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Chapter Text

Harry stood frozen above the stone pensive as her emotions roiled inside of her, swirling around as though caught in the grasp of a whirlpool. Harry's eyes shone with anger even as they filled with the pain of loss and betrayal. She blinked slowly and the tears began to fall, mixing with blood, sweat and grime as they left their own mark upon her face.

How could they do that? What had she done that had caused the fates and destiny to abandon her so? Had she not given all of herself and what she had to them? How could they plot so cruelly to hurt her so? How dare they hurt her this way. And for what? A small bit of gold that was left to her by a dead family. Gold that she would have parted with willingly and without question if they had only asked.

Slowly Harry sank down into the throne like chair that sat behind the headmaster's desk. "One hour," she uttered. The sound barely whispering past her lips. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at a small clock that stood upon the desk's surface. Twenty minutes of Voldemort's allotted hour had flown past as she viewed the memories stored within the pensive.

Quickly she cast a look around to the portraits that still adorned the walls of the office. A sly smile crept across her face as she took in the fact that the former headmasters had all deserted their frames. Out of duty to help or fear of being damaged Harry didn't know. Nor did she care at the moment.

A moment's rifling through the drawers of the desk left her equipped with a rather fine quill, a bottle of dark colored ink, and a fresh roll of parchment. She quickly unstopped the ink and began to scribe her final revenge.

I, Lady Harriet Vulpecula Potter, do hereby scribe my final will and testament this day, the 2nd of May 1998, being of sound mind and sound enough body. Any will written using my name prior to this day is null and void.

In light of recent events, I do hereby decree that all of the wealth that I own be divided equally amongst my truest and most honest friends. Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Fred Weasley, and George Weasley. Not a knut of this money may be shared with any of the other Weasleys or Hermione Granger because of their roles in hurting and betraying me over the past seven years of my life. Neville and Luna, I also ask that the two of you take care of Teddy Lupin in my stead, as I will be unable to act as a suitable godmother wherever I have ended up. I trust the pair of you to be able to raise him to be the very best that he could be. With dreams as high as the moon, but with toes grounded so he does not get lost beyond the clouds. Fred, George, use what I give you to further fund the joke shop, for surely the world will need a bit of cheer after this whole mess with the dark tosser is up. All of you take care of one another, and live. I love you all.

As harry finished penning the final strokes, a light golden glow encompassed the page. Her magic had accepted her final will, and it was now legally and magically binding.

Satisfied with her work, she stood and glanced at the clock one last time. Fifteen minutes left until the end. Harry felt a calm wash over her as she walked through the castle towards the forest. Once she had truly entered the forest, she pulled out the stone and twirled it within her grasp.

Slowly Harry met the gaze of each ghostly figure that surrounded her. Her parents came last, with their sad but loving smiles.

"You know I don't have any other choices at the moment," Harry whispered, throat tight.

"We know," Lilly responded, with James nodding in agreement. "We just wish that you had more time to be alive. To appreciate what little childhood you have left. But we know that the world wouldn't let you."

"My damned potter luck,"

"Too right you are Kit" Sirius guffawed. "At least you got to mess with them one last time before you go."

"I suppose I did."

"Come on now dearest," James spoke. "As much as we hate it, it's nearly time."

"Stay with me," Harry pleaded softly. "Please."

"We will stay with you until the very end," Remus nodded comfortingly.

Taking a final breath, Harry and her ghostly companions stepped forward- ready to meet with death as a friend.

"My lord," a nameless death eater stuttered in front of Voldemort as he gave his report. "None of us have seen the potter girl, and the hour is almost up."

The death eater flinched as Voldemort responded, his cold voice cutting through the silence of the forest. "Indeed. I thought that she would come out to meet me. It appears that I was… mistaken…"

"No," Harry spoke up as she stepped out from behind a particularly large tree. "You are wrong about a lot of things Tom Riddle, but that is not one of them."

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed. "The Girl who Lived, come to die."

"Yes," Harry rolled her eyes. "That's kind of the point Tom-"

"Do not speak that name," Voldemort cried, but Harry carried on as though uninterrupted in the first place.

"If you want to kill me, I suggest skipping the evil monologue before I somehow manage to engineer one of my 'miraculous' escapes."

Voldemort snarled and raised his wand. A smile of contentment settled upon Harry's face as a jet of sickly green light shot towards her. She closed her eyes as the curse struck her chest. There was no pain, just a serene calm that engulfed her as the world around ceased to exist.

Chapter Text

Harry groaned softly as she slowly became aware of herself once more.

"I thought I died," she muttered as she sat up and opened her eyes. She froze, taking in the sight of the colorless train platform before her. "Then again maybe I did."

She stood slowly from per position on the ground, stretching on her way up as though she had just woken from a restful night's sleep.

"You're not quite dead yet," a pleasant voice sounded from behind her.

Harry whirled around, reaching for her wand- which was not there.

"Don't worry," the figure said, raising their empty hands to where she could see them. "I couldn't hurt you here even if I wanted to."

"And who might you be?" Harry questioned warily, taking a step back to be out of arm's reach of this mysterious figure.

"I might be anyone or anything," the figure snarked. "But who I am is of no great importance right now."

"Why?"

"Because you likely wouldn't believe me right now, Mistress."

"What-"

"Regardless," the figure interrupted. "I am here to give you a choice. You could go back to the world you just left, you could stay here and watch what happens after your sacrifice, or you could go On."

"Go On? Like- meet my parents, see all the people I've lost On?"

"Correct!" The figure clapped their hands gleefully.

Harry stared into nothingness wistfully. On. She could meet her parents, see Sirius and Remus again, and all of her friends who she lost to Voldemort- she paused, the accepting words on the tip of her tongue. Voldemort. The man who had never ceased trying to kill her since her birth. Who had hurt and killed so many in his goal to rule over magical Britain. If she went on, then who would stop him? Could he even be stopped? How many more people would be hurt or killed if she was selfish and went On.

No. Going on was not an option. Nor was staying in this space. Especially when she had a claim on all three hallows- Harry smiled. She had a claim on all three hallows. She knew who the figure was.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you met me as a friend, Death."

The figure in front of her laughed gleefully. "I knew you would be able to get it! You are so much more clever than your counterpart in another universe!"

Harry blinked in surprise. "Another universe? What-"

Death shook their head vigorously. "Nope! No! I'm not allowed to say anything more on the subject yet!"

"Yet?"

"Nope! Moving on from that! Have you made a decision yet?"

Harry blinked and shook her head slightly. "Not really," she started slowly. "I know I can't go On. I couldn't exist with the guilt, even if I'm not technically alive."

"Of course you couldn't," death muttered darkly. "Not with how Dumbledore had you brought up."

Harry shot a questioning look at Death but moved on when they didn't seem inclined to elaborate.

"I don't think that I could stay here either. I would likely go batty within the week looking for something to do."

"Excellent!" Death exclaimed their gloom from a moment earlier seemingly forgotten. "So you have made a decision!"

"I suppose I have," Harry reluctantly admitted, playing with a section of red hair that had escaped its binding. "But I can't help thinking that going back now would be unhelpful to my current situation."

Death paused and cocked their head slightly. "And why would you say that, Mistress?"

"Partially because Voldemort has already killed so many people. The wizarding world has been crippled so effectively that even if I do go and stop him successfully, the wizarding population would likely die out within the next few generations unless something drastic was done such as forcing people to marry and have a minimum of three or four kids! That just wouldn't be effective and any governmental administration trying to enforce that would face severe backlash for infringing on a couple's right to choose offspring."

Death stared at Harry in shock. "I- was not expecting that."

"Yeah? Well, I've had a bit of time to think on the state of the world while my so called friends and I were traipsing across the country hunting horcruxes."

Death chuckled a bit as harry fumed. "Understood, Mistress."

Harry rolled her eyes. "Is there any way to get you to stop calling me that? It makes me sound like I'm some sort of dominatrix."

"No way in any version of hell," Death grinned. "And besides, who said that I'm not into that sort of thing?"

Harry shivered at the gleam that entered death's eye. "Duly noted," she stated as she shuffled a few steps away, causing Death to laugh again.

"Moving on," death said once their laughter had subsided. "You said that that's only part of your reason?"

"Well," Harry started, toying with the small clump of hair again. "The other major reason is that it would mess with my revenge plot. If I went back I would actually have to deal with the deceitful bastards, and I don't think I could do that without killing them. Then the world would likely turn on me again and say that I killed Voldemort only to take his place."

"Ah, Yes." Death nodded sagely, a strange look crossing their face. "You dying as a martyr would inspire the remaining resistance. Then those who had betrayed you would be further vilified by everyone left alive for betraying their savior and protector."

"… and protector?"

Death grinned. "Oh yes! By dying for them you did what your mother did for you. None of Voldemort's spells will work properly against them. And that would be compounded by him trying to wield your wand Mistress!"

Harry froze. Protector. She had done for the defenders of Hogwarts what her mother had done for her. They were safe- well, safe enough. "So they won't need me."

"Need you," Death started slowly. "If they were actually smart they never would have needed you. The fact that they needed you, both as a baby and as a seventeen year old is because they were too caught up in themselves to realize that every single child is given a deadly weapon at age eleven. Or if the 'blood purists' would have realized that all their inbreeding is killing their own magic, then Voldemort's ideology would never have taken root the way it did." Death paused and stared at Harry. "They only needed you the way that they did because of their own damn stupidity."

Hearing that, Harry felt both vindicated, and a bit like she'd received a punch to the gut. She had often bemoaned to Hermione that it was unfair the expectations that the wizarding world heaped upon her. But if pureblood propaganda had never taken root- "Hang on," Harry said excitedly. "If the pureblood propaganda had never taken root, then Voldemort would never have risen to power."

"Yes," Death said slowly, watching with gleaming eyes.

"So, I've already decided to go back- kind of. Sort of- so what if I still go back to the plane of the living, but I go back in time to when I can put a stop to the pure blood supremacy movement!" Harry's eyes shone with excitement as a grin threatened to split her face in two.

Death laughed. A full, deep-bellied laugh that seemed like it could cheer up even the most despairing departed soul. "My goodness," death chortled as they wiped tears from the corners of their eyes. "I've never- oh my word!"

Harry looked on impatiently as Death slowly collected themselves.

"Mistress," Death started. "You have no idea what you are asking."

"I've traveled through time before," Harry stated defensively, remembering the time turner that she used with Hermione to save Sirius.

"Yes. I'm aware." Death was patient now, like a teacher explaining a concept to a child. "However, you were going back mere hours. This would be going back years. You would not exist to run into yourself, but neither would you exist at all. You could not simply show up and proclaim that you are Harry Potter. You would first have to adopt a new Identity and integrate yourself into society once more, as an entirely new person."

"But- what would I do? I'm Harry Potter. That's who I am"

"I suppose it's a good thing I anticipated this then," a new voice cut in.

Harry and death turned to see a tall blonde woman stepping out of a swirling portal of light

"Ah," Death seemed rather put out at the interruption. "Mistress, let me introduce you to my Sister, Time"

Harry blinked. "I- well- um- er- It's Nice to meet you, uh, Miss Time."

Time laughed. "I know, you were expecting me to be some crotchety old man with a beard longer than Dumbledore's."

Harry nodded mutely.

"Well, here I am!" Time grinned mischievously and twirled, showing off the iridescent material of her skirt as it flared. "I honestly have no idea why they thought that I would be a male presenting entity. But whatever! They'll all meet Death here at some point or another, so why bother? It means nothing in the grand scheme of things."

Death cleared his throat to get Time's attention. "You were here because…" they prompted, looking worn out from Time's constant upbeat chatter.

"Oh! Yes! Thank you Death dearest!" Time turned back to Harry with a determined look on her face and produced a manila folder. "Destiny and I decided to work together to screw Fate over because she's being a bit of a bitch towards you. So, we made an identity for you to assume since destiny knew you would eventually choose to go back in time."

Harry Took the folder and began inspecting the contents carefully.

"We have you set and ready to go as Vulpecula Harriet Peverell, a fifteen year old witch. You were born in England in 1929, and moved with your pureblood father to France at age 8 as your half blood mother had passed on soon after your birth due to complications. You attended Beauxbatons Academy of Magic up until his recent death due to the war with Germany and Grindlewald, when you decided that England and Hogwarts would be safer."

"So-" Harry interrupted, a bit confused. "I'm only going back to the forties?" Harry questioned.

Time nodded, a bright grin taking over her face once more. "Yes! It was as far back as we dared to go. Any sooner and you would have a much harder time integrating into the society what with the restrictions on a woman's movement in society. Damn patriarchal bullshit. And also you are far too outspoken to fit what was expected of a woman's actions back farther. At this point you would be able to justify coming to Hogwarts part way through your education because quite a few people did, and there were very many young men and women left as orphans because of the war."

Harry nodded, then frowned. "What about money, and French? I don't know more than two words of French. And how am I supposed to know whatever they expect me to know from being brought up by my pureblood father?"

"We'll take care of that while you're out," Time stated cheerily. "Just remember when you wake up to go to Gringotts and then expect an owl from Armando Dippett. He's the headmaster at that point and will send someone to help you get settled for Hogwarts. Now. We've been here for quite a while, so we had best send you on your way before Fate gets too curious and decides to check in."

"Wait! But-" Harry stuttered trying to wrap her mind around what was happening.

"Everything will be fine Mistress," Death said from behind her. When they moved there Harry had no idea. "I'll make sure that they didn't go too far over the top for you, and I'll make sure to keep you updated on your revenge via dreams. But for now, Time is right. It's time to send you to your new time."

Before Harry could do anything, Death turned her head to face them and placed a soft kiss on her lips. At the touch, the gleaming white station faded away, and Harry knew no more.

Chapter Text

Harry groaned as she regained consciousness once more. Her head was in agony. Like her brain was under the cruciatus curse. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her palms into the sockets to attempt to dispel the pounding pain.

"Ah, at last," a strange, grating voice sounded somewhere off to her right. "The young Mistress Peverell rejoins the realm of the living once more. I have something for your pain. Drink."

A small potion was pressed against her arm by a vaguely claw like hand. Harry removed one hand from her head and grabbed the vial, uncorking it with her thumb. She downed it with no hesitation. Not caring if it killed her, as long as she was no longer in pain. The potion tasted foul. Worse than the horrendous concoctions she was used to, but it was effective. In the space of two breaths the excruciating pain behind her eyes had dulled to almost nothing.

With the pain manageable, Harry slowly opened her eyes and attempted to sit up- only to be reprimanded by the same grating voice. "Stay down!" the voice snapped.

Harry obeyed, recognizing the harsh tone of a healer from all her time under the tender mercies of Madam Pompfrey. She turned her head to see her current warden. She blinked as she saw a goblin scowling at her, holding a large roll of parchment. "Where am I?" She asked, her voice hoarse as though she hadn't used it in years.

The goblin before her snorted derisively. "You are in Gringotts' healing ward, Miss Peverell. And your very being here is causing quite a kerfuffle."

"I'm sorry?" Harry questioned

"It does not matter, so save your apologies." The goblin stated brusquely. "I only care to check to see that you are healthy enough to go about your business and leave my ward."

Harry nodded, and the grumpy goblin healer started muttering in gobbledygook. A few waves of odd feeling magic washed over her, and the healer nodded, seeming satisfied.

"You are more or less healthy," the healer stated, sounding very satisfied. Another potion was pressed into her hand. "If the pain increases again, take this. I recommend a good meal and sleep within the next four to five hours if possible. Now, Brodlok!"

A smaller goblin raced in and bowed "Yes healer," he responded.

"You are to escort Mistress Peverell to account manager Kurlast"

"Yes healer," And with that, Brodlok disappeared out the large stone door once more.

"He'll be waiting for you outside the door. Now. Sit yourself up slowly."

Harry obeyed, fearful of the wrath of the goblin healer before her.

"Any change? Dizziness, light head, nausea?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Now swing your legs this way and stand slowly."

Harry stood, and was surprised that the goblin healer only came up to about her chest height. And she was never very tall herself, only barley touching 150 cm (about 5' 1").

"Still feeling good?" the healer asked.

"I feel fine. Thank you healer." Harry bowed her head. It was a shallow mimicry of the bow Brodlok had given, but conveyed her thanks and respect regardless.

The healer looked away, shoving the scroll of parchment into a pocket. "I have orders to send you to your account manager as soon as you are well enough to walk. You are cleared. Leave my ward." And with that, the healer bustled off, leaving Harry by herself.

"I suppose I'd better see what's going on then," Harry sighed as she stepped towards the door. It swung open smoothly with barely a touch, and revealed Brodlok once more.

"So you are cleared Mistress Peverell," he stated, straightening his posture. "Excelent. Account manager Kurlast is expecting you. Follow me." And before she could speak, he was moving at a brisk pace. Harry hurried to catch up, the sudden change of pace not helping the slight throbbing that was starting to increase behind her eyes once more.

A few minutes and several twisting corridors later, Brodlok stopped and indicated a small stone door, only discernable from the surrounding stone walls by a small lining of silver, and a small golden plaque in its center. "Account Manager Kurlast awaits you inside." Brodlok bowed and scurried off, leaving Harry alone in the artistically rough-hewn corridor.

Harry blinked for a moment at the rather abrupt departure, and turned to the door beside her. Upon brief inspection, she found that there was no visible handle, nor hinges to indicate which way the door would swing. At a complete loss of what else to do, Harry raised her fist, and knocked on the nameplate in the center of the door.

Nothing happened for a moment, leaving Harry standing, feeling incredibly foolish, when suddenly the door swung open inwards.

"Mistress Peverell," A sharply dressed goblin with gold framed spectacles gestured that she enter from behind a rather magnificent wooden desk. "Come sit. We have much to discuss."

Harry did as asked, examining the rather resplendent office as she entered. It was nothing like the comparatively crude corridors that she had come to know in her few visits to the wizarding bank. The floor was a bright polished granite, the walls smooth and displaying various crafted pieces on plaques. There were several shelves carved into the wall behind the desk, each filled with books and files. Records- she assumed, of various accounts held within the bank. The door slammed shut behind her, causing her to whirl around, reaching for her wand. Upon seeing no new threat, she forced herself to relax, replacing her wand within its holster on her forearm.

"Account Manager Kurlast," Harry slightly inclined her head as she took the plush seat in front of the resplendent desk. "May your enemies cower before you."

A slightly feral grin spread across Kurlast's face. "And may the spilt blood of yours be a warning to others." Kurlast regarded the young looking witch before him before continuing. "On to business. You arrived in the lobby of this bank at 47 minutes past 9 in the morning yesterday, 27 July. You were unconscious and unresponsive, so we took you to our healer and preformed a heritage ritual to determine who you are." Kurlast frowned. "Unfortunately, your unexpected arrival created quite a disturbance. You appeared out of nowhere and landed upon one of our other patrons, Heir Black, as he was accompanying his father to a pre appointed meeting with his own account manager."

Harry stared for a moment as she took that information in and groaned, covering her face with her hands as she muttered several obscenities involving Death and Time. Kurlast dutifully ignored the outburst, shuffling papers until Harry recomposed herself.

"My apologies Account manager. I trust that the bank was able to maintain its relationship to Lord and Heir Black?"

"Indeed we did," Kurlast responded, seemingly unconcerned. "Neither party was injured, and indeed, Lord black was more than willing to accept the apologies offered once we learned of your status mistress."

"One moment please, Kurlast." Harry raised a hand. "Every goblin I have seen today has referred to me as Mistress. Why am I being given that title? I was under the impression that I would be referred to as Lady Peverell once I accepted my Ladyship, which I have not done yet."

"Ah, yes." Kurlast pulled up a particular sheet of parchment and looked it over. "According to our records, a formal acceptance is not necessary for acknowledgement of the title. As long as certain prerequisites are met, which you have, the title will be acknowledged within the walls of our established nation."

Harry frowned. "What were the prerequisites?"

Kurlast read directly from the parchment. "The title of Master or Mistress Peverell will be bestowed upon the next kin of the line of Peverell prior to the acceptance of the head of house ring should the following conditions be met. Firstly, they have reached the age of majority, or, should they be the last of kin, age 13. These are the ages at which the next head should be presented with the heir or head of house ring, should none of the other conditions be met. Second, they must have at least one of the Hallows in their reasonable possession for a year or more. Third, exemplifying our house's pride and honoring Death as our oldest friend."

Kurlast looked up as he finished reading and grinned at Harry's Incredulous expression as he opened a desk drawer and withdrew a small wooden box, placing it directly in front of Harry. "You, Mistress Vulpecula Harriet Peverell, to the magic of your family, have done all of these things. Magic herself recognized you as Mistress Peverell and We of the Goblin Nation refer to you as such. Your accepting the rings at this point is merely a formality for the legality of your station within the Wizarding court."

Harry leaned back in her seat and rubbed her temples. Partially in an attempt to soothe the throbbing behind her eyes once more, and partially to allow the information to sink in. "Damn you Death." She muttered under her breath. The pain was not at all helping the situation, so she took out the second potion that the healer gave her and downed it. Almost immediately the pain was nearly nonexistent.

Harry straightened up once more and picked up the box the goblin had presented her with. It was light, both in color and in weight. There was no latch, but as soon as Harry's fingers brushed across the top, the surface shimmered out of existence. Inside the light wood was an interior of black velvet, cushioning a ring. It was a platinum band, with a large black gemstone surrounded by various smaller gemstones in shades of grey. The large central gem had the Peverell coat of arms carved into its face, detailed with small inlays of platinum emphasizing the thestral that represented the house so proudly.

Harry admired the ring as she carefully removed it from its home. The metal was cool to the touch, but welcoming. Harry forced herself not to blush as the thought crossed her mind that it felt very similar to what Death's lips felt like when they had kissed her. She studiously ignored that very intrusive thought as she slowly slid the ring onto her left middle finger. A wave of magic caressed her as the ring sized itself to fit her slender fingers.

"Excelent," Kurlast said, taking the now empty box and stowing it away in his desk drawer. "Now. You have been uncocious for the better part of two days, but because of the size of your familial account, we have not yet been able to take a full accounting of your holdings." Harry nodded and waved for him to continue. "We do, however, have a list of some of your familial properties available for you now, as well as a list of which house elves are still tied to serve your familial line."

Harry accepted the thick stack of parchment that Kurlast held out to her. As she looked through, she saw that many of the properties were listed as uninhabitable due to years, if not centuries of neglect. It made sense though, and harry found that she did not care as there were only three house elves listed as still in her service after however long the line has been dormant. All three were listed as being tied to the familial property in Blackmoor. Harry looked up from the file and spoke rather imperiously. "Very well Kurlast. I thank you for your hard work attaining this information on such short notice. I trust that we shall arrange another meeting when you have finished accounting my familial holdings."

Kurlast nodded. "Yes Mistress Peverell. I anticipate that the full accounting shall be done in approximately three weeks due to the size of the accounts. However, I can now give you your key and allow you to access one of the smaller trust accounts to access your money until the full accounting has been completed." He presented a small platinum key with a large black gemstone adorning the handle. It was obviously made to reflect the house ring, harry thought, admiring it for a moment. "As the head of your house, you have access to the full family holdings, however, the account has been dormant for such a time that we will require a team of curse breakers to reopen the vault for you. It is a security measure that after 200 years of an account being dormant a ward is automatically placed to kill anyone attempting to open the vault so that we can reassign security measures to active vaults."

Harry nodded. "I expect regular updates on your accounting work."

"Every three days I shall send out a report," Kurlast agreed. "Now, the healer has stressed the importance of you resting to me. We have spent too long as is and I value my life too much to keep you here longer." He reached once more into his desk and pulled out a small bag. "A bag for you to hold your gold in after you visit your vault. It has a standard expansion charm and featherlight charm. Once you are out of the lobby, you may use your house ring to travel to whichever Peverell property you so desire."

"Thank you Kurlast," she said as she rose from her seat. "May you bathe in the glory of your enemies deaths."

"May gold and glory follow your endeavors," Kurlast responded. "Brodlok Will be waiting for you in the corridor, waiting to take you down to your vault."

Harry thanked him once more and exited the office.

"Mistress," Brodlok extended his hand towards her, holding a red satin ribbon. She looked at it and raised an eyebrow at the small goblin. "Mistress, Because you were unwell we have special permission to use this special portkey to take you to the trust vault and back up to the lobby. The carts would not be helpful in this instance."

Harry accepted that explanation and gingerly gripped one end of the ribbon. Not a moment later the portkey activated, feeling like a hook had grabbed somewhere below her navel and yanked upwards. Her head spun, even as she felt herself landing. Brodlok gripped her elbow as she swayed, steadying her.

"Thank you," she muttered, as her vision stopped swimming. She quickly removed her key from her pocket and opened the vault door, and froze.

Harry remembered how she felt the first time she had been to Gringotts. The sheer awe that she had felt when she had first beholden the seeming mountains of coins that her parents had left behind for her. That was nothing compared to this. There had to be millions of galleons in this vault alone. And this was a low(er) security trust vault. She couldn't even comprehend how much more there was in the full family vault, let alone the worth of the doubtless hundreds if not thousands of artifacts that the line had collected over the centuries.

Harry shook herself internally and took out the expanded bag. She approached one of the smaller mountains of galleons and waved her wand at it. The pile neatly rose up and flew into the bag. Satisfied that she had enough for now, she turned and exited the vault.

The portkey trip back up to the lobby was no better than the first, and harry dreaded the final portkey to what would be her new home.

She steeled herself as she exited the gringotts building, and willed the ring to take her home.

As she arrived onto the Peverell grounds for the first time, she collapsed onto her hands and knees and heaved. It would have been quite the mess had there been anything in her stomach. She acknowledged the squeaking voices of a couple different house elves as they fretted over her, but she couldn't bring herself to do anything about it.

Her last thought before pain and exhaustion took her once more was that at least she would be taken well care of this time.

Chapter Text

Half past 3. Perhaps it was time to settle down and have a spot of lunch.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Dawn approached Vulpecula both too soon and not soon enough. She groaned and rolled over, covering her face with the duvet she had dragged off the bed in the night. Her sleep had been plagued with nightmarish visions of snake faced men and the screams of her friends falling during the last battle.

Thankfully they did not come with the too familiar feeling of her scar burning anymore. These were proper nightmares from what she had gone through herself, and not induced by some horrific connection to Voldemort. It was oddly comforting, she realized as she moved off the too soft bed onto a particularly soft area rug to sleep on. Waking up in the gods forsaken hours of the morning without the pain was a welcome reprieve from the horrors that Voldemort had been shoving past her poor occlumency barriers every night for the past 3 years.

Her mind was her own for the first time that she could remember ever. It felt like a weight was taken off of her. She could deal with the nightmares. She would fight and grow and become the master of her own mind, and eventually the nightmares wouldn't plague her anymore. It would take time and a hell of a lot of work to process and grieve the life she never had and the people she had lost. It would be hard and painful work. It would undoubtedly get worse before it got better. Regardless, she was determined. She would fight to be able to properly live for the first time in her life.

With a frustrated sigh Vulpecula sat up and stretched. Now that she was properly awake there was no chance of falling back asleep. Leaning up against the foot of her bed she called for minnie who popped in with her breakfast. Vulpecula thanked the elf who tittered and popped away after bowing so low that her ears flopped on the ground.

It was still early, she noted as she ate. The sun was just peeking through her light curtains and illuminating the room. A wandless tempus charm confirmed that it was ten of seven in the morning on July 30th, 1944.

Vulpecula nodded, chewing slowly as she thought back upon her muggle history lessons. The World War II would be wrapping up in a bit over a year, and Dumbledore would have his legendary duel with Grindelwald. London would still be recovering from the Blitz, but would be mostly healed at this point… She paused chewing, struck with a realization. The Black's home in Grimmauld place was in London. How did it fare in the Blitz? Did the wards hold? Did they fail? Were there any family members lost at that time? With the war on and so recently potentially losing family to muggle weapons it would be no surprise that they harbored anti muggle sentiment.

Slowly, Vulpecula placed her utensils back on the tray with her half eaten breakfast, her appetite gone. Thoughts of destruction and despair ran rampant through her mind before she took a breath and steeled her nerves. Standing from the ground, she absently thanked the elves and padded in her pajamas to the study.

The letter from Orion Black was still on her desk, curled up with the prominent black satin ribbon that was so emblematic of Black family correspondence. She sank down into the plush leather chair and stared at its contents once more.

In the light of morning it felt almost friendly, but she knew better. Powerful families like the Blacks would never offer such kindness unless they hoped to gain something of the relationship. It was so ingrained into their societal structure that they impressed the importance of such connections onto their children before they could even speak. Arcturus Black's letter reeked of political posturing and prodding to see how she would respond and to see if she would make a good future political ally.

Orion's letter had a similar probing sort of feeling. Despite that, it still felt friendly. Almost spitefully clinging to the restraints of politeness. Vulpecula smiled slightly as she recognized a touch of Sirius-ish rebellion, but in an almost foreignly Slytherin way. Sirius had gotten his rebellion from somewhere, and clearly it wasn't from Walburga.

Drawing a fresh piece of parchment from the desk, Vulpecula began crafting a reply to Orion. His invitation required a more immediate answer than anything else on her agenda. Her response mirrored his once finished. She would accept his invitation, of course. Expressing the proper level of excitement at the idea of making friends her own age, and lightly teasing about their first unintentional interaction. Subtly playful, yet innocuous to the untrained eye.

Setting that aside, She moved on to the letter for Arcturus. This one was more stiffly formal, pulling on the pureblood training that Pavati and Lavender had managed to squeeze into her dense skull. She set that one aside in a separate spot to reread later. It would have to be perfect, or Lord black would take it as a sign of weakness. Inexperience would be no excuse when the sharks smell blood in the water.

As those two letters dried she found a small pad of lined paper for lists and started writing down names. Potter and Longbottom were first to go down on the list as families to contact. Potter because of a close(ish) familial connection, and the Longbottoms because of their courage and loyalty to their allies. Both were firmly light oriented, which would be in stark contrast to the Dark oriented Black families, as well as any families that she would be likely to meet at Orion's party. From there she went further afield. The Bones' family, historically Hufflepuff, tended to exemplify the ideals of their house. They would be key in making friends with a bunch of smaller or more tenuously connected houses. They tended to lean more on the light side, but still managed to remain generally neutral with friends scattered all across the political spectrum.

Next on the list, to her own surprise, was the Lovegoods, followed closely by the Prewetts and Patil's. The Lovegoods were well known for their different brand of reality, but were also known for their unparalleled creativity and character judgement. The Prewetts and Patils both trod that fine line of neutrality. Occasionally swaying to one side or another on certain issues, but always returning to their carefully neutral standing so as to not offend either base of support.

As she rounded out the list, scribbling a very reluctant, almost illegible 'Gaunt/riddle', she leaned back with a sigh and placed the quill back down in its stand. Rubbing her face, she felt the tension that had been building dissipate slightly. With her elbows on the desk and her face covered by both hands she muttered to herself.

"All of this planning or ideating is good and all, but how do I reach out to make contact?" The sound was garbled from between her fingers. "The potters I can weasel because they're closely related to the Peverel line. But the rest? I truly haven't a single clue how to approach them."

"Perhaps," Vulpecula jumped as a new voice reached her ears. Her wand was already out and pointed towards the sound before she could even register that it was Death who had suddenly appeared in her private office, behind wards, in an undisclosed location. Death continued speaking, acting as if nothing had just occurred. "Perhaps you should start with one?"

Death lounged in a comfortable chair in the alcove under the owl window, their legs draped unceremoniously over one of the arms as their robes flowed down to the floor. The folds of fabric seemed to writhe in the firelight, like souls made solid and woven together.

It reminded Vulpecula of her invisibility cloak she had as Harry, and her chest ached. A reminder of losing one of the few connections she had had to her parents. She had lost everything to come back here. Her friends, her world, even her wand, she noted. The weight of her new one, though warm and comforting in her hand, was still unfamiliar as it dangled from her fingers at her side.

Death placed their feet on the floor and stood, slowly approaching until they stood directly in front of Vulpecula. They held their thin hands out, palm up, and spoke softly.

"May I hug you?"

Vulpecula took a breath and forced herself to relax. "Yeah," she whispered, fighting back a sudden well of tears.

Death carefully wrapped their arms around her, enveloping her in the silky material. "I'm sorry." they whispered. "I'm sorry for scaring you just now. I should have known better. I'm sorry for all that you've lost, all that has been taken from you. You deserve so much better, and here you are, still choosing to sacrifice yourself for the good of people who will never know the difference. You've done so much in your old life and plan to do so much in your new one. I'm so proud of you, and everyone you love is proud of you too."

One of their hands came up, softly cradling her head as she finally let go of her tears that she had been holding back for way too long. For the first time in her life she let herself go, feeling safe and cared for and loved in the arms of Death.

She had no idea how long she cried, but when the tears finally stopped her nose was stuffy, her eyes were puffed up and her voice was hoarse. Despite that she finally felt in control. Her thoughts felt a bit more coherent and her emotions no longer felt like they would explode out at the slightest provocation. Vulpecula just stood there for a few more moments before she spoke, still wrapped in death's comforting embrace.

"Hey Death?" she asked softly, her voice cracking.

"Yes, my dear Mistress?" They responded, matching their tone to hers.

"What would have happened if I had chosen to go On?"

Death paused for a moment, seeming to think before responding. "You would have been greeted by those who cared for you during their life, and then beyond that it is up to what you believe. Some people wish to stay in one place forever, relaxing and enjoying what they see as heaven. Some believe that they deserve eternal torment, and the torment of their mind consumes them. Others believe it is another great adventure, be that something they choose to do as the dead, or moving on to be reborn. Very few believe in nothing at all, but we do occasionally have someone who believes in and exists within a void."

"Would I be able to rest?"

Death sighed as Vulpecula asked. In that moment she sounded so much like the scared child that she never got to be. She was never allowed to feel, never allowed to be less than perfect, never allowed to be wild or creative or inquisitive or scared. Death did not hate. It is not in Death's nature to care about the living until it was their Time. But in that moment Death wished nothing but suffering upon the Dursley parents and Albus too-many-fucking-names Dumbledore. The three of them knew what they did was wrong, and they didn't just hurt any human. They hurt Death's Master; and they would pay.

"Yes," Death whispered into Vulpecula's mass of curly hair. "You could rest for as long as you need." They felt the longing that Harry had. To be free of the responsibility to save the whole world for once. "I think we both know," Death continued softly. "You would never be satisfied leaving the world as it is. The fact that you chose this proves it. But if you ever need, Time and I can work together to give you time to rest and recover. Not often, but if you are in dire need..."

"Thank you," Vulpecula cut them off, kissing their cheek lightly. "I know you're right and that's frustrating. And thank you for the apology. I didn't know I needed that, so thank you."

With that she stood straight. Death's arms fell away, exposing a new, stronger Vulpecula Hariett Peverell to the world.

Stepping back, Vulpecula clapped her hands together sharply. "Now. You said something about starting with just one?"

"Yes." Death shifted to a more businesslike tone and sat in the comfy chair in front of Vulpecula's desk. "You have a familial connection with the potters that cannot be ignored. Starting with them, you should be able to reach out to more and more families as you are introduced and make in person connections first. That way you would never be seen as too forwardly presumptuous. Plus as word spreads, you will likely receive more letters asking to meet purely because of the myths surrounding the Peverell family."

Vulpecula sat at her own seat behind the desk as Death spoke, her frustration building.

"That's reasonable, but I should know this kind of thing! I'm supposed to be some sort of half french pureblood right? There's no possible way for me to pass as that as I am. Hell, I don't even know more than three words in french!"

"That," Death leaned forward, resting their elbows on the edge of her desk and cradling their pointed chin in their folded hands. "My darling Mistress, is the big reason I came to see you today."

Vulpecula raised an eyebrow in an uncertain look.

"Yes." Death continued, as though she hadn't done anything. "Today is the perfect day for it. You don't have to deal with Gringotts or your birthday until tomorrow. Tomorrow would also be a good day to get some things from Diagon Alley if you have time around the goblins. Plus your physical brain is finally healed from the jump through time, as well as your mind is finally starting to assimilate to the world and information around you. This is the perfect time to shore up your occlumency and organize the slew of information we've stashed in a secret corner of your mind."

"You just shoved a bunch of information into my brain and I can't even access it?" Vulpecula was not surprised that they had put stuff in her brain. In fact she had expected it. She didn't, however, expect to not be able to access it. Thinking back over the past couple days she did notice a couple times that some new tidbits of information leaked, but for the most part she still felt very much like the same person she was before.

