Five gigantic archways fitted with heavy metal doors allowed ships to enter the underground harbour. 

Stepping off the boat that brought them here, she too a moment to gather herself, her legs a bit wobbly after their trip at sea. While untraceable portkeys were the most efficient way onto the island, Skull and Faelyn had stubbornly insisted on travelling to the island by boat, so that they could enjoy the full experience. 

-.-

Hazel let herself be led by the hand through a maze of narrow streets, looking around curiously as she let Skull’s animated chatter settle around her comfortably.

Noticing a few pairs of eyes scrutinizing those who were hers, she let her Flames curl around him and Hera, stopping them from being visible. Her lips curled into a soft, oh so fond smile when they both relaxed almost imperceptibly.

The market was more of a sprawling city than an actual market. It spread across nearly the entire island. Its houses were built from the dark stone that had been excavated from the volcano. Tall buildings loomed over narrow, sinuous streets and alleys. There were vast plazas where celebrations and tournaments of all sorts were held. The whole city was lit with torches and pixie dust lanterns. In addition to the hundreds of stores and stalls scattered across the island, there were pubs, brothels, fighting rings, bathhouses, and massive greenhouses filled to the brim with highly dangerous and illegal plants.

It was a wild and beautiful place that Hazel was already planning to visit again, preferably with the rest of her Elements.

She and Hera had already bought a sizeable pile of very illegal books that could not be found anywhere else, three of which were about Soul Flames. They also bought a few plants for her dearest god brother that would definitely get them in trouble with the law if they were found.

Hazel had chosen her sharpest hat pins for this trip. Her gun was secured to the small of her back, and her wand, safely strapped to her wrist. Skull told her before they got here that you could never be too careful while visiting the market. 

“Hazel!”

Spotting Cassie coming towards them with a smile, she beamed at the woman and melted into the hug she gave her. “How is my favorite niece doing?”

“Resting after the school year’s incidents, Auntie.”

“Ah yes. Such an unfortunate affair, that.” Drawled the Black Lady with a barely perceptible frown. “Now, let me take a look at you, it’s been too long.”

Hazel’s lips twitched upward, amused despite herself. “We had tea last week auntie.”

“Exactly.” Cassie tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Oh, you look gorgeous, darling. And my, this outfit is simply magnificent.”

Hazel had decided to wear pair of black slack, paired with a checkered silk dress shirt worn underneath a black velvet waistcoat embroidered with golden threads shaping protection runes.

She smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it. Laurel helped me pick it.”

Cassie nodded seriously. “I must meet this mother of yours, dear.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Wonderful~ Now, I believe you were heading somewhere? I assume you have somewhere to stay?”

“The Citadel has that covered,” Confirmed Skull, stretching leisurely, tone purposefully posh. “They were more than happy to take care of our accommodations.”

Cassie chuckled dryly. “Of course they were. Excellent, then. I won’t hold you any longer.” She pressed a kiss to Hazel’s forehead. “If you need any help, I’ll know.”

-.-

True to Skull’s word, there were living accommodations ready for them upon their arrival at the Citadel. They were led to spectacularly magnificent and luxurious rooms. Trimmed with gold, the walls were carved into the polished obsidian of the volcano. Her suite was composed of a living room, a study, a bedroom and a bathroom. Everything was draped in expensive silks, the furniture was carved out of expensive wood and stone.

Hazel took a deep breath of the sea air as she leaned against the railing of the balcony, staring in wonder at the dark, dense city sprawling thousands of feet below her.

“So you know Cassie, huh?” Drawled Skull, sprawled across the sofa behind her.

“Know her? That’s an understatement.” Hera drawled, amusement clear in her voice, not looking up from the book she was reading.

“Severus introduced us.” Hazel explained with a soft, fond smile. “She took me under her wing a year ago.”

Skull snorted wryly. “That is the most terrifying thing I’ve heard all year.”

.-.

They went to bed early that night, exhausted by the boat trip and wanting to be prepared for whatever the next day would bring, especially Faelyn, who would be introduced to the other Underworld Leaders as the leader of Knockturn and the new Head of the Blackthorn Family for the first time.

The next morning, while waiting for Faelyn to come back from the Summit, Hazel received an invitation to join the Alombria Family for afternoon tea. Her mother’s magical relatives. 

The part of her that was still bruised and scarred and scorched by the Dursleys’ treatment of her was already bracing itself for rejection. At the same time, however, she was so very thrilled to be meeting more people she could call family, more people she could claim as hers if they proved to be worthy.

Onyx, Head of the largest vampire clan in Europe. His wife, Isabelle, a werewolf, Alpha of a pack that was equally as large as the convent her husband ruled over. 

Together, they formed the most influential Magical Underworld Family in France.

The couple was a powerhouse in both the political and crime world.

Beautiful, influential, magically powerful and smart, they seemed to have it all. All, except a child, she remembers Skull telling solemnly.

She accepted the invitation. Then, she spent most of the day with Skull and Faelyn, being taught all she needed to know about the people she was about to have tea with, Hera tucked against her side, taking fervent notes. 

-.-

Isabelle looked oh so very alike her mother, Hazel realized when she saw Lady Alombria for the first time, a wave of grief threatening to overwhelm her. The only difference was that the woman had a head of tight blond curls instead of wavy auburn hair.

As she sat across from them in the sumptuous tea room she had been led to by a butler who looked like he would kill her the moment she made a wrong move, the Lady greeted her with a warm smile. Lily’s smile, Hazel thought absently, thinking back to all the pictures Cassie, Sirius and Severus had shown her.

Hazel was using every bit of poise and etiquette she was taught by Fēng and Cassie to make a first good impression.

Her guests were pleasant and welcoming, asking about her schooling, her future, her plans for the rest of the summer and her stay on the island. 

She answered all the questions as best she could, doing her best to remain formal and courteous, but there was a part of her she couldn’t smother that was jumping in joy at the fact that she now had even more relatives who were genuinely interested in getting to know her.

She’d told them about her apprenticeship at the Flamels the next summer, and felt a small blossom of pride take root in her chest as they congratulated her for such an impressive achievement. After all, the last time the Flamel Family had apprentices was a century ago. 

In return they shared stories of Isabelle’s sister, Hazel’s great-grandmother. At her surprised look when she realized how old Isabelle was despite not looking a day past her thirties, the woman laughed good-naturedly and  explained that if werewolves managed to live in perfect symbiosis with their wolf counterpart, the transformations actually made them stronger, and allowed them to live longer. They told her about the woman’s love for non magical comics and romance novels, her obsession with hot chocolate, about all the cat sweaters she knitted for her familiar as they grew old, the books she wrote, about her career as a renowned charm mistress. Hazel was enraptured, her heart aching at the thought she’d never meet this wonderful woman.

She took the opportunity of this meeting to inquire about the inner workings of the Wizarding Crime World, and the role the Alombria played in all of it.

Isabelle gave her a smile full of pride, while Onyx gave her a look of approval.

“Officially the Alombria Family is a respectable and extremely influential family that originates from France, but is also well established in England and Italy. In reality we are one of the main families in charge of ruling the Magical Underworld, composed of all of those who are considered "dark creatures" and the wizards who lean towards the darker spectrum not only of magic but also in terms of morals. It takes in those who are discriminated against, those who aren’t blind sheep of Dumbledore, Voldemort or the Ministry. Those who have bloodlust and Death and violence in their veins.” He took a sip of his cup of blood before continuing. “On top of being one of the leaders of the Underworld, I am the Head of the biggest coven in France, and Isabelle leads the biggest werewolf pack in said country.”

“What does the Magical Underworld do exactly?”

“Magical drug trafficking, blood trafficking, impersonation, politics, bribery, assassinations, blackmail, thievery, spying, information broking, potion ingredient trafficking, artifact trafficking, weapon trafficking, extortion, forgery. We play the wizarding world like a kindle, we fight, we manipulate, we kill.” His smirk was more than a little bloodthirsty before he turned serious. “We help dark creatures who are in a tight spot, give them a family; a chance at life. We stay two steps ahead of the various Ministries–especially the British one–to counteract as many pieces of legislation that target “dark creatures'' as we can. We have a hand in running the shady parts of the wizarding world, like Knockturn Alley in Britain and Avenue Brumelune in France.”

“So the equivalent of the Mafia or the Triads in the muggle world, but with magic thrown in, then.” Onyx raised an eyebrow.

“I was taught by an assassin of the triads from age nine to eleven.”

Isabelle and Onyx shared an impressed, triumphant look and seemed to come to a decision. 

“Hazel.” Isabelle leaned forward, a lock of blonde hair falling into her stunning amber eyes, smiling at her softly. She’d told the couple to call her Hazel ten minutes into the conversation, when it became clear that these two were worthy of being hers, of being part of her Cosmos one way or another. “What do you know about Flames?”

“Quite a lot.” She settled on answering, letting a small amber and purple flame hover above her palm for a split second before she smothered them by closing her fist. “Why do you ask?”

-.-

“We use them too, you see. Only werewolves with sky Flames are able to Harmonize with their wolf completely. That’s why I’m one of the only werewolves who has managed to do so.” Isabelle called her own Flames to the surface, letting them twine up her arm playfully. She caught the look full of adoration her husband sent her and her heart skipped a beat as she fell in love with him all over again. He had that effect on her. She loved him so much it almost hurt. Her Flames leapt without her say-so, dancing across her husband’s skin lovingly. “Sky Flames are rare, and often the mark of a good leader. I believe, from what I’ve seen of you so far, that you are going to go far, Hazel Perevell.” The werewolf extinguished her Flames and gave the girl a smile that was equally warm and predatory. “Your reputation precedes you, darling. You make a powerful ally even now, at such a young age, and I can’t wait to see how much stronger you become as you grow older.”

It was her husband’s turn to speak. “What we mean to say is that from this day on you will have the backing of the Alombria family.”

Hazel visibly brightened, her Flames – so pure, so Harmonious – dancing joyfully around the room. 

Her breath caught at the sight. This girl was truly something else.

“I would be honored to count you as my allies. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “You are family after all.”

Her husband grinned, his fangs on display. Hazel didn’t bat an eye. “We were wondering if you would be inclined to start corresponding with us. It’s not often we find lost kin, you see, and we’d like to reconnect with you in the hopes that one day, we might become close enough to call each other family.”

Hazel’s smile was shyer this time. Isabelle had to hold back from cradling the girl in her arms to protect her from anything that could ever hurt her. She looked so much like Lily it hurt. “I’d like that.”

-.-

“So how did it go?” Murmured Faelyn as she braided the ornaments she had gifted her Sky into the girl’s hair. 

“They want to start corresponding with me. They also told me to consider the Alombria Family an ally from this day on.” Said Hazel, twirling a sharp hairpin between her fingers, a tick Faelyn noticed the girl had when she felt nervous.

“That’s amazing! The Alombria family is incredibly influential and you’re the first person they’ve allied themselves to in twenty years. That they find you worthy of their trust and support so soon after meeting you says a lot.”

“What do you think, Hazel?” Asked Hermione from her spot on the balcony. She was sitting on a comfortable stool in front of a canevas, painting the breathtaking view of the Black Market sprawling below them. “Can we trust them? Are they worthy of becoming part of our Cosmos?”

Hazel hummed thoughtfully, then gave her bonded a Sky Flame imbued smile, her eyes glowing orange for a moment.

“I think they are.”

Chapter Text

“It’s perfect.” She murmured as she eyed the newest addition to her wardrobe. Made of black dragon leather and covered in contrasting colorful patches, the jacket she was about to purchase was a gorgeous piece. 

Hazel smiled down at the maker and seller of the jacket. The old lady smiled back. “How much is this?” She asked, pulling out a purse heavy with galleons after  she tucked her jacket in the crook of her elbow.

“That’ll be five galleons, missy.”

She counted eight galleons from her purse and transferred them to the woman’s weathered palm with a kind smile. Sending her a sharp look when the woman opened her mouth to mention the extra money.

“There we go. Take care, ma’am.”

The old lady bowed her head in thanks, pocketing the goblin gold swiftly. “Same for you, lady.”

Slipping her arms in the sleeves of her new jacket, Hazel continued her exploration of the Black Market, strolling around at a leisure pace to take in all the sights. 

As she stepped out of the shady alleyway and onto a buisier street, Hazel barely made it a few meters before coming to an abrupt stop and staring.

Her breath caught.

There was a small girl sitting on an iron wrought bench with a thick illustrated book nestled in her lap. She was entertaining a small group of young children with a dreamy smile floating on the curve of her lips. Strands of her platinum blond hair regularly fell into her silver eye, free of any restraints that would keep them out of her face, only to be gently blown aside, a dainty hand tucking them behind bejeweled ears. 

The kids were crowded around her, sitting on the ground without a care for its filth, a few perched on the shoulders of some of the older kids. She was regaling them with fantastical stories about the mysterious creatures inhabiting this world, Mist Flames dancing gracefully around her slight frame, in perfect harmony with the one they belonged to. Forming colorful and intricate illusions to illustrate her fantastical tales.

Not that Hazel was paying much attention to any of that. She was too focussed wrestling for the slightest ounce of control while her Cosmos and Echo flames screamed “Mine” throughout her entire being. Her eyes never wavering from the girl’s beautiful, pure, tangible Mist Flames.

She stepped forward as the girl’s story came to an end and the children scattered.

The blonde’s stunning silver eyes stared into hers with a wispy kind of intensity.

“Your Flames are lovely, has anyone told you that?” Mused the girl, the trinkets adorning her wrists clinking against each other lightly as she closes her storybook and carefully stashes it in her beaded shoulder bag.

An amused smile flitted across Hazel’s lips, closing the distance between the two and settling on the bench next to the girl. “So you know what they are, then.”

“Mhm. Mum taught me how to use them, and told me all she knew about what they are. Although I’ve been learning on my own since she died.” She smiled softly. “She researched them extensively and left me her journals.”

“I see.” Nodded Hazel, deciding not to linger on the subject of the girl’s mother. By the way she mentioned it almost in passing, the blonde clearly did not want to talk about it anymore than necessary. “What should I call you, Little Mist?”

“I’m Luna, of the Lovegood variety.” Grinned Luna, shaking her hand enthusiastically. 

“I’m Hazel.” Answered Hazel with a chuckle. “The twins told me a lot about you.”

“Have they? All good things I hope.”

“With the amount of pranks you’ve helped them with? For them to do anything but sing your praises would be blasphemy.”

Luna brightened, giggling as lightly as tinkling bells. “Well it’s good to hear the nargles didn’t have the chance to infect them during the school year.” She looked around. “Are they here, with you, by chance?”

“They didn’t come with me, no.”

“How unfortunate. I had some theories I wanted to discuss with them. I have reason to believe that the Witch Weekly is part of the ministry’s propaganda conspiracy in an attempt to take over the world.”

Hazel smiled, already loving the girl’s chaotic energy. “I’ll let them know you have something to tell them in my next letter. What are you doing at the market? By yourself?”

“Oh! It’s really quite simple actually. My papa needed some potions to heal the unicorn living in the forest near our house, so he decided to come here and brought me along.”

“Do you think he’ll be successful in finding it, then?”

“Of course! He knows all the right spots and has all the right connections to find anything he would ever need at the market.”

“He comes here often then?”

Luna nodded with a chuckle. “I come here very often.”

“Does that mean you could show me around? My friend has been meaning to do so but he’s been terribly busy recently.”

Luna brightened, looking so relieved and ecstatic that someone wanted to spend time with her that Hazel couldn’t stop her flames from wrapping around the smaller girl, whose only fault in the eyes of society was that of being different and believing. Luna’s Echo and Hypno and Mist reached back, a bond not yet forming, but their respective Flames mingling comfortably.

Hazel would protect this girl even if she died doing so.

Luna gave her a smile so bright it almost blinded her, her Flames preening under the combined interest of her Echo and Cosmos.

“I haven’t had the occasion to tell you how much I like your hat. The Flames imbued into it feel like warm sunlight ready to strike and burn at a moment’s notice.”

A fond smile quirked her lips, warmth blooming in her heart as she thought of her mentor. “Yeah… that’s exactly how they feel to me as well.”

“It’s quite reassuring, knowing that you’re well protected.”