"The issue," Death began slowly. "With just dumping that much information into an unorganized mind is that it could completely rupture your brain and overwrite everything that you know already. Like spilling ink on an already finished essay. The information that was already written down gets lost. And while you still get bits and pieces unaffected, the entire essay is ruined. But if you apply ink properly, with a pen or a quill in an organized way, you can reasonably add to an essay and improve it. You understand what I'm saying?"

"Yeah I get it," Vulpecula nodded, rubbing her fingers against the bottoms of her eye sockets. "I'm just not eager to do this. You know my last experience with occlumency right?"

Death visibly darkened at this. "Yes, I remember. In fact Snape is getting his ass royally handed to him by your mother for the rest of eternity. He was so desperate to see her and she was so ready to mess him up for torturing you the way that he did." Death nodded sagely as Vulpecula blanched. "Yes. what he did was torture, not teaching. That was true in all of his classes, but especially in occlumency. He was ordered to open your mind even further to the intrusions of Voldemort, by Both masters when they both were aware of his position over you. And he took way too much pleasure and vindication in doing so. He hated your father and his friends so much that he wanted to hurt them even after they had died, and the only way he thought he could do that was through hurting you. He saw you as the culmination of all his mistakes, the result of pushing your mother away and- from his warped point of view- into the arms of the man who became your father. Severus Snape was a horrible, bitter man. He never should have been allowed near children, and especially not near you."

Vulpecula was speechless. She had never had anyone with a position of authority speak up against how Snape had treated her class and her in particular. All of the frustration and anger that she had felt in school felt justified. She wasn't alone.

"Now," Death leaned back in their chair and clapped their hands together. "I've had enough of this gabbing. Are you ready to start?"

"Yeah. I am. How are we supposed to do this?" Vulpecula felt nervous, flashes of Snape snarling 'clear your mind' inadvertently coming to the forefront of her mind's eye, followed by the memory of him ripping through what little mental strength she had managed to scrape together.

"We will start, if you are ok with it, with entering your mindscape. Normally this takes a bunch of meditation and truly knowing oneself to reach this visual representation of you within your own mind, but with consent and a skilled teacher guiding you we can get there a lot faster. And from there I will help you organize your mind and then we can add the new memories and knowledge into your system of organization. Does that sound ok?"

"Will it hurt?" Vulpecula asked softly, her arms wrapped around her stomach as it roiled with her heightening anxiety.

"No, it will not hurt. I promise you." Death spoke softly now, gentile confidence imbued in each word. "And if you want me out of your head I will be gone immediately. We don't have to do everything today if you're uncomfortable. Today is just a good day to get started. If you feel comfortable enough to allow me."

Vulpecula took a deep steadying breath and finally met Death's glowing eyes. "I'm ready." Her voice was steady. She wanted to excel in this. Prove Snape wrong and destroy everything he had done to her mind.

With consent given, and watching for any slight hint of her wanting them gone, death carefully entered Vulpecula's mind. They stayed at the edge of her consciousness. Essentially knocking and waiting for her to allow them in further.

The first thing that Death noticed about her mind, just from the edges, was that it was an enormous storm. Thoughts, feelings, and memories all swirled around as though they were being whipped about in a hurricane. Reaching forward, Death prodded at one of her surface level thoughts gently. This let her know exactly where they were, and that they were just standing there, waiting for her to let them in further. As soon as Vulpecula felt the intrusion she gasped and flinched, and Death withdrew immediately.

"Are you ok?" Death asked, calm and collected. It felt as though they had done this before.

"Yeah. Sorry I-"

"No. Don't 've been through some shit. I would be more concerned if you didn't have the reaction you did." Death reached across the desk and gently patted Vulpecula's clenched fist. "Defending your mind is instinctive. That you can at all means that they failed. You are stronger and we can make it so they and others can never get into your mind at all."

Progress was slow at first. It took about three hours of consistent work for Vulpecula to even allow Death into her mind. From there however, they both progressed in leaps and bounds.

Vulpecula's internal mind naturally appeared as her Gryffindor dorm room. The first place that she had ever felt safe and at home. Thoughts, emotions and memories were strewn about the place like loose papers and stray clothes, and everything that she didn't want to or couldn't deal with was shoved underneath each of the four poster beds.

"No wonder I have such a hard time sleeping," She had remarked upon seeing that for the first time. Death turned and leveled a stern look at her.

"You've been through hell since you were fifteen months old. Of course you have trouble sleeping. We will do as much as we can to help you though."

Vulpecula smiled a little bit. Death was being very patient with her today, and it made her feel cared for in a way that she hadn't felt since she had left her friends, Neville and Luna.

"Now," Death clapped their hands together and grinned. "Renovation time eh?"

"Renovation?"

"Well we can't just leave it as the Gryfindor girls dorms now can we? An entire quarter of the population knows the exact layout, and the rest can hazard a crude guess. We have to make it something different that IF someone miraculously got through the defenses that we're going to build, it'll at least be a challenge to get anything. Now. Ideas?"

Vulpecula sat on the nearest trunk. The locked one, that Death had said contained all the knowledge she would need to pass as a pureblood heiress living in France. Staring around the room, her eyes fell on what would have been Pavati's bed. It had all sorts of brightly colored clothes and gold jewelry scattered around, just as there had been in real life. Her eyes in particular were drawn to a golden cuff that had apparently fallen off the bed and halfway underneath the frame. It looked like a golden snake, with ruby red eyes that seemed to stare into her soul.

"Hey Death?" Vulpecula asked, still staring at the snake bracelet.

"Yeah?" they answered distractedly, trying to organize some of the mess under her bed while she was occupied elsewhere.

"What about a library?"

"A library?" death paused, looking at her with a guarded expression. "That's a very neat and orderly place. People can find what they're looking for in a library pretty easily."

"Yes, but what if the books were translated into parseltongue?"

"That would be interesting, but we run into a small problem."

"Parseltongue doesn't have a written language does it?"

"Got it in one."

Vulpecula made a small humphing sound and continued to stare at the bracelet on the floor. It almost seemed to come alive as she watched the light from the windows shift from the storm of thoughts whirling around outside.

"What about the forbidden forest?"

Death paused their attempts to make room for the new memories and waited for her to explain.

"All the animals could speak parseltongue, and guide me to what I need if I give the correct guide word. They would sort of act as decoys, running away from anyone who doesn't speak the correct passwords. The real memories and everything would be the leaves on the trees. High up. Inaccessible unless you can fly or have the help of the guides."

Death and Vulpecula looked at each other. Their eyes met and they both grinned. No wizard would ever ask for help from an animal. Especially not one so arrogant that they forced their way into her head. Plenty of room for new growth and new learning. It was perfect.

It took all afternoon to finish organizing her new mindspace, but she never felt more at peace with herself. All of her traumatic and negative experiences were buried beneath the roots of the forest. Out of sight, but the lessons learned fed through the roots and helped promote new growth and served as a secondary safety measure. Should someone try to hurt one of the animals or climb or chop down the trees, the negative memories and emotions would come up and ensnare their mind, trapping them in the memories of weeks upon years of hunger, loneliness and loss. Surrounding the forest they constructed a dome, a solid barrier that was nigh impossible to get through.

The final layer was very similar to what Death first encountered as they entered her mind for the first time. A hurricane of superficial thoughts and emotions, but more solid. To a fleeting probe it would appear as though she had never developed any occlumency at all. However if they tried to push through the winds and rain they would soon find their probe 'blown' back from whence it came with a sharp jab of pain directed at the left eye socket.

They both felt satisfied with their work as they withdrew from Vulpecula's mind for the last time. It was about 5 in the evening, and Vulpecula felt a series of sharp pops as she stretched. Sitting in one position for hours on end, no matter how comfortable it starts, always ends up painful.

An elf, Minnie, popped in as she stretched, placing a hot mug of tea on her desk, and quietly chastising her mistress for missing meals.

"You is being too thin to be missing meals Miss. At least have tea. It will help, but yous best be prepared for an extra big dinner tonight Miss!"

"Yes Mistress, drink up." Death teased, as Vulpecula took a sip of the tea. It was warm and flavorful and helped soothe her aching mind. She didn't even deign to respond to Death's taunting. Instead she focused on the letters in front of her. One ready to go out, the other needing some serious work before the Lord Black would be ok with it.

Already the knowledge that death had planted in her head was making itself known, and vulpecula let out a very unladylike groan as she saw just how much work would need to go into that letter, and it really should not wait until the morning-

"Go eat," Death Interrupted softly.

"What?"

"Go. eat. I'll take care of this for you tonight. Your mind is adjusting well but it is going to hurt very soon if you don't eat and go to bed." Death glanced up at her and started shooing her away with a hand gesture. "This won't be a regular thing. Trust me. I hate politics and all that, but you need rest. You'll have plenty of time to stress over how your letters to other lords and ladies are received later. Now go."

Vulpecla stood slowly and walked around the desk towards the door. She paused part way and paused, seeing Death scribbling away at the formal letter was an amusing sight, and she was once again struck by how grateful she was to have them in her life.

"Hey Death," She called quietly.

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you."

And with that she walked out of the study and towards the dining room that the elves were no doubt piling full as though for a feast.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

The general hubbub of the Leaky Cauldron didn’t falter for even a moment as Vulpecula hurried in from the Alley. She was so used to everyone stopping and gawking for a moment whenever she entered a room that she froze for a moment in the doorway. Taking a breath, she relaxed and approached the bar, leaning against the structure and glancing around while waiting for the barman to approach her.

The establishment looked almost exactly the same as when she had seen it the first time in the 90’s. It was markedly cleaner, she noticed. The wooden surfaces were still light and shining, missing a couple decades worth of grime, but the general details and the clientele remained the same. There was still the odd spell scorch mark on the walls and ceiling, groups of friends carousing, even the oddly smelling drunken hag passed out in the corner by the stairs. Perhaps that’s why, when Tom the barman asked if she needed anything, she nearly fell over. 

“I- I- wha-?” Vulpecula floundered for a moment, and prayed that the odd french accent helped explain her confusion.

“How can I help you today?” Tom repeated, a bit more slowly. 

Vulpecula blinked, her mind still taking a moment to register. This was the same Tom that she had met in her first time, except not. This Tom still had his sandy brown hair and all of his teeth. He stood behind the bar in a neat robe, straight backed as he wiped his hands clean from whatever it was he had been doing last. It was rather disconcerting to see what the bald, toothless, hunched over wizard had started as. Perhaps the stress of running the most popular wizarding establishment through at least two wizarding wars took a harsh toll on the man.

“O-oh, Pardonne moi.” Vulpecula stammered, barely suppressing a shiver as the french unexpectedly came out of her mouth. “I am supposed to have a meeting with Headmaster Dippit. Has the professor arrived?” She smoothed her hair nervously, hoping that she appeared rather frazzled and nervous to cover her moment of disorientation.

She needn't have worried. Tom gave her a reassuring smile and pointed her to one of the private tables on the balcony. 

“He’s right up there, miss,” he said kindly. “The old wizard in the muted red robes asleep by the fire. He’s a brilliant wizard, and very kind as well. Adores his work educating our youth. If he falls asleep in the middle of your conversation, please don’t take offense. He’s old, even by our standards. I believe he recently passed his third century within the last few years.”

“I see,” Vulpecula murmured, finally feeling relaxed in a somewhat trivial conversation. “And how should I awaken him?” 

“I would knock on the table,” Tom chuckled a bit, as though laughing at some joke he told himself. “Though if that doesn’t work I would just prod him lightly. He usually wakes up pretty easily.”

“Thank you,” she smiled at Tom in thanks and started to head up the stairs.

“It was no problem Miss,” Tom smiled in a friendly manner as she walked away. Clearly he liked meeting and talking to new people. As she headed up the steps she noted that he had already moved on to the next customer who came in after her. 

It was a young witch with riotous black curls that were trying to escape their pins, and expensive looking robes. Something about her looked vaguely familiar, but Vulpecula brushed it off for the moment. The witch was probably the ancestor of someone that she knew in passing back in the 90’s. After all, she had recognized several of her friends' features on random witches and wizards today. Family resemblance was usually quite strong in the wizarding world after all. 

Vulpecula reached the balcony and approached the table with Headmaster Dippet. He was clearly very old, with his stark white hair and lines crossing his bearded face like a spider web. Regardless, she agreed with Tom’s assessment. He did appear very kind, with deep smile lines and crow’s feet adorning his cheeks and temples. Before him was a tea set. A half empty cup sat in front of him, the barest hint of steam wafting from the liquid. One other cup was set upside down on the saucer in front of the empty chair.

Vulpecula sat down in the seat and poured herself some tea, taking care to clack the tea set a bit louder than normal, but still within the bounds of politeness. She dropped in a single sugar cube and just a splash of milk, clacking her spoon as she stirred. Professor Dippet awoke with a light start as she set her spoon back on the table and took her first sip.

“Oh goodness me,” the professor exclaimed softly. “Do forgive me. I seem to have this terrible habit of nodding off at the worst moment.” Dippet straightened up in his chair and extended his hand courteously. “I am Professor Armando Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Peverell.”

“It’s an honor to meet you too Professor,” Vulpecula shook his hand and smiled. There was just something so genuine about Dippet. She liked him already. “You said that because this is my first year at Hogwarts you wanted to go over what to expect?”

“Yes,” Professor Dippet nodded sagely as he took a sip of his tea. “Switching schools in the middle of your education is an extremely stressful thing. Especially as this is your OWL year.” He tactfully didn’t bring up her ‘father’s’ death. “So I wanted to ensure that there are as few gaps in your education as possible. Curriculums change from teacher to teacher, let alone from school to school. So I’ve compiled the syllabuses for each of the classes that you’ve enrolled in, and the one for the year below, so that we can spot any glaring holes and if need be, assign you either self study or a tutor to make sure you’re all set for the coming year.”

Vulpecula was rather touched. She had expected that they would simply look at the scores for her final exams in Beauxbatons (very good but not extremely outstanding, thanks to Time setting everything up) and tell her that she was fit to continue on to the next year level. This was the kind of personal touch and care for education that Dumbledore had lacked, distracted as he was by gaining political power and his several other political positions. That Professor Dippet was taking his own time to ensure that a new student wasn’t getting left behind academically made Vulpecula want to cry.

They sat there for a bit over an hour, going over topics and summarizing the major points of theory, and occasionally having Vulpecula demonstrate her proficiency with certain spells. Summoning charms, locking charms, explaining why transfiguring one living creature to another was so dangerous, and why inanimate to animate transfiguration was difficult. They went over several difficult potion preparation methods, and the importance of preventing cross contamination. He also ensured that she knew how and when to use elder futhark runes vs hieratic or greek symbols, and the reasons they don’t mix (with the one universal exemption). 

“Well then Miss Peverell,” Professor Dippet said, leaning back in his chair. “I do believe that you’ll have no issue joining our 5th year students. In fact, because you are ahead in a few subjects, I would personally recommend that you focus more on making friends with your new peers. I’ve always seen that it’s the social aspect of moving to a new school that causes the most distress, so find some good friends and the rest we can fix later if need be.”

“Thank you Professor,” Vulpecula nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. She hoped that she would be able to make some genuine friends while she was here. Of course she had her goal of making a better future, but it’s much harder to push for change if she didn’t have any proper support.

“Speaking of friends,” Dippet continued, an excited gleam in his eye. “Would you like a tour of the castle? And then we could provide you dinner. The elves always miss having students to dote on in the summer months, they would love to have you eat their food.”

“That sounds lovely Professor,” Vulpecula agreed quickly, excited to see her old home once more. 

“Excellent!” the old wizard exclaimed, his eyes nearly lost among the wrinkles of his bright smile. “It’s easiest to Floo there directly. The address is Hogwarts Headmaster’s Office. If you just say Hogwarts you’ll be dropped in the middle of the great hall. Don’t know why, considering there’s no fireplace there to begin with.”

As he spoke he dug out a galleon and left it on the table as payment for Tom, and then pulled out a small bag of floo powder. The green dust glittered in the flickering firelight. Dippet took a pinch and proffered the bag. 

Vulpecula was suddenly very strongly reminded of her very first trip via floo. Coming out into Knockturn Alley, even in broad daylight, was quite the experience for a twelve year old girl. Especially a famous one who was recognized immediately by the denizens of the alley. She remembered being mobbed by the smelly, dirty, terrifying people who lived there, and the utter relief she felt when Hagrid had pulled her out to familiar safety.

Not that she had truly been safe with the Weasleys, she thought to herself as she reached for the powder, taking a large pinch and throwing it into the flames. They turned a wicked emerald green, and she stepped inside. She had made sure to take a deep breath beforehand, and tried her best to avoid inhaling as she spun like a top. She spoke clearly, with a single breath, making sure to keep her eyes closed and elbow tucked in. 

One thing that she had never been taught in her previous life, was that in order to exit with any sort of dignity, you had to take a step directly forward as soon as you felt yourself slowing down in the direction that you had been spinning. Like a ball being swung on a rope suddenly being released, all of the centrifugal energy had to be directed into forward momentum. Otherwise you kept spinning and ended up arse over tea kettle on the rug of your destination.

Vulpecula exhaled the last of her air before breathing in a fresh breath and opening her eyes. It was a shocking difference to the office that she had been accustomed to in her time. Instead of the bright red carpets and delicate instruments whirring away on little side tables, the floor was covered in deep blue carpets of varying styles. The shelves and tables were adorned with books and astronomy tools such as telescopes and astrolabes. 

As she looked up, Vulpecula marveled that the ceiling had been enchanted, similar to the great hall, to show the sky above, however it was showing the sky as they would have seen it without the sun blotting out the rest of the stars. It was still there, disorientingly large compared to the rest of the bodies, but never before had she seen the sun surrounded by stars in such a way. She was so entranced that she didn’t even bother looking as the fireplace wooshed, announcing Professor Dippet’s arrival.

“I’ve always loved watching the stars,” Dippet said conversationally, sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Took quite a bit of runic enchantment and charm work to get this working. Took ten years’ trial and error to get it working just right.”

“It’s beautiful.” 

“That it is,” Dippet was watching her, his eyes soft with understanding. “The sky is not quite the same as it would be in France. Polaris is a bit higher in the sky due to the latitude change, but I enjoy seeing the surrounding constellations dance around as the days go by.”

“I can’t see Leo,” She murmured, a bit sad. “He’s always so proud in the sky this time of year.”

“That’s because it’s still daytime,” Dipet comforted smoothly. “He’ll be out proudly when the sun sets.” 

They sat silently for a few minutes before Dippet let out a surprisingly soft snore. Vulpecula chuckled under her breath for a moment before she carefully prodded the old professor awake. Thankfully it didn’t take more than a single prod to get the man moving again. 

“Goodness!” he exclaimed, his arms flying up to his head to make sure his hat was still in place properly. “I do apologize. We should get on with the tour before it gets too late!”
They walked around for about an hour, during which time Dippet had shown her the entrance hall, all of the relevant classrooms, the staff room’s location, and had even shown her exactly where the entrances to each of the common rooms was, and from there how to get to the entrance hall again. 

“Most of the older years are already aware of roughly where the entrances are. However each of the houses guards the exact location and ways of getting in jealously, so don’t let anyone know I showed you where they are.”

“I take it that the houses don’t always get along?” Vulpecula asked, pretending- poorly by her own standards- that she was learning all of this information for the first time. 

“Definitely not,” Dippet said, an amused grin stretching his lined face once more. “But that’s the nature of competition. Now.”
Dippet stopped in front of a completely blank section of wall between two torch sconces. They were only on the ground floor, having just emerged from seeing the stack of barrels that hid the hufflepuff common room entrance. As far as Vulpecula knew, there was nothing special here.

“The last two stops are the hospital wing and the Library, and I’m going to take you there quickly!” he gave a conspiratorial wink before placing his hand on the wall and kicking it rather hard. “Fuck!” 
The shock of watching the wizened old professor intentionally hurt himself was doubled by hearing such sudden profanity from him. All that she could do was stare at him aghast. Then the doorway appeared where there wasn’t one before, and Vulpecula’s jaw dropped even farther.

“Oof I despise doing that,” Dippet said as he stepped forward gingerly. “This will take us straight to the hospital wing doors. Which is good I suppose. Especially since I seem to have to injure myself to make the proper sound to get that wall to open.”
Vulpecula was stunned, but followed the old man up the newly discovered stairs. Parseltongue, she realized. He hadn’t sworn at all- well, at least not knowingly. He had to make some kind of hissing sound, and the door was probably coded for parseltongue. Of course it was a lucky(?) coincidence that the pained hiss from Dippet happened to open the passageway in such a profane way. Regardless, Vulpecula decided that she would test a couple other ways to open it just using parseltongue to see how it reacted. 

They did, in fact, exit the dark secret passageway at the Hospital wing doors, which Dippet swung open and marched in. A rather young looking Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her cauldron of what looked like pepper up potion and sighed upon seeing the headmaster hobbling along. 

“Professor, you didn’t trip again did you?” She asked, pulling out her wand and placing the potion in stasis. 

“No, no,” Dippet smiled brightly. “Just stubbed my toe on one of those darned staircases. I suppose one of them decided that it wanted to be a bit taller for today.“

“Alright then,” she said, a note of suspicion in her voice as she made to turn back to her potion. “Oh! Hello there miss,” The young Madame Pomfrey waved shyly at Vulpecula. “I’m Poppy Pomfrey, and I’m the new mediwitch on staff. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Hello,” Vulpecula was caught rather off guard. The madam Pomfrey that she knew was never shy about anything. Not even when she had to teach young Harry about her first period at age fourteen a week after the first task. It was difficult to consolidate that madame pomfrey with the self assured, but still shy Poppy Pomfrey that stood before her. 

“My name is Vulpecula Peverell,” She continued, mirroring Poppy’s wave. “I’m going to be a new fifth year student this coming school year. It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Pomfrey.”

“Please call me Poppy when I’m not treating you for injuries,” Poppy grinned. “I’m only twenty five.”

“That sounds wonderful Poppy,” Vulpecula smiled back, hesitating a bit before the name came out. It felt odd to refer to the mediwitch so informally, but it was worth it, as Poppy’s grin lit up her face, threatening to burst her cheeks with joy. 

“Oh, I so look forward to getting to know you better. Not in one of my beds of course, but us new people have got to stick together!”

“Of course Poppy!” she said, trying to get used to the feel of the name as she said it. “Perhaps I’ll stop by for tea during the first few days of class? It’ll be good to relax with a familiar face.”

“I’ll look forward to it!” Poppy gave one last smile before adopting a no nonsense visage that Vulpecula was more familiar with. “Now run along you two. I’ve got a bunch of potions that I need to restock before the week is up. I’ll see you when the term starts Vulpecula!”

And with that, Vulpecula and Professor Dippet were chivvied out into the hallway and the great doors shut behind them loudly. 

“Lovely,” Professor Dippet said, clasping his hands together joyously. “Now you know at least one person around your age. Poppy is lovely and I'm sure you two will get along splendidly.”

Dippet prattled on aimlessly as they meandered through the corridors. He occasionally pointed out some of the portraits on the walls, and greeted a couple as though they were old friends. Vulecula’s mind, however, was somewhat distracted.

“Professor,” She asked softly

“Hmm? Yes dear?”

“Poppy is the new Mediwitch. What happened to the old one?”

Dippet slowed to a stop and frowned, for once looking his three centuries and change.

“She retired,” he said sadly. “Stress of the situation got the better of her. Or at least that’s what she said in her letter of resignation.”

“What situation?” Vulpecula prompted. She was curious, but she had a sneaking suspicion of what the situation had been.

“A creature got loose in the castle.” Dippet leaned against the wall. He looked suddenly old and frail, with a haunted look in his eyes. “One of our students had brought it in. Was caring for it as a pet. Unfortunately one of the other students died before the creature was driven out. Someone saw it going into the forest. If the forest wasn’t forbidden before we would have made it so. I just wish we could have saved Miss Warren.”

Vulpecula felt sick to her stomach. Myrtle Warren had already died, and Tom had framed Hagrid for it. There was nothing she could do about it. Of course there was no reason for him to be caring for an acromantula within the school, however it rankled a bit that she wouldn’t be able to prevent Tom from framing her future friend for something he didn’t cause.

“I apologize Miss Peverell,” Dippet said, pushing off from the wall and standing on his own once more. “That’s not the kind of thing you’d want to hear about your new school, but I suppose it’s better you know the facts from me rather than some half twisted rumor from your fellow students.”

“I appreciate your honesty professor,” Vulpecula said, giving him a sad smile. “Now I believe you said that we still have to see the library? And then something about dinner.”

“Yes, yes!” Dippet exclaimed, and continued leading her around to the library. “We have one of the largest collections. Any topic in the world, we have at least something on it. Our professors and alumni have dedicated so much to us that I’d say it’s one of the largest and most varied private collections in all of England, if not the world!”

Dippet swung open the small double doors and Vulpecula breathed in the familiar scent of thousands of leather bound tomes. The Library hadn’t changed much, if at all over the intervening years. The lamps on the tables and the ladders on the shelves looked exactly the same as she remembered them. The one thing that surprised her was that there seemed to be a table occupied by a young, dark haired man. His back was to the door, but he had stacks upon stacks of books in front of him. 

“I wasn’t aware that there would be students here over the summer holidays?” Vulpecula whispered the question, trying not to disturb him. 

“Normally there aren’t,” Dippet replied at the same level. “Occasionally we grant special permission to stay here over the holidays but it’s very rare. If the situation last term hadn’t been resolved as quickly as it was, I probably wouldn’t have allowed it at all.”

Dippet smiled at her one more time. “Why don’t you go take a look around. Familiarize yourself with the various sections. I’ll have him bring you back down to the great hall in twenty minutes or so for dinner. Then We could go over any questions you come up with. Does that sound alright?”

“Yes Professor, that sounds lovely,” Vulpecula grinned and went off to explore the shelves. 
Dippet smiled and watched her disappear into the aisles, her fingers brushing lightly against the spines as though she were greeting old friends. She was a very bright girl. Part of him hoped that she would be sorted into his old house of Ravenclaw, but

another part of him disagreed. She was too sharp, too aware. Perhaps Slytherin would be able to keep up with her instead? 

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he went over to interrupt  his student. Perhaps the pair would be friends?

Vulpecula was thrilled to be back in the Hogwarts library. The extensive rows of books and scrolls was like a labyrinth of knowledge. There were hiding places galore if you knew where to look. In fact, this was where she had mostly retreated when she wanted to be alone. Ron avoided the place like the plague, and Hermione and the rest of the school had thought that she didn’t know which way a book opened, let alone loved immersing herself in new knowledge. And so she hid here. Until she had discovered the room of requirement. Regardless, she missed being here, and gently caressed the spines of the books she passed in greeting.

The books seemed to sigh and warm in welcome. They were always welcoming, loved new people opening them and absorbing the knowledge stored inside them. But this felt familiar. They remembered, through time, and welcomed her back.

“Time wanted you to have somewhere comfortable,” Death said as they stepped out of a shadowed corner.

“Tell her that I say thank you,” Vulpecula pulled out a book that seemed particularly excited to see her and opened it. It was a book on defensive spells and shielding techniques. One of the ones she had poured over when she had first started teaching Dumbledore’s army.

“I’ll pass on the message,” Death said, gently caressing her hair as she read through a couple pages.

Having Death there felt comfortable. Felt very much like she had a friend standing next to her. Surrounded by welcoming books, and with death playing with her hair, Vulpecula felt truly relaxed and at home.

“Hello,” a new voice intruded upon her miniature sanctuary. 

Vulpecula’s head whipped around to face this new person. Death had retreated back a step, a low frustrated hiss slipping through their bared teeth as they glared at the tall dark haired boy before the pair of them.

“Headmaster Dippet asked me to find you and lead you down to dinner after twenty minutes. Miss Peverell, was it? It’s lovely to meet you. My name is Tom Riddle.”

Chapter Text

“That soul,” Death hissed, causing the surrounding air to chill for a moment before calming. “It’s so close I can taste it! Yet it's out of my reach for now.” Death relaxed, letting their hands fall back to their side. 

“He’s not made any Horcruxes yet,” Death whispered in Vulpecula’s ear as she extended her hand to Tom’s proffered one. “His soul is injured from the murder but it is still intact for now.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too Mr Riddle,” she replied to Tom pleasantly, slightly tilting her head to the right as she smiled.

She flinched a bit  as Tom bent at the waist to kiss her knuckles. Quickly she tried to disguise it with a soft gasp and widened her eyes a bit, adopting an expression of innocent shock. 

It was not done well, by her own standards. Regardless, when Tom righted himself again there was something in the set of his face that felt bored. This was the sort of reaction he had anticipated. And despite the pleasant, seemingly open expression and words that flowed from his lips like honey as they walked down to the great hall, she meant nothing to him. She was yet another girl, easily swayed and smitten by his charms. He had barely tested her and she had failed... Exactly what she wanted.

Getting started would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to keep dodging him and his attention. Her first step had to be finding and attaching herself to allies. And that would be exceedingly difficult if she started surrounded by enemies.

As the pair walked, Vulpecula prattled on aimlessly. A tide of words in which she said nothing of substance and asked shallow questions. Her aim was to distract him and bore him with trivialities so that she was as uninteresting as possible.

 She was going into fifth year, transferring from Beauxbaton. The weather here agreed with her so far, but what about the winter months? How would the classes compare? Did he think that she would make friends?

He was a Slytherin (obviously she knew that), going into his seventh year (she was a bit weirded out by that but she figured Time had her reasons). Apparently he had just got the confirmation that he would be head boy this coming year. Classes would be strenuous, but there was no doubt she could do well if she studied enough. The weather in winter would be horrid so she should stock up on wool clothes if she could. He had subtly avoided the question about friends, and she pretended she didn’t notice.

“Thank you for walking me down,” Vulpecula said as they reached the grand staircase to the great hall. “I’m sure without you I would have been lost for at least a couple hours.”

“It was my pleasure,” Tom replied smoothly, bowing as they got to the open double doors. “This is where I’ll leave you for the night.  I hope to see you again at the start of term.”

“You won’t be joining us?” Vulpecula tried to sound wistful, but it came out a bit more of a whine in her ears. Tom must have thought the same thing as his next smile was a bit more tense. 

“I’m afraid not. I have things I have to finish soon and I had a late lunch. I’ll get some food from the elves later. They adore spoiling students anyways.” 

“Very well then,” Vulpecula sighed and turned towards the great hall. “I hope the rest of your holidays are peaceful, and I look forward to meeting you again!” 

She thought that she might vomit as she heard the disgustingly artificially sweet response from him.

“I look forward to meeting you again too.”

Her shoulders relaxed a bit as soon as she heard him walking away, and she glanced back towards him out of the corner of her eye as she turned to step through the double doors. 

She caught the tiniest bit of motion of his head, and a couple strands of his hair were barely settling back into place as he walked up the marble staircase, back towards the library. He had looked back at her. An odd feeling in her gut told her that this was far from over.

The evening set with Vulpecula and Professor Dippet walking back to the headmaster’s office while discussing astronomy once more. Vulpecula laughed at a particularly well told tale about how after a hundred years if study, Dippet realized that his meticulous calculations were incorrect by a degree and a half, and that he was forced to reconsider several theories that he had been working on because the north star wasn’t as perfect a measuring point as he had thought. The damn thing precessed, which threw off his calculations for the latter half of the century! 

They reached the top of the moving spiral staircase, and stopped to admire the ceiling once more.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” Dippet asked softly, staring up at the glimmering lights above them. “They are so constant, yet if you watch them, even the largest, farthest stars are dancing their way through the universe. Even our short lives are nothing to these stars that live on a scale we can’t begin to comprehend.” He looked over at Vulpecula and sighed softly.

Reaching out, he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He ignored the soft wince at the unexpected touch. She did not shrink away, but his heart hurt to even consider what she might have been through.

“Regardless, child,” Dippet said, hoping that he could help in the slightest. “The universe changes around us, shaping us. But we change it as well. The sun may always rise in the morning and the moon at night, but what they illuminate is something we choose ourselves.”

Vulpecula nodded sadly, remembering her friends who had illuminated her life. Luna with her gentile glow and eyes that knew far too much. Neville with his radiating warmth that nurtured everything around him. Fred and George with their explosive light, burning those who tried to get too close, and a wall protecting those who they let in. Teddy. A new star she never got to meet. She hoped that he would still be born in the future she was carving here. She would have to live until he was born, and send a gift. Something from the godmother he would never get to know in either time. 

‘The sun will rise for them.’ She promised herself. ‘I will make this world a world where they and everyone else can live and give them a chance to shape the world in turn.’

“Thank you Professor,” she said softly. She wiped her eyes as Dippet pretended to be very interested in an invisible piece of lint on his robes. “Have a good evening, and I’ll see you when term starts.”

“Yes of course my dear,” Dippet said with a smile as he proffered a box of floo powder. “I’ll see you then. Oh! And one more thing!” he exclaimed before she could step into the now green fire. “When you get off the express, make sure you take the boats across with the first years. It’s an experience I wouldn’t want anyone deprived of.”

“Of course professor,” Vulpecula said with a grin. 

She clearly stated her floo address, and as she began to spin in the fireplace, she heard a soft snore from the Headmaster once more.

Death was waiting for her as she stepped out of the fireplace in the entrance hall of The Peverell House. They were pacing back and forth, and as soon as Vulpecula was free of the flames, they pounced. 

Death grabbed her by the shoulders and enveloped her into a hug. Tendrils of darkness coiled around her like snakes, probing and making sure that she was ok. Despite the chill, and its shocking contrast to the heat of floo travel, the touch was comforting. 

“You’re ok,” Death said, more to comfort themselves than anything else. They relaxed as the tendrils of magic explored, finding that no harm had come to her.

“Of course I’m ok,” Vulpecula said soothingly, smoothing Death’s thin dark hair back away from their face. “The real question is, are you ok?”

Death faltered, taking a step back and eying her at arms length. 

“I am now,” Death said slowly. They smiled reassuringly before a flash of anger alighted in their eyes. “But if that soul hurts my master I’ll rip it from its body bit by bit in the most painful way I can until the body fails and it comes free entirely.” Death took a deep breath and finally settled. “The soul already has a tear. He’s committed his first murder. I’m not willing to take risks with my master so near.”

“But Tom hasn’t made his first horcrux yet,” Time said, stepping into existence out of nowhere. She smiled at Vulpecula and winked. “He was supposed to figure that out this summer, but just by meeting him you’ve derailed that course of action entirely.”

“What do you mean?” Vulpecula asked, slightly unsettled.

“Tom is going to spend the rest of the summer researching you,” Time said, waving her hand in a nonchalant manner. “Your family history, any news articles, historical alliances-”

“Figuring out if you’re a threat to his plans and position,” Death cut off Time’s list, giving her a look. “Which you are, merely by virtue of being who you are.”

Vulpecula sat down on the bottom step of the grand staircase, slightly shrinking in on herself in anxiety. She had tried to make herself as unnoteworthy as possible. She needed time and space to make allies before her enemies identified her as such.

“I thought I did an alright job of making myself seem like a normal teenager going to a new school,” Vulpecula said, a slight hitch in her voice. 

“You did wonderful darling,” Time said, coming over and giving her a gentle hug. “However Tom, being Tom, doesn't like not knowing- well- anything. Especially how the people around you will react. Any new student introduced like this would have been investigated. It’s not because it’s you. Or at least, not just because you’re you.”

“You are joining in your fifth year,” Death said, their arms crossed over their chest. “That alone is of note. Transfers are not common between schools. That, in his mind, is of significant note. But there is a small chance that he did recognize the name. After all, You come from an influential family with strong family magicks. Even if you did nothing, other families would still try their best to please you and curry favor.”

“Suuure...” Vulpecula drawled, uncomfortable with  the turn in conversation. “Anyways, Time! You said something about Tom not having made his first horcrux?”

“That’s right!” Time nodded with a huge grin. “He’s still a human. And his soul is only partially torn at this point. He knowingly caused Myrtle’s death but he didn’t actually succeed in tearing his soul asunder. There’s a difference between letting out a deadly creature that happens to kill someone and hitting them with a killing curse.”

“As long as he hasn’t made the first horcrux there’s a chance he can be saved too?” Vulpecula asked softly, more to herself than to anyone else, but Time and Death still nodded in response. Time nodded with a hopeful grin on her face, and Death had a scowl across their face as they agreed. 

“Myrtle’s death,” Death began reluctantly, shifting uncomfortably where they stood. “It was a tragic accident. Riddle didn’t actually intend to kill her, and that is reflected in his soul currently. It’s only partially torn because Tom does, in some twisted way, feel remorse for what happened. It’s probably remorse that things didn’t go to plan, but the effect on the soul is the same. If left alone, it has a chance to heal. However, if he tries to make a Horcrux with his soul partially torn...”

“He’ll start going mad,” Vulpecula finished, feeling a bit worse for Myrtle than she had even when she first learned how the unfortunate Ravenclaw had died. Tom, however, posed an entirely different conundrum.

Vulpecula expected, when she would come face to face with Tom, that he would already be firmly entrenched in a murderous, mildly genocidal frame of mind. So to learn that the first death at his hands wasn’t even intended was quite the shock. Thinking back to when she first met him in the library, he had seemed almost normal. Granted, he’s a seventh year Slytherin, but he had had a normal presence. She had been able to tell that he was bored of the endless tirade of small talk, but he hadn’t had any murderous intent towards her.

That in itself felt foreign to her, but looking back it made sense. Here she was a stranger. They were not connected by some mutated thread of fate or destiny. They were not bonded by some alcoholic’s drunken prophecy. In this time, they were simply students at the same school. Practically strangers passing in the night.

“I know it’s hard,” Time said softly, settling next to Vulpecula on the step and cradling her in her arms. “He’s not the man you thought he would be, and you can stop him from becoming that. It’s ok,” Time said as she felt Vulpecula’s tears beginning to soak her dress. “Let  it all out. Feel all your anger, your sadness, and let it out. Feel free to mourn. You’ve lost what you thought you knew to be an infallible truth. Mourn what was, and let it go. Take as long as you need. I’ll make sure that you feel better when it’s tomorrow.”

Vulpecula cried long and hard. Soul wrenching sobs ripped through her as she remembered everyone who had suffered because of one stupid teenager. For her parents, taken away from her before she could even remember their faces. Sirius, and the decades of abuse and torture he experienced because of his followers. Neville who, like her, would only remember his parents' screams. Teddy. Her godson who she would never meet and see grow.

Lastly she cried for herself, for once allowing herself to be held and cared for as she mourned everything she had seen and suffered. Nobody had ever held her as she cried before. Not in her living memory. She hadn’t cried properly since she was around seven. Not since her loving Aunt Petunia had slapped her and snapped at her to clean herself up. Freaks weren’t allowed to feel anything but grateful for what she was provided.

Eventually the tears stopped, leaving Vulpecula feeling limp and empty. All that was left was the comforting warmth of Time holding her upright, stroking her hair in a soothing manner, and Death holding her hand to their cool forehead. 

A cool cup of water was pressed to her lips and she drank. The liquid refreshed wherever it touched, and soothing her aching head. She finished the glass, nodding in thanks to whomever had gotten it for her.

“Sleep dear one,” Death said softly, resting their hand on her head as Time lifted her into her arms like a child. “Tomorrow will be a new day.”

Vulpecula relaxed, giving up fighting the bone weary exhaustion that had been making her eyes and limbs so heavy. She took one more deep breath, and was asleep before Time had reached her room.

Vulpecula awoke the next morning to her sooty Hedwig gently pecking at her hair. The owl was clearly irritated, but was still being gentle so as to not hurt her human companion. She barked a good morning as soon as Vulpecula opened her eyes properly, and then promptly stuck her leg out. onto Vulpecula’s cheek.

The leg held a letter, hastily tied and over a day old judging by the slight irritation on Hedwig’s leg. She pulled at the string, untying it from her companion’s leg before she dared sit up.

Once upright, she examined the letter while rubbing the side of Hedwig’s head (Much to the bird’s enjoyment). It was high quality parchment, and slightly stained by drops of rain from the other night. The dark colored ribbon securing it closed was poking something in her still sleeping brain, so she turned it over to look at the seal. She froze, as the insignia of the Black family sat innocently in front of her. The family motto, Toujours Pur, glittered up at her in tiny letters in the morning sunlight.

It had clearly been waiting for a while, and so with shaking hands, Vulpecula Broke the seal and unrolled the parchment.

Chapter Text

Death slowly faded out of the mortal plane as Time carried Vulpecula upstairs. Their Mistress would feel better once she woke up. ’Time heals all wounds’ was a saying more rooted in reality than most people realized. Time was much better at the whole patience and comforting others than Death could ever hope to be. 

They let out a sigh of relief as they faded back into the monochrome landscape that they called their home. It was soothing and calm. Various souls wandered around the limitless expanse, forgetting the obsolete passage of time, and occasionally gathering into groups to spend their eternities together with friends. A couple of souls greeted Death as they passed, no longer fearful of what it meant to die and be dead. 

A small tug on their robes stopped Death in their tracks. Turning, they looked down to see a young child, probably around 8 when they had passed. Judging by their clothes they had been dead for a couple millenia. Death crouched down and tilted their head, listening as the child whispered in a forgotten tongue.

With each word the child spoke, Death grew darker. Tendrils of void reaching out of Death’s robes and writhing violently. 

 Taking a breath, Death thanked the child kindly. Gracing the child with a small smile as they began to move away. The child grinned, darting off into a crowd of others to while away their afterlife. 

A deep seated anger roiled within their chest, radiating outward and creating a fine black mist which licked at their heels as they strode forward purposefully. The tide of souls melted away before them, leaving the path clear as they determinedly marched towards the singular speck of golden color flickering in the distance.

“I distinctly remember,” Death spoke in a soft hiss, the sound spreading like an icy poison. “Telling you to stay out of my domain.” 

The last few souls lingering in the area fled, suddenly recalling their mortal fear and fading off into nothingness. The gold clad figure stood with their back facing death. They sighed loudly, turning to face Death with a sardonic smile spreading across their face as they pulled their drop spindle back into their needlelike fingers. The fiber they were spinning was luminescent, like a cloud of human soul being spun into a tight, silvery spider’s thread. It was loosely wrapped on the shaft of the spindle, forming a silvery cocoon.

“Hello to you too Death!” they spoke sarcastically, grinning with their too sharp teeth and crinkling the corners of their too many black beady eyes. “I’ve missed you so much, I haven’t seen you in aeons! Don’t you miss your younger siblings?”

“What do you want, Fate?”

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Fate began, pacing around in a large circle. “I spin threads. These threads are the strongest in any known universe. Destiny herself uses my threads in her work as well.” 

“I don’t need your yarning, Fate.” Death sighed, holding back the full force of their ire at the situation. ”Get to the point.”

“A point!” Fate cried, exuberant. “Yes! A point indeed!” 

Laughter choked its’ way out of Fate’s throat. A horrible, hysterically heinous sound that gurgled like a slit throat.

“The point-” Fate hissed, suddenly appearing mere inches away from Death’s face. “Is that there are only a few who possess the power to even cut my threads. And this- ”

Fate reached into their pocket and pulled out a singular thread, about as thick as a human hair. Pulling it taught Death could see that it was perfectly smooth, except for a single filament sticking out about halfway down the shaft. 

“-This reeks of you.” Fate continued, whispering menacingly as their many beady eyes glittered maliciously. “Whatever it is you’re planning. Whatever it is you’ve done. I will put a stop to it.”

Death laughed, a low menacing chuckle that resonated through the ground and rattled Fate’s bones.

“And what, little brother, have I done that has so impacted your work?” Death reached out with a finger and smoothed the thread. “From what I can tell, you’re simply losing your touch.” Death plucked the thread with their finger, causing more fibers to come loose at the same spot. 

“Oh no,” Death mocked as fate growled and bared their teeth, quickly pulling their thread back into the safety of their cloak pocket. “Perhaps a bit of time spent improving what you do, rather than blaming others for your shortcomings, little brother.” 

Any trace of kindness disappeared from Death in that instant, and Fate felt a chill creeping up their spine that only Death could cause. For the first time in aeons, Fate felt afraid.

“Now get out,” Death spit. “Before you never get the opportunity to leave again.”

Headmaster Armando Dippet strode purposefully through the corridors. His soft leather boots barely made a whisper as he flitted past the sleeping portraits on the walls. He moved as silently as a ghost, his expression as grim as the Bloody Baron. 

It was unusual for him to be moving so briskly on such a clear night. The stars called his attention through every window he passed, but tonight he had a purpose. 

An alarm in the restricted section of the library had been triggered. Normally not an uncommon occurrence, easily dealt with by the strict librarian Madame Vincente. However, with the good Madame gone for the summer holidays, That responsibility fell to Headmaster Dippet.

Rounding a corner, Dippet was not entirely surprised to see the transfiguration professor, Dumbledore, locking up his office. 

“Good evening Headmaster,” Dumbledore said smoothly, falling into step with Dippet as he kept moving towards his destination. “Where might you be off to so late on this fine evening?”

“The library,” Dippet said with a faux long suffering sigh. “It appears our young resident has set off one of the alarms, so I’m off to send him to bed. Such a diligent student, even when classes are not in session. No wonder he gets top marks in all of his lessons.”

“Yes,” Dumbledore said, his face and tone as sour as a lemon. “I do wonder what our young friend has been studying.”

“Albus.” Dippet snapped, pulling Dumbledore to a standstill at the top of the staircase. “I don’t know what crawled up your arse and died, but the way you have been acting with that young man is inexcusable.”

“I’m merely concerned-” Dumbledore put up his hands placatingly.

“Concerned my foot,” Dippet snapped. “You have been treating him and his entire group as criminals. Have been since they arrived in their first year. More than just your usual prejudice against slytherins. Should Horace have reigned them in a bit more as they got rowdy? Yes. But that is not for you to correct in whichever way you see fit. It is my job as headmaster to ensure that matters of discipline in this school are as fair as possible. In the future, any punishments doled out by you will be reviewed by me personally. Including within your own house, which I’ve noticed has been astonishingly lax. Now, I believe it’s time for you to head to bed, young man. You have lesson plans awaiting you in the morning.”  

With that, Dippet strode down the stairs. Never once did he look back to see the look of fury that flickered across Dumbledore’s face as he rounded the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight of Dumbledore, Dippet paused and took a deep breath. Steadying himself against a wall.

“You did spectacularly,” whispered the Fat Friar, poking his head out of the wall. “I happened to be in the area and overheard. Nothing will go past me, I swear. But I am proud. Lady Helga would be too.”

“Thank you, Friar Hugo,” Dippet sighed, standing back up. “I definitely needed that. Now if you excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”

The Fat Friar nodded and smiled kindly as he melted back into the wall. 

It took Dippet another three minutes to get to the library.Looking through the window, it appeared deserted at first.  All of the lanterns were off except the table right next to the entrance to the restricted section. The light easily could have been missed, however, due to the large stack of books surrounding it, obscuring both the light and the person using them from view of the corridor

The door opened silently on its hinges, and Dippet stepped inside softly. The alarm was turned off at the librarian’s desk with a quick flick of his wand, and then he turned his attention to the hunched form scribbling away at a sheaf of parchment.

“I do believe, Mr. Riddle,” Dippet spoke softly and kindly. Regardless, Riddle jumped in surprise at the unexpected voice, nearly spilling ink all over his notes. “That it’s past time for you to be in bed.”

“Good evening Professor,” Riddle responded sheepishly, pushing his hair out of his face with a guilty smile. “I suppose I lost track of time.”

“A bit more than that young man. Do you mind telling me what you were doing in the restricted section?”

A small flush made its way up Tom’s neck and tinged his ears red. 

“I was researching Defense against the dark arts,” Tom admitted sheepishly. “I overheard Professor Merrythought talking about retiring soon, and I realized this past year, while tutoring some of my classmates, that I really like teaching and so I thought…” Tom trailed off, his entire face red as a beet. “I haven’t even told my friends,” he whispered softly. “Everyone expects so much of me, but I just want to be happy and…”

“It’s alright,” Dippet said softly, placing a comforting hand on Tom’s shoulder. “We can discuss this more in the morning. Take your notes, and I’ll have the elves put the books back on their proper shelves.”

“Thank you Professor,” Tom said softly, finally relaxing under the comforting weight of Dippet’s hand. 

Straightening up, he pulled all the scraps of notes into a generally cohesive pile and shoved them haphazardly into his bag. Tom nodded to the professor one last time as he left the library, squinting a bit as the bright light of the corridor.

Dippet waited for a few minutes after Tom left before looking at the books that he had left behind. 

What drew his attention the most was the book from the restricted section. ‘Magicke Moste Evile’. Specifically, a small slip of paper sticking out of the bottom. Opening the book to that page, Dippet’s heart dropped. Horcruxes.

It was just a general overview of what a Horcrux is, but what made his heart drop to the ground was the scrap of paper with a name scribbled on it, reading ‘Myrtle Warren?’

Chapter Text

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore stalked through the empty corridors of Hogwarts School, glowering at any portrait that happened to catch his eye as he went. The portrait residents fled his gaze, ducking behind props and architecture or fleeing their frames entirely in order to avoid his wrath. Gerald the Jester had poked at Dumbledore once when he was in a foul mood and lost his original frame to the man’s temper.

The only reason the canvas wasn’t scorched beyond repair was because of how much magic had been imbued into the making process of magical portraits. Gerald hadn’t spoken, or even smiled since the incident, which terrified the other portraits beyond belief. That the formerly jolly joking jester who had existed to poke and joke about others now had a permanently haunted look on his face. He barely moved beyond his painted stool, which horrified the other portraits so much that when Albus walked the corridor alone, not even a bird was willing to stay in its frame.

“Six years,” Albus hissed between his teeth, barely audible to the few denizens of their portraits who were merely hidden from view. “For six years I have observed that horrid child- no. That monster. I’ve watched that monster grow, from petty thievery, to bullying, to fully cavorting with and even leading those who practice the dark arts. What sort of horrible acts must he have committed in order to be respected by the likes of the Malfoys and the Lestranges? The Carrows? Even the Blacks distance themselves from the depravity of the Carrows. ” A mirthless laugh bubbled up through his chest, sounding manic as it came out of his contorted face. 

“So what if he’d never been caught?” Dumbledore’s hands fisted on the thick material of his trailing robes, his hands going white, blood draining with the strain of it. “That thing has always been sneaky, even back at that dump where I found him first. He was always so careful to never have credible witnesses or to avoid getting his hands dirty whenever he could.” 

What would Galert think? A dark part of his mind whispered mutinously. Dumbledore slammed the door of his office closed and leaned against it, sighing as he allowed his intense anger to fade, replaced by sorrow and misery.  A muggle raised half-blood bastard, lording over and leading prominent pureblood families? Galert would have been incensed.

Dumbledore sank down to the ground with a strangled sob. Oh how he missed his former lover. Missed the way that he held his hand, the passion and fire that would always light behind his eyes as he spoke about his plans and ideas. The tender warmth with which he smiled after they had snuck a kiss behind some building or another. The absolute joy of being young and in love was such a precious memory to him. But it could never last, and ended all too soon.

The crushing heartbreak of finding out that Galert had fled after the altercation with Aberforth and Ariana had broken him beyond repair. That Galert had left him shattered after the loss of his sister, and crushed again at the loss of his lover, had killed him over again. Each letter that he had poured his heart into had gone unanswered, further pulverizing what remained of his hope and sanity into a fine dust. Eventually, he had stopped sending them at all, unable to bear the pain of his last shred of hope being crushed by the absolute weight of silence and indifference. 

And so Albus changed, becoming a new person entirely.

It was a difficult shift, but a necessary one. Albus grit his teeth as he remembered having to endure the silence, the abandonment of his own brother. The looks of pity and wariness that followed him wherever he went. Of countless sleepless nights, pouring over tomes and scrolls. Days and weeks practicing and practicing and practicing until he could master any spell that he managed to get his ink stained fingers on. The pride he felt upon graduating the second time. The pride of accomplishment that he had achieved a Mastery. That his voice and opinion could no longer be ignored, was the sweetest victory that he could have ever hoped for. 

A new beginning, rising from the pain of his old life. New relationships being forged at congratulatory banquets, and informal meetings of top magical minds. It was everything that Albus had dared to dream.

And yet he still was looked down upon. 

By those same friends who respected his skills, they valued his opinion less, because of his background. The family he had left behind. 

“After all,” his ‘friend’ Terrence slurred at the bar to some of their colleagues Completely pissed off his rocker, and unaware that Albus had just walked in the pub. “Why should I listen to a bloke who can't even afford decent robes? ‘Ya know what I mean? What sort of upper crust chivalry demands that I kowtow to someone who’s clearly born amongst the peasantry?” He took another violent swig of firewhisky. “No rank, no peerage, not even money to prove his worth. Onlything Al’s got in his favor is pedigree, and that can’t be proven. You know how certain half bloods like to lie.”

Albus hadn’t even stayed to hear the rest of the conversation. He knew how it would go. An endless stream of complaints of perceived slights against their character made by him and his muggleborn colleagues. 

For him, a pure blood, to be compared so flippantly to a mudblood caused his blood to boil. It rankled. Every comparison or joke caused the roiling pit of rage in his stomach to leap up and try to choke him. But his father had left the family in disgrace, so he had to endure. It was worse to be a pureblood in disgrace than a half blood with questionable parentage after all. 

Years went by slowly. Painfully. But Albus Dumbledore endured. His mastery of transfiguration had allowed him to earn a place at Hogwarts. The school that he had hated for separating him from his young love. Except now it was a place of escape. A new beginning where he could become a role model. Someone that the students could look up to. A position of power from whence he could begin to build his own political faction, without having to get his hands dirty.

After all, what did a teacher do besides shape and mold the minds of young people?

And with those minds he would build the world up to be exactly what he wanted it to be.

Until Riddle.

Armando Dippet sat with his head in his hands. On the desk in front of him was the torn off scrap of paper with Myrtle Warren’s name scribbled on it, right next to his copy of the case file of her death. 

There had been no apparent sign of trauma on the poor girl. No spell residue or poisons detected according to the autopsy reports. They had checked to see if she was a victim of the Killing curse, but that test had come back negative as well. It was almost as if she had simply dropped dead of her own accord.

However, as Dippet had looked back across the files and photographs, something caught his attention. She had died with an expression of shock and fear on her face. Obviously the expression had been partially lost before rigor mortis set in, but she had been shocked by her attacker. Frightening someone to death was uncommon, especially amongst someone so young as Ms Warren. But what drew Armando’s attention was her eyes.

It was hard to tell with the black and white photographs being what they were. Despite that, Armando dippet noticed that her eyes were not only bloodshot as if she was crying. That was an easy mistake to make. Understandably so given that her former classmates said she cried a lot. But the coloration of the veins around her eyes was a bit too dark.

It jingled a bell deep in the recesses of his mind, and he reached up, summoning an ancient leather bound tome to his hand from the far corner of his office. Cretura Obscura , an ancient volume that depicted the least common (and oftentimes the most dangerous) creatures on the planet. 

After reading through the tome for an hour, Armando Dippet sat back and cried in both relief and misery. He had finally figured out what the creature was. But at what cost? After all, a basilisk was a class XXXXX dangerous creature, and he had no idea where it could have come from, let alone how it got to be in that bathroom. He had to contact the ministry’s magical creature department. They needed to exterminate the thing before it hurt anyone else and figure out how it got into…

The bathroom.

Dippet paused, hand full of floo powder halfway to the fireplace. His face paled significantly as he stumbled back into one of the chairs beside the fireplace. Bile rose from his stomach as he truly considered the possibilities.

He knew there were passageways that only opened when you hissed a certain way. Who could say they didn’t open up something more dangerous and sinister. And how else could a snake with no limbs get anywhere in the school?

The pipes.

Chapter Text

“Are you ready for the party to begin?” Abraxus Malfoy drawled as he stepped out of the fireplace in the sitting room of Number 12. Orion rolled his eyes with an amused smile as his friend brushed nonexistent soot off of his robes and hair. He supposed that he had to take amusement at his friend’s preening otherwise it would have driven him spare within the first month of them rooming together at school.

“Of course I am,” Orion beamed at his good friend, hugging him briefly before stepping back and teasing him mercilessly. “You know how dreadfully boring this place gets. I’m sure Malfoy Manor is just the same.” 

“You did not just say Malfoy and Boring in the same sentence,” Abraxas swooned, taking advantage of the lack of other guests to indulge his sense of the dramatic. “That's positively sacrilegious. I simply must dissuade you of that notion. I do not need a party, I am the party.”

“Yes yes Mister party animal,'' Orion rolled his eyes and laughed at his friend’s histrionics. “You might want to go wash up before the other guests arrive, Ab. You’ve got soot in your hair.” Abraxas gasped dramatically and practically ran to the nearest washroom. His hands flitting over his hair blindly, as he cursed whichever product he used, leaving his best friend cackling maniacally in the hallway.

Over the next half hour, Orion stood at the fireplace with a perfectly gracious welcoming smile adorning his face. He cordially greeted each of his guests as they arrived, complimenting their attire and directing them towards the party in the garden. A few of his closer friends got a more personal greeting. A friendly slap on the back or a proper grin as they gripped each other's arms. 

Normally Orion despised this part of hosting a party, much preferring to spend time with his friends who had already arrived. This time was different, however. There was a knot in his stomach that flew up to his throat each time the fire shone green. He stood up a bit straighter, his smile a bit wider as a new figure appeared and stepped out of the emerald flames. He had to stop himself from showing his disappointment every time.

“Disappointed to see me?” Walburga simpered, as she raised her hand for him to kiss. Clearly she had noticed his shoulders fall a miniscule amount, but she was also a Black who had known him since childhood. He still clearly remembered her as a child too. The forced playdates where she had forced them to play pretend house, and every time she had cast herself as the Lady Black, married to him. It had always made him feel gross inside, and he had complained viciously to his mother. 

The solution that Melania had offered was simple and effective. His older sister Lucretia was required to join them until they had aged out of the play date phase. Not that his sister had been thrilled, but she had quite effectively put an end to those sorts of role plays. 

“It is quite inappropriate, cousin Walburga. After all, you are assuming the will of the current Lord Black. It’s entirely possible that Orion already has a betrothed, and to act in such an unfaithful manner, even in pretend play, could spell disaster if there are magically imposed clauses of fidelity. How would our father react knowing that our own cousin was the reason a strong political alliance failed?”

Walburga never forced such a roleplay again. Not that she ever let that stop her showing that she was interested in the position. Especially once they were old enough and it had been publicly known that the current Lord was against deciding who their children would marry at age 4.

“Disappointed, my dear cousin ?” Orion emphasized the last word very slightly as he bent to her hand. He allowed his lips to graze his own thumb where it rested. A deliberate yet polite way to attempt to distance himself from his cousin. “What ever have I done to give you that impression? The garden is all set up for the party. Please settle yourself and enjoy some light refreshments.”

The pit in his stomach lurched nauseatingly as Walburga lingered, holding on to his fingers for slightly too long and walking too close as she passed him. He felt her eyes lingering on him too long as she slowly left the room, the heat of her stare sending a chill that almost made him shudder. As soon as her gaze had gone he shuffled an inch nearer the fire. He was suddenly glad for the requirement that he wear gloves, despite the discomfort of them in the heat of August.

 All too soon, she was the only one left who had yet to arrive. The clock showed half past 3. The end of the arrival and greeting period. It was time for the host to go and join the celebration. 

Orion glanced at the clock in the hallway, double checking to make sure that the clock on the mantle wasn’t running fast. They were in perfect synchrony, down to the second hand. Orion dragged a hand through his hair, letting out a breath and loitering there for just a second longer. Perhaps…

“Orion you coming out?” 

Abraxas’ voice in that moment grated on his nerves. He knew the social rules. He understood that it would be a huge faux pas to keep his guests waiting past the greeting period; and yet here he was. Loitering for precious seconds as he waited for someone that he hadn’t even properly met yet. Perhaps he was too lovestruck, as Abraxas and Lucretia had both joked. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. It was time after all. 

“Yes Ab, I’m on my way out.” He slowly turned away from the dancing flames, rubbing his face slightly to loosen the expression he had fixed into place for greetings. Perhaps something had come up and she couldn’t make it after all . A voice deep inside his skull supplied. The pit in his stomach roiled, and he felt the tiniest bit sick. Perhaps she lied and she never wanted to come here in the first place. After all, beyond being a Black what do you bring to the table? It’s not like anyone actually likes you for who you are… just what you can do for them.

Orion shook his head like a dog to clear those thoughts. Those terrible, horrible insecure thoughts that liked to reach up from the depths of his mind and make it so that he was unable to breathe. He took a step towards the doorway, bracing himself to deal with his guests. Out of the corner of his eye as he began to move away, he noticed the light shining on the wall flash green. 

He immediately spun on his heel, slightly off balance as he faced the fire once more but was a moment too slow. A figure toppled out of the hearth with a squeak, and Orion lunged forward to try and catch them, only to be barreled over himself. His eyes closed instinctively at the moment of impact, and he curled around the small figure as they fell together.

They hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. His head curled forward to protect itself as his arms snaked around the figure pressed against his chest. Some feeble attempt to protect them he supposed. In that moment, suspended before hitting the ground, Orion noticed that they smelled very nice. He landed hard on the plush carpet, winded, and was unwittingly reminded of the last time he had ended up in such a position. 

A soft “oh” from above him made him open his eyes.

Orion blinked up at the ethereal redhead that had somehow ended up with her elbows in his ribs and was suddenly breathless for a completely different reason. It was her. She was here, and the dreaded pit in his stomach was gone . It was replaced by a much more tolerable lump in his throat at the fact that her face was mere inches away from his own. Her soft red curls cascaded over her shoulder like a waterfall, gently tickling his ear, and yet he couldn’t see anything but her eyes. They were a lovely shade of green, no doubt of that. But what captured his attention was the fact that they seemed to glow from within. 

“It seems I must apologize again, Heir Black,” she said lightly, as though every feeling that had washed through Orion in the past quarter-second hadn’t existed. As though hearing her lilting voice for the first time didn’t send an exciting jolt of something down his spine. “Both for the Tardiness and  falling on you again. It seems I’ve made a terrible second impression as well as the first.” She stood up quickly, brushing off the tiny specks of soot that had clung to the hem of her dark blue dress. 

The only thing running through Orion’s mind as he sat up was that she looked like a water spirit sent by the goddess herself, and that whatever perfume she used smelled positively divine. Shaking his head slightly, he righted himself properly and proffered his hand in formal greeting. 

“Welcome Lady Peverell, it is an honor to finally meet you properly. Especially since the last time I saw you, you were in poor health. I trust that you have recovered?” Orion was glad that the midafternoon sun was shining through the window behind him, making it a bit harder for Vulpecula to see the slight blush that adorned his cheeks.

“I am well indeed,” laughing slightly as she seamlessly switched to formal etiquette as the situation demanded. She extended her hand to Orion’s, who bent down and gently grazed his lips across the second knuckle. Exactly as the formalities dictated. 

“Shall we proceed to the gardens then Lady Peverell?” He offered his arm, and Vulpecula set her hand in the crook of his elbow delicately. 

“I suppose we shall,” she said, the light French accent startling her for a second. “I’m quite excited to meet some new friends.”

They passed a mirror in the hallway, and Vulpecula paused, making sure that her hair was still pinned in place appropriately. She patted her head gently, turning this way and that to make sure that she got everything set. Orion just watched this happen, smiling softly into the reflection. He froze as he caught her eye in the mirror and she turned to face him. Her hand reached up towards his face and then stopped, as she realized what she was doing. 

“May I?” she asked softly, gesturing towards his hair.

Orion swallowed thickly as he nodded, bending slightly to give her a better reach as she smoothed a few stray hairs back into place. She was so small, compared to him. The top of her head barely reached his chin. He continued to look into her eyes as her hand returned to her side, fascinated by the currents that seemed to ripple through at any given moment.

“Orion Black,” Abraxas Malfoy hissed as he (didn’t) stomp back inside. “I swear if you keep us waiting any longer there’s going to be- Oh!” Abraxas pulled up short at the sight of Vulpecula. “Excuse me miss, I wasn’t aware that we had a last minute arrival.”

“You are forgiven for your rudeness mister…” Lady Peverell took charge of the interaction, taking advantage of both boys’ momentary lapses to set herself in the advantageous position.

“Malfoy,” Abraxas bowed, taking her hand and kissing it gently. “Heir Abraxas Malfoy.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Heir Malfoy.” Vulpecla stated, very slightly emphasizing her French accent. Abraxas’ smile tightened slightly as he noticed the accent. He clearly knew that she understood the meaning of his name. “I am Lady Peverell.”

“Truly an honor,” Abraxas said, making fleeting eye contact with Orion over her head. “Shall we escort the Lady to the gardens? Tea is about to be served.” Abraxas proffered his arm.

“Please, lead the way.” Vulpecula gestured forward, softly refusing the proffered arm. Especially for her first ever entrance, she wanted to be able to stand on her own two feet. 

“I beg your pardon?” Abraxus spluttered, choking on his tea. 

“Then beg,” Vulpecula responded coolly as she took a dainty sip out of her own delicate teacup.

A wave of disbelief rolled through the group. Several looked absolutely gobsmacked, enough so that they didn’t even bother to hide their dropped jaws. Others had a manic gleam in their eyes as they hid cruel smiles behind their teacups. Small clusters around the edge of the pavilion even started to giggle amongst themselves at the Malfoy Heir’s social beatdown by an unknown entity. 

She carefully selected a biscuit, not even looking at Abraxas.. Perhaps a nice shortbread would compliment the tea?  “After all,” she continued conversationally. “A noble- regardless of their magical status- should know where their debts lie before they attempt to make themselves feel superior. Isn’t that right Mr. McLaggen?” 

The brawny 16 year old in the corner paled and stopped snickering with the people next to him. She shot him a stern look from the corner of her eye and he flinched in response. His cheeks flushed with color as he ducked his head, making a valiant attempt to disappear into his dainty, flower printed teacup. Not very brave for a Gryffindor she supposed.

Vulpecula let her eyes wander around the group, searching for anyone else who might try to challenge her while she was asserting social dominance. Most people were either glaring at her from inside their teacups, or deliberately avoiding eye contact.  Fearing whatever retribution she might unleash upon them next. 

Her eyes met Orion’s from across the table, and the corner of her mouth twitched in irritation. He was laughing at her behind his teacup. He may be the host, but she was unquestionably the main focus of this little get together. She was a social unknown, with a powerful name and a foreign accent to boot. She had no choice but to assume as dominant of a position as she could, otherwise she could very quickly become an outcast. She couldn’t do shit from the sidelines, and so she had to take action. 

“Mr. Black,” she spoke primly, quirking an eyebrow in a slight challenge. “Do you have something to add?” 

“Not at all Miss Peverell,” he replied. His eyes were glittering with humor, and the corner of his mouth curled upward as he restrained his laughter. “I’m simply glad that you’ve been able to join us today. I should, however, apologize for a couple of my other guests. Some of them have rather large mouths and tend to try to bite off more than they can chew.”

The birds chirping in the trees seemed incredibly loud in the silence that followed. After all, who would have thought the heir of the house of Black would so blatantly show support for a political unknown? 

Brrring ting ting ting ting-

Every head turned to face the house as the witch bells jingled. Nobody was expecting anyone else to arrive, let alone half an hour after all the guests were supposed to have already been there. The door opened slowly as a tall, cleanly dressed figure stepped out of the shadows of the house and into the indirect sunlight under the pergola. 

“Forgive me my tardiness,” Tom Riddle said smoothly, tugging on the hems of his nice (if a little plain comparatively) robes in a show of sheepishness. Everyone noticed that he was tugging on his left wrist, and noticed a distinct lack of a wrist watch. A wave of pity softly rippled through the gathered crowd for the 17 year old who did not have an older wizard to give him his traditional watch.

“I thought you said that you were unable to attend, Riddle?” Orion asked smoothly, as though they were actually friends. Only Abraxas and Vulpecula were seated close enough to see his finger tips pressing into the table till they turned white.

“Again, I apologize. It was a very last minute thing. Headmaster Dippet informed me that they needed to update some wards and that there couldn’t be anyone in the castle for the next few hours, at risk of destabilizing the procedures before they properly take hold.”

“Very well then,” Orion sighed softly in frustration as he scanned the tables for an available spot. “Kreature, please bring out an extra chair and place setting for my table. It seems that would be the only place that can accommodate you without undue crowding Riddle. Please take a seat.”

The guests hadn’t even seen the elf set up the extra place at Orion’s table. The unofficial head table in the center of the garden. Orion had hardly noticed the diligent elf’s work, but his stomach lurched as he gestured to the table and processed that the spare spot had been placed almost directly opposite him, and that Tom riddle, the unofficial king of Slytherin, would be brushing elbows with Lady Vulpecula Peverell.

Chapter Text

“I must apologize again for my tardiness,” Tom said as he sat down, his voice smooth as silk and his manners pristine. “And I must also thank the gracious host for finding a space for me at such little notice.”

“Of course,” Orion nodded his head in mock humility. It was very subtle, but his smile was a bit sharper than what could have been considered friendly. Not that the casual observer would notice. In this moment he was a mirror image of his own father. Everything from the set of his jaw to the aura of authority he exuded as he spoke. “What sort of host would I be if I let a guest stand unceremoniously at a gathering? No matter how unexpected they were.” 

Murmurs rippled through the group at Orion’s daring. At school, Everyone knew that Tom was the one who held absolute power. Socially at least, as he had no political position of his own. He had worked hard to gain what he had, making friends with the right people, and intimidating others into line until he was finally unofficially crowned the social lord of Slytherin. 

And here was Orion, challenging that status quo. Seemingly out of nowhere. 

Abraxas’ right eyebrow was twitching slightly as he fought to keep his expression vaguely neutral. The tension between Tom and Orion could have been cut with a knife, and it was unclear where most of the animosity had come from.There was no way that all of this was from Tom showing up late. Abraxas was clearly missing some sort of context. He unclenched his jaw and took a sip of his tea, both to have an excuse not to speak and to get a better look of everyone else’s reactions.

Most of the other tables were in shock at the display, but Abraxas suddenly made a connection that he had missed before. A good majority of the people in attendance were Slytherin. As was expected for someone sorted into slytherin himself. However the rest were an assortment of people from every other house. There were plenty of dark aligned families, as well as a few who were shockingly light aligned. Orion was not a driving force in Slytherin house. He never had intended to. However this was a demonstration of his power within the school as a whole. Looking up at his best friend again, Abraxas read his expression and had an epiphany. 

Orion hadn’t intended to make a power play today. Hadn’t intended to make a push for power at all. He had a comfortable position that would remain stable even after Hogwarts. However, Riddle had forced his hand. Showing up uninvited and tardy at that. Orion couldn’t take that lying down, unless he wanted to cede his power to this (externally) political nobody. Especially with such a political unknown in their midst. Abraxas’ eyes glanced between Riddle and Lady Peverell before glancing back at Orion once again. Nobody fought harder than someone who had nothing to lose, he thought, even as his eyes were drawn unintentionally back to Lady Peverell as she picked up her teacup and saucer. Except perhaps, someone who had everything to gain.

Lucretia, Orion’s older sister, was on Tom's other side. Her sharp blue eyes darted back and forth as she took a dainty bite of her cranberry scone, dabbing at her mouth with her napkin as she chewed. She had seen Abraxas making his connections. He really wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought he was. However it was clear that if someone didn’t step in  the entire party would grind to a halt as the two boys politely glared at each other.

As the seconds of silent tension dragged on, she made the executive decision to intervene. She could understand her brother’s position, and she would absolutely support him to the best of her abilities. Even disregarding loyalty to the House of Black, he was her little brother and she would take care of him as best as she could. However, she was in the same year as Tom, and the actions and inactions here would have consequences at Hogwarts. Word of what happened here would spread to the entire school, and she absolutely could not be noted as doing nothing. That would tank any and all power she wielded within her own little sphere of influence.

“Riddle,” Lucretia started primly, her tone purposefully light and utilizing her familiarity as best as she could. “I’m sure you’re aware of Raed Shafiq and Marianna Selwyn. They are in Orion’s year. Sorted into Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively. Both were elected prefect this year as well.” Each of them nodded in polite greeting as they were introduced, looking distinctly nervous in rather un-slytherin fashions. Not unexpected, but rather disappointing, 

“I’ve seen you both around,” Tom went along with her blatant redirection with a smile, “it’s lovely to properly meet you” his eyes crinkled slightly as he spoke, in order to give the illusion of friendliness. Every slytherin knew this trick and watched in grudging respect as the targets visibly softened and gave genuine small smiles in return. 

Lucretia continued with a small, polite gesture towards Lady Peverell. Her status as an unknown figure was clearly the political lynchpin of the entire encounter. Possibly the driving force behind it all. “And you likely wouldn’t have had a chance to meet-” 

“Miss Peverell,” Tom cut Lucretia off smoothly. A ripple traveled through the crowd at Riddle’s interruption. This was his big move, to try and show that he had knowledge that they, the Black’s, didn’t. That he was closer to and had more influence on this new political superpower than Orion. It was a usurpation play, and it just might work. “It’s a pleasure to meet you again so soon.” 