“It is.” She murmured with a soft smile, before changing the subject. “Are you planning on attending Hogwarts next year?”

“I am. Father says he dreamed of me wearing Ravenclaw colors.”

“Excellent. I’ll be able to protect you a lot better in that case. It’ll also make our Flame courting easier, if you’re not opposed to it, of course.”

“You really want me?” Questioned Luna, suddenly sounding so timid and desperate for her to say yes and not laugh in her face that it broke Hazel’s heart in a million pieces. 

“Of course. Both my Flames and myself are in agreement that we want you to be part of my Cosmos – my Sky – and my family. So, what do you say? Will you give me a chance to prove my worth as your Cosmos?”

“Yes. Absolutely, yes.”

Hazel let out a breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding. The insecure part of her mind that belonged to the hurt, lonely, abused and unwanted girl she used to be finally quieting down.

She carefully wrapped her arms and Flames around her Misty Echo to-be, hugging her tightly as she let out a shuddery breath that was echoed by Luna. 

“Welcome home, Luna.” She murmured.

Luna pulled back with a blinding smile and tears in her eyes, brandishing a magazine that materialized in her hand from thin air.

“Have you heard of The Quibbler?”

Chapter Text

“Miss Potter must not go to Hogwarts!” Hazel stared at the house elf who had appeared in her bedroom at Cassie’s cottage in the middle of the night, startling her awake. She’d almost killed the poor elf with the knife she kept under her pillow when he woke her up. Her Intuition screaming at her that this was important was the only reason the House Elf was still alive.

She frowned at the house elf, who was covered in bruises and wringing his hands in a way that looked particularly painful.“What are you talking about? What danger am I in?”

“Dobby does not know. Dobby heard his bad evil master planning something very bad, something that will make Hogwarts dangerous for Miss Potter, yes it will!” Fretted the house elf before whimpering and trying to hit his head against her desk, muttering something about being a bad house elf who should be punished.

Hazel was quick to put a stop to that, crouching in front of the little elf, holding his hands in hers to keep him focused on her.

“Please, Dobby. Tell me everything you heard. What danger awaits me at Hogwarts?”

Dobby whimpered. “Dobby remembers that his master was holding a black book. Master was asking the Dark Lord to forgive him for what he was about to do, that it was necessary because the Ministry was going to raid his house.”

“Thank you Dobby. This is very helpful information.”

She called for the lady-in-waiting Cassie had assigned to her, Fiona Moon, asking to fetch her mistress. Comforting Dobby as she waited for her aunt to arrive. The woman would know what to do.

Cassie strode into her bedroom a few minutes later, still looking regal and elegant despite having clearly been woken up. Her hair was down and dishevelled by sleep, instead of being twisted up into one of the elaborate updos the woman favoured and wore her hair in during the day. She was clad in a very long and flowing purple velvet robe she had obviously thrown on in a hurry. There were stars embroidered along the hems in silver thread and the robe was held closed a silver clasp shaped like a raven, with a tiny amethyst as an eye. 

“Dear niece, what in Morgana’s name is going on here?”

Hazel let go of Dobby’s hands to face her aunt properly and gave the woman a relieved smile. “This house elf appeared in my room, telling me I shouldn’t go to Hogwarts this year.” She explained, gesturing to the house elf in question, who had gone strangely still and silent as soon as Cassie had entered the room, staring at the woman with a mixture of awe and fear.

Her aunt hummed thoughtfully, quickly taking stock of the situation. She let out a sign heavy with exhaustion. “Did he tell you his name?”

“He called himself Dobby.”

“He’s one of House Malfoy’s house elves, then.” Said Cassie with a frown, ignoring Dobby’s whimper at the sound of his bonded family’s name. “Sworn to Lucius, I believe.”

“Then Lord Malfoy is planning something. Something that will put me in danger, according to Dobby. He remembers Lucius holding a black book and asking Voldemort to forgive him.”

Cassie’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’ll have to look into it. We can’t take any chances.”

“Agreed. It’s better to be careful.”

“Then Miss Potter will not be going to Hogwarts?” Asked Dobby with a hopeful grin.

“I’m afraid not. I have to go to Hogwarts, Dobby.”

“But-”

“Listen little guy, you did very good trying to warn me about this.” She crouched to be at eye level with the elf and gave him a soft smile, taking hold of his hands once more when it looked like the poor thing was going to resort to self-harm again. “While I would like nothing more than to take my friends and get as far from that deadly hellhole they call a school, I can’t. There’s a bad, bad man who has plans for me and I am terrified of what lengths he’ll go to if I don’t return to his school.”

“Miss Potter bes in evens mores danger than Dobby knows?” The house elf fretted. How adorable. This elf who had never even met her before tonight was worried about her.

She patted his head, still smiling down at him.

“I am. Look, I can’t tell you I won’t go to Hogwarts, but I can promise that I will be careful and keep an eye out for any danger. Is that alright with?”

The tiny elf nodded frantically, a look of reverent worship entering his eyes.

“Miss Potter bes the best!”

Just like that the house elf teleported away.

Immediately, Cassie was by her side, checked her over for potential injuries. She couldn’t help but bask in the woman’s warm care.

“Are you alright, sweet niece?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit shaken, I think. I didn’t expect anyone to be able to appear in my rooms like that.”

Cassie smoothed her hair away from her forehead, kissing her brow. “House Elves have a peculiar type of magic that often refuses to abide to the rules of the magic that wizards wield. They tend to have the ability to bypass a lot of the wards and defences wizards usually cast to protect their homes. This is why I prefer to have a human household.” Her aunt frowned. “It seems I have become too arrogant, forgetting to account for house elves the last time I reworked the wards protecting my home. I’ll have to fix that.”

Hazel nodded wearily. Cassie pulled her close and she melted into the comforting embrace.

“Go to bed, my sweet niece. Don’t worry, I’ll watch over you while you sleep.”

“Goodnight, Aunt Cassie.” She murmured sleepily, body and mind crashing now that the adrenaline that had been flowing through her veins was gone.

Her aunt gave her a soft smile, tucking her into bed and kissing her forehead.

“Goodnight, Hazel.”

.-.

Diagon Alley was just as amazing as she remembered it to be. While she did go to Knockturn Alley once or twice to visit Faelyn, it had been a year since she’d first visited the main alley. It was just as Hazel remembered it. Bright, full of life and colours, and simply Magical.

This time however, she wasn’t trailing behind Snape. Rather, Luna, Neville, the twins and Hermione were by her side, with Tonks set to join them for lunch.

Luna and the others were getting along perfectly. She and Neville were currently in the middle of an in depth conversation about a newly discovered magical herb. Hazel couldn’t be happier about it.

She and Luna had grown considerably closer over the summer. They had been corresponding all summer, getting to know each other. Hazel had taken to sending her Mist-to-be small gifts ranging from books to rare plants and more recently a pendant she had given the girl over a shared cup of tea. A moon shaped pendant carved by Faelyn to be exact, infused with Hazel’s Flames. That way she’d always know her moon was safe. If she was in any kind of emotional or physical distress, Hazel would feel it immediately.

When she had explained the pendant’s special properties to Luna, her Mist had hugged her tightly, sniffling in the crook of her neck. After calming down, the younger girl had pulled back and admitted in a fragile, hushed voice that Hazel was the first person to show so much concern and investment in her well-being in years.

It had taken all of her self-control to not go on a murder spree right there and then. How dare people treat someone who was hers that way?!

Weaving their way through the crowd, the group headed to the bookstore first, disappointed to find it completely packed with customers.

As they were quietly debating the merits of coming back to the store later, after the crowd had dissipated, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

“I can’t believe it! Our very own Hazel Potter, in the flesh!”

Hazel grit her teeth, her entire body tensing. Turning around she was met by a wide plastic smile.

Gilderoy Lockhart.

Great.

“I must say, it’s so nice to meet a fellow celebrity.” The man went on to say, still grinning so broadly it was becoming quite unsettling. “Mind if we take a picture together? Just imagine tomorrow’s front page!”

“I do mind, actually. Unlike you, my fame was not a result of my choices and I do not appreciate being hounded by people and press alike. So, kindly unhand me. Immediately. If you touch me again, I’ll ruin you.”

She could see the smile become a bit strained. “Ah yes, right, of course, of course.” He pulled away smoothly and threw her wink. She tasted the tang of bile in her throat. “Well, if you ever change your mind, you’ll know where to find me as I am, of course, Hogwarts’ newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

Oh Merlin no, anything but that.

Thankfully she was spared from answering him when a commotion erupted in the middle of the book store.

Curious, and eager to get away from that Lockhart creep, Hazel made her way through the crowd and had to bite back a laugh at the sight of Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy fist fighting.

Fred and George were cheering him on, while the Weasley Matriarch watched from the sidelines, seeming torn between feeling proud or worried about her husband.

“Arthur no! Not in front of Gilderoy!” The woman exclaimed.

.-.

They did manage to complete their school shopping before lunch in the end, despite the less than pleasant encounter they had with that pompous peacock.

They found themselves a table at the Leaky Cauldron just in time for Tonks to sweep out of the floo, tripping over a cat.

Neville reacted quickly and used his Flames to cushion her fall. Tonks sent him a grateful smile and threw herself in the remaining seat, beaming at them.

“Wotcher, kids! How’s it going? Did you manage to complete your school shopping?”

“We did!” Was all Hermione had time to say before a waiter came over.

Food ordered along with a round of butter beer, Fred picked up where Hermione had left off.

“We got interrupted by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. He bothered Hazel, got touchy. I was ready to burn his hand off.”

Tonks’ gaze sharpened, and Neville felt warmth in his chest at the fact that she cared, that she was worried about them. It felt good, having friends after being alone for so long. “Oh? How did that go?”

Hazel smirked. “I put him in his place. Politely.”

“Good. He seems like a creep. Stay away from him, kids, you hear me?”

“That won’t be possible, considering he’s to be our new DADA teacher.” Despaired Neville.

“My most sincere condolences.” Drawled Tonks, wrinkling her nose in disgust, causing the rest of the table to chuckle. “Hopefully this year will still be a good year, free of torture and Dark Lords.”

Neville immediately groaned, shushing her. “Don’t jinx it! Last year is still giving me nightmares just thinking about it.”

That sent them into another laughing fit, and despite the worry he felt about the Lockhart situation, Neville smiled as he sipped his butterbeer. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else than here, surrounded by his closest friends.

Chapter Text

Pantera looked around the by-now familiar playroom, taking in the pale blue walls with the moving mural of mythical creatures. It was one of those dreams again; he had them at least three times a year. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; he was wearing a pirate hat and there was a sword–his training sword–strapped to his hip.

“Captain Sharky! Enemy ship approaching from the west! What are your orders?”

He eyed the blonde teen who was perched on a pirate ship shaped bed. In her hands was a wickedly sharp trident. Braided in her long platinum blond hair-a few shades darker than his own-were colourful feathers of species he couldn’t identify for the life of him. A tie-dye scarf tied around her head kept her bangs out of her silver eyes that were so alike his. Actually they looked alike in general and sometimes he felt like he was looking in a mirror.

She was always there when he dreamt of the playroom; looking like a teen, but having the mind of a seven years old. It was weird, but he was starting to grow fond of the shitty blonde girl. 

“Who are you?” Well that was certainly a first; usually he couldn’t say what he wanted to say in these shitty dreams. As if he usually had a predetermined script that had been thrown out the window this time.

“I’m Lièvre, Silly~! I’m your right hand. Your twin! You have to remember me.”

“... the fuck?”

Just as he felt himself about to wake up, the pale blonde teen gave him a soft, loving smile tinged with longing. She seemed to be acting actually her age for once.

“See you soon, Lysander.” She hugged him and he was so shocked he didn’t try to pull away. “There will be a Storm in the Sky today, little brother, but it won’t harm you. Embrace it.”

Silver eyes blinked open as Pantera shoved off the hands doing their best to shake him awake. Sitting up on his elbows he blinked blearily at his shitty mother, who was standing at the foot of his bed, arms crossed, blood red hair pulled into a severe bun and lips pursed unattractively.

“Up, up, Up! You slept in! It’s already seven AM. I expect you to be ready for your first day of school by eight. You will not embarrass us; that means no swords, no cursing, no yelling, no insulting people. And do try to stick with the Cavallone boy; you know how important it is to your father that you become the boy’s guardian.”

Pantera grimaced in disgruntlement; he would personally rather die than become that shitty klutz’s Guardian; Dino was a friend but they had too little in common to form a bond. He needed passion, fury, ambition. Dino had none of that. 

He didn’t voice his reservations though. The price to pay for his defiance were the only thing keeping his mouth shut. He always did as he was told without speaking up, as much as he hated it; his family didn't like him talking that much and made it very clear that they did–violently clear. He settled for glaring holes in the back of his mother’s head as she threw the curtains open, nearly ripping them off in the process.

Drying his short hair with a towel, Pantera bit back a snarl when he walked out of the bathroom to find that his mother still hadn’t left. The click of her stiletto heels hitting his pristine–not by choice mind you–floor as she moved around his room like he was undeserving of any privacy grated his nerves. He twitched in pure agitation, standing in front of his mirror as he tried to slick his hair back–to look fucking presentable. Fuck this shit. His hair looked fucking fine the way it was, but obviously no one shared his opinion; his room was the only time he was allowed to let his hair free of the constraint of gel. And as much as he hated to admit it, his parents had leverage. He had lost count of how many times his father had threatened to seal his flames if he didn’t obey without question. 

Eventually his mother left the room, and he put on the suit laid out for him. Minutes later he entered the entrance hall, where his father was already waiting for him. 

Leopardo Diadone was a stocky, balding man with stark black hair and olive skin. He and Pantera looked nothing alike. The only times Pantera ever saw him was when he was called up to the man’s study where he was forced to listen to him rant endlessly about how much of an unwanted failure he was. 

Next to his shitty sperm-donor was his bastard of a brother, Felino. Red haired with his mother’s weak blue eyes, the shitty scum was the reason his father could get away with threatening to Seal him. Pantera was the youngest and therefore very much disposable. Even now, when Leopardo was pushing him to bond with Dino to advance his own personal agenda and gain more political power in the alliance—well, he had a Mist secondary, a Cloud Tertiary and a Storm Quarterly. He didn’t necessarily need those; not when he was “courting” Cavallone to be his Rain and nothing else.

Pantera had heard that Vongola Nono’s youngest was attending Mafia School, but had paid little mind to it, dismissing him as just another spoiled Mafia Heir.

But then he saw him, sprawled lazily across a throne-like armchair in the middle of the cafeteria with a scowl etched on his face that would murder thousands if only the red eyed teen was a Mist. 

Xanxus dominated the whole room with his mere presence, his demeanour alone exuding power and danger. His red gaze glinted with brilliant intelligence nearing genius levels as much as it burned with a bonfire of fury, passion and ambition.

Pantera knew at that moment that he would follow Xanxus Vongola to Paradise and back–which, considering he had been killing in cold blood on his Famiglia’s orders since he turned eight, and couldn’t find it in himself to feel that bad about it, was harder than one would think. 

He wanted Xanxus to be his Sky, and he himself the Wrath’s Rain, more than he had ever wanted anything. 

So he did the sensible thing and ditched a stuttering Dino instead of helping him up from the ground for the fucking nth time. 

Making a bee-line for Vongola, he gained the attention of the extremely interesting and powerful Sun fluttering around the Wrath, whose flamboyant attire–apple green and bubblegum pink mohawk, eye-searing orange boa, obvious piercings–broke every dress code regulation this shitty school had. 

His determination wilted for all of a second when faced with the Sun’s swirling yellow-gold-indigo orbs that were pinning him with an unnerving kind of intensity that made it even more obvious that the teen had a Mist secondary; how else would the shitty Misty Sun be able to make their eyes grow teeth?

Then he remembered the words the girl in his dreams had spoken.

Have fun with your Sky, little brother.

Taking a deep breath he closed the remaining space between them and drew on his Mist Flames, plopping himself into the Mist Construct of a chair of his own making.