Orion’s grip on his spoon tightened, the fingers growing white as the utensil shook minutely. When did Tom riddle have a chance to meet her? Where did she run into the smug bastard? How-

“ Lady Peverell,” Vulpecula responded calmly, as she carefully lowered her teacup to the saucer in her hands.

She was sitting back  comfortably in her chair, appearing completely relaxed as she responded to Tom’s probe. However, in emphasizing her title, It displayed Riddle’s enormous gap in knowledge.It also unknowingly cut off Orion’s thoughts before they spiraled out of control, but nobody recognized that except Abraxas who subtly kicked at Orion’s ankles beneath the tablecloth as Vulpecula continued. 

 “Professor Dippet introduced me as Miss Peverell to you the other day because we were being introduced as peers. Outside of the castle I expect others to refer to me using the appropriate titles unless I have given them explicit permission, as dictated by proper etiquette. Given that you have already made undue assumptions to our apparent relationship, this will serve as your final warning. Am I understood Mr. Tom Marvolo Riddle?” 

Orion, Lucretia, and Abraxas were shocked, as they watched Riddle’s face change colors in rapid succession. Riddle had not expected her to respond like that, that much was apparent. But the fact that she had effectively neutered any attempt to use her as a political slingshot in this encounter was positively incredible, as well as the fact that his mask had slipped when she uttered his middle name. How had she learned that? What else did she know? What was her end goal? Why did this excite Orion so much more than normal?

A million questions ran through their minds in that stretched moment of silence. Lady Peverell sipped on her tea once more, waiting for a response. Waiting for Tom Riddle to admit defeat.

“Yes, Lady Peverell.” Tom said softly, Bowing his head in a respectful gesture. 

“Excellent,” Vulpecula visibly brightened as she turned away from the 17 year old seated to her left and openly grinned at Shafiq and Selwyn. “Professor Dippet told me all about the houses as he gave me a tour the other day. They each sound so wonderful, but I’d love to hear how each of them differ in terms of a student experience. Hearing about valuing intelligence and creativity or diligence and loyalty or ambition and cunning are one thing. It’s quite another to hear about how valuing those traits impacts day to day life and how you interact with your peers. I’d love to hear more lived experience so that I understand where I’m going to be sorted. And I do hope that we can be friends regardless of where I end up being sorted!” her eyes sparkled with such genuine curiosity and enthusiasm that Raed Shafiq smiled back and began to talk about his friends in Hufflepuff and his experience at the school as a whole.

Conversation resumed slowly as the head table engaged in idle chatter, but slowly the party regained the lighthearted energy of an afternoon tea session with friends. Idle chatter and jokes were punctuated by laughter as the sun slowly traveled across the sky. Eventually, it was time for people to head home to prepare for their evenings, leaving Orion and Abraxas slumped on the couch in the sitting room as Lucretia retired back to her own room. 

“So,” Abraxas started, sitting up and propping his head up on his hands. A cheeky grin split his face from ear to ear.

“So what?” Orion groaned at his best friend “Aren’t you exhausted after having to deal with all those people?”

“Of course I am,” Abraxas quipped, as he poked Orion’s shoulder. “But you didn’t tell me that you liked Lady Peverell.” Orion covered his flushing face with his hands and groaned, but abraxas carried on. “After all, what sort of friend am I if I can’t even act as a proper Wing man? I acted a bloody fool of myself trying to feel out her political motivations. And she chopped me down like I was nothing but a lone vine of devils snare in the sun!”

“To be fair you were acting the arsehole,” Orion said as he shoved Abraxas’ hand away from his arm. ”Seriously asking what businesses her family was in when she had just expressed that she was the last of her line? What sort of insensitive prat does that? You’re lucky she was as kind to you as she was.” Orion’s eyes glazed over as a dopey grin spread across his face. “You saw how she absolutely destroyed Riddle.”

Abraxas paled at that and raked a hand through his somehow still perfect hair. “Gods that was terrifying to watch. He came in expecting a positive reception and he was practically disemboweled.” Abraxas’ forehead crinkled as he spent a moment in deep thought. “I wonder how they interacted last time that gave him that impression? I mean, we know that Dippet introduced them at Hogwarts and he showed her around for a bit, but that’s all I really got from what she said.”

“You boys are so dumb sometimes,” Lucretia interrupted, sitting down on the armchair opposite them. “You were distracted by Riddle. Especially you, Orion. I understand that you were focused on the fact that he was challenging your position and power. You did a great job of reining him in by the way. I’ve already told father about it and he was proud. Anyways, both of you missed Lady Peverell’s reaction when Riddle first appeared. Riddle couldn’t see as she wasn’t facing the entrance, but you had no such excuse.”

“What are you talking about?” Orion griped, ignoring the part of him that had constantly been too aware of her presence, and especially how she smiled.

“Seriously, mother should instruct you too. She was bracing herself for a confrontation as soon as he walked in. She hoped that it would be resolved without her having to reveal her hand in such a way, but she knew on some level that it was inevitable. I don’t know exactly what she revealed that she didn’t want to, but I know she revealed it. And now Tom Riddle is going to be paying close attention to her. Which is not something that we want either.”

“I’m home!” Vulpecula called as she stumbled out of her fireplace. She had no idea how or why she could never get the hang of floo travel, but she supposed she had a new appreciation for her astonishing lack of grace. 

“How was it darling?” Time cried as she swept Vulpecula into a tight hug. “I was prepared at any second to stretch the hours if you wanted but it was never more than half a thought in your subconscious.”

“It was a lovely time, Time.” Vulpecula laughed as she pried herself loose from the primordial entity. “I had a lot of fun and I think I made a few friends ”

“That's so wonderful!” Time squealed as Death slowly materialized next to her out of the shadows.

Death carefully circled Vulpecula, looking up and down for any sign of injury. 

“You got a burn on your knee,” they sighed with an eye roll. “Did you trip on your way out of the fireplace again?”

“You know me, Death,” Vulpecula laughed. “When it comes to magical travel there’s not a graceful bone in my body. Besides, I had a mostly soft landing.” Vulpecula was already pink from the travel and subsequently fighting her way free of Time’s grip, however she did darken half a shade as she made the last quip. 

“Mhm,” Death responded noncommittally. They knew she would only be embarrassed if they pressed her about now. Besides, they could put together two and two. Especially since she had that same smile as when she got a letter from Orion. She would tell them in due time.

“He was there too.” It wasn’t a question that Death asked, But Vulpecula nodded anyways, her expression immediately dropping to something akin to disgust.

“Seated directly to my left. Tried to make it seem like he knew me for some sort of social gain. I had to set him straight.”

“And it worked?”

“Yeah, it worked. Externally at least.”

“What does that mean?” Time chimed in once more.

“I don’t know,” Vulpecula said slowly, crossing her arms and slightly worrying her lower lip between her teeth as her prow furrowed in remembrance. “He submitted to my position, but there was something in his tone, or perhaps the set of his eyes. I don’t know what it is.” She paused for a second, rubbing her basilisk scar absentmindedly as she thought. “It wasn’t malice. It was almost as if- ” she trailed off, her expression growing troubled for a second. “I don’t understand it, but it seemed like there was some sort of.. I don’t know… Satisfaction? Euphoria? At my challenge. It was some odd mix of unidentifiable emotions. I don’t understand it, but I think I’m going to have to keep an eye on it in the future.

Chapter Text

Orion knew he was dreaming. The rather large, floating puffskein was enough to prod his sense of logic into alertness if not letting him wake up just yet. Regardless, he was more than happy to stay in this strange dream garden for now, with its comfortingly warm sunlight and a breeze that smelled delightfully familiar. 

Tall dark blue and orange flowers tickled his sides as they waved in the slight breeze. Their sweet fragrance wafted up, filling him with the scent of the custom tea blend he had served at his tea party, and something sweetly herbal that he couldn’t quite place, even as he recognized that it was the source of the smell carried on by the breeze. The two smells blended nicely, relaxing him even more in the warmth of the afternoon sun. A wayward part of his unconscious mind wondered if, perhaps, this might be what amortentia smells like to him?

Puffskeins darted through the flowers, chittering and bouncing as they went, distracting Orion from the thought that flickered so briefly in his mind. 

A clear, bellike laugh curled around his head, drawing his attention almost involuntarily to a small garden table set up a fair bit away, behind where he stood. It was just far enough away that he couldn’t make out the identity of the figure sitting at the table. 

They appeared more feminine, he noted after a moment of inspection. Details were a bit blurred, but she wore a light, cream colored sundress that flowed gently in the light breeze. A large floppy hat that obscured her face from his view. 

Her hand flew to her head as the wind picked up for a moment, catching the hat before it could fly off into the vast expanse of cloud spotted blue sky. A thick coil of coppery red hair escaped from under the large brim. The color matched the orange flowers perfectly as it glimmered in the ambient sunlight- at least for the moment that he could see it before it was safely tucked back under the protective shade of the hat. 

“Orion,” the voice was somewhat garbled, but he recognized the voice. 

“Orion.” She was facing him now, her face completely shadowed by the hat. The voice was shifting though, becoming less recognizable. Something about the sound sent a cold shiver down his spine. She was her. He knew it. But she wasn’t any longer. 

“You’re not-“ Orion stuttered as the chill settled into his bones, causing his teeth to chatter involuntarily. “You were, but you’re not. Who are you?

“I am Death,” Death replied, finally appearing in all of their dark, swirling might. A sick grin spread across their face as they caused their scyth to coalesce out of void and their eyes glowed a sickly green. 

“It’s not my time yet,” Orion muttered, still shivering from the chill of Deaths‘ appearance. “I double and triple checked everything that I ate for poisons or allergens. There’s no way that it’s my time yet. Unless someone is stabbing me to death in my bed right now, which seems a tad unlikely for wizards. So, I suppose I must enquire to what I owe the honor?”

Orion stood tall, still shaking like a leaf from the chill and a not at all insignificant amount of fear. Despite that, he bowed to the embodiment of Death before him, even making eye contact. He was a Black, gods be damned. There was no way in any of the hells that he would lose his pride and grovel in the face of death. 

Death sighed, seeming almost disappointed as they ceased glowing and vanished their scythe once more. 

“I can fault her for a lot of things, but I suppose I cannot fault her for her choice in this.” They almost seemed to be gazing off into the distance as they spoke, their grin softening to a wistful smile as they took a seat at the now delapidated and decaying garden table. Mold and toxic mushrooms had grown across the previously elegant tea settings as their contents decayed right before his eyes. 

“Take a seat Orion,”Death instructed as they took a sip of what once was tea. “This shouldn’t take long.”

Orion obeyed silently, not trusting his voice to speak without stuttering or chattering. 

“Now,” Death began conversationally. “I know you’re still young, even by your species’ standards of existence. However, you’re going to be involved with some people and events that are rather significant. I can’t tell you much about it. All you need to know is to listen to her and keep her happy. Understood?”

“I-I’m sorry, who?”

“My master,” Death replied flippantly as they took another sip of the tea. “Wonderful blend by the way. Regardless.” Death set down the cup and leaned forward against the table, causing bits of the wood to decay to dust and ash under their fingers. “Listen to her and keep her happy. Otherwise meeting me again will be a blessing”

At the last words, Orion’s dream crumbled, leaving him falling into the void. On instinct he scrambled for something to hold on to, but there was nothing. Only darkness and the distinct prickling feeling of Death watching as he fell. 

Orion had no idea how long he had been falling, be it an instant or years, time had ceased having any meaning. 

He landed with a start, back into his own body as he bounced out of his bed and onto the hard floor. He breathed, his ragged breaths coming quickly as though he had just run a marathon instead of sleeping. His fingers gripped the fibers of the rug his mother had insisted had to be next to his bed. The sensation helping to ground him in the reality that he was awake, that he was not falling. 

The image of the world crumbling away to nothingness beneath his feet kept replaying him his mind over and over again. He could still feel the eyes on him. He couldn’t catch his breath- he was still falling in the void and he couldn’t breathe-

“You went too far Death” Time accused as she watched Orion helplessly. “I knew something bad would happen. This is why I didn’t want you to go at all!”

Death didn’t respond verbally, however Time could read the guilt that they felt in the hunch of their shoulders. She sighed as she reached out and triggered the Black’s Distress ward. They monitored everyone in the house, and the fact that it hadn’t been set off already was hugely concerning to her. 

“It’s alright Death. I’m sorry for saying that to you. It’s not your fault that it turned out like this. Everything is going to be alright now.”

Death nodded. “It’s time to go.”

Seconds later, Arcturus and Melania rushed in, wands drawn. Seeing no external dangers, Arcturus put down his wand and asked Melania to check in Lucretia. She nodded and left quickly, closing the door firmly behind her. 

“Orion, can you hear me?” Arcturus asked softly. Orion nodded ever so slightly, so Arcturus continued, kneeling down next to his son. “I’m going to touch you, ok? I’m going to help you sit upright and then hold your hand ok?”

Orion nodded, his breathing finally starting to slow down. As the eyes finally disappeared. 

Arcturus carefully sat him up, noticing how his son’s grip on his arm was almost bruising. He didn’t flinch however. Not even for a second. He kept kneeling there with his son in front of him, leaning against the side of his own bed.  Arcturus spoke softly the entire time as Orion slowly calmed back down. Just a soft string of encouragement mixed in with distracting useless bits of information about some interesting new magical creature that had just been discovered. 

Eventually, Orion’s grip slackened on his arm. Arcturus kept Orion’s hand in his as he moved to sit next to him instead. Softly, he also ordered Kreature to prepare a mug of sweetened warm Coca, the way that Orion has loved as a child and now was saved mostly for special occasions and particularly cold winter nights when sleep was hard to come by. 

“Thank you papá,” Orion whispered hoarsely as Arcturus pressed the mug into his hands. 

“It was no problem Orion,” Arcturus replied with a smile. “Panic attacks are a lot more common than people want to believe, and unfortunately we Blacks are prone to them. Usually it’s triggered after the family magics are accepted when you come of age, but it’s not unheard of to have them before then. I’m sorry that you had to experience one without warning and mostly on your own. That’s my fault for not telling you sooner. I probably should have told you when you first went to Hogwarts.”

“No,” Orion coughed hoarsely before continuing. “It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” He held his father’s hand and gave a weak smile. “You were here. You helped me. That’s all I could ask for.”

Tears welled in the corners of Arcturus’ eyes as he smiled sadly. “Finish your coca and try to get some more rest. It’s ok if you can’t go back to sleep. I’ll teach you some calming charms after we’ve eaten in the morning. They don’t prevent it entirely, but they can sometimes  help reduce the severity or give you a bit of time to find a private spot. Would you like one before I go?”

Orion thought for a moment and shook his head. “I feel pretty stable right now. Thank you. More than anything I just feel exhausted.”

“Get some rest then,” Arcturus nodded to him as he stood. “I love you Orion. No matter what, I will always love you and I will do what I can to help you.”

“I love you too, Father.”

Chapter Text

Armando Dippett paced the second-floor girls' lavatory, pondering what had happened at the end of the previous year. He certainly hadn’t lost many students over the years, but there were, tragically, some losses. It was unfortunately inevitable when young people were being trained in how to use magic without being properly aware of how dangerous it could be when things go wrong. Then those same children try to hide their wrongdoings to avoid getting in trouble, which unfortunately meant that the otherwise (usually) easily solved problems could turn tragic. 

That was the reason he had instituted a year and age-based curriculum that limited what was taught based on the student's maturity and ability to understand complex issues. It was amazing that nothing similar had been implemented before, because children are inherently curious. When presented with new information and skills, they will inevitably try it out on their own. Even if it is on or against other students, which lead to them attempting to hide their wrongdoings. The pattern was always circular. 

The new policy had in fact helped a lot, reducing incidents by approximately 43% and reducing the number of fatalities by 97%. However, each student that he had lost over the years still haunted his heart and his mind, even if their soul had properly moved on. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head as their faces flashed before his eyes again. 

This was not the time to mourn the distant past. He had to focus.

“She was found here,” he mumbled under his breath as he stood at the entrance to the second stall. “Facing towards the sinks.” He stepped forward slowly, watching as his reflection in the mirror grew nearer. 

The Professor Dippett in the mirror looked ancient and unfamiliar in the sickly blue-green light of this bathroom. His eyes seemed sunken too far into his skull as the light deepened and darkened the bags under his eyes as his sleep had become less restful. His laugh lines and worry lines sat prominently in his skin, scarring his face with their shadows. Any color he had was leeched. He looked almost dead. 

Tearing his eyes away from his own face, he started tracing his fingertips along the edges of the section of sink. There were no seams that he could find, but something felt wrong. After all, How could he have never noticed that this was the only bathroom in the school with such an odd sink configuration? Every other bathroom had sinks along the wall opposite the stalls, or right next to the door. So why was it that this one was unique?

Pulling out his wand, Dippett cast a few diagnostic spells, cursing under his breath as they came back clear. Leaning back against the stalls once more, Dippet pondered the problem before him for a few more minutes before exhaustion came over him. He cursed his narcoleptic mind as he slid carefully down to the floor and leaned his head back against the wall of the stall.

It was not often that his narcoleptic episodes provided dreams. Even less so that they made any sort of sense. However, this time, he was completely aware of what was happening, even as he didn’t have control.

He watched, interested as his body traipsed down a familiar corridor. However, as the side of his foot met the corner of a torch’s pedestal he noticed something he hadn’t before. There was a tiny snake carved into the wall, not even an inch tall, hidden in the shadow provided by the torchlight. He would have to see it for himself, he noted as his dream self hissed in pain, opening the secret passageways in the walls. However, as the wall seemed to melt away, the tiny carved snake seemed to glow. A soft green light shone from the crevices as it wriggled happily.

Armando wondered how the hell he had ever missed it before as his body proceeded into the darkness and the wall rematerialized behind him with the sound of shifting stone and running water.

Running water…          Running water?!

Armando jerked awake as the first splashes of water began to cascade over the edge of the basins. All of the taps had been opened as far as they could go. He leapt to his feet in panic, showing a surprising amount of agility for a man his age, and waved his wand to switch the taps back off. He was only able to get a couple of them shut off before they trembled and started flowing again. In his shock, he didn’t quite recognize the soft, high-pitched, keening wails that softly echoed through the plumbing. 

Frustrated, Armando slammed the nearest tap shut with his hands, involuntarily hissing as his knuckle scraped painfully against something rough inlaid into the otherwise smooth porcelain basin. Removing his hand and staunching the soft bleeding, Armando Dippett had mere seconds to recognize a softly glowing snake before all the water shut off, and the basin started moving .

It shuddered forward, as though moving on shaky muggle rails. Sliding against the drainage grates without a single sound. Dippet stepped back, out of its way as it shifted about a meter forward. It paused for a moment, then started to sink dramatically into the overflow grates.

Professor Armando Dippet, the seventh headmaster of Hogwarts since the death of the founders, stood slack-jawed in absolute, undignified shock as he stared at the enormous chasm before him. This secret space had been hidden beneath the sinks in the second-floor girl's bathroom for centuries. The one that had a tiny glowing snake and opened when he had hissed. A damp, musty smell wafted up from the moss and mold covered pipe, as a slight breeze moved the no longer stagnant air. 

Connections clicked into place as Dippett’s eyes glazed over. It had opened when he hissed. The tiny glowing snake. The secret entrance to a previously unknown chasm below the school.

“Filip,” Armando called out softly, and a particularly short house elf with ridiculously thick glasses and a scroll of parchment appeared before the headmaster with a bow.

“What can Filip do, good sir?”

“I need to send two letters.” Professor Dippett spoke calmly, despite the tremors in his hands and his knees. “One to Gringotts, offering the carcass of a thousand year old basilisk to whomever can slay it.” He took a breath to steady himself before he continued. “The second one needs to go to the Ministry of magic, the DMLE division. Let them know that I have found significant evidence that can help crack the Warren case wide open.”

Death stood next to Myrtle Warren as they both watched Dippett's work. Sitting in companionable silence as the string of letters and orders and requests that Dippett send out seemed to fly out of the house elf’s pen faster than owls could carry them.

“Thank you,” Myrtle whispered softly, staring at the hole that held the beast that had ended her life. ”I think my business is done. All I really wanted was closure. To understand how and why I died.”

“What about your revenge on those bullies?” Death asked neutrally. “At first you were very excited about haunting them for the rest of their lives for making your life so miserable.”

“I suppose that doesn’t really matter,” Myrtle said, tears forming in her eyes once more. “But I feel fulfilled now. Someone cared enough about me to figure out how I died, and I learned what happened by watching…” A sob clawed its way out of myrtle’s throat. A deep, guttural sob, completely different from the high-pitched moans and wails she had perfected later in undeath.

“Others cared about you in life too,” Death said softly, rubbing Myrtle’s back gently as she shook with emotion. “They may not have shown it in the ways that you needed at that time, but there were so many people who loved you, who miss you. And even more truly mourned when you passed. I know that the voices of the assholes echo and repeat the terrible voices in your own head, amplifying your insecurities and worsening your mental illness. But you were so strong. You kept going. Despite their torment, you achieved so much and had close, true friends who would have been with you your entire natural life had it not been taken away from you.” 

Death knelt down to Myrtle’s crouched level and pulled her into a gentle hug, continuing to rub her back soothingly. “You did so well. And I am so proud of you.”

Death’s voice echoed in Myrtle’s mind, shifting and warping into the voices of her grandparents. Her Grams and Jiji, who had passed away while she was at Hogwarts in her first year. The felt the warmth in their voices, how much they loved her, and the last emotional dam inside her heart broke.

They both sat there for a while as Myrtle sobbed, working through the emotions that she had never allowed herself to feel in life. Eventually, Myrtle wiped her eyes and looked up at Death. She met their gaze with a wet smile as she sat up and cleaned her face with the edge of her sleeve. 

“Thank you Death. Because of your help, I don’t need to stay here. I don’t want to be anchored to a dingy Hogwarts bathroom for the rest of eternity. I’d rather be with my family. With the people who loved me while I was alive, and even past death.”

Death smiled warmly as they cradled Her head between their hands. Her eyes were finally clear. No more anger or hatred against those left in the mortal realm. She was truly ready to go On.

“Go On, and be at peace.” Death whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Myrtle’s forehead. 

A glow spread from the point of contact, filling Myrtle with a sense of warmth and comfort. She gasped as it spread, involuntarily gripping Death’s arms with all her strength as she faded. A final, but brief, spike of fear and anxiety before she finally relaxed completely and faded from Death’s demi-plane. In those last seconds, a serene smile crossed her face and she glowed.

Death sat there for a moment after myrtle faded, a soft smile on their face. “Be at peace Myrtle Warren. You deserve it.”

“Are you finally rid of that pitiful soul?” a whiney, mocking voice rang out, shattering the delicate feeling of tranquility that lingered in a space after a soul moved On.

Death sighed and spun on their heel to see Fate sitting upside down in the corner of the ceiling. The golden spiderlike boy skittered down the wall, tucking his knitting into a small hip bag above his thorax joint. All of his eyes glittered with malice and anger as he securely tied his bag shut with a secure slipknot.

“This was never supposed to happen,” Fate hissed menacingly as he skittered forward, stopping inches away from Death’s unflinching face. “ None of this was meant to happen !” He violently pointed a knitting needle at Dippett as he continued to speak.

“He was never supposed to be on this trail. She was never supposed to move on. And now I have this to contend with as well,”

Fate pulled out a tattered, dingy metallic thread. It was dramatically different from the normal gold and silver threads that fate normally took great pride in weaving.

“And what am I supposed to do with this thread?” Death asked calmly, not letting even an iota of emotion pass across his face. “You know I’m not good at working with my hands like you are.

“This,” Fate said with a manic grin as he shook the discolored thread, “Is the reason I know you are up to something. It’s degraded even further and I will figure out what you have done. So I certainly hope that whatever you’ve done was worth it. Because when I find who or what caused this, I will actively make their existence suffer.”

Fate skittered off into the darkness before finally fading out of view once more.

“What a tiny creep he’s become,” Death said softly. “You saw that, right Destiny?”

Destiny partially shimmered into view, looking about as substantial as the ghost who had just left. Most of their features were obscured by a silvery cloak, except for their long, slender hands, which moved the shuttle across the loom with unerring speed and precision.

“I see what you mean Death,” Destiny sighed, shaking their head slightly, causing the cloak’s hood to ripple with iridescent rainbows. “Fate has become too caught up in his own importance. He is focusing too much on one thread- one person’s lifetime. His views have become far too selfish and short-sighted. I’ll see what I can do to point him in a different direction.” Destiny paused their weaving and actually looked at Death for the first time in centuries. “You’ve grown, Death. Not an easy feat for us. I’m proud of you for that. And don’t worry about Fate. Things are already shifting their course, and I’m loving the new colors that are starting to appear.”

Destiny faded back into their own dimension, leaving Death In silence. After a few moments, Death turned back to observe everything going on below. This was new, after all. It would be good to know exactly what was going to happen. That way, they could tell Vulpecula all about it if need be.

“So she’s dead?” Vulpecula asked, sadness coloring her tone as she picked at her half-eaten food. 

”One of them, yes.” Death replied in a matter-of-fact manner. They paused for a moment, sighing and rubbing their face under their hood before they continued in a more somber tone. “She had long gone mad from loneliness, unfortunately. Her stasis was broken when Hogwarts’ wards were initially tampered with, about 200 years ago. She’s been lonely ever since.”

“First of all,” Vulpecula started, uncertain. “There were two of them? Secondly, I didn’t know snakes could get lonely,” she stated, curious about something she hadn’t known in her past life either. 

“Some snakes are remarkably social,” Death began, excited about sharing a special interest they had had for millions of years. “Garter snakes have shown remarkable social tendencies both in the wild and in captivity. They form friendships and other social bonds well outside of the mating season, and even have best friends.” Death paused, as though taking a breath to double-check that Vulpecula was interested in the topic. 

She was, leaning forward to listen more with wide eyes and a fascinated look on her face. Death smiled beneath their hood before continuing. 

“Unfortunately, most venomous species, as well as more aggressive species tend to be less social, a lot of them even cannibalize the weaker snake if kept in the same enclosure.” Vulpecula gasped in horror, and death continued. 

“However, basilisks are not ordinary snakes. They are born from a chicken egg, hatched by a snake or a toad. The particular reptile or amphibian doesn’t particularly make a difference in the resulting basilisk's social tendencies. However, this is where the chicken traits come into effect.

“Chickens are intensely social, just like humans. They have a social hierarchy too, hence the term ‘pecking order’. They also severely suffer the effects of loneliness. Depression is a common issue while raising a single chicken, which leads to a whole bunch of other mental health issues, which then dramatically affect physical health.

“Basilisks feel that same mental strain when subject to social isolation. Meaning that extended periods of loneliness permanently damage the psyche and regularly leads to madness and hyper-aggression. It makes sense that our poor, now-dead Basilisk was so willing to hurt students at Tom Riddle’s behest. She was traumatized, almost to the point of incoherence. When Tom presented himself, and communicated with her? She was more than willing to bend to every whim he had to keep him coming. To keep him talking to her.”

“Like me last time, with my fake friends,” Vulpecula whispered, the crushing weight of realization causing her to slump back into her seat. 

“Exactly,” Death whispered, their words carrying farther than any mortal’s whisper could dream. “The biological need for affection and community overrides any sense of right and wrong, any sense of what the snake, what you, wanted or deserved in a relationship. Latching into the first even smidgeon of affection or even regular social interaction makes sense if you’ve not had it in your life for any significant period of time. Because what if there isn’t anyone else?

“This is going too far for my comfort, Death.” Vulpecula interjected, setting her fork down as she pushed her plate away from her. What little appetite she had was gone. 

“My apologies,” Death bowed their head in atonement. 

“Moving on to happier topics,” Vulpecula sat up, her eyes glowing with excitement. “There’s another basilisk down there? And it’s alive? They didn’t kill it?”

“She is still in Stasis,” Death answered smoothly. “Her mind is still intact, not having experienced the centuries of isolation, as well as remaining out of the notice of the people hunting her friend. Her stasis should last indefinitely unless someone appropriate ends the stasis, or the wards of Hogwarts fail completely. Those are the only conditions that will free her.”

“That’s good,” Vulpecula said softly. “And do we know if she would have wanted to hunt down humans at all? Let alone based on blood purity?”

“She has whatever morals Salazar Slytherin instilled in her as her first caretaker.”

The pair sat in silence for a while, Vulpecula slowly sipping on the raspberry lemonade that Minnie had so lovingly prepared for her. Death sat as still as a corpse, simply enjoying the company of the first mortal they could finally view as an equal. The tinkling of ice against glass was a pleasant punctuation to their prolonged comfortable silence. 

Eventually, the lemonade was gone. The pair silently said their goodbyes for the evening and headed their separate ways. 

Hours later, as Vulpecula lay in her plush bed, strange dreams floated around her subconscious. 

Terrifying memories of a monstrous basilisk biting down on her limbs mixed with forgotten childhood memories of garden snakes coiled around her wrist, talking to her and keeping her company as she slaved away in her aunt's garden. Slowly the two merged into something entirely new. Vulpecula was working on something, the words of the book unreadable as her hands moved of their own accord. The room she was in reminded her of any of the teachers' offices at Hogwarts, but none in particular. An enormous snake sat coiled next to a great fire, chattering tirelessly about nothing as it basked in the warmth.

Everything was calm.

Vulpecula Harriet Peverell awoke on August 15th, well rested in a way she had not expected after a night of such oddly turbulent dreams. She rose from the bed, stretched, and started preparing to go out for the day. 

It was time to visit Diagon Alley.

Chapter Text

The leaky cauldron was bustling with activity as Vulpecula stumbled out of the fireplace. To be fair, staying here the summer before her third year had shown her that the small pub was always busy. It made sense, being the easiest way into or out of Diagon Alley- the largest magical shopping district in England. However, once Hogwarts letters started being sent out, the amount of traffic through the dingy little establishment increased significantly.

Gently brushing the soot off of her cloak, Vulpecula carefully made her way through the constant stream of people to the safety of the bar. Once she had a hand on the serving surface, she felt anchored and took a large, calming breath.

“First time here eh?” Tom the barman gave her a jovial toothless grin. “The traffic’s a bit much innit. But it comes in spurts and waves.”

“It’s been a few years since I've come through this way, yeah,” Vulpecula sighed, allowing the french accent to color her words a smidge more than normal as she looked around, trying to appear slightly overwhelmed.

Tom nodded understandingly. “Yeah, it’s a lot all at once. Welcome back though I ‘spose. What can I help you with then? The door should jus be open this time ‘o day. Or would ye be liking some lunch. It’s not fancy fare, but it’s good and will keep you full all day.”

“I’m afraid I’ve just eaten,” she replied with a laugh, remembering Topsy glaring at her for even considering leaving the house on less than a full stomach. “I’m afraid I just need to know if The Potters have arrived? I’m supposed to meet with them today.”

“Ah yeah, they did say something about meeting someone today.” Tom grabbed a recently deposited dirty mug from the countertop and started washing it vigorously. “They should be sat in the booth under the stairs.” he gestured with the now soap covered mug. “Right there. You can’t miss the black hair. Sticks up everywhere.” Setting down the mug, tom gestured with his hands against his astonishingly shiny bald head- mimicking hair sticking all over the place with his calloused fingers. “Don’t worry,” he said with a laugh as he resumed washing the mug. “Some of the friendliest wizards I’ve met in my life.”

“Thank you Mister…” Vulpecula trailed off, fishing for a name that she already knew. 

“Tom,” he responded kindly. “Just Tom, your local friendly barman.”

“Val,” she responded, with a smile. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Vulpecula smiled one more time in thanks before she slipped back into the tide of people. Just barely over the din of people, she heard Tom mutter ‘nice kid’, as he continued his job.

The Potters were exactly as Tom had described. A friendly bunch, happily chatting away with some friends as she approached. Her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Charlus. He looked exactly the same as her father had- both in the few precious pictures she had, as well as when he was a ghost, loving her and supporting her even as she had knowingly walked to her own death.

She was glad that the friends were there, standing at the end of the table so that she could justify taking a moment to compose herself before meeting them. Before meeting her family for the first time. Suddenly she wished she had asked for a private meeting, but steeled herself and composed her expression as the Potters’ friends waved goodbye, joining the tide of people heading into the alley.

Taking one last steadying breath, Vulpecula Harriet (Potter) Peverell forced herself to step forward. One step at a time, until she stood at the end of their table.

“Excuse me,” she said, her voice sounding more foreign than ever in her mind. “The Potters, correct?”

The older man stood and shook her hand in friendly greeting. “Yes. Henry Potter, at your service.” His slightly graying hair and warm, smile lined face welcomed her as he shook her hand firmly. Gesturing to those still seated, he introduced the others. “And these are my two sons. Fleamont, and Charlus.” the respective boys waved at her in greeting, grinning warmly.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you all,” Vulpecula beamed. “I’m Vulpecula Peverell, and according to our family tree, I suppose we are cousins?”

“Yes,” Henry agreed softly, squeezing her hand softly as he graciously guided her to a seat. “Yes we are. It’s lovely to be able to meet family that we once thought lost to time.”

The four of them sat in the booth for a long time, getting to know each other and catching up on important family histories. Eventually Vulpecula- Val to them in private, they were family after all- relaxed into the rhythm of the conversation, and everything became a lot more casual. Charlus and Fleamont joked with her, claiming that they would have to be overprotective when she joined them at Hogwarts this year. They were going into sixth and seventh year respectively, and both were on the quidditch team. At the same time, they pretended to cry that they knew that their new baby cousin wouldn’t be joining them in their ancestral house of Gryffindor. 

Tom the barman watched the new family get to know each other from a distance. He couldn’t hear anything specific, but his old heart thumped with joy as he heard the young lass from earlier laughing along with the Potter boys. He may not have been the most emotionally intelligent person, but he could smell that young girl’s anxiety from a mile away.

He busied himself once more with some more dirty dishes as the four stood up from the table. Each of the two boys taking one of her arms and escorting her, laughing, towards the entrance to the alley as Henry smiled fondly at them from behind. 

“Be safe, you three” he called after them as they made their escape. “And you’d better be at Flourish and Blott’s in an hour!” He received a wave of acknowledgement form each boy as they disappeared through the archway into the alley. Shaking his head with a wry smile, Henry made his way back over to Tom at the bar.

“Looks like the young miss is settled in with the boys quite well,” Tom said with a grin.

“You have no idea,” Henry replied, sliding a few coins across the bar as a tip for their drinks and taking the table for so long. “I suppose a new cousin is about the same as a little sister to them at this point.”

Tom pocketed the coins deftly, nodding sagely. “And how is Lady Potter doing these days?”

They both knew the question had to be asked, but it didn’t stop the wave of sorrow that crossed Henry’s face.

“Not good,” Henry was barely speaking above a whisper. “All she wants right now is to go outside. To feel the sun and breathe in the scent of nature. I-” his voice broke as he spoke. “I want to give that to her. I want to give her the whole world. But we know there’s not much time left.”

“The boys know too?” Tom asked.

“They know,” Henry said, glancing towards the alley once more. “I just don’t know if they believe it. She’s been sick for so long… I wouldn’t be surprised if they are just rationalizing it as a bad flare up.”

The pair commiserated for another minute or so before Henry followed his boys and new daughter into the alley. Neither of them noticed the hood full of dark curls that had slipped past them while they were talking. Nor had they seen the face inside it scowl darkly as the boys escorted Val into Diagon Alley.

“Welcome, Val,” Charlus started.

“To Diagon Alley!” Fleamont finished, laughing as he carefully steered their group through the mess of people.

“I’ve been here before,” Vulpecula protested, twisting to drag Charlus out of the way of a witch with a rather unsteady stack of goods floating in her wake.

“Yes, we know.” Charlus sulked as he regained his position on her left side. “But just coming for Gringotts doesn’t count. That’s just business.”

“Isn’t shopping for Hogwarts just business too?” Val asked. Besides, she had visited other stores while she was here too. Not even counting her last life.

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong,” Fleamont grinned, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Val supposed that he must have gotten his eyesight from his mother. After all, neither Henry nor Charlus needed spectacles that she could tell.

“Hogwarts shopping for the first time is a spiritual experience,” Charlus proclaimed, winking at Val to make sure she knew this was all in good fun. “The books, the quills!”

“The broken pots of ink,” Fleamont sniggered as Charlus flushed red.

“That was one time!”

“And your legs were shifting rainbows for days.”

“At least I didn’t set Olivander’s hair on fire!”

Vulpecula burst out laughing at that last one. “You what?” she asked, gasping for air between giggles.This time, it was Fleamont’s turn to flush pink and turn away.

“I had… quite the interesting time finding my first wand,” he groused, self consciously rubbing the back of his hair. Not that it helped the shockingly genetic potter hair lay any smother against his head.