The older teen that felt like a Lightning with a nasty burn scar stopped staring up at the red eyed teen with utter adoration and bristled. The shitty scum went to speak, but snapped his mouth shut when Xanxus put up a hand up in clear warning. Pantera royally ignored him, keeping his gaze locked with the Sky’s. The Lightning was respectably dangerous, yes, but Pantera was deadly even without his sword. The other guy was more of a mindless disciple than anything else, that much was clear, and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon.

“Trash.”

He smirked in challenge, feeling all his reservations go down the drain as he let his true, loud, swearing self come out to play.

“Shitty Wrath.”

“Hn.”

Vongola leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes without saying anything more. The Sun wiggled on their tiptoes in delight and threw themselves into an opulent candy pink loveseat that materialized between his chair and the Wrath’s, tossing their boa over their shoulders.

“What’s your name, sugar plum~?”

He raised a pale eyebrow at the form of address and decided to let it pass. 

“Pantera Diadone.”

“Paolini Scarletti.” They grinned, baring their teeth. “Call me Paon unless you want to be bedridden for a month, honey bunch.”

He scowled. “Voi! Don’t tell me what to do, shitty bird!”

“Housecat Trash. Shut the fuck up.”

“Voi! What did you just call me, shitty scum?!”

The asshole opened one lazy red eyed and eyed him with amusement.

“Can call you Kitty, Trash.”

“VOOOIIII!!!! Don’t you dare shitty asshole!!!” 

Chapter Text

Luna’s first journey to Hogwarts aboard the Hogwarts Express turned out to be everything she had hope it would be, and more. The only thing that could've made it better was if he was there, but she knew that wishing for his presence by her side as she was about to start attending Hogwarts, was an unattainable dream.

Luna made sure to arrive an hour before the train was scheduled to depart, so she could take her time saying goodbye to her father, but also so she could board the train before the platform became too packed.

Hazel and Hermione found her while she was saying her farewells to her father, hugging him tightly.

She was thankful that today turned out to be a good day for her father; there was a glint of lucidity in his blue eyes that she hadn't glimpsed in weeks. It would've been much harder to say goodbye otherwise. 

Her father smiled as he spotted her approaching friends, planting a kiss on the top of her head.

He pulled away, a proud smile on his face as he seemed to truly take her all in, clad in a Hogwarts uniform, wearing the stunning jewelry set Hazel had gifted her during the summer, paired with her favorite handmade dirigeable plum earrings.

"Look at you, my darling daughter, all grown up. Your mother would be so proud of you, my little moon." Her father murmured softly, sounding so impossibly proud and fond that she felt her throat tighten. He crouched to be at her level, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. "Never doubt that."

Luna swallowed tightly, tearing welling in her eyes, tackling him into another hug. He lost his balance and fell backwards. She felt his booming laugh as she snuggled into arms. She giggled when he resigned himself to his fate and didn't even bother trying to get back up, simply hugging her close, burying his face in her hair.

"I love you, papa."

She could feel his smile as he nuzzled her hair, pressing another kiss on top her head. "I love you too, my little moon. Always and forever."

Luna pulled away as Hazel and Hermione finally managed to reach them, her father helping get back on her feet. 

"Luna! I'm so glad we found you! The platform is already starting to get packed."

"Hello Hazel, Hermione. I missed you." She greeted he Cosmos with a warm smile. 

Hazel pulled her into a tight hug, her Flames wrapping around Luna in greeting. "I missed you too, little moon."

"Mister Lovegood, it's nice to finally meet you." Greeted Hermione politely, shaking her father's offered hand. "I've heard so much about you."

There was a nearly imperceptible edge to Hermione's tone that Luna wasn't sure how to interpret. Thankfully her father either didn't notice or decided to ignore it, giving her friend a friendly smile.

"Just as I heard so much about you, Miss Granger, and you too, Heiress Potter. I'm glad my daughter found great friends such as yourselves."

She could see Hazel opening her mouth to greet him as well, but before she could say anything, her father checked his pocket watch and gave the three of them a apologetic look. 

"I'm afraid I must be on my way. The dirigeable plums need to be watered, and my editor is expecting a completed draft of the next issue of the Quibbler by the end of the day." He smiled at her, ruffling her hair. "Farewell, my little moon. Enjoy yourself, make sure to have fun, and be good."

"I will." She giggled tearfully. "Farewell, papa. See you at Yule."

With one last smile her father apparated away. She stood there for a moment, staring at the empty spot where her father had stood moments before. She was broken out of her stupor when Hazel dragged her away to search for Neville. They found him after a few minutes of searching, rescuing him from his grandmother's fussing and insults, stealing him away so they could board the train while there were still some empty compartments left.

Neville breathed a sigh of relief as they boarded the train.

Thankfully they found one quite quickly, and by the time they had hauled their luggage into the overhead racks and made themselves comfortable, they were joined by the twins. Luna brightened when the door slid open to reveal their grinning faces. 

“Well hello there.” Fred grinned roguishly, ruffling Hazel’s hair despite her half-hearted protests. “Long time no see, kiddos.”

“Fred.” Greeted Hazel with a fond grin as Neville scooted closer to the window to give the twins more room to sit next to him. “Up to no good, I hope?”

“You bet.” Chuckled George, throwing himself onto the train banquette and pulling Neville into an affectionate side-hug. “Scared Ginny half to death telling her she would have to fight a troll during the sorting ceremony.”

“Poor girl.” Commented Hermione, not looking up from the book she had pulled out of her bag the moment they had all sat down in the compartment. “Hopefully you weren’t too hard on her. The last thing the teachers need are more hysterical first years to deal with.”

“She didn’t believe us.” Snickered Fred with a proud grin. “Sent us on our way with a bat-bogey hex.”

“Our little sister is a force to be reckoned with. She’s so fun to rile up.”

“George is right. Our little Ginny-boo comes up with the best insults.”

Hermione rolled her eyes with a fond grin. “I’m happy at least one of your siblings doesn’t let you two get away with your antics.” 

“I am wounded, my lady.” Exclaimed Fred, grasping at his chest. Luna giggled. She’d always those two. They were so entertaining. “To think that you would think so lowly of us.”

Neville pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fred, George, please. It’s too early for this level of dramatics. I already had to deal with the nightmare that is my grandmother today.”

Hazel sent the boy a sympathetic look and handed him a strange looking metallic bottle.

“Here. You look like you need it.”

Neville stared in confusion for a moment before grabbing the bottle and twisting the top open. 

The scent of freshly brewed coffee invaded the compartment and Neville stared at Hazel like she was the answer to all his prayers. Luna felt the urge to laugh at the look on his face.

“You are a goddess, Hazel. I swear.”

“I know.” Hazel replied smugly.

Neville rolled his eyes playfully and took a sip of the coffee Hazel had so generously given him. He closed his eyes in bliss, melting into the plush train banquette he was sitting on with a happy sigh.

“I can now die happy.” He declared solemnly, taking another sip greedily.

As the entire compartment erupted in laughter at his antics, Luna smiled.

The warmth of belonging and friendship spread her entire being, chasing away the constant chill of loneliness and grief.

Ever since meeting Hazel, she felt happy and complete in a way she hadn’t since her mother died. 

Staring at the happy faces of her friends, her family even, her smile grew, and her heart felt like it was about to explode with joy.

She was finally home.

.-.

“Looks like your father was right,” Hazel chuckled, pulling an unresisting Luna into a side-hug. “Welcome to Ravenclaw, Little Moon.”

Luna beamed, leaning into her touch.

Hera patted the little mist’s head.

“Yes. Welcome to Ravenclaw, Luna. You’ll fit right in.”

As Hermione drew Luna into a conversation about what to expect later that evening, once the feast was over and everyone retired to the dorms, Hazel looked around the great hall, bitting back a sigh. As happy as she was that Luna had joined her in Ravenclaw, she couldn’t wait for this blasted start of the school year feast to be over. It was turning out to be just as bad as last year’s, and they hadn’t even reached the part where Dumbledore would make them sing that horrid song.

Glancing at the teachers’ table, she saw that Uncle Sev was once again suffering just as much as she was. He was gripping his silverware so tightly that his knuckles were white as he make silted, polite talk with a knowing and clearly amused Professor McGonagall. The look on his face let her know that he wished to be anywhere but here.

.-.

As soon as the feast was over, she weaved her way out of the Great Hall, Hera and Luna by her side. 

They quickly made it to the Raven’s nest, using shortcuts and secret passages Fred and George had shown her last year. Once inside the tower, the trio headed towards the common room pinboard to check who were the first years that were assigned to Hazel and Hera, as well as which second year student they would room with.

Hazel quickly found her name, and was disappointed to find out that she hadn’t been paired with Luna. Her assigned first year duckling was a girl named Kaleido Trividere.

Studying the list over shoulder, Luna chirped that she knew Kaleido, and wandered off to find her without another word. Staring at her retreating back, Hazel smiled in amusement, joining Hera at the bottom of the stairs leading to the dorms.

Hera was smiling as she informed her that the first year she had been paired with was none other than Luna. After waiting for the two first years for a bit, they decided to go ahead and find their room do they could start unpacking their luggage already, trusting Luna to find their fourth dorm mate as well as their assigned dorm room.

.-.

Kaleido noticed the rapid approach of her cousin just in time to brace herself for Luna’s impromptu embrace.

“Lei, it’s been way too long since I’ve seen you. Don’t you dare disappear like that without warning again!”

Kaleido chuckled wetly, blinking back tears. “Don’t worry, baby cousin, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“You’re only older than me by a month!” Luna protested with a chuckle, before becoming more serious, pinning her with a stern look. “I’ll hold you to that.”

She pulled the shorter girl into her arms for another hug, resting her chin on top of Luna’s head of platinum blond hair. Her smile twisting the gruesome scar slashing her left eye, cloudy white. Oh how she had missed her little moon.

She hated the Ministry for forcing to stay away for so long. Luna must’ve been so lonely without her and Lys to play with, and her mother gone as well. She might like Uncle Xenophilius as a person who was part of her family, but that didn’t mean she thought the man was suited to be a father. He’d always been mentally unstable, she remembers her mother telling her when she’d asked her at seven years old why Uncle Xeno acted so strange sometimes. She knew that his wife’s death made things worse. He was utterly broken by her passing, like he had lost an integral part of himself that died when she did. It pushed him over the edge, constantly teetering on the edge of madness. Unable to accept reality when his wife had left it in such a gruesome way, the man ended up fully embracing the delusions that had plagued his mind for ages, only kept at bay by his wife's presence in his life. 

She remembered a conversation between her mother and father, before everything went to hell and they had to flee to France. Her father had just come back from visiting his brother-in-law and what he’d observed had worried immensely. Uncle Xeno had become a hardcore conspiration theorist, and he kept trying to push his paranoia induced ideas onto his daughter. As a mind healer who dabbled in muggle psychology, his mother had theorized that he suffered from a derealisation-depersonalization disorder that left him feeling paranoid, constantly disconnected from the real world and his own body. Indeed, Uncle Xeno was prone to dissociative episodes so severe that sometimes it felt like his soul was gone from his body, and all that was left behind was an empty shell.

Her mother had worried that Luna would develop abandonment issues if she grew up with that man as a father, despite Xeno always being physically there. It was something that happened, she had told her father solemnly, when a parent, while present physically, was not always there mentally. 

She knew that her father had been making moves to claim custody of Luna before the ministry raid that led to them losing nearly everything put a stop to it. Her mother had been entirely with thought of taking her in, already thinking of Luna as a daughter.

After the raid it unfortunately became safer for her cousin to stay with her father, even if he might not be the best parent.

They had tried to check on her, but Uncle Xeno rebuffed every attempt they made. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do much more than write to them, considering they in France and in no hurry to return to England.

She forced herself to break away from her somber reminiscing, just in time to catch Luna beaming at her as she pulled away. Her aura dancing around her in a way she’d describe as cheerful. She’d never seen her cousin’s aura, as the last time she’d seen her was before she activated her sight, but she thought the lilac, indigo and silver swirling around Luna made for one of the prettiest auras she’d seen.

Her little moon laced their fingers together and she couldn’t help but hold her cousin’s hand tighter, scared to lose her again if she let go. Kaleido didn’t bother resisting when Luna dragged her towards the stairs she assumed lead to the dorms.

“Come on Lei, we’re roommates. Let’s go find our dorm room!”

.-.

Hazel hummed as she unpacked her trunk, sending a smile Luna’s way as her little blonde friend did the same next to her.

Her assigned first year, Kaleido Trividere, turned out to be a tall willowy eleven year old with a large scar that slashed across her left eye. Said eye was a milky white; the injury that left her with such a scar had blinded her in one eye. Her other eye, thankfully intact, was an iridescent phantasmagoria of green, yellow, purple, indigo, blue and red. Her skin was a light olive tone and her hair the same platinum blonde as Luna's, but it was straight instead of having Luna's slight curls.

It was clear to Hazel that the girl was related to her Mist. Not only were their hair the exact same shade, they also had the same nose and chin.

She seemed like a good kid, from what she had observed so far. Driven, stubborn, smart and passionate about music. She made no effort to hide the fact that she held a massive grudge against the British Ministry of Magic, which she couldn't blame her for, consider the disdain she felt for that bunch of incompetent, corrupt, overreaching morons. 

When she was done unpacking her trunk, carefully putting her things away in her designated dresser, Hazel turned to the kids and gave them a grin she hoped was as welcoming and reassuring as she tried to make it.

“Welcome to Ravenclaw, kiddos. Hermione and I will be your mentors this year, but we'll be there for you as long as you need us, and even after that. I have no doubt you two are going to go far, little chicks.”

Chapter Text

Hazel glared at their new DADA teacher, the thought having to deal with the pompous idiot for an entire year already filling her with dread.

Nine in the morning on a Monday was the worst time to have this farce of a class. It was way too early to deal with so much brain rotting Stupidity, especially since Hermione had confiscated her stash of instant coffee, hands on her hips as she stated sternly that she would not let Hazel destroy her health by continuing to drink so much caffeine there was probably more coffee than blood running through her veins.

Professor Lockhart sauntered down the stairs leading to the DADA teacher's office, barely paying them any attention. Instead he was completely enamoured with one of the many portraits of himself hung on the walls. Hazel had to hold back a laugh. Truly, it was ridiculous that nobody saw him as the narcissistic, delusional moron he was.

After an atrocious introduction that somehow made most of the girls in the class giggle, Lockhart had handed them a test that turned out to be themed entirely around him and his accomplishments. The test sheets had been dyed purple and smelled of lavender. 

She took great pleasure in answering the stupid questions in the most brutal, mentally scarring way she could muster. Once she was done, she looked around the classroom, desperate for a distraction to help her pass the time. Her eyes fell on Blaise Zabini's test sheet. The boy was sitting at the desk adjacent to hers, across the aisle. He was drawing a rather realistic sketch of Lockhart getting attacked by the group of banshies he claimed to have single-handedly defeated with his good looks and award winning smile, in one of his books on his test sheet. The Slytherin noticed her stare and sent her an unapologetic smirk that dripped with chaotic mischief.

She snorted, shaking her head in amusement, before leaning back in her seat, waiting for this nightmare to be over.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the unnecessarily long period of time Lockhart had allotted them to complete the test was over, and their so-called teacher rose from his desk with a ridiculous amount of pompousness, collecting their test sheets with a swagger in his steps.

She did her best to keep a straight face when the moron paled drastically as he scanned her test. He looked completely disturbed and terrified.

Good.

She walked out of the classroom without learning a single thing that was useful or even Defence related, vowing to find a way to drop the class without affecting her grades. 

When she shared her plan with Hera, her friend was wholeheartedly on board. 

Hermione was eagerly taking notes, glad the History of Magic class was no longer a waste of her time. Over the summer, the school had finally hired a teacher to officially replace Professor Binns, who had finally moved on to the afterlife last year.

Professor Welwyn was a wizard in his thirties who taught history with such passion that he captivated every student's attention, even those who normally didn't give a fuck about History of Magic. It was an amazing change of pace from Professor Binns' droning speeches about various goblin rebellions and giant wars.

Professor Welwyn was currently teaching them about the first British wizard War, the one that was led by Grindelwald. It was fascinating to learn how it had affect the way the British conclaves were run, completely changing the political scene and climate of the Wizengamot. The war had strengthened the Light Faction's position and influence in the parlement. After winning his famous duel with Grindelwald that put and end the war, Dumbledore's standing and influence had grown to such an extent that he was easily one of the most powerful figures in the english magical conclave. 