“Well lucky for you,” Val began with an evil grin. “I happen to need a new holster for my wand. I’ve outgrown the youth size straps.”

Fleamont groaned in despair as Val and Charlus laughed, dragging him along with them to the old wand maker’s shop. Luckily the shop was empty when they stumbled in, all three of them giggling at some joke or another.

“You’re not here to destroy my shop again are you, Heir Potter?” 

The three of them jumped at Garrick Olivander’s voice coming from directly above them. Looking up, they saw him at the top of an impossibly high ladder, arms full to bursting with wand boxes… and a welcoming smile that made sure that all three of them knew that it was intended as a lighthearted joke.

“And you’ve brought a new one eh?”

Deftly sliding down the ladder and depositing the wands on his desk, Val could see that between the 40’s and the 90’s, Olivander hadn’t changed even by a single hair. It was kind of unsettling, she noted mentally. After all, even with magic people still aged and changed. How old was he really?

“New,” Olivander muttered, as he came over to inspect her. “And yet not new at the same time…” he lapsed into silence, staring directly into her eyes. There was no mental probe, so she knew he wasn’t looking into her mind. And yet it felt like he was seeing more than he should. 

“Not quite a Potter though,” Olivander continued, unabashed. “Very close, but not quite. You have your wand already miss…”

“Peverell,” she supplied, nodding in acknowledgement. “I suppose it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Olivander grinned at the name, a light shining from within his eyes. “But of course!” he cried with a smile that didn’t quite match his eyes. “That explains the relationship. Cousins. Close, but not quite… well, I suppose rather than that, the potters should be close but not quite Peverells! After all, yours is the older family branch. Now,” he clasped his hands together in delight. “What can my humble shop help you with, Young Mistress.”

The Potter boys glanced at each other, each asking with their eyes if the other knew what was going on. With slight shakes of their heads, they both agreed that this was rather odd indeed, even for Olivander, and had moved on.

“I need a new holster,” Val said, rolling up her sleeve just far enough to show her old one. It had been high quality, and clearly well cared for. But the poor child sized straps clearly were struggling to stay connected. She had simply outgrown it.

Olivander examined it closely, asking permission before touching to determine the materials used. Finding a suitable replacement was quick. Only a few minutes until Olivander tossed a couple options on the desk. 

“Each of these would be a suitable style,” he began, in a very clearly business tone compared to the mysticism he used while selecting a child’s wand. ‘Very similar in make to the one that you are already used to, but if you would allow-” he paused for a second before continuing. “I would like to examine your wand.” Val inhaled sharply at the request but Olivander continued speaking. “Some woods and cores are able to be very aggressive to the cases they are held in. sometimes it’s a single component, other times it's the combination. I simply wish to examine to ensure you get the container that meets your needs for the longest amount of time before it needs replacing.”

“It is not the wand,” Val said softly. Pulling out her beautiful beech wand

Olivander nodded sagely as he accepted it with great ceremony. “I would never dream of meeting that wand. Nor would I wish its curse on anyone.”

“It seems we are agreed,” Val said, watching intently as Olivander examined each delicate carving. 

Time had indeed created a masterpiece. The flowers gave way to leaves and branches, which held almost invisible skulls instead of fruit, skeletal birds flew around the burned imprint of Fawkes’ feather. They almost seemed to move as you watched, following the pattern of scorched wood all the way to the tip, where time had engraved the tiniest little lightning bolt. It was perfect, and Val was watching Olivander marvel at the sheer perfection of Time’s creation

“Who-” Olivander was choked up as he spoke. “I do not recognize the craftsmanship. May I ask who created this?”

“They are… not alive.” Val hesitated as she spoke, struggling to think of a way to describe Time’s existence that wouldn’t cause too many questions.

“What a shame,” Olivander whispered, tears of both joy and loss streaming down his cheeks as he gently handed her wand back. “What I would have given to have met them…” Quietly, he turned back to his desk, and selected one of the holsters. He pressed it into her hands, stopping her when she reached for a coin pocket. “I cannot take your coin today,” he whispered. “Seeing a wand like that… getting to touch and handle it… such a perfect wand is payment enough for this old man’s soul. Thank you.”

With a sad smile, Val pressed her old holster into his hands. It had come with her from her last life. Sirius had made it for her himself before he passed… back when she was still child sized… Olivander accepted it wordlessly. Not needing any explanation. 

Val and the Potter boys left Olivander’s quietly, each of them thanking him in their own way before they continued on with their shopping. The rest of the trip went smoothly, even if Charlus did threaten to stand and cry in the middle of the street for an explanation of what the hell was going on in the wand shop. 

Charlus, being a beater, was broad shouldered and strong. So him threatening to stand in the middle of Diagon Alley and cry was quite the entertaining prospect. Despite not answering, Val managed to convince both brothers that they should keep moving by reminding them that their father was waiting for them at the book shop, and their time of total freedom was almost up. With that, Val was practically dragged along behind the two as they sprinted to meet their father at Flourish and Blott’s.

None of the three noticed Walburga Black, calmly shopping along the street. But she certainly noticed them. She made mental notes of how they interacted, how… tactile they were with each other. A sneer made its way across her face. Poor Orion, heart snagged by a harlot who was cavorting around with their families (albeit minor) political rivals.

Perhaps when he and Arcturus found out, they’d consider her again. After all… Toujours Pur was the family motto for a reason. Nothing was as pure as a Black.

Val managed to ditch the Potter’s as she wandered the vast aisles of leather and linen bound tomes. The smell of fresh books was intoxicating, drawing her deeper and deeper into the depths of the store. Occasionally, she saw another person, nose deep in a volume or tracing out a wand movement with their finger. 

It was nice to spend time with them. They had accepted her as an adoptive sibling so quickly. It was kind of hard to keep the whirlwind of emotions under wraps with them. Especially because they reminded her so strongly of Fred and George. Fleamont and Charlus may not be twins, but they certainly acted like it at times. Finishing each others’ thoughts and sentences, the constant stream of jokes, even the way that they hung onto her arms was so similar it was spooky. And so she hid. Val just needed a few minutes to herself before she went back to them. Just a few minutes to reset, and get back to normal. What better way is there to lose someone than getting lost yourself?

As she wandered through the stacks, several books caught her attention. She collected several on various specific rune types that wouldn’t be covered in class, as well as a few on necessary household and hygiene charms. She was particularly shocked at the number of books that were not from Europe at all. One in particular about Ethiopian indigenous magics by an author listed only as Taitu looked particularly fascinating. It was the kind of book that the government and people of her past life would have banned out of a misguided sense of geographic, and racial superiority. So there was no chance in any version of hell that she was going to leave that singular copy here for someone else to disregard or destroy. 

Setting down her precious collection of treasures, she stretched up to reach the book. The tips of her fingers just barely grazed the spine. She was about to make a jump for it when a warm shadow came up behind her, and an arm, longer than hers, gently pried the book from its shelf.

“I beg your pardon for intruding,” Orion’s silky voice whispered in her ear. His warm breath caressing her cheek before he stepped back. 

Val turned, meeting his eyes and seeing not an iota of regret or repentance in his grin, even as he proffered the desired book as a peace offering. Her cheeks felt a little bit warm as she accepted the book. He was standing very close, after all… 

“Then beg,” Val teased softly with a matching grin. “I wasn’t aware that you’d be shopping today.”

“Neither was I,” Orion laughed slightly. “Unfortunately my cousin insisted that I accompany him today.”

“Which one?” Val asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

“Alphard.” Orion said, grinning. “The most fun one. He decided to hide in the store and make me look for him like the responsible older cousin I am.” Val snorted at the mocking tone he used at the end, before adopting a mockingly serious tone herself. 

“The most responsible indeed, as befits a Slytherin Prefect.”

Just then, a crash was heard a few aisles over, followed by a copious amount of swearing. Orion sighed, looking very disappointed as he gazed in the direction of the cursing.

“I suppose I’ve found Alphard,” he said, neutrally. Turning back, he proffered his hand with a slight bow. Val placed her hand in his, and he kissed it, a fraction of a second longer than was socially appropriate.  “Until we meet again.”  and with that, he walked away.

Val stood still for a moment, taking very even breaths before she collected her books and headed to the front of the store. Paying for them only took a moment, and then she found the Potters once more. 

“Would you like to join us for dinner Val?” Henry asked. 

“Thank you for the offer,” Val- Vulpecula said. “However I will have to excuse myself for the evening. I’m afraid I’m simply too tired to go on.”

“That’s alright,” Henry said with a smile. “It was lovely meeting you. I hope that we- or at least the boys, get to see you again soon.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Vulpecula said softly. They stood in silence for a moment, before Vulpecula spoke again. “Thank you, Uncle Henry. Thank you for letting me into your family.”

“I didn’t need to let you in,” Henry said fondly. “You were a part of it regardless, whether we all knew it or not. Even if we ignore blood, I have a feeling you would have become an honorary Potter one way or another.”

Vulpecula- no… Harry sniffed as she looked up at the man whom she was named after. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this meant to me.”

Goodbyes with the Potters were quick, but full of promises to write and see each other soon. After all, they were family now. After a final round of hugs, and double checking to make sure nothing got left behind, Vulpecula finally made it back home. Minnie immediately offloaded anything that she was carrying, and shooed her off to the dining room for her dinner. 

After dinner, she sat on her bed, absently twirling her wand between her fingers as she thought about her day.

“They really liked you,” Time said softly, carefully arranging her skirts on the edge of the bed. “Especially Henry.” Vulpecula looked at Time quizzically. ”He used to have a little sister,” Time continued with her explanation. “Well, really just a childhood friend who he was really close to. It was a similar situation. They hit it off right away. Had the same taste in everything, even down to women.” Time chuckled a bit. “They truly were the best of friends.”

“So what happened?” Vulpecula asked. Time had used the past tense after all.

“She was non magical,” Time said softly. “A woman in 1903, who loved other women. She got sent to an asylum. That's where she stayed until she died. He never did understand why muggles would have any sort of taboo on same sex couples. Nor did he ever forget.”

“What does that have to do with his feelings about me?” Vulpecula asked, suddenly unsure.

“It means,” Death said, pulling her against their chest as they appeared leaning against the headboard. “That your great grandfather wants to protect you. Wants to keep you safe where he failed his friend in the past.”

“It also,” Time said, moving to cuddle Vulpecula’s other side, despite Death’s half hearted glare. “Means that outside the pair of us, you truly do have a family that loves you. They want to see you safe, they want to see you happy.”

“Just as much as we do,” Death confirmed.

The three of them sat there for a long time. Taking comfort in the close contact with loved ones. Eventually, Death began humming a sleeping song. Rocking Vulpecula slightly as she slowly fell into a restful, dreamless sleep.

Chapter Text

Falling asleep in the library had become an unintentional habit for Tom. Not for no reason. The Slytherin dorms felt so cold and empty without the normal noise and trouble making that seemed to be happening at all hours of the day and night. Not only that, but it felt like something was lingering there for him. Something waiting in the dark to ensnare him in its web, never to let him free.

And so he stuck to the library. There, the silence felt comforting. The movement in the shadows were merely books who wanted to visit one another, rather than something waiting to catch him in something. The odd rustles were pages falling to the floor when he knocked them with his elbow. 

Most of all, the library was a distraction. Answers to questions that he had, as well as just full of information that he never would have thought to research on his own. However, The library didn’t hold the answer to his most burning question of all. Who was Lady Vulpecula Peverell?

There wasn’t much information to be found. The compendiums of old pureblood families listed them as important, but never explicitly stated why. Old news articles talked about how the Peverell vote had been a deciding factor in many cases of law, but there was no background as to how they had the power that they did. It was almost as if you were simply expected to know. 

The entire thing had distracted him from his original research goal, and it frustrated him to no end that he hadn’t gotten anywhere with either one. And yet he wasn’t even free of Peverell in his gods be damned dreams. She kept appearing, seeming to ghost between the shelves of the library, giggling as he gave chase. The airheaded giggle that he had dismissed that first day, echoing through his dreams as though to taunt him with information he could never reach.

Turning a corner, she disappeared. Tom followed as quickly as he could, grabbing the bookcase to help him turn, only it wasn’t a bookcase anymore. It was the edge of the doorway to the Black family’s garden. Everyone was staring at him for arriving late, except her. She simply continued sipping her tea, smiling and laughing with the others at her table. It was a completely different laugh. Genuine, and warm. Hearing it, knowing it would never be directed towards him, made him feel cold.

“Lady Peverell,” he called out, even as the garden faded around her. He reached towards her, hoping for a response- a reaction- anything.

Vulpecula’s laughing face was suddenly superimposed by the image of Myrtle warren. The poor girl’s tears hadn’t even dried off of her face when she was found. Tear tracks glistened unnaturally against her skin which had taken on a waxen quality. Unfocused, cloudy, dead eyes still glistened with the unshed tears, her fearful expression begging for help or salvation even as she lay limp in a puddle of water from a flooded sink.

Tom recoiled at the sudden change of scenery. Looking around, disoriented, his eyes latched onto a speck of gold hidden in a particularly dark corner of the bathroom.

“You’ve already come so far,”  Fate crooned softly in the back of Tom’s mind as he slowly skittered out into the light. He snapped his fingers with a wicked grin and gestured towards Myrtle once more. “This was always going to happen. Will always happen. Why do you allow yourself to be distracted from your path to greatness? The time you have is finite before the rituals you had been looking for will no longer work. Would you really allow such a precious life to go to waste? All because you got distracted by a mere girl .”

Tom turned away from Myrtle’s body as a fine golden cord appeared. It wrapped around her neck several times, slowly staining itself with a disgusting dark-colored ichor that seemed to seep out of her neck where there was no puncture wound. He could feel the weight, the chafing, of what he knew was the same cord wrapping around his left forearm. 

“The weight of her death is already borne upon your soul,” Fate sighed, slowly winding a bit of the stained thread between his fingers. “And yet you didn’t feel any different. You never thought back on her death as anything but a stepping stone to achieving your goal. And you were right.” 

Tom inhaled at that, indignant that his sins were laid bare before him as something within him pulled uncomfortably.

“Your involvement didn’t matter though,” Fate let out a deranged chuckle as he manipulated the thread to look like a hangman. “She was fated to die with or without your help. And trust me. This way was a lot less painful than her other options. One might even call your actions merciful. Just in case you were even considering feeling anything close to guilt.”

“How-” Tom cleared his throat, his voice had gone stale from disuse. “How would she have died otherwise?”

“That would have depended on her,” Fate simpered as he toyed with the fraying thread between his fingers. “The poor tragic girl.” Fate sidled up a wall and hung upside down from the vaulted ceiling as he started knitting some fresh thread into a new cloth with his spindly legs. “Perhaps her potion would explode, acidic enough to melt through her flesh. The healer would keep her alive, suffering, for weeks before she finally succumbed to the void. Perhaps she would run away crying into the forbidden forest, desperate to get away from her tormentors. She would get lost, trip and injure herself. Centaurs aren’t known to be forgiving, but after two days with no food, shelter, and no survival skills. Killing her, quickly and painlessly, as you did, was truly a mercy. She didn’t even realize that she was dead. Poor dear thought that she had simply fallen asleep.”

Fate slowly lowered himself to Tom’s height, allowing his many beady black eyes to bore into Tom’s. “The only question remaining,” Fate whispered, his voice reverberating through the thread that was now attempting to burrow its way into Tom’s arm. “Is whether or not you will allow this golden opportunity to fade, and choose a fate of obscurity. One where you will be remembered as the man who had so much potential. Or will you grasp the thread, and let your fate Shine ?”

Tom awoke with a start, knocking over the pile of aged newspapers that he had inadvertently used as a pillow. His left arm throbbed, and even in the dim light of the lantern he could see the angry red lines where that caustic golden thread had tangled itself around him. Rolling down his sleeve ached, and he could feel tiny splinters chafing against the rough linen of his shirt. 

Turning the lantern to give a bit more light, he began clearing up  his mess. The newspapers shifting headlines, causing his eyes to glaze over in his exhausted state. Kneeling down to pick up the papers from the floor, one of the inner pages caught his attention from where it had fallen from its regular nesting. 

Peverell Family Attacked in Canterbury Manor

The article was short. Sandwiched between debates about what the Wizengamot should be doing, and an article about the state of imported potion supplies. However, this tiny little article gave Tom the tiniest lead that he could follow. It described the former Lord Peverell, sacrificing himself to save some young children from some sort of explosion. His wand was never located afterwards, and it was speculated that his wand was the elder wand. The reference threw Tom for a loop, as the source referenced a children’s book. The tale of three brothers, from the tales of Beedle the Bard. 

Death looked on from the dark, Disgust and anger roiling in their gut. Of course the spindly little fucker would stick his legs in where they didn’t belong. He always seemed to need to get his way with everything. But not this time. They had put too much work into this timeline for the little creep to get away with something that big.

No.

Death didn’t need to worry too much about this Riddle situation. The stage has already been set. All he needed to do was to make sure that riddle had his… obsession…

Death took a wholly unnecessary breath as he felt the soul in front of him shift. It was a tiny bit more whole, healing about as slowly as to be expected with this person. But now it had a goal. 

The book with the tale of the three brothers was easily located by Tom, which he consumed voraciously. As he read, pages flying like pixies before Tom’s hungry eyes, Death could feel the appropriate obsessions slipping into place. The Deathly Hallows were quite the temptation for any mortal craving power or immortality. And Vulpecula Peverell, was never simply ‘some girl’.

Even beyond who she was by sheer strength of character, she was so much more than any mortal could have ever dreamed. She was the Master of Death, Friend of Time, and (as of recently) the Champion of Destiny. Though Death would never tell her that themselves. 

As Death faded away from their place in the darkness, they allowed themselves a tiny chuckle. Nothing this pitiful human could do could ever match a fraction of what their Master had achieved. Not even if he worked for a thousand years.

Especially not if he gave up his soul.

Riddle shivered slightly and glanced around nervously, aware that the dark hid many things. After nothing happened for several minutes, Tom allowed himself to relax a tiny bit as he turned back to the tiny volume in his hands. 

“This makes so much sense,” he laughed breathlessly as he ran his fingers through his already tangled locks. “The strange sense of power that lingered around her in the school. Why everyone seems to defer to her. Why she hasn’t left my mind, despite acting like one of those swooning swots. It was all an act. I knew something was off about her.”

His mirth died on his lips abruptly, even as the ghost of his smile still lingered. She would be another new adversary for power within the house. With the mythos that her family represented, let alone any remaining or newly forged political ties, she could completely disrupt everything he’d been working towards for the past six years. Even with what he had glimpsed at the Black’s garden party, he could not get a good sense of her political leaning. She was a complete unknown. And Tom never let unknowns stay that way for long.

He would have to observe her very closely. Especially if she was sorted into Slytherin. One should always be wary of snakes in your bed. Particularly when making a home amongst them.

Chapter Text

“She’s pretty.”

Orion’s head whipped around to glare at his cousin. A possessive sort of hot anger rose up in his chest at the comment, only for him to be met with a shit eating grin. 

“You’re an arse, Alphard,” Orion groaned, allowing the flash of anger to dissipate as he flopped unceremoniously onto the drawing room sofa. “An absolute nimwit.”

“What?” Alphard settled into an armchair across from his cousin, chortling mercilessly. “You upset that I interrupted your private moment of snogging your wannabe girlfriend between shelves? Imagine if grandmother heard. The horror!”

“We weren’t snogging,” Orion defended primly, ignoring the jab about wanting to have her as his girlfriend. “I simply assisted her with retrieving a book that was a bit out of her reach.”

“He’s lost,” Alphard cried out dramatically, laying the back of his hand against his forehead as he fanned his face with the other. “Oh what a world in which my stonehearted cousin bleeds for such a maiden fair! What other horrors must I be subjected to in these coming- OOF!” Alphard cried out indignantly as a cushion slammed into the side of his face. Alphard glared halfheartedly at Orion, whom was splayed out on the couch in front of him, suspiciously sans pillow that used to be beneath his head. 

“Alright,” Alphard sighed as he halfheartedly tossed the pillow back at his cousin. “I’ll stop teasing you for now.”

Orion eyed him as he carefully returned the cushion to its spot supporting his neck. “For now?”

“Well you can’t expect me to stop forever. That’d be inhumane! Like asking an owl not to fly! Or asking Walburga to get along with anyone who’s not a Black!”

Both boys paused and laughed at the comparison. Their cousin was not well known amongst the family for getting along with others. Even her relationships with those she was related to by blood seemed strained at best. 

“What’s her name anyways?” Alphard asked nonchalantly. He had been out of the country with his father during the garden party, and had subsequently missed all the attached drama. “I’ve never seen you show even a passing interest in anyone. She must be someone special.”

Orion took a moment before he spoke, staring at the ceiling with a wistful expression. “Lady Vulpecula Peverell. And yeah… I think as soon as I met her, things sort of just… fell into place…”

“Lady Peverell, I thought they had died out.” Alphard gawked at the family name for a solid minute before something else clicked into place in his mind. “Wait. Hang on a second. Her given name is Vulpecula? As in the constellation? As in the little red fox with a goose in it’s mouth? That constellation?”

Orion sat up with a grin, nodding emphatically.

“It feels too good to be true,” he admitted, leaning back into the sofa as Alphard gawked at him. “It’s almost as if…”

“Don’t you dare say that it was written in the stars or I swear I will find a way to get itching powder into your underwear drawer.” 

“What do you want then?” Orion asked, despairingly. “She’s her own person. There’s no way I’m going to say some chauvinistic thing like ‘she was made for me’. That implies that she’s property rather than a person! You know both of our mothers raised us better than that! It’s an incredible coincidence that such an incredible and interesting person has such a name, and I’d be honored if she even considered the possibility of having me as a partner.”

“Honored?” Both boys closed their expressions off warily as Walburga smoothly stepped out of the shadows. Orion had to suppress a shudder of discomfort as she eyed him up and down. There was a strange spark in her eyes today. Something that neither of them could identify. “Strange for a Black, let alone the heir, to admit a position subservient to others.” Her voice seemed to hiss towards the end. “Especially when said person was seen all down Diagon Alley with the Potter boys attached to each of her arms.”

A knot of uncertainty formed in Orion’s stomach, as his jaw clenched- biting back a scathing remark at his cousin’s ‘news’.

“And for what sly purpose have you brought that information here for?” Alphard almost growled, barely maintaining a civil tone.

“Sly?” Walburga asked, adopting a faux innocent tone. “Why I have no ulterior motive whatsoever. I simply wish to make sure that our Heir has all the information that he needs to make whatever decisions are necessary.”

With that, she curtseyed gently before disappearing back around the corner into the hallway.

“I didn’t know Uncle Pollux was visiting,” Orion said cooly.

“Indeed,” Alphard agreed in a similarly guarded tone. “I suppose that Mother would be expecting me home soon.” 

Orion looked over at alphard where he sat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. It was well known that Uncle Pollux was the abrasive sort. It was also common knowledge that he longed to climb the ranks within the family, and was rather unpleasant to those that he felt undermined his perceived authority. Unfortunately for the boys, Pollux saw Alphard as a threat to his and his children’s possible positions.

“Yes,” Orion agreed softly, watching as his cousin relaxed at the dismissal, before he raised his voice once more (for the benefit of those who may be eavesdropping). “Tell Aunt Lycoris that we ought to have tea some time before the next term starts. I’ve missed her dreadfully.”

“Of course,” Alphard stood, joining in the performance as they had done hundreds of times before. “I take it you have plans for the remainder of the afternoon?”

“You know me Alphie,” Orion laughed halfheartedly. “Always more work to be done. Father has several things for me to look over for him and has had me begin taking over correspondence with several people.”

“Better you than me Orion,” Alphard joked as he stepped towards the fireplace. “I’ll be sure to pass on your message.” and with a pinch of floo powder, Alphard disappeared with a flash of green. 

Not wanting to be caught out, Orion quickly made his way upstairs to the private living floors. At least up here, he could make sure that he was left alone. His room always seemed to know when he needed to be alone, and prevent anyone else from entering (barring an emergency of course). 

Finally secluded in his room, he allowed himself to feel everything that he had suppressed downstairs.

She had spent the day with the Potters. They were appropriate ages for consideration, only a year and two years ahead in school. He hadn’t interacted with them much, but from what Orion had seen, they were very nice and friendly guys. Quick to smile and crack a joke. Both rather well built from their years playing quidditch. Both powerful in the school dueling circuit. Both also very pretty.

His hands shook slightly as he ran his fingers through his hair. Half formed thoughts raced through his head as he felt the knot in his stomach grow and tighten. After all, the potters had a closer genealogical tie. And it was far from unheard of for people to try to ‘keep it in the family’ to prevent outsiders attempting to take over the family’s power. It was getting harder for him to breathe- 

Breathe. That’s what his father had told him last time, right? Slow deep breaths. He fumbled with the top button of his shirt that was too tight- choking- too tight and tried to focus on slowing his breathing down. 

Eventually, what felt to him like an eternity later, Orion was finally able to relax back against the door that he was now sitting against. Waves of exhaustion rolled over him as he contemplated getting up and moving to his bed. He supposed that breathing had never felt so exhausting before. Perhaps a nap before dinner was in order after all.

Down in the office of Lord Arcturus Black, the portraits watched with baited breath as Pollux finished his arguments as to why Orion should be betrothed to Walburga. It had been a rather long winded argument. One that Arcturus had said nothing against up until this point. Maintaining his silence and composure as Pollux talked through all of his points without interruption. 

This was a tactic that he had used several times before, when others had come to make demands of him. He would simply let them speak. He would not respond or give any indication as to what he was thinking. After all, silence was the most disconcerting thing for a speaker to receive in return. It had happened enough times, that when greeted with silence, whomever he was hearing would simply keep filling the silence. Sometimes it was to their benefit. Often it was to their detriment. As his cousin Pollux was about to experience himself.

“So,” Arcturus began slowly, after Pollux had finally run out of words. “You believe Walburga to be a suitable match for Orion.”

“Yes, I-” Arcturus held up a hand, forstalling any additional explanations that Pollux might pull from betwixt his sleeves. 

“Tell me Cousin Pollux,” Arcturus began softly, his tone almost conversational. “Do you believe that the house of Black is in any sort of danger?”

“Danger?” Pollux spluttered, his face splotching unpleasantly at the insinuation. “Of course not! Why ever-”

“Then,” Arcturus interrupted, a wicked gleam now present in his eyes. “Do you have such little faith in the son that I have brought up, and taught, that you believe he would be weak to any sort of partner that he brought into the family?”

Pollux shook his head mutely, finally sensing the precarious position that he put himself in.

“If you have faith in my abilities, and those of my heir,” Arcturus stood from his desk, not even deigning to look at his cousin who sat before him. “Then there are very few valid reasons that we should even consider a marriage between second cousins. They share the same great grandparents after all. We haven’t had a marriage that close in centuries.”

Arcturus stood at the window to his study now, his long elegant fingers tapping against his father’s order of merlin award, which proudly displayed the family’s crest and motto. The motto reflected in the sunlight, flashing into Pollux’s eyes as Arcturus fiddled with it almost absentmindedly.

“Toujours Pur,” The whispered motto carried through the office like the scent of smoke on the breeze. “I know how your branch of the family has interpreted the saying.” Arcturus continued, his voice dangerously low. “Purity of blood beyond all else, yes?”

Arcturus half turned in order to see his cousin’s response. His profile was distinctly illuminated from behind by the light of the late afternoon sun, and light gray eyes glowing ominously. Pollux clenched his hands on his walking stick to disguise his shaking hands as he nodded in agreement with his head of house’s assessment.

“I suppose I cannot fault you for that too much,” Arcturus sighed. “After all, that was the belief of our ancestors for a very long time. However, our grandfather, Phineas Nigellus, changed that belief. We, his descendants, were taught that purity does not come from blood, nor birth. We are not pure simply because we are of the house of Black. We must instead work to ensure that we embody the pure nobility and uphold the responsibility of our stations.

“Your daughter has her own responsibility within the family,” Arcturus continued coolly. “One that she has shirked, and you have enabled, what with your passive permittance of her horrendous treatment of those within the family, not even beginning to talk about those she has offended out in the world. It is the responsibility of everyone in the family to behave in ways that uphold the family’s honor, as well as connecting with allies wherever possible. Your children, especially your daughter, have done naught but estrange those who might have become allies. Even alienated yourselves from those who were our friends. If you want to avoid the so-called ‘shame’ of having an unwed child, that is something that you must deal with yourself. I will not sacrifice the life nor happiness of my children in order to cover your inadequacy of raising and teaching your own. Nor will I allow someone who has the potential to cause such harm to the family to hold a position higher than the station they deserve. Am I understood?”

“Y- yes my Lord,” Pollux stuttered as he bowed tremulously before the lord of his house. 

“Now take your children and leave my house. You have five minutes before the manor removes you in whichever way it sees fit.”

Arcturus watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Pollux scrambled out of his office. The man had always been a bit of a pain in his side, but had usually been rather inconsequential. However, once his children were of age to start attending social gatherings, Arcturus had had to put out fires left and right. The insult that Walburga and Cygnus had given to several significant families had almost ruined the entire Black Family’s relationships with them. So to see them attempting to climb even higher, to amass more social and political power through a possible betrothal to his heir? There was no way he would allow that to stand. 

His children were capable. Lucretia had already secured a marriage with the Prewetts, a family that the Black’s hadn’t had much interaction with before. Not that that was the priority. No. Arcturus was glad to see how his daughter lit up when she saw her betrothed. She was excited. She was happy. That was what he wanted for his son too. Even if they happened to choose a muggleborn, or even a muggle, Arcturus knew that he would always prioritize the happiness of his children above any political gain for their relationships.Especially after watching his own parents rot away in their unhappy political union.

The stress of everything had caused his father’s heart to give out and his brain to hemorrhage, leaving him to take headship of the family at the young age of twenty. And once his father was gone, he watched as his mother was finally free to become herself. The sheer joy that she experienced once she was on her own was what solidified his own belief that politics had no place in marriage. Not for him, nor his children. 

“How’d it go?” Melania asked in a teasing tone as she entered his office. “You’ve never quite sent him running like that before”

“I think it went rather well,” Arcturus demurred as he pecked his wife gently on the lips. “Implied that he had no faith in my leadership, outright said that he failed at raising his children, and rejected his suggestion that Walburga marry Orion.”

“Seriously? Again?” Melania huffed. “The nerve of that man. This is the third time this year he’s tried to get you to sign a betrothal contract. It’s not our responsibility if neither he nor his daughter can find a suitable match.” 

“That’s what I said,” Arcturus laughed. “I am concerned though. He’s been getting more and more desperate. I think we’re going to have to keep an eye out to make sure that no untoward potions make their way into our house by any means.”

“You don’t think…”

“I don’t know. But I’d rather take the precautions and never need them than to have something happen because we were unprepared. You’ve seen what can happen when Blacks succumb to madness. None of it is ever pretty.”

Chapter Text

Platform 9 ¾ bustled with life and energy as Val stepped through the floo connection. Students rushed this way and that, as their parents chased after them, calling out reminders to write often and to make sure their homework got done on time. Younger children held onto their older siblings robes, begging to be taken with them so that they could learn magic too. 

Val smiled as she carefully started making her way through the crowds. Pausing for a moment next to a column, she made sure that she was out of the way of most motion, and closed her eyes. Losing herself in the familiar sounds, nostalgia welled up inside her. The smell of the coal powered steam engine, the parents giving their children the exact same reminders as parents decades in the future.

“It never really changes.” Val opened her eyes and glanced at Time as the entity leaned against the pillar. “These hectic moments of change.” Time clarified. “They are unique in the grand scheme of the universe in that these moments of children leaving their parents to become more independent; while such an immensely dramatic change for the people going through it, they are identical to the outside observer. Every time, the child is rushing around, excited to go through this big change. The parents do their best to parent for the last time, and have to hope or pray that their child is prepared enough to be without them. It’s simply remarkable that in the entire universe, these moments of change and growth are one of the few things that remain consistent across both time and species.”

“It’s poetic,” Val agreed softly, not knowing what those around her might be able to hear or see. 

“Val!”

She glanced around quickly to see who was screaming her name, and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Charlus Potter was jumping as high as he could, flailing his arms above his head as though he was trying to stop himself drowning in the sea of people. Laughing joyously, Val picked up her trunk and carefully made her way over to her cousin, where she was immediately engulfed in a bone crushing hug.

Over Charlus’ shoulder, Val smiled at Fleamont and Henry, who were patiently waiting for Charlus to free her before they greeted her. Her heart pulsed with joy at the warm, affectionate smiles on their faces as they watched the youngest Potter boy make an absolute fool of himself.

“It’s lovely to see you again too Charlus,” Val wheezed. “However, I do in fact need to breathe.”

Immediately, Charlus released her, stumbling over his words to apologize as his brother and father laughed at the situation. Greetings, after that, were informal and quick. Almost immediately starting the process of catching each other up on everything that had happened in their time apart. 

“Come on Val,” Fleamont eventually said, grabbing her trunk before she could protest. “We out to get settled on the train. Then we can introduce you to some of our friends, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Val agreed. “That sounds nice.”

Quickly, the boys hugged their father goodbye before scrambling to get the trunks onto the train. Val Turned to Henry, who offered her a hug as well. 

It was a lovely embrace, and Val never wanted to let go. Her great grandfather- her family- was seeing her off to hogwarts. It was everything she had ever dreamed of.

“I know,” Henry began softly, almost whispering into her hair. “I know that I’m not your parent. But you’re still family, Val. And my wife and I would love to hear from you if you would be willing to write. I know we didn’t have time for you to come and meet Lilianna in person, but from the tall tales my sons have spun, she already loves you as a daughter. Specifically, she has told me in no uncertain terms that I must inform you that our doors are open to you for any holiday break if you so choose.”

Val couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, and a small sob escaped as she buried her face into the front of Henry’s robes. For a second, she squeezed him as hard as she could, unwilling to let go.

“Thank you, Uncle Henry.” It was hard for her to speak, her throat trying to close with every word. “I haven’t had a family in such a long time. Thank you for welcoming me into yours.”

Henry pressed a kiss to the top of her head as he gently released her, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the edge of his soft sleeve. “You were always welcome. As soon as we met you, it wasn’t even a question. Are you going to be ok for the trip though? We can always floo you to hogsmeade in a couple hours if you need some time.”

Val shook her head as she stepped out of his arms and patted her hair to make sure it was still in place. “I’ll be ok. Fleamont and Charlus hover like nothing else. Besides, it’s a good opportunity for me to make new friends, yeah?”

“That it is.”

“I’ll write, I promise,” Val said as she stepped towards the train. “You’ll need to know what house I'm sorted into at the very least.”

At that moment, Charlus popped his head out of the train car door. 

“Come on Val! We found a free compartment!”

Val took his proffered hand and was dragged up into the car with a laugh. The pair of them waved at Henry for a final time, before making their way to the compartment that they had apparently staked their claim on. 

“Have you been crying?” Fleamont asked as soon as the compartment door closed behind them.

Charlus immediately whipped around, and took a good look at her face. Noticing the puffiness of her eyes and the redness of her nose for the first time, his face fell.

“What happened? Who made you cry? Do we have to fight someone already? I’ll do it.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Val laughed at their reactions as she took a seat next to Fleamont. She started fiddling with the ends of her sleeves as she continued to speak. “Your dad just let me know that he and your mum would look forward to my letters.” she paused as the tears started welling up again. “And that I’m welcome for the holidays.”

Fleamont gently wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her into his side. “Of course you’re welcome.” He said softly. “You’re one of us now. There’s no way you could be rid of us now.”

Tears welled in Vals eyes, and Charlus panicked, kneeling in front of her to try and wipe off the tears before they fell with a handkerchief. 

“Nononononono,” he cried. “Please don’t cry! I don’t know what to do when people are crying!”

None of them were aware of Orion pausing at the window to their compartment, nor Abraxas dragging him down the corridor as the train slowly started to move.

Eventually though, Val was finally able to calm back down. She was blowing her nose a final time into the now stolen handkerchief when the door slid open, and she was shocked to hear a familiar voice carry sharply through the compartment.

“Now what exactly have ye dunderheads done to make this lassie cry?”

Looking up, Val was shocked at the appearance of a younger Minerva McGonagall. She was just as tall as Val remembered from her time, and just as proud, if the set of her shoulders was anything to judge by. 

“We didn’t do anything Min!” Charlus cried as she shooed fleamont off the bench and took over the space next to Val.

“Min,” Fleamont greeted as he gave up his spot with an eye roll. “Lovely to see you. This is our new cousin, Vulpecula Peverell.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Val said with a laugh at the ease at which the potter boys demured to her old professor. 

“Peverell?” Minerva looked shocked for a moment before sending a soft glare at the boys. “They didn’t mention you in their last letter. It’s lovely to meet you too. I’m Minerva McGonagall, but my friends call me Min.” She proffered her hand with a warm smile.

“Please call me Val,” Val shook her hand with a matching grin. “Are you one of these mysterious friends that these two claim to have? They said that they would introduce me.”

“I suppose I must be,” Min said with a long suffering sigh. “Though sometimes I’m not sure these two trouble makers are worth the trouble they cause… But then they help me win a quidditch match and I end up figuring they’re worth keeping around for a few weeks longer.”

“You’re on the quidditch team?” Val asked as Charlus acted mock offended at Min’s words and Fleamont just laughed at all of their antics. 

“Min’s not just on the quidditch team,” Fleamont piped up from his new spot. “They’re the captain for Gryffindor.”

“Yeah!” Charlus said, from where he laid half on his brother's lap. “Beat out Fleamont for the position- Ow! Why’d you push me off?? You got prefect instead, you prat!”

The Potter siblings continued to squabble playfully as Val turned to Min. 

“Do you prefer they/them pronouns?” she asked softly.

Min flushed and turned away slightly. “Where it’s possible, yeah.” their scottish accent was stronger with the discomfort, but they kept speaking. “Unfortunately there’s not a widely accepted prefix for people like me, so professors keep using Miss with me. It’s not that it’s uncomfortable, but it confuses a lot of people who I’ve asked them to use my preferred pronouns.”

“I get that,” Val said softly. “French is a very gendered language, and… My friend Luna, when they were alive-” Val choked again and had to take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Min said, gently leaning their shoulder into hers. “And thank you at the same time. It’s not often that I find new people who understand.”

“Luna… They would be proud of you for being who you are.” Val looked up into Min’s eyes and smiled broadly. “I know I am too. I hope we get to be good friends MIn, no matter where I get sorted.”

“Of course,” Min’s eyes shone with a light mist as color blossomed softly across their cheeks once more.

“Alright Min,” Charlus spoke up from his spot- upside down- across from them. “We know our cousin’s pretty but there’s no need to hog her attention.”

Fleamont and Val laughed joyfully as Min spluttered and tossed a couple harmless jinxes at him, before Val stood and excused herself. She really wanted to wash her face, to get rid of the feeling of salt and snot. 

Finding a water closet was easy, and she was able to clean herself up rather quickly. On her way back, however, she ran into Raed Shafiq. The Hufflepuff called to her as she was about to reach her compartment, and offered for her to come and meet some of the Hufflepuffs in their year.

The rest of the trip was a whirl of introductions. She could have sworn that she met half of Hufflepuff house, as well as at least a third of Ravenclaw and a smattering of the other two houses as well. Names and faces went by in a blur, and she was struggling to keep them straight as they just kept coming. 

By the time she was able to excuse herself, she had received at least thirteen offers of study sessions and other various socialization opportunities. Very few of whom she could remember the names of the people who offered. She did not decline any of them outright, instead deferring her decision- depending on her schedule and how quickly she was able to get settled into a new routine.

She fled the overwhelming sea of people, citing other people expecting her presence. Her mind was simply overwhelmed with the emotions of the day, and meeting so many new people. She simply needed somewhere quiet to recover herself. 

The compartment looked empty at first glance, so she entered. The door closed behind her with a satisfying click, and she leaned against it. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Enjoying the lack of noise, and the absence of cloying perfumes and colognes that people loved to wear. 

“Are you alright?”

Val’s eyes shot open at the unexpected voice. The compartment wasn’t as empty as it appeared, as Orion Black stared up at her from his position leaning against the corridor wall. It was obvious, based on his position, why she had thought the compartment was empty. Regardless, she flushed with embarrassment and reached for the door handle.

“Sorry to disturb you, I thought this one was empty.”

“It’s alright, Lady Peverell,” Orion said softly, while boldly placing his hand on hers to stop her from opening the door. “If you need a quiet space, you’re more than welcome to stay. I even have a couple books that you could borrow if you’d like.” He released her hand, allowing her to choose now that he made the space a welcome option.

“Call me Val, please,” She said softly as she took the seat opposite, her face and shoulders finally relaxing 

“Then I must insist you call me Orion,” He said, offering two books from his trunk.

“Thank you, Orion,” Val said, accepting the books and settling in opposite him.

Orion swallowed as he heard his name affectionately coming from her lips. His traitorous heart sped up as her fingers gently brushed his while accepting the books. His stomach fluttered with butterflies when she smiled at him. As he sat in mostly comfortable silence, Orion mentally cursed Abraxas. For his teasing, for his absence, and so that he does not come back soon at all.

The books that Val had accepted were not the most interesting. The advanced topics that they covered were unfortunately topics that she had learned about in her old life. Subjects that she had mastered while running for her life with her supposed friends who had ended up betraying her. Pushing past those unpleasant memories, she continued to pretend to read as she observed her accidental companion.

He was pretty. Delicate, angular features framed by silky, luscious waves of dark hair. And his eyes. They were so bright, almost seeming to shine in his face with whatever curious emotion he was feeling at the time. His jaw was sharp, leading down to an elegantly arched neck that- was more exposed than it should have been.

The topmost button of his shirt had been undone at some point in the last few minutes… And his sleeves had been rolled up before she entered, but there was something simply captivating about watching the scandalously exposed forearms as he raked his fingers through his silken hair. She watched as his adam's apple bobbed, and glanced up, meeting his glowing eyes for half a moment before he averted his gaze in favor of the book sitting upside down in his hands.

“You know,” Val started, her tone teasing. “I’m familiar with many sets of runes. None of them require visual inversion in order to understand their contents.”

“I beg your pardon,” Orion laughed awkwardly, his face flushing beautifully with his embarrassment. “It seems my curiosity has been discovered.”

“Curiosity?” 

“You are quite the interesting person, Lady- Val,”  Orion corrected himself. “I admit I’ve been realty enjoying our less formal letters. They make me feel like I’m getting to know you a bit, and then we meet in person, and every time you show multitudes beyond anything you’ve divulged in your letters. I simply find your presence magnetic, and I would be honored to be allowed to spend time with you in the future.”

His eyes burned, simply alight with curiosity and passion. He had set down his book as he spoke, leaning forward, all of his attention focused on her .  Had it always been so warm in this compartment? Her face felt like it was burning under such unexpectedly intense scrutiny as he was seemingly waiting for some sort of response.

The Door clicked open, as Abraxas Malfoy stepped through the door, in the midst of halfheartedly complaining about younger years creating mischief that they couldn’t clean up themselves.

Orion instantly leaned back, adopting a more casual pose as his friend came up short when he spotted the unexpected guest in their compartment.

“Excuse me, Lady Peverell,” Abraxas bowed his head in greeting. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in our compartment.”

“You are forgiven, Heir Malfoy,” Val waved her hand as she stood. “I was merely seeking refuge with a familiar face from the masses of people curious about the new person.” Turning to face Orion, she continued. “Thank you again for allowing me to sit for a moment.” She offered his book back to him with a smile. “Next time, I suppose I ought to offer you a book of my own in repayment.”

He accepted the book gracefully and she exited quickly.

“Next time,” Orion whispered, a smile setting his eyes alight as he watched her retreating form disappear down the corridor. “Next time indeed.”

Abraxas stood awkwardly as his friend tucked the book back into his trunk, a bit weirded out by the strange, excited smile that had plastered itself upon Orion's face.

“What the hell did I miss?”

Chapter Text

"That was quite a while to wash your face," Fleamont spoke casually over a book as Val stepped back into their compartment. It was shockingly empty compared to the chaos that had occupied the space earlier. 

"Where's Charlus and Min?" Val asked as she reached into her trunk to grab the appropriate outer robes.They'd be arriving in the next hour or so, and it was always good to be prepared early to disembark. The last second scramble was always chaotic.

She wouldn't need to be wearing the full uniform tonight. Not that the first years would know that. She certainly hadn't the first time around, but she would be taking advantage of her 'future knowledge' as best as she could. At least for the sake of her own comfort.

"Min went back to their compartment," Fleamont said with a clipped tone, testily turning the page as he avoided looking at her at all. "Charlus is probably still looking for where you disappeared off to."

"Oh-" Her breath caught in her throat as her stomach roiled with discomfort and guilt. "Fleamont, I'm sorry-"

"Do you have any idea how worried we were?" Fleamont asked sharply, his eyes finally staring directly into Vulpecula's as he snapped the book shut harshly. Val flinched at the sound, and Fleamont's gaze softened a little bit.

"We had no idea where you disappeared to," He continued softly, his eyes still holding hers intently, refusing to let her look away as he spoke. "There's a lot of cars and compartments on this train. It's not hard to get lost or turned around if you're not familiar. There's plenty of people who will be less than helpful, or even attempt to cause harm if given the chance. Val." He paused, reaching out and taking her hand in both of his. She could see tears welling, and heard his voice thickening with emotion as he continued. "You're our baby sister now. Yes, we probably overreacted, and worry too much. But you're family, and we look out for each other when the rest of the world won't."

"I'm sorry," Val breathed as she sat down next to Fleamont, leaning onto his shoulder. She almost melted into his side, even as she squeezed his hands in hers. "I truly didn't mean for it to happen. On my way back, I was met by one of the Hufflepuffs in my year. Raed Shafiq. I'd met them already and they insisted that I meet other Hufflepuffs. Then it devolved into what felt like the entirety of the student body introducing themselves. So many names were thrown at me, It'll be a miracle if I remember half of them. I was so overwhelmed, and I lost track of time. By the time I escaped I was just looking for an empty compartment to regain some of my sanity. I promise, as soon as I was able, I came back."

"Thank you," Fleamont said softly, gently pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb comfortingly. "Hufflepuffs can be a lot. They're always excited to meet new people and possibly make a new friend. I can understand how you got so overwhelmed. I'm still upset, but I understand."

"Oh thank the gods."

Val barely had time to look up towards Charlus' Voice before she was suddenly crushed against his chest. He was squeezing her so hard that she could barely breathe. His breath was ragged, as though he had sprinted the length of the train. She could feel his racing heart through his chest even as his arms trembled against her.

"It's ok Charlus," Fleamont said with a relieved sigh, gently patting his brother's shoulder before beginning to pry his arms off of her. "She's back safe. You don't need to suffocate her. She's not going to disappear."

"I know, I know.," Charlus swatted his brother's hands off of him as he finally released Val, taking a seat directly across from her and observing her sternly. He stared at her intently, almost glaring as he inspected her from across the compartment. "You promise that you're ok?"

"Yes Charlus, I promise." Val had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. They didn't know that she would only consider one person on this train a possible threat. There was no way that they could know that she had fought and won against wizards thrice her age and won, let alone the fact that Death themself was on her side. It was up in the air if she would be allowed to die, but she wasn't anxious to find out any time soon. Regardless, as much as she appreciated the concern for her wellbeing, something felt wrong. 

"What happened?" She asked softly. She continued as the pair of them squirmed at the question. "Both of you are clearly concerned for my safety, in a way that seems oddly intense, considering this train is supposed to safely transport all the children to the school."

"It's nothing really- OOF" Charlus groaned as Fleamont whacked him in the stomach.

"We can't downplay this. She needs to know." Turning back to her, Fleamont took off his glasses and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut before looking back at her. "How familiar are you with Riddle?"

Val's blood ran cold at the mention of his name. She was aware that she had tensed involuntarily. Still, she did her best to keep her face and voice calm as she responded.

"We've been acquainted, nothing beyond that." The light, casual tone that she used betrayed none of the lifetime of fear and hurt associated with the man behind the name. It was a hard, yet necessary part of ensuring that she blended in. As far as anyone was aware, she would have no reason to hate Riddle as much as she did. Not that the Riddle she was facing now was the same one she had faced in the 90's. Not yet at least. And hopefully he never would.

"Good," Charlus grunted, crossing his arms and glaring out the compartment door. "That guy is bad news."

"What my brother is saying," Fleamont sighed once again. "Is that you should be careful around him. We've always felt that there was something, off, about him. But since he's in a different house, we've not really been able to or cared, to get closer to the situation. Anyways. A bit after you left, and just after Min stepped out to visit other people, Riddle stopped in to ask about you. Something about his tone, and the intense look in his eyes worried us. He ended up walking the same way down the hall as we knew you had gone to the washroom…"

"That… Makes sense. Thank you for looking out for me."

"Of course Val," Fleamont smiled softly. 

"That's enough sappy crap."Charlus griped, stretching as he reached into his luggage for a deck of cards. "I don't want to think about Riddle anymore. Since you've got your robe already, we have enough time for at least one round of snap before we reach the station."

"Deal me in," Val laughed, as Fleamont groaned before reluctantly putting his books away and gestured for his brother to deal him in as well.

The rest of the trip devolved into shouting laughter, as well as halfhearted accusations of cheating or somehow rigging the game whenever someone else won the round. At one point, they were all laughing as the brothers pelted her with cards for winning too many rounds. She easily batted them out of the air, returning fire with a gleeful expression. The war was long, and brutal, with both sides eventually collapsing into their piles of cards, out of breath from laughter.

"Your reflexes are amazing," Charlus wheezed between residual chuckles. "Have you thought about quidditch?"

"It might have crossed my mind once or twice," Val sighed. "But I didn't plan on playing. Not this year at least. I did pack a broom though so I could fly every once in a while. Helps me clear my head, ya know?"

Eventually, the train began to slow, and all three of them donned their outer robes. The cards were picked up with a succinct wave of Fleamont's wand, and safely stowed back into its appropriate spot. 

The train whistle blew twice as it finally pulled into Hogsmeade station. Steam still billowed from the stack as the engine shut down and began venting all of its heat. 

Stepping off the train and onto the platform, Val was swept up in a wave of nostalgia. The Noise, the bustle of students making their way up the path or following the calls of the person assigned to escort first years across the lake.

For a second, if she closed her eyes, she could imagine that she was back in her time. That Luna and Neville were just behind her, about to step off the train while squabbling good naturedly about the benefits of gnomes in a garden bed, and that Hermione and Ron-

Her eyes shot open, a spike of anger abruptly interrupting her nostalgia. Frustrated, she quickly followed the Potter brothers to the line of Thestral Drawn carriages. 

"-Not quite sure how they're pulled, but we know there's a thousand different ways to enchant an item. I'm sure I'll crack it this year." Fleamont was chattering as Val rejoined them. 

"They're not enchanted," Val said quietly, intentionally pitching her voice to sound confused.

"What do you mean?" Fleamont stared at her once more, eyebrows furrowed. "They run by themselves, so there must be some sort of magic. That's the most logical explanation."

"Thestrals," Val whispered, just loud enough for him to hear before she stepped forward, greeting the nearest one like an old friend.

The thestrals, though they looked scary, were truly gentle. As Val reached out her hand, the thestral wasted no time in pressing its head into her hand for pets. Its cool, downy skin had always been unsettling at first touch, but was soft and comfortable over time. This time, The almost chilly touch felt soothing against the evening air that still held on to August's heat. It was almost as comforting as when Death had held her in their embrace. A cool, calming presence that now reminded her of home.

"Thank you for welcoming me," Val smiled as she stroked its snout gently. "It truly means the world to be coming home." Despite how engrossed as she was with what she was doing, Val was still distinctly  aware of the whispered conversation that the Potter brothers were having, as well as the coldly curious stare that seemed to be boring into the back of her skull.

"Come on Val," Fremont sighed after lightly smacking his brother's arm. "We ought not hold up the line too long."

"Alright," Val patted the thestral's neck once more before finally joining her cousins inside the carriage. 

The silence that engulfed the carriage was awkward. Both brothers were shifting slightly in their seats, and avoiding her gaze. Fleamont, being the elder, was doing a markedly better job of hiding his discomfort. His staring out the window almost seemed like he was watching to see the castle come into view, something that Val herself had done every year as Harry when she could. The dead giveaway was their eyes, slightly too tense and focused, especially as they flicked back in her direction so frequently.

It would take about ten minutes for the carriages to be within proper view of the castle, so after a couple minutes basking in the silence, she decided to answer the questions that hung in the air, unspoken.

"I've been able to see them since I was about 8," Val said smoothly, pulling from the fabricated memories that Death and Time had written for her. Thanking Death for the occlumency once more, she continued with a calm and casual tone. "My grandmere on my mothers side had been watching me for the evening as Maman and Papa were out. Her heart gave out. I happened to be in the room. That was the first day I saw Death, too. They were very kind. Offered me comfort, and stayed until my parents came back. After that, I met our thestral herd, and Papa told me about the family magics. The next time I met Death was the day my parents died. They helped me stay hidden and escape. Said it wasn't my time yet. When it is my time, I'm sure that I'll meet them as a friend. They've more than earned it."

The silence sat heavily as the carriage trundled along up the unpaved dirt road that led to the castle. Every rock and divot in the road causing the seats to pounce uncomfortably in a way that had clearly been solved by the 90's. Regardless, Val sat as comfortably as she could, staring out above the treeline for the first glimpse of the castle that she so desperately had called home for the last six years of her past life.

She gasped in joy, and tears spurring to her eyes as she laid eyes on it once more. Whole and glowing with welcoming lights. Seeing the castle like this reminded Val of the last time that she had seen the castle in her past life. Staring back at the destroyed masonry and several collapsed towers as she walked to Voldemort, hand in hand with Death and those that they had claimed, for the sake of the rest who deserved to live.

Logically, she had known that the school was still together. She had seen inside the corridors not even a few weeks ago as Dippet had given her a tour. However, seeing it like this unraveled a ball of dreadful emotions that Val hadn't even realized had been growing in her stomach. 

Feeling the tears racing down her cheeks, Val Tried to wipe them away even as the biggest smile tried to split her face in half. 

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah, it is."

Arriving at the front doors, Val and the Potter boys stepped out and quickly began making their way up the steps, joining about how hungry they were. They had each cleaned themselves up before stepping out, so there was no evidence of the high emotions displayed within the carriages. 

The boys were quickly dragged away to their house table by friends complaining that they didn't get to see them on the train. It was all they could do to call out goodbyes to Val as they were ushered along. Min, also being escorted by the group, made eye contact and rolled their eyes good naturedly at the brash actions of their housemates.

She waved as they retreated, before making her way to the side room off the great hall that Professor Dippet had specified for their meeting place pre sorting. It just so happened to be the same one that she had been harassed in after the goblet of fire incident, but Val supposed that it was simply an interesting coincidence. 

It hadn't changed much over the years, she noted, even as Professor Dippet and two other professors joined her in the room. The great fireplace and trophy cases lining the walls seemed as ancient as ever, even if some of the shelves seemed a smidge more barre than they had been half a century later.

"Welcome, Ms Peverell," Dippet spoke warmly as ever. His eyes sparkled with joy and excitement. "Are you prepared for your sorting?"

"I suppose I'm as ready as I could be Professor," Val said with a grin. Her eyes flicked to the two professors standing behind Dippet. One of them was a rather wizened old woman, even by wizarding standards. She held the sorting hat delicately by the brim, and was giving a warm, welcoming smile that caused her features to be distorted into a beautiful mess of wrinkles. The tall man standing a step or two behind her had a short, well maintained beard, and was also smiling, but somehow it felt less warm. There was something oddly familiar about him, but Val Couldn't quite put her finger on it. 

"Excellent," Dippet clapped his hands together and gestured to the people behind him. "We felt that it would be best to give you the option of whether you'd like to be sorted in here or in the Great Hall. Oh! Where are my manners? This," Dippet gestured to the woman, "Is deputy headmistress Merrythought. She's been teaching defense against the dark arts for decades."

"Oh hush you old man," Merrythought gently smacked Dippet's arm. "Age has nothing to do with it and I'd appreciate if you stopped your incessant teasing in front of the students."

"Apologies Galatea," Dippet demurred with a mirthful grin. Turning back to Val, he continued with what he was saying. "And this, back here is Professor Dumbledore. He's our transfiguration teacher, and is currently being trained as Merrythought's replacement for when she eventually decides she's ready to retire in the next few years."

Val's blood ran cold at Dumbledore's introduction. No wonder he had seemed so familiar. He looked exactly the same as he did in Riddle's diary, or in the pensive memory when he had scared Riddle into thinking all of his treasures were being burned. Now she understood why she hadn't immediately clocked him as who he was. Each of those depictions had left out how calculatingly cold Dumbledore felt. In each of the depictions she had been shown in the past, Dumbledore had already known (or had already decided) what kind of person Riddle was. Thus, he already had a persona that would try and push Riddle into complying with what he wanted. 

This Dumbledore was one she had never experienced. To him, she was an unknown. A potential threat to his position or goals. And to her? His machinations and manipulations could be the thing that ruins everything that she was trying to work towards. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," Val smiled as genuine a smile as she could muster. It wouldn't do for Dumbledore to see something in her that he didn't like. Not yet at least. Turning back to Dippet, she responded to his earlier question. "As for the sorting, I think it'd be best to do that here if we could please. The thought of everyone staring at me during such an important ceremony makes me feel a bit ill, if I'm honest."

"Of course my dear," Dippet twinkled, as he gestured her to one of the soft seats near the fireplace. "It's a lot for the first years too, but it's a beloved tradition. At least none of them are alone in it, which makes it a bit easier for them. Settle yourself and relax dear, it's not going to be anything strenuous, I promise. Galatea? Thank you. Now Miss Peverell, just relax, and the hat will sort you."

Val noticed, out of the corner of her eye, the slight twitch and sharpening of Dumbledore's eyes at the sound of her surname once more. As the Hat settled onto her head (properly fitting this time, rather than falling over her eyes), she could plainly see the calculating look that flashed across his face before she closed her eyes and sunk down into her mindscape to chat with the hat again.

"Well well well," The hat whistled as it took in the forest of her mind. "Rather impressive for a human mind. Even if you did get some help from external beings."

"It's nice to see you," Val smiled at the hat's chosen form within her mindscape. The form looked vaguely human, except for the head, which was simply the hat itself, ripped mouth, tattered brim and all. 

"Yes, yes." the hat waved a hand at her dismissively as it stared up into the trees. "And not for the first time it seems either."

"So you can see?"

"Just bits and pieces. Enough that I know you've been sorted by me in your past, even if its not my past, and where you were sorted then. I suppose that this sorting is simply a formality, yes? You know where you're going?"

"Do I have any other choice?"

"Not this time." The hat grinned, its torn fabric stretching oddly to make the expression. "You've grown too much to fit where you were before. Both of us know you wouldn't be happy there. That only leaves one option for you here."

"I suppose that's to be expected. Thank you. It was nice seeing you again."

"Be well, young master of death. I look forward to watching you thrive in Slytherin. "

The last word was shouted aloud, abruptly forcing Val out of her mindscape and back into the real world. Her eyes snapped open, and for a split second, caught an expression of disgust on Dumbledore's face before he schooled it to a congratulatory smile. 

Dippet and Merrythought were both smiling widely as they took the hat back off her head. 

"Oh Slytherin," Merrythought warbled cheerfully. "That was my house back in the day, you know. I had a lovely experience. Made lifelong friends whom I still write to, to this day. Dippet here was a Ravenclaw, which I'm sure you could tell if you ever have the chance to step into his office. And Dumbledore over here was a Gryffindor. My advice? Make friends with as many people from different houses as you can. Having different perspectives and opinions is such a valuable life experience, and you'll appreciate them even more as you get older. In fact, I appreciated my Hufflepuff friends so much that I married one." Merrythought laughed as she gently steered Val up the steps and back towards the entrance hall. 

"Now dear," her voice suddenly turned stern. "That's your table all the way to the right as you walk in. I'm sure that you'll be perfectly fine, but if you ever need anything, come to me. Slughorn," her voice lowered to a bare whisper, "the head of house, is unfortunately known to play favorites. I cannot say I approve, but he keeps it hidden enough to not cause too many issues. Regardless, if there are any issues and you feel that he is not advocating for your needs well enough, come to me immediately. I will always strive to be as fair as I can." She raised her voice back to a conversational tone as she continued. "I look forward to seeing how you do in my class. Do come see me for tea on Friday, dear. I'd love to know how your first week goes, and how you're settling in."

"Thank you Professor," Val responded in kind. "I'll make sure to keep that in mind. And tea sounds lovely."

With a smile and a wave, Professor Merrythought pranced her way down the corridor to gather up the waiting first years. She was clearly more agile and powerful than the wrinkles on her face implied. 

Val took a breath as she stood just out of view of the tables full of chattering students. Most everyone had filed in at this point. Her entering late would only cause a stir that she didn't want to deal with right now. 

She could hear the first years' shoes scuffling along the corridor now. Silently, she cast a notice me not charm on herself and slipped through the still ajar double doors. They closed silently as she made her way to the Slytherin table. There wasn't much space amongst the students, so she quickly found herself a spot on the end. Sure she would end up next to a bunch of first years, but she supposed that there were worse places to sit. Such as directly next to or across from Riddle. Besides, she had all night to start making friends. And all year to overthrow the balance of social power. As of now, she had nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

Chapter Text

Val took a deep breath, carefully allowing her spell to fade as the first years shuffled their way nervously up the center aisle of the great hall. They were whispering nervously to each other as they were led by the stern-faced Professor Dumbledore. Val supposed it was odd seeing Dumbledore as a stern professor, especially after he had worn a grandfatherly mask for her entire life.

As he turned to face the first years, Dumbledore caught Val's eye. For an instant his lip twitched, almost as if it wanted to curl into a sneer. Carefully, he schooled his expression  and addressed the children with a warm smile.

"When we call your name, you will step up to the stool and take a seat. 'How will you be sorted?' you must be wondering. Well, allow deputy Headmistress Merrythought to introduce to you…"

"The Sorting Hat" Merrythought finished his sentence with a broad grin as she placed the tattered old hat onto the stool.

The hall fell silent. The first years in anxious confusion, and everyone else in eager anticipation of the show that was about to occur. They did not have to wait long. A chorus of gasps rose from the first years as the hat moved on its own. It opened up its tattered mouth in a dramatic yawn before beginning its song. 

Spin a tale, Oh Light weaver,

As your shuttle shuttles by.

To tell the self same story,

Of how I am alive

It was the will of four great wizards,

Many millennia ago,

To form a school of great magic,

So that children of the future too may know.

Brave Gryffindor, 

Taught all who would protect each student through our door.

Sweet Hufflepuff,

Lead healing mind and body but guarded so much more.

Bright Ravenclaw,

She fed the minds who hunger for knowledge bright and clear.

Dark Slytherin,

He nurtured those who wanted nothing more to fear.

Together they formed a whole,

Filling in where each other lacked.

Then one day someone disappeared,

And the whole school nearly cracked.

In the absence of their last,

The other three made me.

I who witnessed everything,

They allowed me more to see.

Inside your hearts and minds you have

A place that fits you most.

My task is now to place you there

Without a single boast. 

None is better than the other

And certainly none is worse.

Remember the history, and their wills,

Even as I end my final verse.

The last line echoed through the hall, hanging like a spell in the air before it was replaced by applause and cheers from the students at the tables. 

Val clapped politely, a wistful smile pulling at her cheeks as she remembered back to her first sorting. Clearly the hat had had some time to change styles in the 50 years between then and now. Not that she had seen much of its work her first time around. Something always seemed to come up that prevented her from being able to be at the opening feast. Be it House elves, or wars, Val had only seen three sortings in person, one of which was her own.

"Excuse me,"

A voice to Val's right spoke up. Looking over, she met the bright green eyes of a dark haired witch with a prefect badge. 

"I'm sorry I didn't see you come in. You're the new transfer student, Vulpecula Peverell, correct?"

"Yes," Val flashed them a winning smile and extended her hand, allowing the false french accent that Death had given her to take center stage. "I suppose the prefects were warned to keep an eye out for me? I apologize for not wishing to cause a scene with the hat."

"It's fine." The prefect laughed softly, clapping appropriately as someone was sorted into Hufflepuff. "It's nerve wracking enough when you're not the only one doing it. We don't blame you in the slightest. OH! I'm so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Mariana Ledbury. Fifth year prefect. I drew the straw to take the first years down to the dorms first night- Welcome, welcome!" 

Mariana interrupted herself to welcome the first new member of Slytherin. They were a small, light haired child with long features that scrunched sweetly when they smiled. 

"Take a seat. We'll be eating soon, don't worry. Collin Vole, was it?"

"Yeah," Collin grinned as they sat down, their cheeks flushed with excitement.

The rest of the sorting rushed by in much the same way. Mariana would continuously make conversation, interspersed with appropriate clapping for sorting into other houses, and greeting the nervous faces who were sorted into Slytherin. 

Val didn't have to say much. With Mariana chattering her right ear off, and the first years who had befriended each other on her left, she was not hurting for conversation partners. Several of the first years were in awe at her odd accent, but the novelty quickly wore off as more  new and interesting people kept joining their table. 

Once the sorting was over, conversation halted so that Professor Dippet could greet everyone. 

"It's wonderful to see so many new faces joining our old ones tonight," Dippet smiled, his face glowing with undisguised joy and excitement. "I won't hold you long. I promise. Most of our important announcements will be after the meal, so please don't fall asleep on me." The entire hall erupted into chuckles. "Now. I know you've had a long day, so, Let us eat!"

  With a grand gesture, as if summoning the food from below, the feast rose up through the tables. Exclamations of excitement and awe echoed from the first years, as older years cheered for finally being able to eat.

"He's such a showman," Mariana laughed with a shake of her head. "Chicken?"

"Oh yes," Val laughed, accepting the proffered drumstick. Before piling the rest of her plate with mash and other vegetables and bread products.

Around Val, conversation continued quickly, as though there was no interruption at all. Once she had her plate settled, and had eaten her first few bites, she finally turned back to Mariana.

"So," Val began softly. "I've met Black, Malfoy, and Riddle over the summer holiday."

"Oh?" Mariana tensed almost imperceptibly. The peas falling off her fork, however, was a dead giveaway. "And what did you think of them?"

"Black and Malfoy seem alright," Val said conversationally. "Black was very helpful in the bookshop when I couldn't reach the book I wanted. Malfoy seems to talk before he thinks, but seems relatively harmless if you know how to handle his type." She paused, chewing slightly and narrowing her eyes performatively as she observed Mariana's reactions. "Riddle… seems different. I'm not sure what to make of him yet."

"Thank the goddess," Mariana whispered under her breath. "If you can," Mariana spoke so quietly that it was hard to hear, despite the intensity of her tone. "Stay away from him as much as possible. Stay out of his way, don't get his attention- who am I kidding. You're hot, and you're a new transfer. Of course he's going to have his eyes on you. Regardless, stay away when you can. I know he's hot- I have eyes! I'm not blind" Mariana elbowed Val's side at her snort. "But there's nothing good to come of getting involved with him. I can't prove it yet. Especially since he's cozied up to the head of house, he can get away with so much more now. My older sister was two years ahead of him. She told me about how it was before he basically took over. She saw the shift and I've seen how it's been since. There's something wrong in our house, and we don't want to get caught in the crossfire. I'm also trying to keep the first and second years out of it as much as I can. Past that, there's not much I can do…"

At that moment, someone a bit down the table Called for Mariana's attention, freeing Val from the intense conversation. Taking another bite of food she glanced around, carefully observing how everyone was interacting. It didn't take long for her to identify the various groups of power. Riddle and his cronies sat at the heart of the table, seeming to lord over everyone else, even as Riddle himself sat back and merely observed his domain.

She was careful to make sure that she wasn't making eye contact with anyone, but Val could still feel the weight of Riddle's gaze drilling into her face, making her nose itch. Down the table further, closer to the head table, seemed to be a neutral faction. They didn't particularly interact with each other outside of polite conversation, but they were a group nonetheless. 

Between Riddle's group, and the first years, there was a smaller, more united group that seemed centered around Orion and Abraxas. Both were conversing genially with the friends around them, but it wasn't hard to see the harsh dividing line between the fringes of Riddle's group and Orion's.

'Since when is he Orion, rather than Black?' a teasing voice in Val's mind piped up, sounding suspiciously like Death. Mentally waving the voice away, she continued to observe how everyone interacted. 

Once the first years learned that this was (technically) her first year too, they happily included her in their chatter. A couple of them were brave enough to ask some questions about her previous schooling, to which she happily answered questions about her favorite subjects and wondered with them about how classes would go in this new place. By the end of the evening, she had been adopted into their little group. The little girl sitting next to her even felt comfortable enough to lean against her side in her exhaustion, mumbling something about missing her big sister in Hufflepuff.

Eventually, the food disappeared, replaced by desert, and then that was taken away too. Some of the first years were struggling to keep their heads up as Dippet went through the longer announcements. There were the standard warnings about no magic in the corridors, and other safety concerns. Staff introductions for the new support staff, and news about a beloved abraxan who had been raised on the grounds finally dying of old age, much to the disappointment of many students.

"Now for more happy news," Dippet continued with his speech. "Since we will not be starting term until Monday, You all have an entire weekend to get to know each other and the castle. Each house will have a designated tour group to take the first years to all of your class locations, as well as the library and hospital wing. So there won't be any excuses for tardiness on the first day of classes. There will also be an opportunity for a game or two of pickup quidditch on the pitch on Sunday afternoon. There will be no official points given, and teams will be decided by drawing lots. For safety, participants must be 13 or older. Sign ups will be hanging on Saturday in the entrance hall, and you will pick the position you want to play, in order to ensure a semblance of fairness. There will be no trading teammates. If you don't want to participate, I suppose that's a good time to finish up any last second summer homework that you may have forgotten."

The hall echoed with nervous laughter at the joke. 

"Now, It's time for you all to head to bed. The stars are set high in the sky, and the moon is full to illuminate your dreams. Prefects, lead your first years. Sleep well everyone. I look forward to seeing you relaxing before your classes on Monday."

There was a great scrape as the benches were pushed back, and prefects from all of the houses called for their first years' attention.

"Oh," Mariana panicked for half a second as Val moved to follow the tide of older years. "But you don't know where to go yet?"

"It's alright Mariana," Orion interrupted smoothly. "I'll make sure she doesn't get lost. You can focus on the first years. I think Amanda Sykes is coming over to help too with the cat herding."

"Oh thank the goddess. She'll be so helpful. You're on night duty tonight though, right?"

"Unfortunately. I'll let you get back to the firsties." Orion smiled a winning smile before turning it onto Val. "It's lovely to see you again, Lady Peverell." His smile turned mischievous as he bowed, offering a hand to help her stand.

"And you, Heir Black," Val took his hand, keeping eye contact as he bent to kiss her knuckles. "Have you been well?" she teased as he righted himself. 

"As well as I could in the last few hours," Orion quipped back, his eyes sparkling with mirth. "I must say, I was surprised when you suddenly appeared at our table." The pair slowly made their way down to the dungeons as they spoke.

"I suppose you ought to be more aware of your surroundings then, Heir Black," Val smiled coyly. "I can't make every entrance as dramatic as my first."

'How could I dare to be unaware of you'

Orion bit back the sentence that wished to slide off his tongue like quicksilver. Swallowing the words back, he painfully constructed a more appropriate response.

"I shall endeavor to do so in the future, Lady Peverell." The words sounded wistful to his own ears, as though they knew what was almost said and wished they could be more than they were.

"Lady Peverell." 

Val stiffened as she and Orion turned to face the owner of the voice that had called her.

"Can I help you, Mr Riddle?" Val asked smoothly as she turned, adopting a pleasant, if cool, smile.

Riddle smiled pleasantly at the pair before speaking. "I simply wished to welcome one of our newest members. It's not often we get to see transfer students, and I thought that as Head Boy, it would be within my duty to ensure that you settle in comfortably."

"I believe, Riddle," Orion spoke up confidently. "That I am taking care of that duty as Prefect, of making sure that all new students feel welcomed. Unless you see me as shirking my duties…"

"Of course not, Black." Riddle's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as he spoke to Orion. "I have every faith in you and your family's honoration of duty."

"Thank you, Mr Riddle," Val interrupted before words were said and wands were drawn. "I appreciate your words of welcome. Heir Black has been very welcoming and has guided me well thus far. I do believe that he is capable of getting me where I need to be, thank you."

"Very well then, Lady Peverell," Riddle dipped his head in a shallow bow, keeping his face carefully pleasantly neutral. "If you are all taken care of, I suppose there are other duties for me to take care of. I shall see you around."

"Perhaps," Val hummed, pursing her lips once Riddle made his way past the pair and around the next corner. Once he was gone, she sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of her nose in an attempt to ward back an all too mundane headache. "That was…"

"Better than expected," Orion spoke softly, a crease of worry marring his forehead as he glanced down the corridor and back at Val's scrunched face. "Can't say that was pleasant though. Didn't expect him to try anything the first night."