Today Professor Welwyn was going over the international repercussions of the war. For one, the security mesures surrounding international international magical means of travel became incredibly strict after the war. International floo travel was banned all together, due to the government's inability to monitor floo network properly when the fireplaces connected to said network were situated on peoples' private property. The process of obtaining an international portkey turned into a legislative nightmare with strict regulations that were rigorously enforced by the IMTRC, the International Magical Travel Regulation Committee.

Grindelwald's actions as well as the British Ministry of Magic's utter failure to solve the issue before it got out of hands had a less than positive impact on the reputation of the British magical community, whose standing on an international scale and at the IWC was greatly diminished. It only got worse after Voldemort started another war only a few decades later, and once again the British Ministry of Magic failed to put stop him until a literal baby did the job for them. The way the Ministry handled the aftermath of both wars was not seen in a positive light either by the rest of the magical community. The Wizengamot let many of Voldemort's most devout followers off the hook because of their claims of being under the Imperious curse at the time. Outlandish claims they didn't even bother investigating. Instead those corrupt members of the Wizengamot and the Minister of Magic were more than happy to line their pockets with bribe money, letting criminals who had tortured, killed and raped so many wizards and muggles walk free with little to no consequences.

It was all very fascinating stuff, and Hermione appreciated the fact that Professor Welwyn did not hold back when it came to sharing his views on the British Magical Conclave. Thanks to him, she would not fall so easily for the propaganda the MoM was more than happy to distribute with the help of the Daily Prophet.

She was still so new to this world, and the teacher's perspective was helping her form her own opinion of the Ministry of Magic and this society that seemed too good to be true at the start, at least on the surface. Hazel had never bothered hiding her disdain for the British magical world, and she understood why, considering how badly they mishandled her parent's death and put Hazel, a child who was only one year old, on a pedestal, forcing her into the role of poster child for the Ministry's agenda, not to mention the shameless monetization of her name and her parents' murder. Still, this new perspective helped her understand why the MoM was disliked by so many people.

Once the class was over and the professor dismissed them, Hermione hummed happily as she packed her books and her notes, sharing an excited smile with her best friend. This class was going to be so fun.

Their first herbology class was uneventful, but considering it was his favorite subject, he enjoyed himself nonetheless. Professor Sprout taught the class the properties of the various types of magical soil that could be found around the world and received the assignment for a year-long group project involving the care of a common magical plant.

Neville wasted no time teaming up with Hazel and Hermione.

He frowned as he watched Hazel hurry out of the classroom in the middle of class like a woman on a mission.

His godsister’s Flames were agitated and protective, which did not bode well.

He sighed and prayed to every divinity he knew of that his Cosmos would stay out of danger.

Luna woke up Thursday morning of her first week at Hogwarts feeling great. 

At eight thirty, Hazel and Hermione led her and Lei down to the Great Hall, taking a series of nifty shortcuts she did her best to remember. Once they arrived, they joined George, Fred and Neville at the Hufflepuff table. 

Hazel answered the questions Lei had about the potions class the first year Ravenclaws were scheduled to attend in the afternoon. She did this while simultaneously feeding an unresisting Hermione bits of buttered toast, a fond smile never leaving her face. The other witch ate the offered food mechanically, her eyes never leaving the advanced charms tome she was reading.

Fred reminded her to make sure to remove the cauldron from the fire before adding the porcupine quills, ruffling her hair and wishing her luck.

The day started off perfectly well. So of course it wasted no time going to hell.

It started with an explosion. Somehow, one of the Ravenclaws managed to blow up their cauldron despite Professor Snape’s numerous warnings to take the cauldron off the flame before adding the porcupine quills.
Luna forgot how to breathe. 

She was drowning.

Drowning in thick, sticky blood, still fresh and dripping everywhere. 

She tried to take a deep, desperate breath, trying to calm down, willing herself to push down memories of blood and gore, explosions and death. She tried to breathe, to calm down, but it didn’t work. It never did. All she did was choke, blood and death filling her mouth and her nose and her lungs, because she was still drowning in blood and memories despite her best efforts. 

She was eight once more, staring at what was left of her mum who pushed too far trying to find him and paid the price with her life.
Blood everywhere, sticky and drying on her skin, metallic and heavy on her tongue, blurring her vision and was that a piece of brain in her hair?
Her own childish screams of horror ringing in her ears, in her head, she curled up, pressing her hands against her ears. Wanting it all to stop, to go away. It didn’t. 

Suddenly she was surrounded by the familiar smell of dragon leather, a heavy weight draped across her shoulders, grounding her. Hearing the sound of exaggerated breathing, she did her best to follow its rythym, her own evened out slowly.

She looked up from her knees, silver eyes locking with her Cosmos’ soft, concerned, green gaze.

“Better?” Murmured Hazel soothingly.

She nodded numbly, slowly coming back to awareness. 

Becoming aware of the weight of the other students’ stares, she felt her breathing quicken.

“Hey, hey, none of that. Focus on me, not on them. Can you do that for me, little moon?” Hazel murmured firmly, a possessive edge to her voice that somehow soothed some of her growing panic. She could feel the older witch’s Flames in the air, wrapped around her like a blanket.

A gentle hand clasped her chin, keeping their gaze locked.

“I’ll be taking Miss Lovegood to the infirmary, Professor.” Declared her Cosmos, tone brokering no argument. Not once breaking eye contact.

“Let me get you a permission slip.” Agreed Snape, walking back to his desk. She could hear the scratch of a quill against parchment, before Snape closed the distance between them and handed Hazel a piece of parchment.

The last thing she heard as they left the classroom was Snape ordering the class to get back to work.

Luna exhaled heavily, choking on a sob. 

Leaning into Hazel’s side, who pulled her into a side hug.

The dark haired witch only let go once they reached the infirmary, reaching down to hold her hand instead.

She sat on one of the beds and let Hazel do the talking, staring at the crisp white wall blankly. Luna jumped when a calming draught was pushed into her hand. She frowned. She had to stop zoning out, it couldn’t be good for her. 

She nodded as she was ordered to take the rest of the day off.

She must’ve dissociated again. 

Familiar smells surrounded her, and she was curled up on a plush couch, tucked against Hazel’s side.

Luna blinked drowsily, taking a moment to situate herself. She was in the HQ, safe. She was okay. 

She must’ve cried at some point, her cheeks felt crusty, caked with dried tears. She couldn’t remember. 

The Mist wrinkled her nose in discomfort at the sensation.

At least the screaming had stopped. She never wanted to hear it again.

Hazel’s jacket was still wrapped around her shoulders, grounding her. So did the hand carefully rubbing circles between her shoulder blades.

“Welcome back.” Murmured Hazel, running a careful hand through her hair. Luna leaned into the touch.

She glanced at her Cosmos, who was smiling down at her with serene warmth that instantly made her feel better, calmer, more settled. Hugging the dragon hide jacket closer to her body, breathing in the soothing smell of dragon leather and Hazel.

Her friend’s smile, so kind and fond and gentle that it brought tears to her eyes, grew. 

“Keep it.” The girl told her quietly, ruffling her hair. Luna leaned into the touch. “You wear it better than me.”

She giggled wetly, snuggling deeper into her new leather coat happily. “Thanks.”

“Hm. We could decorate it with pins and personalized patches, to make it truly yours, if you want?”

“That sounds fun.” Agreed Luna, her smile fragile but bright.

Hazel beamed at her and handed her the calming draught she had been given by Madame Pomfrey. 

“Here, two sips should be more than enough.”

Luna nodded gratefully and uncorked the vial, doing as instructed. The effects were nearly immediate. The last dredges of panic coursing through her veins ebbed away, making her sigh in relief.

All the remaining tension bled from her frame. 

She could distantly feel Hazel pick her and move her to a bed, tucking her in with all the gentleness of a big sister. The thought made her incredibly sad, filling her with bittersweet longing. Dreams truly weren’t the same. 

She succumbed to sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

The two of them were in the headquarters, Hazel curled up in an armchair with a book, while Luna sat in front of her aisle, working on a black and white painting of a small girl in one of the castle’s bathrooms, standing in front of one of the sinks, staring at herself in the mirror, which had a crack running across it. Her reflection stared back with crimson eyes. 

“I’m a twin.” Declared Luna suddenly. Hazel looked up from her advanced potions book, noticing that her friend had put down her paintbrush and was staring at her painting with eerie intensity. “I have a brother. His name was Lysander.”

Sensing that this was going to be a hard conversation, Hazel rose from her armchair and closed the distance between her and Luna with a few strides. Gently grasping her hand and guiding her to the nearest sofa, she pulled her against her side. 

Luna smiled, fiddling with her jacket, which she hadn’t taken off since Hazel had given it to her. “When we were five, our parents had brought us to a muggle playground, I can’t even remember why anymore. Lysander fell from the very tall tree I had dared him to climb. His Flames activated, saving his life. He was seen, probably by someone from the Mafia. Either way, he was kidnapped right under our noses by a swirl of purple mist. We looked for him for years. My mother lost herself in her research. She was so desperate to figure out a way to find him, but no matter what she tried, she couldn’t find him. One day, she went too far and threw caution into the wind.” She choked on a sob. “Her experiment was too unstable and it blew up, killing her instantly. I was there. Being in her laboratory was the only way I could spend time with her.” Luna hugged herself. “I can still remember the blood, her blood, on my skin. The sound of screams, my screams, echoing in my head as I stared at my mother’s remains.”

Her Mist resolve to stay strong crumbled, and she sobbed in Hazel’s shoulder.

She hugged Luna closer, wrapping her Sky Flames around the tiny blonde in an attempt to soothe her. She’d known Luna had gone through something as a child that had deeply affected her. 

Never would she have expected this to be the burden her little moon was carrying. She’d known Luna’s mother was gone, but she had no idea Luna was there when the woman died.

She had no idea Luna had lost a sibling either. 

She thought of Fred and George, who were so in sync they sometimes finished each other’s sentences, almost as if they could read each other’s minds. Who always seemed to know when the other needed help. Who shared such a complicity she was jealous at times.

Luna didn’t get to experience any of that. Someone took that chance away from her. She grew up alone, with no other company than the trauma of witnessing her mother’s gruesome death, and a mentally unstable father who was drowning in too much grief to take care of her properly. 

She was broken out of her racing thoughts when Luna let out a hiccuping breath. “We never found my brother.” Luna glanced up, her eyes filled with steely belief and hope. “But I know he’s alive. He visits me in my dreamscape sometimes.” Luna paused and gave her a smile filled with longing and fondness. It grew brighter as she started talking again. “The last few times he’s visited me in the dream world, I was able to talk to him. Only for a moment, not long enough to ask him where he is, but I spoke to him.” She hiccuped, voice filled with so much raw agony and yearning that it made Hazel want to cry. “He’s alive.” Her Mist whispered reverently, as if it was a mantra that kept her from giving up hope. “I know it. I’ve seen it. He has a Sky now, just like I do.” She said, glancing at the painting hung on the wall, the one she had hung in the common room of their headquarters a few days ago. The painting was of a teen with silver hair standing in the rain, staring at the red tornado brewing in the sky, which was a breathtaking orange because of the sunset. “I painted this a week before school started. I see things sometime, when I paint. Things that have yet to happen.”

“We’ll find him, Luna.” Hazel promised solemnly. “And when we do, nobody will take him away from you ever again.”

-.-

“Have you spoken to Fay yet?”

“Not yet, no.” Murmured Luna, turning to stare at  the Gryffindor table, where the Dunbar Heiress was chatting with a third year she didn’t recognize.

“She’s missed you, you know? Aunt Serafina has been asking after you as well.” Lei smiled softly as she mentioned their beloved aunt. “She’ll be delighted to see you once more, trust me.”

“I know… I just. I don’t know. I didn’t think my presence would be welcomed. Why hasn’t she tried to speak to me yet? She’s usually the first to reach out.”

“She just isn’t sure you want to see her.” Muttered Kaleido with a somber look. “She’s worried that you think she abandoned you.”

“Of course I don’t think that! I know my father stopped everyone from visiting me. It’s not your fault, either of you.”

“I know that, little cousin.” Kaleido gave her a fond smile, ruffling her hair. Luna pouted, running her fingers through her hair so fix it. Why did her cousin have to be so much taller than her? It wasn’t fair! “But she doesn’t. You know how Fay gets, despite her Gift. She’s a worrier.”

Luna giggled in agreement. 

“Go speak to her, Lunabelle. I know you want to. She always was your favorite cousin.”

“Oh come on, Lei!! You know full well that’s not true! I love you both equally.”

.-.

“Fay.” 

She turned at the sound of her name, grinning when her eyes fell on her little cousin. There was a light grey cloud of nervosity floating above her head, and light blue ribbons of apprehension swirling around the girl’s throat. Yellow bubbles of joy floated around Luna and electric sparkles of excitement surrounded her.

“Luna! How have you been, little moon?”

She pulled her darling cousin into a tight hug, the girl’s joy and relief brushing against her skin. She was barely fazed by the sensation, used to it after experiencing emotions like this for years.

“Happier than ever.” Luna admitted, ripples of dark purple gloom suddenly dancing on her skin. “I hadn’t realized living with my father was so… suffocating until I left. There are fewer nargles here, that’s for sure.” Luna joked, a dark grey cloud of mist surrounding her as she referenced the creature only her late mother could see. 

Fay frowned, hating how utterly powerless she felt when it came to Luna’s situation. Oh how she despised Uncle Xeno. He didn’t deserve such a wonderful, sweet daughter. One day he was going to ruin everything good about her little cousin, dragging her into his madness.

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy, little moon.”

Luna beamed at her, and she was almost blinded by how bright her bubbles of happiness were as they floated around her.

“Come! I must introduce you to Hazel, you’re going to love her!”

She chuckled as Luna dragged her by the hand towards the Ravenclaw table.

She couldn’t wait to meet the person who made her little moon so happy.

.-.

Ginny groaned in frustration when she ran out of parchment to take notes in class, again. Her parents’ financial situation meant that they weren’t able to provide her with enough parchment scrolls to last a year. She had to be very careful to not use too much and only brought a small amount of scrolls with her to every class, to make sure her supply would last as long as possible.

Reaching into her book bag she discovered she was truly out of parchment after rooting through her things. Just as she was about to give up on taking more notes for this class, her hand bumped against a book that did not feel like her school books. Pulling it out, she realized it was the beautiful leather bound journal she had found in her school supplies at the beginning of the year. She’d assumed back then it was Percy or one of the twins who put it there to cheer her up after a rather disheartening trip to Diagon Alley for her school shopping, that ended with her father getting into a fist fight with Lucius Malfoy. 

She started taking notes again. She frowned, utterly puzzled when the ink quickly disappeared into the paper, leaving it as unblemished as it was before she wrote in it.

Curious, she decided to test the strange phenomena further. She wrote the first sentence that came to her mind.

My name is Ginny.

Just like before, the ink was absorbed by the page. 

She held back a gasp when words started appearing in the middle of the page.

Hello Ginny. My name is Tom Riddle. 

Chapter Text

For as long as he could remember, Pantera never had a place to call home. A place to belong.

He always felt out of place with his family. The way they treated him always gave him the impression that he wasn’t one of them. That he wasn’t wanted, merely tolerated because of his Flames and skills in assassination. They were using him, he knew full well, but he had no one else to turn to. 

Until now.

The more time he spent by Xanxus’ side, getting to know him better, made him crave the Harmony of a bond even more. Made him crave a Home with every cell in his being. 

Xanxus was Fire and freedom and all of the things Pantera could ever wish from a Sky. His Sky. The kind of Sky who would gladly stand with his elements on the battlefield and fight by their side. He would never even think of cowering behind his guardians, not lifting a fucking finger to defend himself because it’s a guardian’s so-called duty to protect their Sky with their lives. 

“I want to become your Rain.” The words escaped his mouth before he could stop them. He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, even when Xanxus’ blood red eyes bore into him in a mixture of grudging interest and irritation. He had to do this. This was his chance to finally have a Home. A Sky.