"It makes sense that he would." Straightening herself back up, Val carefully replaced the happy mask she had been wearing most of the evening. "After all, everyone knows the weight of my family name. To him, even the appearance of having some sort of relationship with me would give him power. I'd like to show where I stand from the first moment." Glancing up at Orion's face, she allowed a genuine smile to peek through as she proffered her arm. "The common room is just around the corner, yes? So, shall we?"

"We shall." Orion took her arm with a grin. "Before we go in, I just have one more question."

"Yes?"

"Since tomorrow is Saturday, would you like me to guide you around the castle? I can show you several nooks and crannies that haven't been discovered by the masses."

Orion looked at her with such hope filled eyes, that it hurt Val's heart to respond.

"I'm sorry," she could see him wilting as she continued. "I was planning on exploring on my own. Getting lost and finding your way back is the best way to learn your way around, in my experience. Plus I agreed to meet with a couple people. Perhaps next weekend? After I've become more familiar with this new place."

"Of course," Orion smiled, hope blooming back to his gaze. "I look forward to showing you what I've discovered."

"And I look forward to seeing it."

"We're here," Orion said softly, stopping at an almost unmarked section of wall. The small crest of a snake the only indication that anything was there. "Slughorn always has the same password for the first week, to wish us luck into the new school year. Felix Felicis. "

The hidden door swung open silently as the password was spoken, revealing a well lit set of dark stairs heading down to the floor below. As the pair made their way down, the door swung shut behind them with an almost inaudible hiss. ' Welcome ' 

Val's heart stopped as she heard the parseltongue word, but she kept moving forward. There would be time to investigate that later. For now, she had to prepare herself to face the Snake pit. From this moment on, everything that she said or did would be judged by its political merit. Friends, especially at the start, would be few and far between. Absently, she squeezed Orion's arm. 

His warm hand came up to squeeze hers in return. The silent support caused her heart to beat faster for a moment. 

Together, they reached the bottom step. Taking a final breath, Val stepped into the green glow of the Slytherin common room. Her common room. Starting here, she could fix everything.

Chapter Text

The sun had yet to rise when Val woke in her new bed. She bit back a scream as she sprang up from the mattress. Her legs tangled in the sheets, ensnaring her and causing her to fall into the dark green hangings that attempted to isolate her from the world. 

Eyes wide, she took in her surroundings as she slowed her breaths and tried to steady her racing heartbeat. Her wand was in her hand, humming with the comforting flow of magic ready to be cast. Through the new gap in the curtains, Val could see the softly glowing face of a clock, telling her that it was half past four in the morning. 

Finally fully awake and cognizant, Val carefully extricated herself from her sheets and hangings, donned a dressing gown, and silently padded through the door. Judging my the soft snores and even breathing coming from the other occupants, none of her new roommates had seemed to be disturbed by her restless night. That much was a small relief. It's much easier to make friends if you don't disturb their sleep. Mentally, she made a note to set silencing wards around her bed the next evening… just in case…

The deathly stillness as she made her way into the common room was almost as comforting as it was unnerving. Like most of the school, without a myriad of students milling about, something about the space felt uncannily devoid of life. Not that she had seen this common room bustling with life, but during her few visits there had always been at least a few people hanging about, and the fire had always been crackling welcomingly. 

Now, the fire in the pit had burned down to mere embers. Still providing warmth without the light, but she knew that the elves would soon be making rounds to stoke all the flames in the castle back to life. Additionally, knowing that most elves felt that their reputation as a good elf relied on being able to do their jobs unseen, she chose to sit in the chair that allowed her to look out into the vast darkness of the pre-dawn lake. 

The meager light from the super common room didn’t do much to illuminate the scene before her. Vaguely, as she tucked her legs up onto the seat, she could make out the gentle sway of the lake grasses brushing against the glass. Beyond that, however, loomed an infinite, green tinged void. 

In the void that was the lake, she could see bright floating specks. Plankton or small bits of algae floating around in the darkness, unaware as they reflected the meagre light from the common room. They might even have resembled stars had Val not just had such a haunting and unsettling dream. 

The specks seemed to stare back at her where she sat. Piercing golden eyes and the flash of a malicious grin as golden thread had wrapped itself around her hands, tangled her legs so she was unable to move or run. She had thrashed, and the threads had tightened like devils snare. Remembering that incident, she had relaxed only for the threads to tighten even further. Painfully they had dug into her flesh, and she struggled even harder as she felt a thread start to lovingly wrap itself around her throat and squeeze . 

oOo

Orion sighed in frustration as he tossed once more in his four poster. He had always had trouble sleeping the first night in a new place, but this was quite ridiculous. This was the fourth time he had woken up in as many hours, and he was losing hope of getting back to sleep at all. 

Quarter to five in the morning, the clock read. 

Groaning, he dragged himself up and plodded his way out into the corridor. Perhaps he would feel better after a short walk and a drink of water. He haphazardly tied his dressing gown around himself as he plodded on his way. Nobody would be awake to see him anyways, what’s the point in being perfect?

His charmed slippers barely made a sound as he shuffled down the stairs to the common room. He had made it most of the way around his habitual route when he finally noticed the other figure in the room. 

She sat, unmoving, in her seat. Her eyes were unfocused, as though she was looking at something that didn’t exist. The hem of her night dress had ridden up a bit when she had tucked her legs underneath her, unintentionally showing the fading remains of red marks that had once been vibrant as they wrapped around her tender flesh. 

Looking closer, Orion could also see a similarly fading mark around her neck, and his heart plunged down, taking his stomach with it. 

“Lady Peverell,” Orion called softly as he stepped into what ought to be her line of sight. 

No response. Not a blink. Not even a shift in the unnaturally slow and shallow breathing. Her chest not even moving as the air slowly flowed. 

“Lady Peverell,” he tried again, kneeling in front of where she sat. Unease laced his tone as his eyes flicked between her neck and her eyes. 

“Vulpecula,” he implored, reaching out to grasp her limp hand. 

It was highly improper of him to touch any part of her without permission. Even more so to call her by her given name without being asked. Especially considering both of their stages of undress. 

He continued on despite the impropriety, expecting to justifiably receive a slap or a hex for his actions. It would be worth it, to ensure that she was safe. Something was clearly wrong, and if he could help in any way, he would. He only prayed that he did not make anything worse. Gods he knew that things could always get worse when you were stuck in your own head.

What Orion had not been expecting, was to suddenly find himself on his back, on the floor. Val was positioned over him, eyes alarmingly focused as she pinned him to the ground with her wand pressed not so gently against his neck. However there was no mistaking that expression, no matter briefly it danced across her face. The fear. The desperation… the determination to kill before she was killed herself. 

“Orion?” Val’s voice sounded distant and her expression, questioning for a moment, before her mind caught up with what had happened. “Oh gods,” Val clapped a hand over her mouth and sprung off him as she realized what she had done. 

“I’m so sorry, Heir Black.” Val bowed her head in apology to hide her blush as she proffered a hand to assist him back to his feet. “I wasn’t aware of where I was. I thought- never mind. I’m sorry to have put you in such a position… again.”

Orion grinned warmly, carefully biting back a crude comment about enjoying being beneath her as he accepted her proffered hand. His heart was pounding inside his chest. Partially from fear. He knew that she wouldn’t have hesitated had she deemed him a threat in that instant. (The other part, he refused to acknowledge at this exact moment)

“No apology is necessary, Lady Peverell.” Orion bowed his head and straightened his dressing gown. “I am also at fault for disrupting your reverie. I was extremely discourteous and would be honored if you would forgive my transgressions.”

“Gods,” Val groaned into her hands as she scrubbed them against her face. “It’s too bloody early in the morning to be this formal. I will happily forgive you, if you are willing to forgive me. Is that agreeable?”

“Perfect.” Orion grinned. “For the sake of dropping formality this early in the morning, ” he grinned cheekily, hope and excitement roiling in his stomach where his heart used to sit. “Could I just have you call me Orion? Just like in our letters…” he trailed off, deliberately avoiding telling her that hearing his name from her mouth set his heart alight. 

“I suppose we could work something out, Orion. ” She grinned at the light flush that darkened Orion’s cheeks at the sound of his name. “I would tell you to use my given name, but it’s a bit of a mouthful for common use.”

‘I’d love a mouthful’ bounced through Orion’s sleep deprived mind, and he bit the inside of his cheek to stop it coming out. He’d already been improper enough this evening, and he knew not to push his luck. 

“You may call me Val commonly.” She continues with a grin. “We can save my full name for when I cause trouble. Don’t you suppose?”

“That sounds wonderful, Val.” Orion laughed. “But what if I cause trouble?”

“Cause trouble and we’ll find out, yes?” Val laughed as she sat back down in the oddly angled loveseat that she had curled up on before. “Care to sit?”

Orion sat gladly, very aware of the warmth from the young lady beside him. They were really sitting quite close… hips and thighs gently pressed together in the rather intimately small couch…

“Why were you awake?”

Val’s question was so soft, that Orion almost hadn’t heard it. 

“Couldn’t sleep,” he answered softly, refocusing his attention to the first of the small fish to start feasting on the gathered plankton.  “I never sleep well the first few nights back. Getting used to a new environment I suppose. What about you?”

“Bad dreams…” she trailed off, her eyes focusing oddly once more as the sun finally began to shed its first soft beams of light through the deep lake water. It didn’t do much in terms of visibility, but it was beautiful.

 “I hadn’t had bad dreams since before…” Val continued softly, and Orion listened, staying as still as he could as she subconsciously leaned her shoulder into his warmth. Even through their layers, he could feel that she was cold. Her wrists had the same slowly fading pink marks as her legs, but her nails were turning blue at the base. “I normally know how to deal with nightmares, but this one was different. I don't... “ she trailed off, realizing mid-sentence how conceited it would sound should she admit that she was used to being the most powerful being in any given space.

Orion took her cold hands into his, and gently rubbed some life warmth into them as he spoke softly. "I hope the bad dreams don't come back. Truly I do. But if they don't, hell even if you're having trouble sleeping for any other reason, I'm happy to sit with you like this. I've spent enough nights up on my own to know that it's always better to have a friend with you when you're not feeling your best."

"Thank you, Orion." Val smiled softly at him. Her heart warmed as she watched him light up from the smallest bit of praise. He looked so young, bright, and full of life in this dim, yet cozy common room.

Despite her occluded mind, images rose unbidden of others who were just like him who had died before their time. Collin Creevey, Lavender Brown, Tonks, Fred Weasley… Their faces flashed in her mind's eye, grinning and full of life… Then pale, blood splattered, lifeless the last time that she saw them. Distantly, she wondered if any of them would choose to stay as ghosts in the ruins of the castle, or if they would have moved On… Val shook her head to clear it, refocusing on the alive warm person directly in front of her. (ignoring the image of Sirius’ too similar face, disappearing through the veil of death that threatened to resurface.)(they had the same smile. Warm, welcoming and comforting.)

"Having you around," Val continued softly. "Would certainly ease my worries." Gently she squeezed his hands in thanks as she stood, ready to go back upstairs. He did not yet need to know that she would need to confirm that he hadn't died… or disappeared… that she had lost too many people. Everyone. And to lose more might break her irreparably. Especially since she was still processing the loss of her loved ones from her last life that would not have a chance to happen for the next fifty years.

"I'll see you for breakfast, yeah?" Orion asked softly as they both made their way to the bottom of their respective staircases.

"Yeah," Val responded through a yawn. Emotions were always so damn exhausting. "I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well." With the well wish she was off, up the stairs.

Orion stood for a minute, waiting until he heard the soft opening and closing of a door before he made his way back up to his own bed. The familiar space felt comforting as he lay himself back amongst the covers. It didn't take long for him to fall back asleep. Perhaps because of Val's well wishes, perhaps because of something else entirely, the rest of his first night back was peaceful and restful in a way he had never known before.

oOo

Breakfast, Val mused as she wandered the corridors aimlessly, was certainly not a boring affair. Marianna had insisted upon introducing her to everyone else in their year block, as well as several of the upper years that she had gotten to know very well. Val had met the rest of the girls in the dormitory last night and this morning. They were all nice enough, if not all as immediately open to friendship as Marianna was, but Val could see them all getting along at least.

The interesting bit was when Val sat near Orion, as they had agreed earlier. However, Marianna decided to join them as well, and decided to sit next to Val. Consequently, Val was very aware of Marianna stealing not so subtle glances at Abraxas and failing to hide her blush in her hair when he even glanced in her direction, let alone speaking to her. It was quite the entertainment as Val specifically asked the two their opinions on various classes and other unimportant things. Val hadn't known that the brazen girl who had so boldly warned her away from Riddle last night was so shy around her crush.

Speaking of Riddle, Val hummed an odd little tune that Luna had taught her as she 'wandered aimlessly' through the corridors. She glanced out the side of her eye as she rounded each corner. He was still following her. It was amazing, she thought, how much free time he seemed to have this free morning, right after they had returned to the castle. She had supposed that he would be busy schmoozing with his followers that he hadn't been able to see all summer. Apparently that wasn't the case however, since he seemed perfectly content to tail her, personally, as she explored the castle for the 'first' time.

Feeling a smidge vindictive, Val took her sweet time as she explored. Chatting with every busybody portrait and painting occupant. The ghosts, sadly, seemed to be avoiding her. She had seen the tails of several of them disappearing through walls during her wanderings, and Peeves had simply flown the other way as soon as she saw him, leaving his prank incomplete and underwhelming when it would inevitably be triggered.

"Miss Peverell?"

"Euh, oui?" the french slipped out in surprise as Val suddenly found herself face to face with the other person she had been hoping to avoid. "You're professor… Dumbledore, yes?" Val watched as the younger professor's friendly smile strained as she pretended to fish for his name.

"I'm sure you're quite overwhelmed," Dumbledore spoke stiffly, but politely. "There's a lot going on all at once, and plenty of new names and faces. I'm sure you'll be forgiven if a name or two slip through the cracks initially."

“Thank you for your understanding, Professor,” Val grinned. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Not at the moment,” Dumbledore smiled kindly as he spoke, the movement causing his wrinkles to deepen and more resemble the old man that Val was used to speaking to. “For now, I simply wish to see that you’re settling in alright. I know it’s difficult joining a group who’ve been together for years, and Slytherins are, unfortunately, not the most welcoming group.” 

His eye twitched as he spoke. It was a habit that Val recognized from her past life in the future. For some reason, when he was feigning sincerity, his right eye would subtly twitch. To her, it almost seemed like a twitch of annoyance at having to put on the charade. 

“They’ve been quite welcoming to me,” Val responded innocently with a grin, making sure that her voice carried as she spoke. Riddle may not be an ally, but common enemies make friends of the unlikeliest of foes. “The Head Boy especially has been making sure that I’m introduced to everyone and offered to help tutor me if I need.”

Dumbledore’s face soured at the mention of Riddle, his eye twitch becoming slightly more pronounced as he fought to keep the smile. Val could practically see his mind marking her as irredeemable for a moment, before something in him resolved. A glint of determination sparkled to life in his eyes. She wasn’t just anyone. She was a Peverell, and he was going to fight for control over her, just like he had when she was the last Potter. 

“I’m glad that things are going well so far,” Dumbledore demurred. “But if you ever run into issues, my office door is always open.”

“Of course, Professor.” Val smiled, allowing a touch of Death’s power to widen her smile and show just a few too many teeth. Just enough to set the man on edge. “I look forward to your class once the term starts properly.”

“Enjoy your Saturday,” Dumbledore waved her off with a smile, doing his best not to seem disturbed as she wandered past him on her way. 

Dumbledore watched as Val turned the corner, disappearing from view. He did not let out his breath until her shadow had disappeared too… a shadow that seemed too dark… that lingered in the edges of his vision for too long… Riddle might be dark- evil even. But he had nothing on the fear that the young Miss Peverell could evoke with her mere presence. He had to get her under his control, or have her removed. She was simply too dangerous to his plans- to him- to allow her to move around freely. 

Clenching his trembling hands together, Dumbledore slowly began making his way back to his office. Perhaps some cocoa and a lemon drop or two would help calm his nerves. He could only hope that she wouldn't be like that during classes, or he would be done for. Or perhaps her unsettling nature would turn out to be a good thing? If she managed to alienate most of her so-called friends, then he would have an excellent opportunity to gain her trust and favor…

As Dumbledore rounded the corner where Riddle had been hiding, he paused. For a second, he could have sworn he heard the sound of stone scraping against itself. Shaking his head, he moved on. There was no secret passage there. He should know. He knew all of them, and their passwords. Perhaps he was more rattled than he thought.

Dumbledore walked away, unaware of the minutely glowing snake symbol carved into the edge of the section of wall. It faded back to obscurity long before the shaken professor was out of view, but the serpents' tunnel had done what it was designed to do. The one who had opened it had made their escape, and Val, thanks to the meddling of the old coot, had managed to shake her tail, and was now free to wander the halls as she wished.

"You know, Death," Val spoke softly as she continued on, making her convoluted way to the girls second floor lavatory. "I don't know if he simply got better with age, or if I was simply dumber when I was younger. But Dumbledore doesn't seem nearly as competent at convincing people to be on his side as he was last time."

"I think it's a combination of things," Death sighed, rubbing their face as though exhausted, exasperated, or both. "He's younger, doesn't have as much experience. Nor does he have the power politically, institutionally, or magically as he did in your last time around. Plus, you're aware of his game. Any sort of attempt to get you to consider being under his leadership is going to seem ham fisted and crude. The art of manipulation is in the subtlety and the victim not expecting to be a victim. Once you know the magician's trick, it no longer continues to be magic, merely sleight of hand that can be learned and spotted by anyone who knows where to look."

"You alright Death?" Val stopped walking in the middle of the corridor and properly took a look at her usually unchanging companion. They were unusually pale for their normal complexion, and seemed almost transparent when they usually were able to maintain a more solid form. 

"It's nothing of concern, Master," Death spoke softly. Formally. 

"You haven't called me any variant of that in ages. What's going on?" anxiety churned in her gut. Nothing truly affected Death. They were an inevitable being, one whose very existence affected all things in the end. What could possibly cause them to be tired? To look ill?

"Master," Death Implored softly. "This is something in which you cannot interfere. Promise me."

"I cannot make a promise that I cannot keep, Death," Val hissed, anger causing her eyes to flash with magical fury. "Tell me what's wrong, so I can help you Death. Do not make me order you. Please." 

The pleading tone of Val's last word ached in Death's chest. To see their master Distressed, especially on their behalf, was unsettling. Unnatural. They had to fix it at once… but could they? Or would they simply make everything worse?

"Fate," Death began slowly, barely whispering as though afraid to be overheard. "The entity, like me, rather than just the untamable force. He's causing trouble. For me specifically, and through me, I believe he intends to get to you."

"Fate?" Val whispered, incredulous. "Didn't you and Time say that Fate was involved in the creation of my new wand?"

"No, Fate was not involved. However, fate, little f, was."

"What?"

"Fate, the entity, is a spinner. Spins the threads that Destiny uses to weave her tapestry. However, he doesn't pull the threads from nothing. He simply, gathers what he can and spins it into something he and destiny can read as coherent. That mess that he pulls from, is fate. It can create change on its own occasionally. Not very often, but occasionally. It's usually too nebulous and unclear to have much impact on its own. Trying to go too many different directions all at the same time."

"Alright," Val spoke slowly as she processed the universal lore dump that she had just received. "So what's up with Fate then?"

"For me, he's not able to do more than mess with me and make me uncomfortable. For you, it's unclear. As my master you have a lot more protections from Our kinds of influences than others. However, that also means you can affect us. Fate has noticed that there's something amiss. Something has been causing the threads that he has spun to unravel themselves, and he's pissed. Would do anything he can to eliminate the cause, which is you, and the effects of your actions. You're unraveling the story threads that he has spun, which in turn, alters the fabric of Destiny. She, at least, is happy to see the new results. Fate, however, is a proud little shit. One that will stop at nothing to get his way. Including destroying the universe if he has to."

Chapter Text

Val silently sighed to herself as she pushed open the door to the second floor girls bathroom. As usual, Death had been cryptic and evasive about answering her questions. They spoke around the topic in vague terms, before making some excuse and fading out of view into a conveniently placed shadow.

It was almost annoying, she thought. Dealing with these primordial entities of concepts created by the universe. Or was it Universe? Death had been rather unclear on the universe existing as a being thing. Or perhaps it was another Fate versus fate situation and both existed as separate… beings was the wrong word for it. Gods, these primordial existences were giving her a headache. 

Looking around the bathroom, she noted that only one of the stalls was occupied. It was almost nostalgic as she walked in and casually set her small bag on the sink that she needed. She and Hermione had spent weeks shut away in here, bags set in sinks to keep them off the floor, and their cauldron set up in the last stall to avoid the prying eyes of anyone who might poke their nose in. 

For a moment, the nostalgia hurt. Memories of when they had been her friends, or at least had cared enough about the act to pretend to care about her. Each memory brought back her very real emotions, and renewed the sense of betrayal. It hurt. Gods it hurt. She wanted to leave, to forget again. But she couldn’t. Not now. 

Her goal. She had come here for a reason, gods be damned, and she was going to get it done. She needed a moment to focus. No more faffing around, she had things to do and decisions to make. Suspicion to avoid too.

Not many people would use this bathroom frequently, if at all after learning about Myrtle's death. As a ‘new’ student, she had some plausible deniability. But she still had to avoid suspicion as best as she could. 

To whomever was in the stall,  it would seem odd to simply leave immediately after entering. She had to stay strong, acting confident in her lack of knowledge. Taking another steadying breath,  Val reached into her bag and pulled out a comb and a small cosmetics carrier. Gently pushing the tides of memories and feelings back where they came from in her mindscape, Val took another breath and finally focused on the mirror in front of her. 

For the first time in weeks, Val properly looked at herself in the mirror. Finally, she allowed herself to see herself as she is, rather than how she was. 

Anxiously, her gaze darted around the outside of her reflection, focusing on the edges of her silhouette before allowing herself to move in. 

Her hair was neat and orderly, the dark auburn tresses, so like her mother’s, were pulled into an elaborate bun at the back of her head. It was a simple grooming charm, one that Time insisted that she perfect over the summer  in order to not stand out in a negative way. 

“Poor is the widen who allows themself to appear unkempt and slovenly,” Time had intoned, demonstrating how the charm worked on her textured, coily hair. It was different on her, than on Val’s softer curls. “Wixen who do not keep themselves tidy are seen by others as not only poor in magical power, but uneducated, and in poor control of themselves.”

Yet another reason the Weasleys were looked down upon, Val thought with a small huff of laughter, these memories less painful. The elder siblings had done well, keeping themselves tidy and presentable. Thus, people respected them as such, regardless of the wear on their robes. Most Wixen were taught to respect the time and effort spent, though there were obviously exceptions… 

Even the twins always made sure they were presentable, despite flagrantly flouting the rules of the uniform codes daily. They made sure they were always clean and decently groomed. Ron and Ginny however... Those two were always slobbish in how they presented themselves. Even Hermione, once she had finally started accepting knowledge from people rather than just books, had understood the value of basic hygiene and self grooming. 

Val curled her lips in disgust at the memory of Ron’s daily wrinkly robes, and bad breath. The horrible smells she had put up with, just because she had thought he was one of her only friends. Not even mentioning the noticeable smell of foot funk that had permeated the air around him the night of the Yule Ball. It had been noticeably worse than his standard odors, not that those were good either.

She had never been more glad to have asked Cedric to the ball. No matter that she was being glared at by half of Hogwarts, as well as a bunch of people from the other schools. He had certainly been a worthwhile partner. 

She watched her own expression in the mirror soften at the memory of that night. Dancing with Cedric, joking and laughing. Simply enjoying the night together. They had gone as friends and competitors. Hogwarts’ united front. But he had done more, and it meant so much more to her than she had ever gotten to express. He took the time before the ball, and taught her what she needed to know in order to not embarrass herself. How to dance, how to hold herself proudly, how fancy place settings worked. How to ignore the people staring at you and have fun. 

She smiled sadly as she recalled how he laughed at her gleeful grin as they twirled around the dance floor, her toes on top of his shoes to ensure she didn’t miss a step. He had joked that night (but was it really a joke?) about how she was his little sister now, as she danced around on his shoes. They had both laughed, glowing in the energy and excitement of the night. How alive he made her feel when he focused his warm brown eyes on hers. Every time she looked up, he was looking at her like she was the only person in the world at that moment. In that moment, he had made her feel loved. And she loved him too. 

The familiar ache of loss twinged in her chest. Cedric. Sirius. Fred. Remus. All of them had claimed her as family. All of them had ended up dead. 

Pain in her right arm brought her back to herself, interrupting the thought spiral. Looking down, she found that her left hand had dug its nails into the flesh of her forearm. Directly on top of the (faded) but still barely visible scar from the grave yard. Forcing herself to release the hand, she wasn’t surprised to see blood starting to pool in the indentations beneath her soft flesh.  Bruising rather than breaking, as the more delicate scar tissue would have not too long ago. 

Drawing her sleeve down, Val pressed her hands into the cold porcelain, grounding herself in the present and staring at her own almost familiar reflection in the mirror. It was strange, staring at what was supposed to be her face. Her features individually were familiar. The bones hadn’t moved and her nose and eye shape hadn’t changed at all. What had changed was how soft her features were. The cheeks rounded and fuller with remnants of youth. Not a hint of the hollowness and shadows of hunger that haunted her for weeks after the start of term. Her chin was less pointed too, the flesh actually having mass beyond the bone. Her jaw was softer as well, no longer carved out by over a decade of malnutrition and starvation. 

What struck her the most as she carefully worked to calm herself down, was the eyes. Their shape hadn’t changed, rather their setting had. The flesh no longer sank into the hollow space between the eyeball and the bone. It was incredible how much that little detail changed the cast of her face. Her vibrant, almost glowing eyes looked alive, rather than haunting. 

A loud click from the stalls behind Val startled her, aggressively bringing her attention back to the present. It took everything in her in that moment not to flinch at the unexpected sound. Needing to seem busy, Val quickly grabbed her lipstick and started gently touching up her lips as the stall door swung open silently and the dark haired  figure made herself known.

Walburga Black paused in surprise as she stepped out from the stall. Avoiding  making eye contact with Val in the mirror, she stepped up to another sink and scrubbed her hands before she spoke. 

“Lady Peverell.” Walburga began smoothly, a hint of pity and condescension evident in her tone. 

“Miss Black,” Val replied calmly, focusing on not smudging the lip color all over her face. It was a lovely shade. A dark, mauvey peach tone, just a bit more vibrant than her natural color. It was a magical brand as well, one that ensured longer wear than the muggle varieties of this time as well as a more subtle fade. 

She could feel the weight of Walburga’s stare as she perfected the shape of her lower lip.  Judging by Walburga’s tone, she likely had something to say. Val braced herself internally for the worst as she prompted Walburga to continue. It was better to deal with it here and now, than whatever might come up later. “I’ve not seen you since your cousin’s party. It’s a shame we were at separate tables then. You seem like you have plenty to say and not many who would hear.”

“A shame indeed, Lady Peverell,” Walburga agreed, her voice straining to keep calm at the subtle insult. Her silvery grey eyes flashed with anger at the challenge, Val could see her bristling like a kitten ready to pounce. “Doubly so that I could not greet you in Diagon alley a couple days after. Your attention seemed a bit… Occupied by the Potter boys.”

Val had to fight back the urge to laugh at the look of smug victory that flashed across Walburga’s face. She truly seemed to think that she had called out something heinous. Perhaps, in another situation, it might have been. 

“Yes, Fleamont and Charlus Potter.” She allowed a smile as she straightened up, turning her head to make sure the lipstick was perfect from every angle before tucking it away. Satisfied, she turned to look at Walburga,face to face for the first time. A look of bemusement settled on her face as she watched Walburga begin to shrink back at her confident poise. “Quite the lovely pair, don’t you think?”

“I-” Walburga stepped back, shivering from the sudden chill as Val’s eyes glowed with unreleased power and authority.

“Brothers,” Val continued, watching as the same woman who screamed such vitriol from her portrait shrunk before her. “Clever, in their chosen subjects. Reasonably athletic, by wixen standards at least. Wealthy enough to be comfortable. Powerful, with good control of their magic. I suppose to someone like you, one of them might be an incredible catch- oh no” Val cut herself off and simpered mockingly. 

“One of them has declared interest in your cousin Dorea! Oh dear, that means that the second brother wouldn’t even consider you if he had interest to begin with!”

“I have no interest in-“ Walburga spluttered, indignant and confused at the turn this conversation took. 

“I’m aware, Miss Black, of whom you have set your sights upon.” Val smiled icily. 

Something inside Walburga screamed that the younger woman smiling cheerfully in front of her was dangerous. Deadly so. That smile wasn’t a polite gesture, it was a thinly veiled warning.  “Y-you misunderstand-”

“Did I?” Val gasped, donning a shocked expression as her hands came up to cover her mouth in feigned shock. “Oh my, how terrible. Perhaps, next time Miss Black, you ought to be more careful with your words. Some people will always seem to only hear the parts that suit them.” She lowered her hands and smiled at Walburga, allowing her teeth to look more sharp than they ought to in the strange bathroom lighting as she continued in a more serious tone. 

“As I was saying. It is well known that in considering a partner, one must be selective about which relations are shared. Too close, and the family tree becomes a barren wreath. 

“On the other hand, there are families like the Potters. Unfortunate deaths and low birth rates causing the decline of their numbers over the generations. They rely on each other more and more, and have to be even more picky about whom they partner with for the sake of their possible future children. So think. A branch of the family thought to have died out reappears. Even with a different name, the relationship through blood is proven and the effort to create the personal relationship is put forth. They hold that relationship, that promise of love and support, close. Not too close, mind you. Most people find the thought of marriage with a relative to be positively abhorrent. For good reason too, but I digress.

“Fleamont and Charlus Potter are family. They have decided that I am their little sister in every way that matters. They are my brothers in that same vein. I would like to think you’re clever enough that I don’t need to spell out the rest... Am I clear?“

“Perfectly clear, Lady Peverell.” Walbirga stuttered as her hands trembled. Her fingers felt frozen in their grip on the skirts of her robes. Not frozen. Petrified. Somehow, this shorter and younger woman (definitely not a girl) held her in place with some unknown power. Locking her in place with her piercing gaze. 

“Excellent” Val smiled cheerfully. “Then we’re done here.” Turning away from Walburga, Val contemplated her reflection again.

For a few moments, Walburga stood still in shock as she felt whatever power that was holding her release. She almost swayed in place, feeling her own muscles supporting herself once more. She almost felt heavy- 

Val’s voice startled her into motion. She didn’t even glance at Walburga’s reflection as she spoke, gently smoothing a single curl into perfection. “I believe Miss Black, that you have places to be. Best not dawdle, correct?”

“Y-yes Lady Peverell,” Walburga stammered as she stumbled forward, quickly obeying the command. She exited the bathroom as fast as she could. A flush of indignation and… something else  flooded her cheeks as she heard the soft “Good Girl” from Lady Peverell behind her as the door swung closed. Shocked at the unexpected feeling, Walburga stood there for a moment to process everything. 

Several deep breaths allowed her to regain her composure and clear her mind. Her emotions were a jumbled mess. She had been insulted. Humiliated. Certainly the anger and frustration she felt were appropriate. Even the fear made sense. That girl- no, that woman, Lady Peverell had power. Cold, all encompassing, incomprehensible power at her beck and call. The fear, the powerlessness made sense too… Then why did some tiny, strange part of her feel excited? Where had it come from?

She had never felt excitement when looking at another person. Not even Tom Riddle, with his charisma and beauty and displays of grandiose power. She hadn’t felt that flavor of excitement at seeing another person since she was small. A little girl, so excited to see the friend she had made on holiday. A pretty, blonde girl who lived in one of the nearby magical French villas. Together they laughed, and made flowers bloom in their hands. Hid from the boring adults, and fell asleep leaning against each other in the afternoon shade. The half dimple of that girl’s smile was seared into her mind, long after her name had faded. 

Shaking her head to clear it, Walburga straightened up with a scowl. This was not the time to be lost in sweet forgotten memories. She did, in fact, have somewhere to be. Swiftly, she started heading down to the slytherin common room, abandoning the memories and feelings for her to deal with at another time. Riddle had announced a meeting, and it was about time for it to begin. 

… though, perhaps tonight, after curfew… she might look through her old journal before going to sleep. Perhaps she could find if she wrote that pretty girl’s name down all those years ago. Perhaps it would be nice to remember a… friend. Yes. Definitely a friend. Nothing else. 

Val smiled to herself as she watched Walburga flee, wandlessly locking the door behind the frazzled witch. 

“That could have gone worse,” she sighed to herself, leaning her back against the sink for support as she allowed the tension to leave her body. “Gods that was still awful. She thought I’d be interested in my own grandfather?“ silence was the only response she got. Honestly, in this moment the silence felt a bit disconcerting. Especially since she had finally started getting used to Death and Time’s penchant for showing up randomly and answering otherwise rhetorical questions. 

“Alright, I get it,” Val grumbled at the universe as she pushed herself off the sink and fixed her posture, brushing her skirt gently to fix the crease before it set. “I’ll stop procrastinating and go down to the spooky cave that I almost died in five years ago and fifty years from now. Time travel makes stuff so weird.”

Finally taking her bag from the sink she examined the faucet intently, ignoring how lonely and empty the silence around her suddenly felt. She hadn’t looked at it particularly closely last time. In addition to being literally twelve, and unobservant due to Hermione’s influence, she had had some pretty awful prejudices in her head at that time. Back then,simply noticing the little snake engraved into the side of the faucet was an achievement. 

Now that she was looking properly, she noted that the other three sinks around the odd, semicircular configuration had the symbols of the other houses engraved in them as well. “Way to be subtle,” she laughed, genuinely appreciating Slytherin’s ingenuity. Wixen, after all, were quite known for never looking beyond the most obvious answer, as long as there was one available. 

Turning back to the door, Val properly warded it against other people’s interest, just like she had warded her tent back when she had traveled alone. Satisfied that she wouldn’t be disturbed (or worse, discovered) Val focused on the carved snake. Tilting her head back and forth allowed the light to reflect off of the intricate details in a way that made it look as though it were shifting slightly. Made it look almost alive. She relaxed as she watched the shifting lights and felt something deep in her mind awaken. 

“Open,” she hissed, feeling her magic weave itself into her voice as she spoke her will into existence. 

For a long moment, nothing happened. The echoes of her command faded away, slipping into shadowy corners and small crevices, leaving nothing but the shifting of her clothes and the sound of her steady breathing to echo in the still silence. For several heartbeats, nothing happened. She was about to toss up her hands and swear furiously when she heard it. Softly, a well oiled mechanical device whirled, causing the sink to slide forward silently on invisible tracks. Pausing for a moment, it then trundled off to the side, leaving the way down clear for Val. 

The dark, gaping maw of the pipe that she had stupidly jumped down just a few years ago sat before her. It was just as haunting and foreboding as she remembered, if smelling a bit less rank. A whistle of air echoed from below as Val stepped up to the rim. She pondered what to do for a moment before speaking steps into existence. They slid out from their hidden sconces without complaint. Taking a final breath of fresh air, Val began making her way down. 

“This is fine,” she whispered, trying (and failing) to convince herself. “Everything will be alright. Plus, nobody is at risk of dying this time.”

Descending via stairs took a lot longer than simply sliding as she had last time. Her legs had started to properly ache from the movement as she finally made it down to the antechamber. 

This section of the chambers was decidedly less… bony… than she remembered. Sure a few carcasses of small rodents sat rotting away in odd, dark corners, but it wasn’t the nauseating pile of bones and snake shed that she had met during her first visit. In fact, it looked almost pleasant.

Green light shone down, clearly filtered through the lake, to illuminate the pathway to the second entryway. The soft echo of a drip somewhere, reminded Val suddenly of the collapse caused by Ron’s wand backfiring. Granted, they had ended up alright, and Lockhart was promptly put out of commission in a single instant. Regardless, the fear crept back into the edges of Val’s mind. She remembered how it had felt, coughing and choking on the dust. Being unable to breathe or see. The pain as she was blasted against a stone wall, and the sharp, razor-like stones that scratched and scored her flesh as she dug herself out of the fallen rubble. Screaming her voice hoarse trying to call to her friend who could have died right before her eyes. 

The relief at hearing his muffled response, knowing that he was alive and mostly unharmed, replaced with fear at what awaited her on the other side of this very same door… not knowing if Ginny was alive… what state she might have been in since the message was written in blood… if she couldn’t be saved what would she have done.