It was clear to him that while the Sky appreciated his skill and maybe even personality, he had heard those exact words too many times to count and had grown tired of them a long time ago. He could understand the sentiment perfectly; his shitty father had tried to force so many Skies onto him he couldn’t remember all their names. 

“Why?”

“Why not?” He drawled with a casual shrug, trying to project a confidence he was not feeling. “You’re more worthwhile than any other shitty Sky I’ve met so far, combined. I want in.”

Xanxus scrutinized him with narrowed crimson eyes.

“How can I be sure you’ll be loyal to me, and me alone? That you won’t be like all the other Trash around here who only want to bond with me for status and money?”

“As long as you’ll have me, I won’t cut my hair.” He answered in a heartbeat, surprising even himself with his brazen promise, but not regretting it, aware that the Sky had noticed the scars marring his skin and the calluses covering his palms, a result of wielding a sword for so many years. He was certain that Xanxus understood full well how big of a sacrifice he was willing to make for this. Long hair would be a fucking safety hazard that would put him at great disadvantage when he fought. While he was already planning on coming up with a technique–possibly involving Flames–that would ensure his hair didn’t get him killed one day, it was still a big commitment. One he would never regret; he would wear this proof of his loyalty with pride.

“Hn. Aren’t you courting the horse trash right now?”

He snorted derisively, shooting a glance at the blonde teen right when Dino dropped his lunch after tripping on thin air. Fucking again.

“As if. There’s a reason I’m hanging out with you. My fucker of a father is forcing me on Dino, and I’m playing along.”

“Fuck them. I won’t fucking allow this shit to go on any fucking longer. You’ll be Mine and no one else’s, Cat Trash.”

“I’ll be Yours and no one else’s.”

Xanxus pinned him down with a piercing look, but didn’t say anything, instead lifting a hand as he let ridiculously pure Sky Flames pool in his palm in a show of casual control of his Flames that many took years, if not decades to perfect. 

Without prompting his Flames leapt towards the flickering fire curling around the older teen’s hand. 

Then he felt it, for the first time in his life. Not Harmony, no, but Compatibility. The echoes of what could become a life-long Flame bond with time.

He gave a rare smile.

.-.

Bonding with Xanxus was the best decision Pantera had ever made. He felt complete for the first time in his life. It was worth every last one of the angry phone calls he had to sit through and the incensed letters he received, demanding he break his bond with Xanxus, and threatening to seal his flames or even disown him. 

He ignored them.

Those scum did not own him anymore. He didn’t owe them anything. He was free.

.-.

Paon, his Sky’s other bonded element, the Sun of Xanxus’ Element Set, was great. They welcomed him into the element set with so much warmth and kindness that it was almost scary.

Fiercely protective, they’d taken great delight in burning the letters he received from his family.

Once they’d learned of his promise to their Sky, Paon had taken it in stride and readily recommended some hair products to keep his growing hair healthy.

.-.

“Reborn.”

“Hm?” Drawled the hitman absentmindedly without looking up from the gun he was cleaning.

“The Housecat trash is mine.”

“Oh? Good for you, Hothead-Xanxus. That makes two of them, doesn’t it? Congratulations.” He finally looked away from his gun, piercing black eyes staring at him expectantly. “What of it?”

“Trash’s shitty excuse of an adoptive fucker is being an even shittier Trash than he usually is, wanting to break our bond and seal Housecat’s secondary Flames because the Fucker wants my Rain to bond with the Trash Poney.”

Reborn frowned, his Sun Flames twisting unhappily. “Chaos. I’ll see what I can do. I have quite a few favors just waiting to be claimed.”

Xanxus felt his eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Just like that?”

“Chaos. You are my student, Xanxus. I protect what is mine.”

He scoffed. “No need to get all emotional on my account, Trash. I can fucking take care of myself.”

The midget gave him a wry smirk and tilted his fedora to shadow his eyes. “I know.”

And then the Trash jumped out the window of the third floor corridor they were currently walking down. That shitty shape shifting pet that stuck with the pint-sized hitman like glue transforming into a bright green parachute well before his tutor even got close to the ground.

-.-

“So.”

“Patience, Hothead-Xanxus. A good Boss must be capable of waiting.”

Pantera rolled his eyes from where he was sitting on the couch, sharpening his sword. “Whatever, voi! Do you have it?”

The mini-Hitman hopped off his Sky’s shoulder and handed him a thin file.

Opening it Pantera scanned the relatively small stack of paperwork it contained, eyes widening. These were filled-in emancipation papers. All that was needed was his signature and he would be free of his so-called family’s machinations. 

“How–” He eventually managed to choke out. 

“I have my ways.” The hitman waved off dismissively.

“Voi–fuck this is–thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“So do you want to change your name, brat?”

“What?”

“The paperwork is in there, ready to be sent out if you want to.”

“Voi! Why not? I hate my name anyways.” 

It reminded him of his family in the worst way.

His Sky lazily opened a blood red eye to stare at him intently. 

“Squalo Superbi.”

“What?”

“Squalo Superbi, Shark Trash. That’s your name now.”

He stared at his Sky and eventually nodded slowly. It could be worse. And his Flames are purring at the idea of using a name his Sky chose for him. A name that would be as much his as it would be Xanxus’.

“Voi… I like it!”

.-.

He relaxed as Paon braided his now shoulder length hair away from his face for his upcoming swordsmanship lesson, sharpening and polishing the blade of his beloved sword.

Paon was the only one, outside of Xanxus of course, who he trusted with his hair. There had been an incident a while ago that almost landed him a suspension were it not for Xanxus stepping in. Someone had tried to cut his hair, claiming that if he insisted on keeping it so long he must be a man-loving freak. He’d nearly killed the guy for daring to touch his hair and trying to cut it. He didn’t take the promise he made to his Sky lightly and he would not let anyone cut his hair.

Paon had cheered him on and healed his bruises after he got released from the Principal’s office with nothing more than a warning, thanks to Xanxus.

He smiled, letting himself enjoy this peaceful morning  spent in the company of his Sky and fellow Guardian. 

Paon was humming lightly, their Flames drifting around the room happily, showing how content the fashionista was.

Xanxus was grumbling over the homework Reborn had dropped on his desk earlier, but Squalo could feel in his Sky’s Flames that Xanxus was enjoying himself.

It must be math homework, then. He had quickly learned that it was Xanxus’ favorite subject.

Finished with his blade, Squalo put it on the ground in front of him and allowed his thoughts to drift aimlessly.

He had dreamed of the girl again the night before. She had crown of orange flowers braided into her hair this time. Her smile was more genuine too.

She had congratulated him for finally bonding with his Sky.

He still didn’t know who she was.

-.-

Letting his Flames die down, Xanxus laughed breathlessly as laid on the training mat, glancing at Squalo who was sprawled on the floor next to him. The Rain shot him a feral grin, heaving for breath as well.

Sparring with the Rain was exhilarating. He was just as worthy of an opponent as Paon had proven themselves to be the first time they met.   

Squalo, his Rain, his second bonded element, was a breathtaking sight to behold in a fight. He wielded a sword with such speed that Xanxus had trouble keeping track of it. He fought with a ferocity that matched his own, giving his all in every sparring session they had. He used all of his Flames like he was born for it, in ways he’d never even heard of before.

He was everything Xanxus could ever hope for in a Rain. He was the kind of Rain that flooded and killed and hurt your skin with its strength, that trapped people in mud and kept people up at night with the noise it made against their windows and roofs.  

The kind of Rain that washed away the blood after a battle, that soothed the wounds of his allies.

His Rain was Quality. 

Xanxus wanted him by his side when he was finally ready to make his move on the Varia.

“Shark Trash. I’m planning on taking over the Varia in two years. Think you’re up for it?”

“Voi! You know damn well I’m in!” Squalo’s gaze was a steely and determined as he grinned like a maniac and hopped to his feet with renewed energy, waving his sword around. “Now, fight me again, Boss!”

Chapter Text

“Miss Potter, stay after class.” Demanded Uncle Sev, sending her a look of reassurance to let her know she wasn’t in trouble. 

She stopped packing her things and sat back down. “Yes, Professor.”

He nodded sharply.

She said goodbye to Hera and Neville, telling them she would join them in the headquarters after her talk with Uncle Severus was over.

Once the last student left the classroom she got up and headed to the desk.

“What’s up, Uncle Sev? Is something wrong? Did Dumbledore do something?”

“No, thankfully, the old crook is too busy planning tonight’s Halloween to meddle.” Snorted Severus, guiding her to his office and preparing a cup of tea for her as she settled in her favorite armchair next to the fireplace. “I remember you telling me last year how much you disliked having to go to the Halloween feast. How you would have rather spent that evening mourning your parents, instead of celebrating a holiday you never enjoyed in the first place.”

“Yes, I remember. We did retire from the feast early, planning to celebrate Samhain our own way, but well–”

“We all know how that ended.” He completed for her with a smirk of wry amusement. “Well, nevertheless, I normally skip the feast and spend the evening mourning your mother, my best friend, with a small ritual in honor of her memory. Would you want to join me?”

She brightened, loving the idea of spending the evening with her godfather, celebrating those she lost.

“I’d love to. We wanted to do a Samhain ritual, since we weren’t able to last year, but according to Percy, we won’t be able to leave the feast early this year because of what happened with the troll last year. So we had to scrap that idea.”

“I’ll try to work something out for next year, so you and your friends are exempted from attending the feast.” Uncle Sev promised with a fond smile. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “I’m glad you’ll be joining me this evening.”

“Will Dumbledore let me skip the feast? I can’t see him being happy to miss out on such an occasion to show off his precious poster child. Especially during such an important event for the Girl-Who-Lived.”

“Let me deal with Dumbledore. He better agree to this, or his name will be dragged through the mud by the Daily Prophet. Can you imagine the headlines? ‘The Headmaster of Hogwarts forced the Girl-Who-Lived to celebrate on the anniversary of her parents’ death’ or worse ‘Girl-Who-Lived denied the right to mourn her parents’ death’.”

“The sheeple would go feral over such a scandal.” She drawled dramatically, glee dripping from her words.

Uncle Sev gave her a sharp smirk. “Exactly.”

.-.

Hazel did her best to travel the halls of the castle as silently as she could, using her invisibility cloak to remain unseen.

After spending an emotional and cathartic evening with Uncle Sev, she had decided to crash at the Cosmos headquarters, too tired to go to the Ravenclaw tower at such a late hour. The door of the Raven’s Nest only opened if you answered its riddles and she did not have the brain power for that tonight.

As she neared the headquarters, pulling her invisibility cloak closer, Hazel could’ve sworn she heard a voice coming from the walls. It sounded familiar somehow, but she was way too tired to try and figure out how and why.

Stumbling into bed as soon as she reached her destination, she sighed happily, snuggling into the blanket. While her soul was still raw with grief, she felt so at peace here, in this area of the castle she and her friends had made theirs, surrounded by the Flame residue of her Elements. 

She didn’t notice Luna’s new painting, hung above her bed; a large snake eye staring down at her.

.-.

“Good morning.” She mumbled as she sat next to Hermione. She absently noted that they had chosen to sit at the Gryffindor table today.

“Hello Hazel, did you sleep well?” Chirped Luna, looking up from her copy of The Quibbler.

“I did.” She smiled at her Mist, ruffling her hair. “Spending the evening mourning my parents with Uncle Sev made the grief much easier to bear.”

“I’m glad.” Spoke Fred with a grin, piling food on her plate. She felt a burst of affection for her Stormy Mist, her big brother in all but blood. Despite his reputation as a prankster and troublemaker, Fred was a real mother hen. He always made sure she and Hermione ate enough, especially when she and her lightning got lost in their research. She did the same with him and his brother whenever they were in a mad inventor mood and disappeared into their labs for an entire weekend. “I was praying you’d made it to our headquarters safely last night.”

She frowned. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”

“Fitch's cat was found hanging from the tail from a torch holder, petrified.” Neville explained gravely. “A message was written in blood on the wall next to it. It said–”

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened.” Completed Hermione, before sending a sheepish grin to Neville when she realized she had interrupted him. He rolled his eyes fondly, waving it off with an amused smile.

“Slytherin’s secret room.” Breathed Hazel, mind racing. “Someone found it?”

“According to the message.” Shrugged George, pulling her into a side hug. She leaned into it without resistance, giving him a proper hug, wrapping her Flames around him, hoping to soothe him a bit. He immediately melted into her hold, the tension and nervous energy bleeding from his body. She smiled internally, her Flames humming happily. George always tended to be touchy with the members of the Cosmos when he was troubled. “But who knows, it’s probably a prank. It was Halloween last night, after all.”

“You do have a point.” Hera hummed in agreement, though she didn’t seem entirely convinced, wearing a worried frown and picking at her food like she tended to do when there was something on her mind. Her Lightning always lost her appetite when she was worried. Last night’s events must’ve been really unnerving, if she was this troubled. It probably reminded her of the troll who attacked her last year during Halloween.

She nudged Hera’s shoulder, sending a pulse of Flames her way, hoping to soothe her. Hera sent her a grateful smile, relaxing slightly and managing to start eating in earnest.

Hazel hummed in approval. Everything would be fine. It was probably a prank. If it wasn’t, if there was yet another danger in these halls, well… she was willing to go to great lengths to make sure nothing would even come close to hurting her friends.

.-.

Hazel grinned as she finished reading the letter Cassie had sent her.

“Good news, Haze?”

“Sirius has been cleared by the hospital. He’s done a full recovery. I’ll be seeing him at Christmas.”

“That’s great!!” Cheered Fred, nudging his brother’s shoulder with enthusiasm. “I always wanted to meet one of the Marauders!”

“You’ll get to meet him soon, I’m sure.”

George beamed at her. “I can’t wait.”

.-.

She was walking towards the transfiguration classroom with Neville and Hermione when they stumbled upon a petrified Colin Creevey in the middle of the hallway, his precious camera broken on the floor next to him.

Hazel could recall meeting the first year only once. He had ambushed her during her second week at Hogwarts, brandishing a camera in her face and begging her for an autograph.

She had refused with a kind smile that she had hoped would soothe any ruffled feathers, telling him she felt uncomfortable with the idea of being famous because her parents died. 

He had looked mortified, as if realizing for the first time that her fame had come with a heavy price.

He had apologized profusely, speed walking away with burning red cheeks and ears. The firstie hadn’t approached her since that day, but did not seem to hold any resentment against her. He was simply too embarrassed to dare speak to her. He seemed like a good kid, though.

Padma Patil, who was also heading to the transfiguration classroom, chatting with Lily Moon and Suzan Brown, screamed when she noticed Colin, alerting Professor McGonagall, who came running out of her classroom, her wand in her hand. She was wearing one of the fiercest expressions Hazel had ever seen. Her respect for the Transfiguration Professor rose to new heights.

“Oh my!” Shouted the severe woman as soon as her eyes fell upon the paralyzed firstie. “Everyone, go back to your dorms, now! Stay there until one of the teachers comes to get you!”

As they all hurried to follow her instructions, Hazel saw a cat made of warm, glowing silvery light race down the hall.

One thing was for sure.

This whole petrification business was definitely not a prank.

.-.

“I’m worried about Ginny.” Admitted Fred, running a restless hand through his hair. “She’s been off since the start of the school year.” 

“How so?”

“She’s been withdrawn. Skittish. Hasn’t spoken to us a single time since the first week of school.” Explained George, looking just as worried as his brother. 

“She always looks tired, sickly even.” Added Fred. “She’s worryingly thin and pale, and she has eye bags that can’t be healthy for a kid her age.”

“She barely eats.” Percy informs them solemnly as he walks by the Ravenclaw table, having apparently heard their conversation. “I always see her picking at her food when I check on her during meals.”

“Has anything happened to her? Is she being bullied?”

“Maybe?” Percy frowned, staring into space thoughtfully. “But I would be surprised if that was the case. Before her behavior changed, she was well on her way of making friends with the other Gryffindor girls in her year.”

“Maybe she’s just worried about the person running around the school and petrifying people.” 

Fred shook his head at Hermione’s suggestion. “She started acting strange way before that, so that can’t be it.”

“There is one thing I noticed about her. She has a book she insists on carrying everywhere she goes. She absolutely refuses to be parted with it.”

“A book?” Repeated Hermione with a frown. “What kind of book?”

Percy frowned, clearly trying to remember as much as possible. “Some kind of diary, I think? The cover is made of fancy black leather and there’s a name on its spine–Tom Riddle, I think?” 

“Hm. The name doesn’t ring a bell, I’m afraid. I’ll look into it, might ask Aunt Cassie if she knows anything about Tom Riddle. In the meantime, I’ll keep an eye out for your sister.” Promised Hazel. “Luna, think you can check on her? I remember Fred saying that you two used to play together as children.”

“Of course! I’ve always liked Ginny. I’ll also ask Fay to look out for her, make sure she isn’t being bullied or something.”

“Thanks Luna.” George ruffled the Mist’s hair with a grateful grin.

.-.

“Oh absolutely not.” Declared Hazel as soon as she saw who would be in charge of the duelling club.

“Oh come on, it will be hilarious!” Snickered Kaleido.

Hermione bit back a smile, watching the interaction with endless amusement.

“Don’t pretend you’re not at least a bit curious about how much of a disaster this will turn out to be!”

“No way. I don’t want to spend a minute more than strictly necessary in the presence of this disgrâce of a teacher.”

“Understandable.” She nodded in agreement. “Want to go to the library instead, Haze?”

“You read my mind, my dear Hera.” Drawled her best friend, dragging her towards the library.

.-.

“You won’t believe what you missed, Haze!” Cackled Neville as he strode into their headquarters and collapsed into the nearest armchair.

“Do tell.” His god sister chuckled with a fond smile, brushing her Flames against his gently in greeting. By this point she did it instinctively with everyone who was part of the Cosmos. It was quite endearing. 

“Severus was Lockhart’s assistant for the dueling club and he turned the fool into a laughing stock within minutes, blasting him into a wall with an overpowered expelliarmus.”

Hazel snickered. “I’m happy for Uncle Sev, I think he really needed to blow off some steam. Dumbledore has been even more annoying than usual recently.”

“Oh? Is that meddling coot planning something?

“When isn’t he?” She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with a grimace. “Whatever it is, Severus is still trying to figure it out. He’s been complaining about headaches for weeks.”

.-.

“I heard you had your fun with the peacock.” Drawled Hazel as she strode into Severus’ office with a tin of Laurel’s cookies Sukai had delivered this morning.

Severus smirked in vicious satisfaction. “I couldn’t help myself. He made it too easy.”

“I don’t blame you. That man is insufferable. I wish Dumbledore would fire him already.” 

“You know he won’t. The DADA subject has an infamous reputation of crippling or killing its teachers every year. It’s been going on for years, so the options for teachers have been dwindling steadily.” 

“That’s a real thing?” Said Hazel. “I thought it was just a rumour.”

“It stops being a rumor when every teacher who has applied for the position for the past four decades hasn’t lasted a year without having to quit or dying.”

“Huh. Interesting.” Hazel hummed thoughtfully, mind racing as she contemplated what curse it could be, and how it worked. “Anyways, in other news, I dropped by Hagrid’s hut this morning for Francisco’s monthly checkup and he told me that he woke up this morning to find all of his roosters dead in their coop.”

“Was it a beast from the Forbidden Forest who attacked the coop?”

“Unlikely.” Hazel shook her head, mind going back to this morning’s exchange with Hagrid. “According to him, the person who killed his roosters used a knife to do so.”

“How strange… Why would anyone want to kill a bunch of birds? They were annoying as hell, sure, but not at that point.”

“Who knows, maybe the person behind the attacks?”

“Might be. Personally I–”

Hazel paused mid-sentence when she once again heard a voice coming from the walls of the castle.

“Hazel?” Severus called out, voice heavy with concern. “Is something wrong?”

She frowned, still keeping an ear out in case the voice spoke again. “I’m not sure, I feel like I’m going crazy. I keep hearing voices coming from the walls.”

Before Severus could respond, a cat patronus, the same one Hazel remembered seeing the day Colin was petrified, flew into the room. Hazel jumped when Professor McGonagall’s sharp voice suddenly filled the office.

“Severus. Come now. Near the library. We found two more victims. Justin Finch-Fetchley from Hufflepuff, and Near Headless Nick.”

They shared a look. Well, that was new. Whoever was behind this could petrify ghosts? That was a terrifying thought.

Who, or what in Morgana’s name were they dealing with?

“Hold that thought.” He ordered sharply as he rose from behind his desk and strode towards the door, sending her a stern look when she moved to join him. “Stay here, brat. I’ll come get you once the situation is under control.”

Chapter Text

The Christmas holidays were upon them before they knew it, especially since in the aftermath of the most recent attack, the students were sent home for the holidays a week early.

Cassie invited her and Laurel to spend two weeks at her cottage, and they readily accepted.

Hermione was uncomfortable with the idea of going back to her parent’s house with the threat of the Mafia being after them hanging over their heads, so Hazel invited her to stay at Cassie’s, with the latter’s permission of course, for the entire winter break.

She ended up inviting Neville as well, as she outright refused to let him spend the holidays with his abusive grandmother.

Luna was invited to stay at her house too after Fay and Kaleido took Hazel aside and told her about Luna’s father and his inability to be a good parent. The way she accepted the invitation in a heartbeat, looking impossibly relieved, made Hazel vow to look into this further. She would not allow any friend of hers to be neglected or mistreated.

Tonks showed up as well, only to be tackled in an enthusiastic group hug by the three second years. Six months without seeing each other was a long time, after all. They hadn’t realized how much they missed her until they finally saw her again. She had so many stories to tell about her time in the Auror Academy, including her misadventures with another rookie who according to her was the most infuriating person in existence. 

Skull came over as well, which soothed a part of her soul that had been aching from his absence. She couldn’t help but hold him close for a few minutes, allowing their Flames to mingle and basking in his presence. He didn’t seem to mind at all.

Unfortunately, Reborn was once again not able to attend, but he did drop off a present for her at Laurel’s sometime before the winter break, which turned out to be a turntable and a couple of jazz vinyls.

She also saw Sirius for the first time since he had left the hospital.

He looked so much better than before. He was no longer the haunted, emaciated skeleton she had spoken with a year ago. He had filled out, his hair had gained a healthy shine, and his skin was no longer tinged with a sickly grey.

There was a light in his eyes that had been missing last time. He laughed and smiled as if it was as natural as breathing, wasting no opportunity to ruffle her hair despite her protests. They shared a hug that went on for minutes, clinging to each other, unwilling to let go. His face was buried in her hair and she could  feel some tears drop on the top of her head. She didn’t comment on it. Not when she was hiding her tears in his shirt.

He lived with Cassie at the moment, until he got back on his feet and found himself somewhere to live.

Hazel was grateful to have her godfather back. She’d been worried the person Sirius had been before, had died during the decade he spent in prison at the tender mercy of the dementors.

He and Laurel immediately took a liking to each other, and she could’ve sworn some of their conversations crossed into the territory of flirting.

She was happy for both of them, really. They deserved to have someone they loved.

Fred and George stayed at Hogwarts since their parents were visiting their oldest brother in Egypt. Hazel was worried something would happen to them over the winter break, since the rest of the Cosmos wouldn’t be there, but the twins laughed it off and promised they would be careful.

Thankfully nothing happened to them. 

The night before the end of Christmas break, Hazel made sure to ask Cassie if she knew anything about Tom Riddle. Her aunt had paled as soon as the name was uttered.

That night, Hazel finally learned Voldemort’s real name.

Tom Riddle.

That information changed everything.

.-.

Being back at Hogwarts after spending two weeks in one of the safest places on Earth was distressing. There might not have been another attack over the holidays, but it was obvious that everyone was waiting for the other shoe to drop. A few students hadn’t come back to the school after the holidays. 

Hogwarts was no longer safe, and everyone knew it. 

Hazel only had one mission in mind.

She was going to destroy Tom Riddle.

How dare he mess with her friends’ little sister?

.-.

Ginny glared at the journal she had found amongst her school books at the beginning of the year.

The book was doing something to her, she was sure of it.

She had no idea what, but she didn’t like it.

She kept blacking out.

She kept waking up in random places with no recollection of how she’d gotten there, or why. 

It terrified her, how little control she had over her own mind and body.

What if she’d been hurting people? Committing crimes without being aware of it? What if she was the one responsible for those attacks that left their victims paralyzed?

At first, she thought the diary was a good thing.

She was lonely, she missed home and she was having a hard time making friends. Fred and George’s friends had offered her friendship, which was really nice of them, but she didn’t want to be befriended out of pity. 

The diary helped her deal with the loneliness.

She started pouring her heart out to the diary, writing in it every night.

Drinking in every reply she received from what she assumed was the enchanted journal.

It was probably the twins who gave it to her so she would have an easier time adjusting to Hogwarts, she’d thought back then.

She quickly started to realize that something was very wrong with that book.

It became harder and harder to think about anything but the journal. She found herself always wanting to write in it, almost as if she was becoming addicted to it.

She started having dizzy spells, headaches and even nose bleeds. She constantly felt drained. She started losing her appetite and woke up every morning feeling more exhausted than when she had gone to bed the night before. 

Something was seriously wrong.

Hazel Potter had tried to help her, tried to talk to her, but she had pushed the older girl away. Despite the memories of Potter comforting Luna during their first potion class. The girl-who-lived shouldn’t be tainted by Ginny’s problems. Even though something in her longed for Hazel to protect her and care for her the same way she did for Luna. 

Luna had tried to reach out as well, but she rebuffed her childhood friend as well, even if she wanted nothing more than to tell her everything.

Whatever was wrong with her, she didn’t want it to affect Luna as well. The girl didn’t deserve it.

Her brothers had tried to ask her what was wrong but she did her best to act like everything was fine even though she was screaming inside. They should be enjoying their time at Hogwarts instead of worrying about her.

Ginny glared at the diary even harder.

obey

She had to get rid of it before it was too late.

keep it

stop

nothing is wrong

With a sigh she picked up the book and exited the Gryffindor tower, heading towards the closest bathroom. 

turn back walk away

obey

She would flush it down the drain just to make sure nobody could find it.

don’t you dare

go back

keep it   safe

Ginny winced as a pounding headache started to form in her head.

obey

let me take over brat

She swayed on her feet, nausea and dizziness hitting her like a train. 

Darkness started creeping in. She fought against it, red dancing at the edge of her vision.

A drop of blood dripping from her nostril.

let me in

She couldn’t pass out now.

let go

let me take over

stop fighting it

She couldn’t let this cursed diary take over her mind and stop her from getting rid of it.

you can’t keep me out forever

“So you are the reason why the twins have been so worried about their little sister lately.” Drawled a voice she would recognize everywhere.

She turned around slowly, wondering who the girl-who-lived was talking to. Her confusion grew when she registered the fact that the older teen’s mesmerizing green eyes were staring at a spot a few feet above her head.

“Err… I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Of course you don’t, sweetheart. But the diary you’re holding certainly does.”

LET ME IN

Before Ginny could respond, she lost her fight against the darkness. 

.-.

“The girl-who-lived. I’ve heard so much about you. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

Hazel raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the teenage version of the–fake–dark lord. Did the dunderhead truly expect her to be scared of a barely-there ghost who only had the strength to possess a little girl? 

Even the parasite Voldy was more impressive than this.

“Hello Tom Riddle. Or should I say Voldemort? You are truly pathetic.” She sneered coldly. “Possessing a little girl? Please, even your other self had more class than this.”

“So you know who I am.” 

“Of course. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“Either way, you’re too late, girl. Ginny is mine, and you’ll have to kill if you want to get rid of me.” Drawled the teenage echo of Voldemort with a triumphant smirk that looked plain wrong on Ginny’s face.

“It’s adorable that you think that you’ve won. I got rid of you once already, Riddle, I’ll gladly do it again.”

Chapter Text

It was (dark-dark-dark).

So very dark.

Pitch black even. 

She was (weightless-unbound-floating) aimlessly in an (endless-limitless-boundless) void.

There was (no light-no sound-nothing) around her; nothing for her to (see-touch-smell-hear).

Suddenly there was (light-sound-something).

Curling her toes into the soft dirt beneath her feet.

Feeling the tickle of luscious blades of grass brushing her ankles; of a butterfly fluttering onto the tip of her nose; of her hair dancing in the soft breeze, brushing against the bare skin of her arms, neck and face. 

Breathing in the fresh summer air; so full of life and sweet with the perfumes of flowers and ripe fruit.

Hearing the buzz of a nearby bee; the high pitched chirp of a hatchling welcoming its parents home; the concert of croaks nearby frogs; the faint yet repetitive toc of a woodpecker hunting for its next meal; the shuffling of a garden gnome as it dragged the vegetable it had stolen towards its burrow.

(Ginny) opened her eyes.

Her eyes snapped open.

Glancing around, she smiled serenely as she found herself in the orchard behind the Burrow. 

Turning around she noticed she was standing right in front of a young tree (sagging-faded-sick) barely grown enough to bear fruit.

It was laden by a single apple giving off an energy that made her hackles rise.

The apple was (wrong-corrupted-evil).

It was bright green, a color that would’ve been cheerful and pretty if the fruit wasn’t (rotten-dead-decayed). 

Holding out a hand she made contact with the thing.

.

Pain

death

kedavra

gore

please 

pain

death

aveda

mercy

freak 

torture

crucio

death

broken

fear

monster

pain

insanity -

Recoiling, she scrambled backwards clumsily, clutching her head and stomach as a bout of nausea hit her.

She glared at the (intruder-parasite-leech) with (disgust-revulsion-loathing).

Okay so maybe touching the thing that gave off evil vibes wasn’t the best idea after all.

She should know better after the diary.

(Diary? What diary?)

But still–

(Ginny) wanted it gone. 

She would make sure it was out of her head if it was the last thing she did!

(Ginny) paused to stare when her hands and forehead lit up with red flames.

Gazing at the pretty fire that was curling around her limbs like the cat that occasionally spent the winter in Dad’s workshop.

She smirked.

She wanted the (thing) gone and if she couldn’t 

touch it—she would burn it instead.

Chapter Text

She woke up to airy humming, hushed conversation, a wet and cool sensation against her forehead and aching limbs.

She groaned as she slowly regained awareness.

Merlin, she felt awful. Her entire body was sore as if she had been playing quidditch for a week straight without rest, and then gotten trampled by a herd of hippogriffs. She had a skull splitting headache that felt just like that time she tried to apparate when she was eight as a dare from Fred and ended up with a week long concussion. 

Keeping her eyes closed, did her best to breathe deeply, hoping it would make the pounding ache in her head recede even just a little bit.

The smell of fireplace smoke, coffee, paint and plants tickled her nose. It was strangely soothing as she allowed it to wash over her, relaxing into the plush cushions beneath her.

That’s when she realized how silent it was in her head. No more voice yelling at her to obey, to forget, to do as it said.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, little sister.”

She recognized that voice. What was Fred doing here? Last she could remember she was–

Where, actually?

She couldn’t recall anything, no matter how hard she tried. She bit the inside of her cheek in frustration as she tried to remember, to no avail.

“You had us worried, Ginny-bear.”

George was here as well?

Wait, where was here, actually?

She opened her eyes, wincing when the light of the room’s roaring fireplace assaulted her eyes. Her blurry sight slowly became clearer and she was finally able to take in the room she was in.

She had never seen this room before. It was like one of the House common rooms but there was no distinct color scheme indicating what House it could belong to. The walls were a cheerful purple and the ceiling was enchanted to look like the sky. There were plants everywhere, which could be associated with Hufflepuff, but the walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling which was more in alignment with Ravenclaw’s known thirst for knowledge, while the cosy couches and armchairs surrounding the roaring fireplace reminded her of the Gryffindor common room. 

There were quite a few people in the room. Her brothers were there, of course, but the presence of Hazel Potter was certainly a shock. She could recognize Luna, Kaleido Trividere, Fay Dunbar and Neville.

Even stranger was the presence of Professor Snape.

Was she in trouble? Was he here to yell at her? 

She hoped not.

The man was terrifying.

“What happened?” She rasped.

“You were possessed by Voldemort. Don’t worry, he’s gone now, and he’ll never be able to hurt again. You and I made sure of it.” Explained Hazel Potter.

She stared at the girl uncomprehendingly.

… What?

Hermione sighed in fond exasperation.

“Honestly, Haze. You could’ve gone about it better! The poor girl just woke up!”

“Well what was I supposed to say?!” Retorded Hazel half-heartedly, rolling her eyes. The girl gave her a smile that made her feel safer than she had in months. “Sorry, Ginny. That might’ve been too much at once. I know I’m not the most tactful person when it comes to bedside manners.”

Ginny couldn’t help but giggle. “It’s alright. Really. Just–It’s a lot to take in. And I just woke up”

“I understand.” Hazel patted her arm soothingly, brushing Ginny’s hair away from her sweaty forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

She smiled, leaning into the touch, into the warmth that was wrapped around her soul like the world’s best hug. She never wanted it to go away. “Thanks.” She murmured as she started dozing off. Someone started humming again in the distance. They had a beautiful voice.

“Sleep well, Ginny.”

.-.

The next time she woke up, Ginny was more aware.

Her headache had gone away and she didn’t feel like she had gotten into a wrestling match with a troll anymore, much to her relief.

Actually, she felt more rested than she had in months. Once again, her thoughts circled back to the fact that her mind hadn’t been this quiet since the start of the school year.

Was she finally free of the diary’s hold? 

Was her mind finally her own? Was she actually going to stop blacking out and feeling a freshly awakened inferi all the time?

Merlin, she hoped it was the case. She didn’t know what she would do if it wasn’t.

She was distracted from that train of thought when the smell of delicious food hit her nose. Her stomach immediately grumbled. Not surprising. Thinking about it, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a proper meal. Must’ve been weeks ago, before the nausea set in permanently and she could do nothing but pick at her food. Hoping she wouldn’t puke it all up as soon as the meal was over.

She sat up, looking around as she tried to regain her bearings.

She was still in the same room as the first time she woke up. Almost everyone who was there before was gone.

The only ones left were Fred and George, as well as Hazel Potter.

George hurried to her side as soon as he noticed that she was awake.

“Oh good! You’re awake! I was getting worried when you didn’t wake up yesterday.”

“How–” She paused, clearing her throat and swallowing the thick saliva that had accumulated in her mouth. “How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Her eyes widened. No wonder she felt so rested. She hadn’t slept longer than a few hours every night since she started writing in the dairy! Nightmares and anxiety forced her to stay awake so often she’d started to scream in her pillow in frustration most nights.

“Am I free?”

Fred turned serious, a look she had never seen on her brother before.

“You are. Hazel destroyed the dairy while you reduced that bastard’s soul to ashes. He’s gone.”

The smile she gave them was genuine in a way it hadn’t been in months.

“I’m glad.” She turned to Hazel, who was smiling down at her with that soft, serene smile that never failed to make her feel safe. “Thank you. For your help.”

“Anytime.” The Girl-Who-Lived assured her. 

Ginny sobered, remembering how she had treated the people in this room since the start of the school year. “Sorry for pushing you away. I don’t even know why I did it. I guess… I didn’t want to be a bother. A burden. Just like I am to my parents.”

“You, Ginny Weasley, will never be a burden. You are our sister, and we love you more than life. It’s our job to look after you and protect you.”

“Yeah, Ginny-bear! You can come to us anytime.”

“Don’t call me that! You know I hate it!”

“Fred is right, you know.” Hazel cut in before they could devolve into an argument. “You’re part of the gang now. You’re one of us, and we take care of our own.”

Ginny stared at her, shocked beyond belief. They wanted her. Truly?

She glanced at her brothers for confirmation.

George nodded with a bright smile.

“Welcome to the Cosmos, little sister.”

And just like that, the first time in her life, Ginny felt like she truly belonged. 

.-.

After celebrating Riddle’s defeat, they only got a few weeks of peace before disaster struck once more.

Lockhart was found dead near the second floor girl’s bathroom.

The school immediately went on lockdown, with many parents clamouring for their children to be sent back home.

There were even talks of the school closing down.

Three days later, Luna encountered the thing that was attacking the school. She only survived her encounter because of her Flames. 

Turned out there was a bloody basilisk roaming the school. 

Well it explained the voice she kept hearing, at least.

She still thought that Salazar was completely out of his mind for hatching and raising one in the school.

As soon as she made sure Luna was unharmed, and safely hidden away in the headquarters, she was on a warpath to neutralize the basilisk who had harmed her friend.

She was quick to form a theory as to where the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets was thanks to one of Luna’s paintings.

The one the Mist had been working on the day her little moon had told her about her brother and mother.

Which is how she found herself standing in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, trying to convince her friends that she would be fine if she went into the Chamber on her own.

“Haze, please! Think before you act!” Hermione pleaded fretfully, grasping her wrist in a desperate attempt to make her stay.

Hazel pulled away and crossed her arms. “I have thought this through! And I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to do this alone.”

“Hazel…”

“Please just listen to me. There is a bloody basilisk in the Chamber! None of you are resistant to the basilisk gaze, while I am, because I’m a parselmouth. I will have Francisco with me, who can grow to an impossible size. I’ve thought this through and I’m going alone!”

“Hazel…”

“No! I won’t hear it! Luna nearly died, Hermione! If her Flames hadn't saved her, she would've died because of the basilisk. I have to do this. I have to protect you guys.”

“At least bring Severus with you? Please? You can’t go in there without backup. I won’t allow it.”

She paused, before nodding slowly. “Alright. I’ll bring Severus along.”

Hermione gave her a smile of pure relief and gratitude.

“Thank you.”

.-.

Hazel stood in the Chamber of Secrets with her arms crossed, utterly unimpressed with the mighty creature who had been attacking the school, and the chamber it dwelled in.

“Alright!” She clapped her hand, trying to shake off her nerves. “Let’s do this.”

“Are you sure you can do this?” Muttered Severus, keeping a wary eye on the basilisk in the distance.

She rolled her eyes fondly. “You have so little faith in me, Sev. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Without another word she approached the mighty snake.

§Francisco?§

§Yes, Little Mistress?§

§Show this basilisk who the real boss is.§ 

§With pleasure.§

Francisco slithered off her shoulders and onto the ground, all the while growing in size steadily as she infused some of her Cloud Flames into his body. The process sped up drastically as soon her partner hit the damp stone floor until her snake was towering over the basilisk.

The two gigantic snakes immediately engaged in a fight of colossus proportions.

Taking advantage of the distraction, she hissed a few words in parseltongue she had asked Padma to teach her for this very moment; it was a spell that was used by parselmages to subdue snakes that had gone feral for one reason or another.

To her surprise it actually worked and the basilisk’s movements and attacks became more and more sluggish until it eventually collapsed on its side. She approached it, fully confident that she’d succeeded in subduing it, only for the great beast to lunge, attempting to bite her. One last attempt at defending itself before collapsing into a magical slumber. She was able to dodge, but not entirely and one of its teeth nicked her forearm, leaving a deep gouge.

Well at least now she knew how quickly basilisk venom took to take effect; already her sight was blurring and darkening at the edges, and she felt like her blood was molten lava running through her veins. Only sheer will allowed her to push down the pained scream rising in her throat. She could feel her purple and amber fire rise up in an attempt to counteract the venom, but it wasn’t enough. 

Sinking to the floor as her knees gave out and falling backwards, she laid on the floor on her back staring aimlessly at the high vaulted ceiling, and fell prey to a bout of breathless, hysterical laughter even as she choked on her own blood. It stained her lips and trickled down her chin, stark against her ashen skin like the petals of a dying rose scattered on fresh snow. 

She was distantly aware of Severus falling to his knees by her side, calling her name with frantic desperation as he cast spell after spell trying to heal her, save her.

Nothing worked. The potion master became increasingly more agitated and desperate, cursing up a storm when he failed to heal her once again.

“Sev? I don’t want to die.” She choked out, burning, bitter tears running down her cheeks. She grimaced when she tasted her own blood in the back of her throat, coughing wetly.

Her godfather shushed her gently, smoothing her hair. “Don’t worry, little one. You’re not going to die. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, dad…” She murmured faintly. She glimpsed a flash of surprise in his gaze and realized that it was the first time she had called him that. She smiled, trying to convey how much he meant to her. “I know I won’t survive this. I…” She was interrupted by a violent bout of coughing. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” He murmured roughly, voice barely above a whisper, cradling her against his chest. She felt him muffle his sobs in her hair.

Merlin, she was so stupid. So reckless to risk her and Severus’ lives like this. 

She had been so certain that her plan was flawless, that she would be able to subdue the basilisk roaming the school without problem. 

What a joke. 

She was twelve years old, and she had thought it would be a good idea to fight a basilisk. Even with Severus as backup, such a thing was way beyond her capabilities.

When would she learn she wasn’t invincible?

Never, apparently, considering the fact that she was currently drawing her very last breaths.

She closed her verdant eyes for what could very well be the last time as she fought to hold back her tears and apologized to her loved ones for leaving them so soon–trying to come to terms with the knowledge that this was it; it was over.

This was the end for her.

Today she was going to die.

“I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the ticking of the clock adorning the mantle piece; the fire crackling merrily in the stone hearth, seemingly impervious to the somber and worried mood that reigned in the room; and Hermione’s footsteps as she paced across the room in front of the fireplace.

They had been waiting for hours, tucked away in their makeshift common room, Fred, George and Luna sprawled across their favoured furniture while she, Tonks and Nev were sprawled across the floor by the coffee table, distractedly playing a game of cards because the last thing they needed right now were unoccupied hands and wandering thoughts. 

Suddenly they let out pained gasps in unison as terrible pain shot through their veins.

Kaleido shared an alarmed look with her friends.

Something was wrong.

That was their Cosmos’ pain. 

The Flame Bond that had formed between her and Hazel flickered dangerously, making her gasp. She knew the others experienced the same thing as well.

.-.

After the whole debacle with Luce and her clear, yet pitiful attempts at manipulating them, he and the rest of the arcobaleno had been ignoring her countless summons (as if she any right, was in a position to summon them, the nerve of that bitch) and attempts at reaching out. 

They still met once a year, to check on each other and keep each other up to date in regards to their search for a cure for the curse that had ruined their lives.

Skull had been feeling angsty since the beginning of the meeting. Since he woke up, actually.

Something was wrong. 

He could feel it in his bones.

Seeing as Reborn’s hand was twitching for his gun and Fon had reduced five tea cups to dust with his Flames, he wasn’t the only one.

It happened as they were wrapping up the meeting. He was already walking towards the door, in a hurry to head home. He promised Okadoo they would have a cuddling session once he got back from the meeting, and the octopus would give him sad puppy eyes for a week if he made her wait too long.

Agony searing through his veins, he collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. He choked on a scream.

Fuck, not even becoming an Arcobaleno or being under the cruciatus curse hurt this much.

He was barely aware of Reborn and Fon collapsing next to him as well, of the worried shouts of Viper and Lal through the haze of pain cloaking his sense; of lava running through his veins and oh god he can’t breathe it hurts so much please make it stop.

By the time he managed to slam down his occlumency shields, giving himself a blissful reprieve from the pain, he was covered in sweat and his throat was raw from screaming.

He exchanged a worried look with Fon. Now that Skull was free from the pain, he was acutely aware of his Flames screaming at him that Hazel was in danger. To save his Sky.

The pain all three of them felt wasn’t their own.

It was Hazel’s. It was his Sky’s.

Fon was the first to react. Ignoring the other’s worried questions and fussing, he turned to Viper, his charcoal eyes glowing a deep red and wisps of Storm Flames covering his hands.

“Viper. I need you to locate Hazel Potter and bring the three of us to her. I don’t care how much it costs, I’ll give you anything you want.”

Viper barely hesitated before getting to work.

One sneeze later, she was hushering them through her Mist portal, a puzzled look on her face.

-.-

Viper’s Mist portal brought them to a massive, cavernous room. The ceiling was so high it was almost lost to the shadows. Massive snake statues lined the walkway they were standing on, which was surrounded by deep pools of water so still that their surface looked like mirrors.

The air was damp, and cold. It was stale, and smelled strongly of mold and stagnant water. 

Looking around in fascination, Reborn froze at the sight in front of him.

Two massive snakes were hissing angrily at each other. One of them had purple markings streaking his scales that reeked of Cloud Flames.

His student was laying on the floor, writhing in pain, coughing wetly. He grimaced in sympathy, knowing the pain she was going through intimately. He’d gotten a taste of it, after all. Somehow.

A tall man was standing in front of her, holding an elaborately carved stick aloft in his hands. Pointing it straight at them in the same way he was holding the man at gunpoint. His long black hair hung in front of his face, falling in front of glowing purple eyes. 

The man was scrutinizing them with the same intensity Reborn used when he gleaned information nobody should know off someone. 

An inkling of recognition flashed in his gaze.

“Skull?” The man muttered, lowering his wand slightly. “What in Morgana’s name are you doing here?”

.-.

“Heyyy Sev! No time to explain, sorry. We’re here to help Hazel. What’s wrong with her?” Skull rattled out, hurrying to Hazel’s side Severus made no move to stop him. His fellow Elements followed suit.

Falling to his knees next to his Sky’s prone form, barely aware of the pain jolting through his joints as he hit the harsh stone floor, Skull winced when he took in the state she was in. 

Her front and mouth were covered in globs of blood and spit, there was a heavy sheen of sweat glistening on her face and her skin was pasty, sickly white. 

Paler than he was while wearing stage makeup.

He glanced at the massive snake curled up next to him, finally piecing everything together as he was finally struck with the knowledge of what, exactly, this massive snake was. He should’ve been quicker to figure it out, but his worry for Hazel had taken over his mind and made him blind, apparently.

A basilisk.

Hazel had been bitten by a goddamn basilisk.

What the fuck.

His Sky truly had a way to stumble into the most bizarre, life threatening situations.

He looked up, meeting the worried gazes of Fon and Reborn as Hazel’s body was wracked with a violent bout of coughing, blood spilling past her lips.

“Poison. She’s been poisoned. By a basilisk.” He clarified when the others met his gaze blankly. Right, they barely knew anything about magic. 

“Is there a cure?” Fon’s voice was quiet, calm and steady just like always. The Eye of the Storm indeed. 

He’d always admired that about the Storm. His ability to remain level-headed and unfazed no matter the situation. 

“Nothing we have on hand.” Snarked Severus, twitching in agitation as he stared at Hazel with such powerless desperation that Skull’s heart went out to him.

Their eyes met, burning with the same determination.

They couldn’t let her die. Not like this. She was just a kid. 

She was his Sky.

.-.

For the first time in his life, Fēng was terrified.

He had never felt so scared and lost before. Faced with the very imminent possibility of losing his Sky, his mind was filled with blinding panic that was robbing him of his ability to think.

Still, he had to try. He had to do everything in his power to save her. To save his daughter in all but blood.

He was the most powerful Storm in the World. He had spent decades honing his control over his Flames until no one else could ever come close to rivaling the way he wielded them like second nature. He had to be able to do something. Otherwise, what was the point of all this power; all this time spent working on bending it to his Will?

He pressed a hand on top of the deep wound on Hazel’s forearm. Directing his Flames into her body he grinned triumphantly when they began disintegrating the venom coursing through her veins while causing no other damage to his Sky’s body.

He felt Reborn’s Flames join his own, a bright golden glow washing through Hazel’s body like a tidal wave, healing the damage caused by the venom. Soon after, Skull’s Cloud worked its magic as well, alongside the stranger’s, whom the stuntman had called Sev, if he recalled properly. Bolstering his and Reborn’s Flames, as well as Hazel’s, now that they weren’t working so hard to keep the girl alive.

.-.

Suddenly there was relief.

Suddenly she was free of the agony that had taken over her body.

Powerful Flames ran through her veins, washing through her body burning away the venom wrecking her body and healing the damage. Her amber fire followed closely behind, finally given some respite from its hard task of keeping her alive, barely. Intertwined with her magic, her Flames went to work assimilating the basilisk venom that was still in her body so it would work in perfect harmony with her magic, Flames, and body.

.-.

When she regained her bearings she was met with a sight that made her wonder if she wasn’t hallucinating. Two pairs of massive reptilian eyes, one sunflower yellow and the other amethyst purple, staring at her with concern. Looking around she realised she was lying between Francisco and the basilisk who were curled around her and Severus protectively, waiting for her to wake up. Severus looked extremely unnerved by the proximity of the two giant snakes, but had refused to leave her side nonetheless. “Hey dad.” She mumbled with a weak grin.

“Oh thank Merlin you’re awake! You have no idea how much you scare me, Hazel. Never do something like this again, you hear me?” Severus softened when she winced, his sharp tone giving her a headache. Carding a hand through her hair soothingly. She leaned into the touch with a sigh of relief. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was run over by a herd of hippogriffs.” She groaned, wincing as she tried to sit up gingerly, her whole body complaining at the motion. “Merlin, basilisk venom hurts like a bitch. One hundred percent would not recommend.” 

“Should you really be moving in this state? Hazel, you look like hell.”

“I’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes. He shot her a stern look that made her wilt slightly. “Fine. I’ll stay put. Happy?” She relented with a defeated sigh. 

He gave her a triumphant smirk, patting her head. “Very.”

Skull chuckled. Her eyes widened when she finally realized that Fēng, Skull and Reborn were hovering next to her, her Flames singing with joy as they met theirs. 

“Hi guys! Fancy seeing you down here.” She greeted them with a delirious snicker. Morgana, she was so tired.

Before they could respond, Francisco, who had thankfully shrunk to a more manageable size by now, bumped his head against her chest, nudging her with his nose like an excited puppy. She chuckled weakly, scratching his favorite spot under his chin.

§Hazel! You are awake!§

§Francisco. Are you hurt?§ She hissed worriedly. 

§Silly human… it is I who should be worried about you. I had the situation under control; you were on the verge of dying.§

§I’ll be fine, don’t worry.§

§How are you feeling, Little Speaker?§

She turned to stare at the Basilisk, who was hovering above her like the snake version of a mother hen. Considering its voice, the gigantic snake was probably female. She paused and stared some more while marveling at the fact that she could actually do the aforementioned action because bloody hell she was alive and how the fuck did she survive being bitten by a fucking basilisk? Ignoring her inner crisis for now she ran a hand over the smooth dark forest green scales covering the basilisk's lower jaw.

§I’ve been better.§ She frowned. §Why did you keep attacking the students after your master was killed?§

§I didn’t. I just wanted food. They were way.§

§In the castle?§ 

The basilisk nodded. §The horse-men attack me every time I enter the forest to find food.§

§That makes sense. If I find a way to get food to you, and visit the chamber so you don’t get too lonely, will you stop attacking the students?§

§I will.§

§Thank you. Wait, what is your name?§

The basilisk seemed to beam at her. Somehow. She wasn’t sure how it could pull it off. §Sal gave me the name Medusa when I hatched, Little Speaker.§

§Nice to meet you, Medusa, I’ll come down to the Chamber to visit as soon as I can.§ She hisses out, already planning on asking a house elf to bring food to the Chamber while she’s away from the school during the summer.

Medusa let out a happy hiss and slithered away.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she struggled to her feet. A chirp drew her attention. 

“Well hello there.” She cooed in the same tone she used with Sukai. “Did you come to save me?”

The phoenix thrilled in affirmative and she grinned, holding out an arm for it to perch on.

“Thank you, good sir, but I’m afraid you’re too late. I’ve already been saved.” She explained, shooting her bonded elements a thankful look, grinning when she saw them staring at the phoenix in utter awe. “Do you want to go back to your bonded?”

When the phoenix squawked indignantly and made no sign of wanting to leave, she groaned. What the hell was wrong with her that she always ended up in this kind of situation?

“That’s Dumbledore’s phoenix.” Breathed Sev, finally recovering from the shock that had rendered him speechless.

“Ah, it’s understandable that you don’t want to go back, then. I wouldn’t either. Do you want to become my bonded instead, then?”

Perching itself on her shoulder, the fiery bird shook its feathery head and tilted it until its beak was touching her forehead. She closed her eyes, instinctively understanding what it was trying to do. An image danced in her mind with stark clarity. It showed two children; a boy and a girl who couldn’t be older than six and four. They were nearly identical, and looked strikingly like Draco, Cassie, Sirius and Tonks. She blinked when the image faded from her mind.

“They are the ones you are destined to bond with?” An affirmative hoot confirmed her guess was correct. “I’m guessing you’re staying with me because I’ll cross paths with them in the future?”

The phœnix nodded its feathered head and went back to preening her hair.

“Alright then, I don’t see any reason whyyou can’t stick around.” She lifted her uninjured hand to pet the bird’s head and smiled softly before taking a glance around. “I’ll call you Serafino.”

The bird chirped in approval, and lowered its head, spilling a single tear on her wound. It was already well on its way to being healed, with only scratch remaining.

Immediately the last dredges of weakness and aches lingering in her body left her. She watched in awe as her wound knit itself closed. She didn’t think she would ever get over her awe of watching magic in action.

Sev cleared his throat, breaking her out of her awed stupor. “We should start figuring out a way to get out of here. I don’t think we’ll be able to use the pipe we went down on the way in.”

Hazel frowned, contemplating their options, until her eyes fell on Serafino. “Hey buddy, do you think you could help us get out of here?”

The phoenix crooned cheerfully and flew closer to the rest of the group. She followed him, grabbing hold of Fēng’s elbow. Her Flames purred at the proximity. 

Without warning, they disappeared in a swirl of golden fire. 

Landing in the HQ where her friends were undoubtedly awaiting her return like the mother hens they were, she collapsed as her legs gave out.

Stroking Francisco’s head as the snake curled up in her lap like a cat she took a moment to breathe and come to terms with the fact that she almost died. Gasps filled the room and her reptilian familiar was dislodged from her body when she was dogpiled by her friends; the stars and the planets of her Cosmos.

Severus immediately told her friends to give her some space, kneeling next to her and casting a diagnosis spell with practiced ease.

As she let her godfather fuss over her, something caught her eye. On the wall next to her was one of Luna’s most recent paintings; a two headed snake with gorgeous fiery wings in a cavernous room that looked exactly like the Chamber of Secrets. One of the heads had sunflower yellow eyes while the other head had Francisco’s striking purple eyes.

She chuckled breathlessly. 

Maybe she should try harder to interpret her Mist’s paintings from now on.

Chapter Text

The morning after her encounter with the basilisk, an irate Cassiopeia had shown up to Hogwarts to yell at Dumbledore and pull her out of school early. She had never seen Aunt Cassie this angry. 

A fretful Madam Pomfrey had tried to convince Cassie to let her stay in the infirmary until she had recovered enough. Her aunt had flat out refused, telling the school nurse that her niece would be taken care of by the best healers money could buy.

Laurel and Sirius decided the three of them would travel to Japan to visit Laurel’s family as soon as Hazel recovered from her encounter with the basilisk.

.-.

Hazel breathed a sigh of relief as soon as she stepped off the plane. She hated planes with a burning passion. Magical means of transportation were so much better. Really, there was something about spending hours in an enclosed space filled with hundreds of people that made her want to go feral and kill everyone. Thank god Fēng had taught her some meditation techniques because she wouldn’t have made it through the trip without maiming someone at the very least.

Sirius had spent the entire flight giving her amused stares, when he wasn’t exchanging lovey-dovey glances with Laurel. Honestly, those two were so in love it was getting ridiculous. Every moment spent in their company, Hazel had the urge to yell at them to get a room.

She was happy for them, though. They both deserved something nice in their life.

Laurel guided them towards a heavily pregnant woman who was waving at them with a radiant smile. She was absolutely glowing with happiness, giving the three of them a warm hug. After some quick introductions, they climbed into the woman’s car and drove off towards the Hibari estate.

.-.

The Hibaris were everything she expected her mom’s family to be. Welcoming yet possessive and territorial, endlessly polite and burning with an inner strength that made them a force to be reckoned with.

It was also clear to Hazel that Fēng was related to them. He looked nearly identical to the husband of the woman that picked them up from the airport. She learned that the woman, Hibari Yukito, was Laurel’s half sister.

Having already guessed their connection to Fēng, she was unsurprised to learn that the Hibaris knew about Flames.

They stayed in Japan for a few weeks. Hazel was glad to be away from all the craziness back in England, even though she missed her friends, Cassie and Severus terribly.

A few days before they were scheduled to go back to England, Yukito went into labor. She wasn’t supposed to give birth to her child for another month.

.-.

Hazel winced as Yukito screamed in agony once again. 

Something was wrong. 

It was too early. 

Hazel was terrified Yukito or her child might not make it.

She would not, could not, allow that to happen. 

Tired of standing around and doing nothing, she barged into the hospital room and hurried to the laboring woman’s bedside. 

“I can help you. And your baby.” She promised solemnly, ignoring the nurses who were trying to kick her out of the room. 

Her Intuition was screaming at her that she could help Yukito deliver her baby safely, but that if they waited any longer, it would be too late.

Yukito must have seen something in her eyes that convinced her that she was telling the truth, because she grasped Hazel's hand desperately. Hazel let her.

“Do it. I beg of you. Save my baby. Save me. Please.” She murmured deliriously, but there was a Flame of determination in her lilac eyes. 

Hazel nodded sharply and ordered the nurses to leave the room. They protested vehemently, of course. No health care worker in their right mind would leave the room of a woman in labor because a teenage girl told them to.

Yukito spoke up with one last bout of strength, demanding they leave the room. The nurses had no choice but to obey.

As soon as they were alone, Hazel started pouring Cloud Flames into the woman’s body, multiplying her blood cells to keep her from bleeding out. At the same time she pulled out the two-way mirror Sev had given her before she left Hogwarts.

He answered the mirror call immediately.

“Hazel? Is everything alright?” 

“Dad.” She breathed out in pure relief, so happy he had answered. She savoured the look of pure delight that appeared on his face when she called him that, as always. “I need your help. Can you apparate to my location?”

It took less than a second for him to understand the gravity of the situation and get right down to business.

“Of course. Should I bring anything?”

“Healing potions that are safe for pregnant women to consume, please. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

“Alright. I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

Hazel cast a locking charm on the door, before returning to Yukito’s bedside.

“Don’t worry Yukito. Help is on the way.” She reassured the woman, taking hold of her hand and channeling her Sky Flames into the woman as well, trying to encourage all the organs in Yukito’s body to work together to keep her alive. Similarly, she used her magic to heal as much of the damage the arduous labor had inflicted to Yukito’s body. She was extremely careful as she healed her aunt, trying her damndest to avoid harming her baby cousin by accident. 

She almost sagged in relief when Severus finally arrived with Neville in tow, making her frown in confusion. What was her god brother doing here? Not that she minded his presence, of course. His near perfect mastery over his Sun and Rain Flames would be incredibly useful.

“She’s a muggle.” Stated Severus dryly.

Hazel gave him a sharp glare. “I don’t care. Save her. Save her baby. Please.” The last word was added almost as an afterthought. “She knows about Flames, so we won’t technically break the Statute, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Severus stayed silent for a heartbeat, before nodding jerkily.

“Very well. I’ll do my best to save her. Move aside, but keep doing what you’ve been doing with your Flames.”

“Understood.”

“The potions won’t work on her. She doesn’t have magic to activate the properties of the ingredients.”

“That won’t be an issue, I’ve been pouring my Flames and Magic into her body for a while. My Sky Flames will ensure that nothing goes wrong and that the potions are in perfect Harmony with her body.” She turned to Yukito. “Are you Flame Active?”

“Y-yes. I’m a Cloud.”

“Great. That’s great. You’ve been doing so well, Yukito. You’re so strong. You and your baby are going to get through this alive and well, just you wait.”

The woman gave her a weak, yet ever so grateful smile.

Severus started muttering one diagnosis spell after another, perusing them quickly, but still thoroughly. He gave her a satisfied nod. 

“Good job, brat.” He hummed in approval before turning to Yukito. “You are going to be fine, ma’am. I won’t let you die.”

Hazel can remember him promising her the same thing when she was about to die from basilisk venom.

She was still alive.

He hadn’t let her die.

In that moment she knew in her heart that Yukito would survive this.

So would her baby.

.-.

Yukito smiled down tenderly at the small bundle sleeping soundly in her arms.

She couldn’t take her eyes away from her son.

He was so small and delicate, so beautiful and simply perfect.

She already loved him more than anything in the world.

“What should we name him?” Murmured her husband, running a delicate finger down the bridge of their son’s minuscule nose. 

That’s right. They hadn’t settled on a name before she had gone into labor a month early.

“Kyoya.” She murmured fondly as she came to a decision, hugging her son closer. They had discussed many names, but Kyoya one was by far her favorite option. She knew her husband loved it just as much, she could remember seeing it in his eyes when they spoke about potential baby names. “I want his name to be Hibari Kyoya.” 

Seto chuckled, shooting her a fond look. “Kyoya it is.”

She smiled lovingly as she gazed upon the two most important people in her life.

She came so close to losing her life.

She came so close to losing her baby.

Without Hazel’s intervention, one, if not both of them, wouldn’t have survived the birth.

Her husband and son would have lost her; or she and Seto would have lost their first child.

She would never be able to repay the debt she owed Hazel.

.-.

“How is my little cousin?” Cooed Hazel, gazing down at the baby who was staring up at her with gray eyes.

“He’s happy, and healthy, thanks to you my dear niece.” Yukito told her, practically glowing with joy. “Would you like to hold him?”

Hazel nodded distractedly, still transfixed by the tiny human she had helped bring into the world safely. “I would be honoured.”

Yukito smiled knowingly, looking incredibly fond, and placed her child in Hazel’s arms carefully. Hazel stared down at the tiny bundle in awe. 

“What’s his name?” She murmured almost reverently, chuckling when the baby reached an arm out to grasp her hair. Without thinking she used her limited metamorphmagus abilities to shift her nose and mouth into a duck beak. She was rewarded by her little cousin’s delighted giggles and knew in that instant that she would die before letting anyone lay a hand on this amazing little bundle of joy.

“Kyoya.” Yukito told her with a fond grin, watching the both of them with so much affection that it made Hazel feel warm and fuzzy inside. Shifting back to her normal facial features, Hazel shot Yukito a smile of approval, loving the name the woman had chosen for her baby cousin. 

“Hello, Kyoya. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She cooed, gazing down at the baby with adoration, gladly letting Kyoya tug her hair to his heart’s content. It barely hurt, and it made the little one happy enough to give her a smile so wide it showed off his toothless gums, so she didn’t mind. “I’m your cousin, Hazel. I’m going to be the best cousin ever, you’ll see.”

Kyoya giggled at her, making her melt inside. He was the most adorable, loveable, perfect being she had ever laid her eyes on.

She would kill for him.

She would burn the World down if it made him happy.

Sitting down in the hospital chair next to Yukito’s hospital bed, she adjusted her hold on Kyoya so she could cradle him with one arm, tucked snuggly in the crook of her elbow. 

She used her free hand to create a miniature, and silent, firework show. Calling upon her magic was as easy as breathing. She let it fill the air in a breathtaking show of light and color.

Kyoka fell silent, staring at her small display of magic with pure wonder shining in his gray eyes.

“I have a gift for him.” Declared Hazel after basking in the magic of the moment,  the weight of Kyoya in her arm, the pure joy radiating from every person in the room. She rose from the uncomfortable hospital chair and handed her cousin to his mother.

Rummaging through the shoulder bag she had brought with her, she let out a triumphant noise when she found what she was looking for, pulling out a well worn stuffed dragon. It was one of the many plushies she left at Severus’ house the last time he had babysat her, before her parents died and Dumbledore whisked her away to her aunt’s house. He had gifted it to her at Christmas this year, and while she absolutely adored the stuffed mythical creature, she knew Kyoya would love the plushie just as much.

Yukito gasped in delight, absolutely beaming at her. Hazel was struck by how stunning her aunt was.

“Thank you, my dear niece! It’s perfect.”

Kyoya immediately fell in love with the plushie, clutching it to his chest and babbling at it cheerfully. He gave her a gummy smile, grasping her finger and pulling it close.

Once again, her heart melted, and her Flames wrapped around the baby, cradling him protectively.

Kyoya was hers, he was Family. She would do everything in her power to ensure he lived a long and happy life.