Val squeezed her eyes shut. Taking deep steadying breaths to calm her heart and push the memories back into the soul of her mindscape from whence they had sprouted. An interesting side effect of burying them as literally as she could. She noted that distantly as the old memories buried themselves once more. Opening her eyes again to view the present, she faced she snake covered door. Once again  she pulled on the slithery part of her mind and asked it to open before her. 

Immediately the snake mechanism obliged. Mechanical whirring sounded from within the hatch like door, and the hiss of the door unsealing itself greeted her, just like up in the slytherin common room. It swung open towards her once again, revealing the vast, water lined chamber in which she fought the basilisk over 50 years in the future. 

As she carefully stepped through the round doorway, Val noted the lack of tool marks around the mechanism. Clearly the goblins, when they had been brought in to deal with the mad basilisk, had either dealt with it in the antechamber, or had a way to bypass the language lock without destroying the mechanism. An incredible display of ward breaking if they had managed to bypass it. Or perhaps they simply sourced someone who could speak parseltongue. She had heard that it was a coveted skill in India, many parts of Africa, and the Middle East… basically anywhere that didn’t demonize snakes as the spawn of all evil in their mythology… or anywhere snakes were common. 

“You’re distracting yourself, Val,” she muttered to herself. With a sigh she forced herself to turn back towards the rows of stone snakes in the room ahead. Each statue was posed erupting from the depths of the water, as if to strike at whomever was foolish enough to pass by them. Beyond their imposing presence sat the enormous stone head carved into the wall. Allegedly (according to the riddle inside the diary), the image depicted Salazar Slytherin. Regardless of the true identity of the man, he still glowered down at the room. 

It was a truly imposing image. One that would have cowed twelve year old Val had she not been so concerned about Ginny, who had been lying in the middle of the room. Ginny, the sister of her supposed best friend. She had looked dead as she lay against the black stone floor, her wet hair fanned out around her head looking like a pool of blood. Pale, and cold to the touch as Val had rushed to check for life. Limbs limp under her own trembling hands as she sought a pulse. 

The apathetic stone eyes of all the snakes and the giant face watching as she frantically searched for any sign of life. The too alive hands of Tom Riddle’s memory grabbing hers, soothing the tremors and comforting her. Offering help and escape in exchange for one little girl’s life. His eyes also shifted to stone when she had rejected his offer. A life for a life was never a price she could pay. Especially not as a child. 

Then the basilisk came. 

Fifteen pairs of eyes made of stone and one pair that might as well have been, watched her run for her life. An unarmed child, fleeing from an ancient beast that she had no hope of winning against. 

The pair of eyes made of flesh and fire watched after delivering to her a hat and her only hope. The hidden weapon delivered, and the ancient foe blinded. Disarmed of one weapon, but still possessing many more. 

She watched the eyes made of memory and anger burn into nothing as they disappeared with her dying breaths. Within that rage burned fear. She saw it in his last seconds. The overwhelming despair while slipping into death’s embrace, even as she calmly felt her own self begin to slip away too. 

A chill shivered its way up Val’s spine as she remembered the feeling of ice and acid spreading from the basilisk’s tooth as it slid through her arm. She had known that it would kill her as she felt it spread, could feel her veins being destroyed as the venom ate through her flesh. She had accepted at the time that there was nothing that she could do to save herself. In that moment, she had felt Death next to her, holding her hand. Waiting for her proper time. With them there, she had not been afraid, even as Ginny cried against her slowing heartbeat. 

The tears had burned as they entered her arm. Liquid fire making its way down the same path as the ice cold venom had minutes before. That wound full of icy poison that should have been fatal. The elements still danced together within her blood. An eternal chase which neither would win. Not even Time had been able to remove them. Nor the mark. 

Fifteen year old Val slowly stepped towards the statue lined walkway. Her steps softly splashed in the shallow layer of water that coated the smooth stone slabs.  Careful of the edge, Val got as close as she could to the nearest stone snake head. Even now, years older and much taller, the open mouthed snake was enormous. If it were alive, it could swallow her in a single bite. And yet…

Its eyes didn’t fit. The statue’s mouth may have been hissing, but this time the eyes watching her felt kind. Almost apologetic. Cursed to observe, but never interfere. Such an existence seemed like torture. 

Against her better judgement, Val pulled out her wand. 

“Val, this is a bad idea.” She pinched herself as she whispered, trying to convince herself not to do it. ”Why am I doing something so stupid?  Gods, this is a horrible idea. Min, if I die doing this, I’m blaming your future self. Piertotem locomotor.”

The magic sank deep into the stone, seeping into the crystalline structures and allowing them to shift and bend and move. 

The stone snake shivered, and Val could feel the strain on her magic as it yawned and closed its mouth. Stone teeth folded back, out of view and crystalline second eyelids blinked across the stone eyes. 

“Little one,” the halting, grinding sound of a stone trying to speak was harsh and almost painful to her ears. Despite its unpleasantness, she could still understand what it was trying to say as it slowly spoke. “You lived to grow. But now are before?”

“You can see when you’re inanimate?” Val asked, shocked. ”More than that, you know the future?”

“Creator asked us to watch, so we do.” The snake’s cheeks puffed proudly. It felt oddly fitting that the stone snake felt pride for what it could do. “All happens at once for us,” the stone snake looked around, staring sadly at its stone still companions. “Lots of nothing. Any something we remember. But you make ripple like water. Memory of later change? Different later. More later. Less nothing. Very happy.”

With that, the stone snake leant forward, its mouth closed as it rubbed the front of Val’s clothes affectionately. 

“More future? What?” Val started to ask but she could feel herself growing exhausted as her magic started to ebb with the strain of the new spell. 

“Time for stone sleep again,” the giant snake statue said sadly, but with understanding. “You need old password for human face. Protected knowledge. We proud, little one.”

With that, the magic ceased and the giant stone snake carefully resumed its previous position, fangs bared and tongue sticking out as the last sparks of magic flickered behind its eyes. 

Val’s breaths came in pants as sweat beaded at her brow. It was a difficult spell for sure, but she had never felt so winded by a first casting of a spell since learning the patronus charm.

“Good gods Val,” she puffed, trying to get enough air into her lungs. “I suppose it’s practice time whenever I get a chance, eh? Gods this sucks. Never again.” 

Moving back to the entranceway, Val sat down harshly on the dry raised step. Her hands and legs trembled from the exhaustion. Gods what she wouldn’t give for chocolate in that moment. Remus had been right about the confection. She certainly always felt better after eating some. Still, since it wasn’t available at the moment she supposed simply taking a rest would be the best thing. 

The snake has spoken. The thought erupted through Val’s thoughts as she rested. None of the statues or suits of armor had spoken when Professor Mac- when Minerva used it. Could they have spoken? Did the carved snakes have internal anatomy? Or did it just take a lot of energy?

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she pushed herself back to standing and gently stretched. 

“I’ll figure that out later,” she muttered, determined. “For now, let’s focus on why I came down here today.”

Squaring her shoulders, Val proudly stepped back into the room. Every splashing step echoed as she made her way down the aisle lined with watching stone snakes. She could feel their eyes, excited as they watched the future change with every step she took. 

The gargantuan stone face scowled down at her once more. These eyes were unseeing. Uncaring. 

Fists clenched at her sides as her emotions rose. Looking up, Val met its gaze with her own stone cold expression of determination, supported by a will of steel. She was ready. 

It was time for her to discover the secrets that had been hidden aeons ago. 

oOo

Armando Dippet was taking tea with Galatea Merrythought when Dumbledore strode in, the maroon robes making him look rather peaky as he sat at the empty space left at the desk. 

“Good afternoon, Albus,” Galatea said with a warm smile. “I’m glad you were able to make it after all. Did you figure out the puzzle you said you were working on?”

“I’m afraid,” Dumbledore grumbled as he accepted the cup of tea from the headmaster. “I’ve hit a bit of a snag. It seems my puzzle is a fair bit more complicated than I originally anticipated.”

“I certainly can sympathize,” Armando chuckled as he glanced up at his star strewn ceiling. It had been a passion project of his, originally thinking of the concept on a stuffy, rainy day one dreary summer in 1842. It had taken 50 years of working on it to get the arithmancy and runes stable enough to create a miniature model the size of his closed fist. For the next twenty years, it had taken all of his spare time, energy, and mental capacity in order to try and get it to finally be functional at scale. Too many times he had ended up in the hospital wing with burns from runes that had carried too high of a lode, or from a connection that he had thought to be steady, fizzling and destroying the entire array. That time in his life had been both the most exciting and the most frustrating at the same time. 

Now, almost 100 years later, not only had he succeeded with his project, he had succeeded in making it work at any scale. His office was truly a magnificent display of his hard work and skill. However, his crowning achievement was prominently displayed to any and all who attended the school, shimmering above their heads as they dined in the Great Hall. 

“Ive found It’s best,” Armando continued, sipping his tea thoughtfully. “When you seem to be stuck in something, to step away. Take a break. Allow your mind to rest and stretch in a different way. Allows the emotions to cool, as well as letting your mind wander around the trouble. Let’s you see it in a new light, or a new perspective when you return.”

“Armando!” Galatea gasped over-dramatically as she began teasing her friend of several decades. “Goodness, what ever shall we do? You actually sound your age! You’re not dying yet, are you? You old geezer, you promised I could retire first!”

“I’m not dying yet, you old broad!” Armando teased as he sipped his tea and leveled a mocking glare at Galatea. She snorted in amusement, allowing her humor to settle as he continued. “Speaking of dying, have either of you heard how Binns is doing? That geezer is so positively frail and ancient that I feel like he’d pass away from a sneeze… or a mild case of heartburn.”

“He refused retirement again?” Albus asked, exasperated. “How many years is that in a row now?”

“36.” Armando’s expression soured. “The students started making bets on when he’d retire 50 years ago.”

“That crotchety old man won’t retire,” Galatea groaned. “Ranting about goblins is the only thing keeping him alive at this point. He’ll die before he retires willingly.”

“What a sad way to end your years,” Armando sighed. “He used to be such a bright mind. To know what he used to be capable of, and see how much he’s deteriorated… makes me oddly cognizant of the fact that he’s younger than me.”

“He’s younger than you?” Albus spluttered, his face aghast. “How?”

“No idea,” Armando sighed once more. “Regardless, it makes me so very aware. He’s younger than me. I don’t have much time left. Yes I’ve left my marks on the world, but am I truly doing what’s best for me to be happy? Especially since we never know when the end might be.”

“You still got plenty of life left in you Armando,” Galatea smiled softly. “You still have the will. The spark. Trust me. Adventures still yet await you.”

Chapter Text

The centaurs murmured amongst each other anxiously in the evening light. Many colored tails flicked anxiously as they awaited their elders’ advice. Many hooves stamped impatiently as the sun disappeared entirely, further revealing the source of their discontent. 

“Take hold of yourselves.” A forceful voice cried out. Instantly, silence descended upon the herd as all attention was drawn to the edge of the clearing. 

An ancient centaur spoke from the edge of the clearing. Her hair and fur were pure white, not by coloration but by age. Her clouded eyes no longer saw the physical world as it was, but allowed her to see things way beyond the youth’s comprehension. She was flanked by several other younger (but only by comparison) sky readers, who murmured occasional guidance for their elder to avoid a root or hole in the ground. 

She slowly stepped towards the center of the clearing. A path cleared as the herd moved out of her way, each center bowing their head as she passed. Whispers of honor and respect floated through the air as she slowly made her way. Arms outstretched to each side, and met with the gentle touch of reverent fingers ghosting past. 

In the exact center of the clearing she stopped. Arms still splayed, she tilted her head back to gaze upon the stars. 

“Your memories are short,” the elder sighed, any tension in her shoulders or brow evaporating. “An old friend has returned. Welcome back Helena. Your journey has been long.” Her hand came up to her heart as she bowed her head to the sky.

Murmurs of confusion and awe rippled through the herd, even as most signed their respect in greeting to the celestial body. They would have to properly honor its coming during its culmination, rather than its arrival. An individual greeting. Unique because of its unpredictability, and because it had not been honored at all in the last seasonal festival. 

“This comet,” she continued, pointing at the specific point in the sky. “She is not new. We have seen her before. Recorded in our ancient records. It has been a little less than 500 years since her last appearance during the time of Merlin. And from then another similar period back to the age of the founders. Her first recorded arrival was by the good lady Rowena, soon after she lost her own Helena. Her light. If dealing with the lingering spirit, she may be more tangible. More energetic.”

She paused for a moment, tears looking like liquid stars gathering in her eyes. 

“My children.” Slowly her gaze returned to the earth, looking around at the youth that surrounded her. Her eyes flicked from face to face, clearly seeing something within each of them despite their obvious blindness. “Take heart, for we must prepare for the upheaval. She burns through shadows, leaving light in her wake. Secrets laid bare. Even the best laid plans, shaken from their path. Take heart. We shall endure. We shall live. We shall grow. Simply watch your step as you go.” 

“Remember,” a silver and grey speckled roan stepped up beside their ancient elder, his eyes still clear and bright, retaining their earthly gaze despite his wrinkled age. “As experienced as we are, no matter how much we think we know, the skies will never tell us exactly what happens. It simply lays bare several likely paths. Some of many possibilities. We decipher which seems the most likely, but nothing is guaranteed to come to pass. We have grown used to what we read and what happens matching very closely. For some of the foals, you may have never seen a time where the skies obfuscated the truth until after an event has happened. As we enter into this era of uncertainty, paths will be much less clear. We will be wrong. We will misread or miss signs. So take each action with measured caution.”

Murmurs of understanding and thanks rippled out and the elders all bowed their heads to the gathered. 

“Our council has concluded.” A slightly younger, salt and peppered centaur stepped forth, their arms raised to further attract attention. “We shall add Helena to our Mabon celebrations. However, in six weeks- the seventh day of the tenth human month- we shall honor Helena individually. She lingers in our lands. It would do well to seek offerings and honorings in the meantime. During the celebration, it is not unlikely that the named spirit will join us herself. Keep that in mind as you make choices.” They paused for a moment to let that information sink in before she continued. “Now disperse. We’ve much to do and little time.”

oOo

Up in the castle, the bloodstained ghost of a woman floated absentmindedly through the halls. Her eyes, normally bright with intelligence despite their sadness, were out of focus. Something inside her was swirling, itching uncomfortably in a way that she had forgotten. 

Normally, the halls were a place she avoided, not wanting to scare the youngest children. Nor explain the manor of her death time after time. But- phasing through wood and stone and cold iron was less comfortable. Almost like the remnants of physical feeling were affecting her mind. 

She could not remember most of the last occurrence of this phenomenon. All she knew was that it was long ago, and very hard. She remembered not remembering something, and that the not remembering meant something. A large something. But the other ghosts didn’t know how long her memory gaps were. They, after all, had lost sense of time.

So had she, if she were to be honest. Days blended together into decades, into millennia. But that time. That gap bugged her more with each passing day. There was something significant that she knew she was missing. Its shadow looming larger every day- she was aware of days again. Tragically, there were none who could help this ache. 

Still, the grey lady floated along. Eyes unfocused, hand pressed absently over the hole where her heart would be. The friar. Sir Nick. They would be able to provide comfort and warmth. Something she had not sought for centuries, that they had promised if she needed. 

“Lady Helena?”

Her eyes grew sharp as she focused on the young man in front of her. Dark hair. Green robes. Badge. Slytherin prefect or head boy? Shorter. Kinder. Younger. Prefect. Angled features. Bright colored eyes. There was definitely a family resemblance. Black? Black. 

“Young Lording Black,” Helena greeted with a bow, steeling her emotions in advance.There were not many who stopped her for anything but knowledge.  Formalities met, she patiently waited for a request or response. 

“It’s been reported that you’ve been roaming oddly. Is there something you need? Can we help you?” The tone was respectful. His eyes shone with an emotion not seen in the Blacks who went mad. Empathy. 

“I am,” she paused for a moment, testing several sentences in her mind before she spoke. “Searching. The friar. Sir nick. I have need of them.  Have they been seen recently?”

“I believe the friar was last seen around the Hufflepuff common room.” The young lording looked pensive as he spoke, tilting his head slightly to one side like a puppy as he thought. “Sir Nick, I don’t know. Perchance he could be seeking the headless hunt once more?”

“Perhaps.” Helena nodded thoughtfully. “Those seem likely. Good blessings on your way.” Parting blessing gifted, Helena continued on her way with renewed purpose despite her lack of vigor. 

oOo

Orion watched her float off, brow furrowed. The grey lady rarely showed herself at all, and even then never within the first month. Something odd was happening, and Orion knew he was well out of his depth. Perhaps the headmaster might have an idea?

He shook his head as he continued along his original path. He made a mental note to speak to Professor Dippet after dinner. If the ghost had been acting strangely for long, an extra hour wouldn’t hurt anything. 

Voices raised in frustration caught his attention as he rounded the corner and headed down the marble steps towards the great hall. 

“-suppose you’re going to simply barge in!”

“What else do you want me to do? It’s been hours!”

The Potter boys were arguing outside the door to the great hall. Both of their heads of normally unruly hair were sticking up at odd angles from numerous times of fingers raking through them. 

Public squabbles between siblings were not uncommon. This one at a glance seemed inoffensive on the scale of sibling drama, so Orion simply walked past. If it wasn’t anything he had to worry about, then he would give them the privacy of pretending not to hear anything. It was the polite thing to do. 

Orion froze as he stepped through the door to the great hall. His heart jumped into his throat as he overheard another snippet of the argument. 

“Gods… Val really went to that second floor bathroom? Why is it even still open?”

“Who knows?”

The silence dragged on. Orion could feel some curious eyes starting to look his way. It was odd to simply stop in the middle of the doorway. He swallowed painfully as he lifted his leaded feet, and made his way towards his usual spot at the table. 

“There you are Orion!” Abraxas grinned at his best friend. “You disappeared while I was talking to Patel. How could you leave me alone with the Ravenclaws?” His tone, while playful and dramatic, did not detract from the fact that he expected an answer.

“I had to visit the medi-witch.” Orion sighed, trying to keep his mind just on that conversation. 

“You can’t have injured yourself on the first day?” Abraxas gawked. “And certainly not enough to visit the hospital voluntarily.”

“It’s nothing like that, Ab.” Orion rolled his eyes and bumped his best friend’s shoulder a bit hard. “I just had to let her know about a recent change that could affect me medically. It’s related to the, ahem, family condition.”

“Ahhh,” Abraxas nodded sagely, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I know dealing with Walburga can drive anyone up a wall, but I thought we’d have longer till you went off the deep end.”

“You prick,” Orion grumbled, poking at his plate halfheartedly as he glanced towards the doors. “The Ravenclaws couldn’t have been that bad anyways. You said you wanted to start networking now to make sure you had plenty of business opportunities when you take over the family business.”

“I know I did!” Abraxas groaned, stabbing his potatoes with a vengeance. “But they asked about your garden party!”

“When…”

“When I made a fool of myself! Yes!”

“And?”

“And then I had to explain that ‘no, I didn’t know we had any debts at all, let alone to such a prominent family. Why didn’t I know about it? Because it was never mentioned to me before, and my father forgot about it too as the paperwork from the bank had ceased arriving years ago!’ And then we had to get into the whole deal of ‘what on earth is going on at Gringotts?!’ ‘Oh, you’ve noticed it too?’ ‘Yeah the goblins are on edge!’ ‘You don’t think there’s gonna be another goblin war do you?’ And then it devolved into talking about BINN’S class, of all things.”

"Oof," Orion whistled and shook his head. “That’s rough, mate.”

“Don’t you bloody start with me Orion Arcturus,” Abraxas pointed a spoon at his friend threateningly. “I will jinx your socks to dance on your feet while you wear shoes!”

“I’d like to see you tr-” Orion froze, eyes fixated on the great double doors. An odd mix of relief and anxiety coiled themselves around his stomach, upsetting the few meager bites of food that he had managed to consume. 

“Wha-” Abraxas turned. “Oh.”

Lady Vulpecula Peverell had stepped through the door. Both of the (much taller) Potter boys had clearly attached themselves to each of her arms. The noise of the great hall barely even dipped at the untoward display. Though a few more took notice when the Potter boys began shepherding Val towards the Griffendor table instead of splitting as most people would. 

To Orion, even at this distance, Val looked tired. She was too passive. Too pale and slightly listless. Her hair was less glossy and here eyes seemed to be missing some of their spark. ‘Magical exhaustion’ a distant part of his brain supplied, reminding him subtly of how he felt after experiencing the condition for the first time at age 12. At that time, it was all he could do to stay awake. For Val to be this alert? She must have had to push through similar things often

Half the hall had fallen silent as Val was welcomed to the Gryffindor table with open arms by McGonagall. The hyper competitive quidditch captain punched Charlus’ arm, quickly extracting Val from the brothers’ overzealous grips. They sat her down at the table softly. A lone speck of green almost drowning in a sea of red. 

"-bumbling baboons dragging her around like a ragdoll!" snippets of McGonagall's chastising words made it across the hall, causing several people to chuckle politely under their breaths, and several others brazenly snorting or chortling in amusement. "Now Val, these two oafs-“

“Hey!” Charlus whined. McGonagall waved his protests off, tucking themselves right next to Val- forcing the brothers to sit on her other side or across the table. 

“Have yet to shut up about you.” They continued as though nobody had spoken at all. “I have to hear this story from you though…"

The rest of the conversation was drowned out as more people entered the great hall. Including Riddle… followed by his sycophants. Orion supposed that the not-so-secret meeting had been adjourned. 

Riddle’s eyes darted across the Slytherin table, then across the rest of the hall. Orions heart clenched and stomach roiled at the smile that dawned on Riddles face as his eyes landed on Val. Riddle quietly said something to his followers, who continued on towards the Slytherin table as Riddle started the other way. 

Silence fell once more- an almost total silence- as Riddle approached the Gryffindor table. Almost every eye in the hall was watching with bated breath. 

“Miss Peverell,” Riddle spoke smoothly, flashing his most charming fake smile. 

“Lady Peverell, Mister Riddle,” Val responded in kind, casually picking at an invisible speck of dust or lint on her sleeve. Displaying to everyone what she thought of him. Not worth her time. “Did you need something?”

“Lady Peverell,” he conceded, his expression tightening in hidden anger. “I am curious today,” he lied through his teeth. There was no curiosity. He was simply trying to exert power over her. Everyone knew it. “Is there a reason you are sitting here, as opposed to with your House? The one that is meant to be your family?” Venom almost seemed to drip from the guilt-laiden words. Trying to inject her with feelings of perceived disloyalty. 

It was a bit heavy handed in Val’s opinion. She knew her position very well, and she intended to use it. 

“Why I-” Val held up her hand to stop McGonagall. Several jaws dropped as Min actually obeyed. 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t sit here?” Val asked, batting her eyelashes and tilting her head to adopt the appearance of innocence. 

There was a collective intake of breath as she asked. No doubt everyone’s attention was on this confrontation. Even students just walking in fell silent, watching and listening for every word. 

“It is tradition that you sit with your own house,” Riddle replied, adopting a tone of faux patience. As though she were merely a rebellious first year. “Tradition that has been kept for hundreds of years now.”

“But is it a rule?” Anxious murmuring broke out as she continued her almost mocking questions. Actively pushing back against the perceived power of both the badge of Head Boy, as well as deeply ingrained tradition. “Could you show me where in the student handbook that rule is written down, Mister Riddle? I’m afraid I seem to have missed it when I read it through the other day.” She adopted an almost distraught demeanor, leaning against Min’s shoulder as she willed the french accent slightly more prominent.

“It truly is so much different here than at Beauxbaton,” she said to Min, her eyes wide and doe-like. “Is there no spirit of cooperation? Must we stay segregated away from friends in other houses? All for the sake of tradition?”

“There is no rule against it,” Min confirmed, their arm wrapping around her waist. They pulled her close as they smiled smugly at Riddle. Val was thrilled that Min had understood where this was going and played along. Quidditch captain may not have had official power, but the social weight was just as- if not more important than that of head boy. “In fact, it seems like the kind of thing our headmaster would approve of. Building strong relationships between houses and such.”

Whispers bubbled up around the great hall. Awestruck upper years wondered together, as lower years sought answers for what was going on. There was no doubt that every eye was on their table. Especially the too-bright blue of one Albus Dumbledore. 

Val could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze. No doubt by now, most of them had at least heard about the garden party. She supposed that this was as good a time as any to have a show. 

“Riddle, does this have to do with that weird house rivalry thing I was told about my first night?” Val cocked her head in mock curiosity. “Do you think that students from Gryffindor would try to hurt me because I was sorted into Slytherin?” 

Students of both houses squirmed uncomfortably at the suggested accusation. Val remained quiet. Her eyes staring directly into Riddle’s. She had him exactly where she wanted. The question was, would he give himself enough rope, or would she have to swoop in for the kill. 

“It has not been unheard of,” Riddle admitted, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Is it wrong of me to check in on my new house-mate when something out of the usual happens?”

“So you believe I am weak?” Dead silence fell as Val stood, speaking softly and calmly. Walburga shivered from across the hall as she saw the glint in Val’s eyes.  Subtly she contorted her hand to ward off the evil eye, even as all the candles floating in the great hall flickered. The room dimmed slightly, and everyone could feel a chill breeze floating through the room. “The last known living Peverell. From the family of legend. We, who are targeted by hundreds of desperate, clever, and deranged Wixen every year who seek possession of fairy tale treasures that may never have existed at all.” 

There was a collective intake of breath as she referenced the hallows. Fleamont gently squeezed her trembling hand comfortingly as she continued- her voice still calm and level, even if full of venom. 

“And to add the insult? Implying that Gruffindors would be as stupid and reckless as to assault someone during dinner? Even before the first classes have started?” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, crossing her arms across her chest as she sat back down. “Even if that were not your intended implication, you ought to be more careful with your words Mr. Riddle.”

“I apologize that my words could be misconstrued as such,” Riddle ground out, the words slipping out from his clenched teeth as though they were made of quicksilver. Rage boiled inside him, hating the fact that she had shown him mercy… pity… that she could have ended him right there and then, but chose not to. Tom Riddle despised being pitied, and something about her subtly smug expression seemed that she knew that. She knew, and specifically chose to use that against him. 

“Apology acknowledged,” Lady Peverell sighed, subtly flicking her fingers at him in dismissal. “Choosing to check in on a new house-mate is admirable, even if I did not need your support. I hope you have a good dinner, Mister Riddle.”

“And you as well,” he hissed out, barely keeping his temper hidden behind the veneer of politeness as he turned and stalked off. Not that many outside of Slytherin could tell. He didn’t have his signature fake smile, but he had schooled his face into a calm facade that would pass as unbothered to the less observant. 

Val’s conversation with Minerva and the potter boys continued as though without interruption, which clued the spectators in that the show was over. Within moments, the normal rumbles of consistent chatter drowned out the remains of individual words from anyone not involved in a conversation. 

“Damn,” Abraxas whistled softly to Orion. “That was-”

“Yeah…” Orion practically had stars in his eyes as he stared across the hall at Lady Vulpecula Peverell. “She’s fantastic.”

“And you’re a love-sick puppy,” Abraxas groaned, stabbing his friend’s arm with his fork. 

“Ow!” Orion hissed, glaring at his best friend. “The hell was that for, Ab?”

“To stop you looking like the besotted fool you are,” Abraxas hissed sharply. “He’s coming down now. Fix your face.”

Orion adopted his normal, almost bored expression as Riddle came closer. The seventh year was almost visibly steaming as he stalked past the pair. He didn’t even glance their way- seemingly blind to everything outside of the narrow tunnel he could see through his anger. 

Nobody at the Slytherin table spoke of anything significant that evening. Nothing that might hasten the explosion that they could experience later that evening. Riddle himself stayed silent, a concerning glint shone in his eye to those close enough to see. That glint usually meant only one thing. Someone was going to suffer. 

oOo

The Slytherin common room was a mess of whispers. Small groups murmured amongst themselves, none daring to speak too loud for fear of drawing the attention and ire of one Tom Riddle. 

Riddle seethed silently, his expression blank as he stared into the fire. His eyes however, were dangerously sharp. A first year, not knowing any better, had accidentally laughed too loud. Riddle’s glare alone had almost reduced the child to tears, and they had to be escorted to their dormitory by a second year. 

“Evening Orion, Abraxas.”

They both jumped at the unexpected voice, stifling swears as they turned in their seats to look at Val who had joined their little seating arrangement. 

“Gods Lady Peverell,” Abraxas wheezed, smoothing back the one hair that had fallen out of place. “How on Magick’s great earth?”

“I’ve got a knack for notice-me-not charms,” Val grinned. One of the things that she had started to learn towards the end of the summer was death’s ability to disappear into the shadows.  Much like the cloak, but entirely different. She was completely invisible, but also became partially incorporeal. Her steps became silent, and she could partially sink her hand into a mostly solid object. Just barely enough to be able to pop open a common door lock, but not much else. 

Still, she had a solid excuse for her sneakiness as she gestured at Riddle. “He’s got everyone’s attention, which made the spell that much more effective too. Anyways, please drop the formality, Abraxas.” 

“Wha-huh?” Abraxas’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “But, back then-”

“I hope,” Val interrupted with an apologetic smile. “That you’ll forgive me for using you to let everyone at the party know my station. Coming into a group with people who have known each other for years is rough, and for now my political position buys me what personal familiarity does not.”

“Understood and forgiven,” Abraxas nodded understandingly. “How should I address you then?”

“Val should be perfectly fine thank you,” Val grinned between Abraxas and Orion. “After all, you’re my good friend’s best friend, right?”

“Unfortunately so,” Orion grinned at Abraxas, making the latter pout dramatically. “Still, we somehow make it day to day by each other's side.”

“I knew you loved me Orion,” Abraxas cooed, fluttering his eyelashes dramatically. “Truly the most romantic thing I’ve heard in years.”

“As lovely as this is,” Val laughed, taking care to keep her volume low. “I need to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Orion turned to face her. His full attention on her.

“Do you know where Mariana is?” 

“Mariana?” Abraxas repeated ponderously. “Ledbury? Pretty, dark hair, prefect?”

“Yeah,” Val nodded. “I haven't seen her out here, or in our room. Is it supposed to be her turn to patrol?”

“I don’t think so?” Orion rubbed his chin as his brows furrowed. “Then again, she could have traded with another prefect. I thought I saw her talking with Sidwell from Hufflepuff earlier.”

“That’s possible,” Val murmured, absently chewing on her thumbnail. “Does that happen often? Trading patrol days?”

“It’s pretty common yeah,” Orion nodded. “Especially when there are tests to study for. But personal trades happen too. As long as a professor knows who’s on duty. We could check with Slughorn?”

“No,” she responded quickly. She shook her head while trying to temper her disdain for the man. He had been a decent potions teacher that year. Much more thorough in explaining the reasons certain reactions happened than Snape had been, and gave much more detailed, constructive advice when mistakes were made. But out of class his… obvious personal  ambition of climbing the social ladder and trying to increase his self-importance soured any positive interactions she had had with him.

Granted, now he was not the man he used to- will be? Would not currently be the same as the man she had met in her past. But she was also not as famous this time around. Not personally. Her family name? It might get her an invite to the slug club. But he might not be nearly as single-mindedly determined as he was last time to get her to join. Still, she had to make an excuse for her quick answer. As far as they knew, she had never met the man before and would have no reason to try and avoid him.  “It’s before classes even start. I don’t want to make a poor first impression.”

“You don’t need to worry about first impressions with him,” Abraxas snickered, covering his mouth so the sound didn’t carry. “He’ll bow and kiss your feet if you ask, just because of your family name. He loves rubbing elbows with anyone he thinks will be important.”

With a sigh, Val fell back against the cushions. “I’d almost rather he try and kill me.” She rubbed her eyes, ignoring the looks of concern and despair on the boys’ faces. “At least when people are trying to kill me I get to deal with it. The sucking up? Gods, it makes me look like an asshole to constantly reject them. Then somehow I’m the one in the wrong despite them treading all over my boundaries. And they never get the hint…”

"That-" Abraxas choked on his words, and Orion looked sick to his stomach. "You weren't exaggerating for effect back at dinner."

Val looked up, and sighed. She had known that Orion would be concerned. They'd started to build a properly stable friendship together. Her fondness for him seemed mostly rooted in familiarity- he was so much like Sirius. But he was distinctly different, and those differences shone ever brighter the more she saw of him. 

But Abraxas was completely out of left field. Not unwelcome as an ally and potential friend, but he was unknown. Now, she supposed, was as good a time as ever to start seeing who he was.

"Not hardly," Val spoke casually. As though she weren't about to recount what most people would consider the worst moments in their lives. "I might have understated it actually. Not many people can say they watched their own mother die as a toddler. Father was very careful to keep us hidden after that. But still, when I had to go to school…" She rubbed her forearms absentmindedly. "Well, not all the scars are physical. But some, no magic can erase."

"Beaubaxton has the same schooling structure as Hogwarts." Orion's voice was low, and his silvery grey eyes had grown dark as storm clouds. "You were eleven years old. Did you have to deal with that by yourself? Were there no adults to help keep you safe?"

"There were some," her voice was soft. Respectful, but not sad. she was simply stating a matter of fact. "They died." 

Silence followed, almost echoing as there was a natural lull in the ambient conversation at the same time. "I learned very quickly how to take care of myself."

"That day in Gringotts-" Orion's hands were curled into fists on his knees, knuckles white as he tried to formulate the proper words. "The Clan dragged you off very quickly. You were unresponsive."

"Merely magical exhaustion that day." Val's expression darkened as the artificial memories filled her in a bit more. "Father was sick anyways. Had been for years. So when Grindelwald sought us out… We always had a plan. But he was too weak to survive the apparition. So he decided to make a stand. Took a capsule of poison that would painlessly kill him in an hour. Death stood beside him even before he took it. Father gave me his final blessing, and Death illuminated my path forward."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Orion whispered, unsure of what else to say. 

"It was his time," she smiled sadly and reached over to put one of her hands on his. "But your letters over the summer helped me through the worst days, Orion. Thank you. It meant so much to know in those moments that I had a friend."

Silence stretched between the two of them for several moments before Val turned to Abraxas.

"It's been nice getting to know you too Abraxas," Val grinned as she leaned back in her seat. "You look a lot like someone I went to school with. They were a right pain. But they had a very similar hair color and pointy facial features. Blanchet. Obsessed with albino peacocks, and strutted around like one as well."

"Gods help me," Abraxas groaned, covering his face in embarrassment. "That sounds like my family. Third cousins, but I know who you're on about. They occasionally have the gall to show up at holidays, but they all suck."

"Third cousins?" Orion asked, accepting the topic change for now. Something in his eyes made Val positive that she'd have to answer more questions from him later. "They still get invitations? More importantly, they're far enough out that they should have other closer relations to annoy. Our third cousins send cards and that's it!"

"One of my great-aunties is convinced that they're trying to marry back into the main line," Abraxas whispered conspiratorially. "My parents' generation don't really believe her, but she was SO convinced that every holiday she would make all of us kids name all of our first through fifth cousins and be sure that we don't marry inside the family. She even said that she'd rather us marry muggles than bring those 'conniving bastards'- her words- back closer into the fold."

"Good on her," Orion nodded. "Grandfather Phineas Nigellus was the one who finally put a stop to the 'tradition' of main line Blacks marrying inside the family. Even just a couple generations has made an immediate difference. The main line hasn't fallen into 'the madness' ever since."

The common room door hissed open "welcome miss prefect".

Val's head whipped towards it, her brow furrowing as Mariana gingerly made her way down the steps. She seemed to be limping slightly, and her right hand was lightly bandaged. As Mariana gently wicked her way through the common room, Val stood and met her part way. The boys trailing in her wake, each hovering over a shoulder.

"Mariana, what happened? I was worried when I didn't see you down here after dinner." 

"Peeves," Mariana sighed, and the boys both made soft understanding noises of disgust. "He set a suit of armor to fall when somebody passes by. It clipped me and sent me tumbling down the stairs. Miss Pomfrey, the new medi-witch patched me up. I was lucky she was there to catch me halfway down, or I might have had to be there overnight."

"That poltergeist," Orion grumbled. "We know he doesn't mean to harm, but he's been dead so long that he doesn't have a sense of how much things hurt the living."

"How bad is it?" Abraxas piped up. "Are you going to be ok for classes on Monday?"

"I don't know," Mariana crumpled in on herself a little, the exhaustion clearly getting to her. "Miss Pomfrey said the internal bruising could take a couple days to heal itself. But she gave me a salve for the external bruises, and mended the cracked shin. The leg is just a bit sore for the night, but it's already starting to feel better."

"If you're still not up for notes I'll share mine with you," Val promised, she wrapped her arm around her roommate's waist and started moving towards the dormitory stairs. "For now though let's get you comfortable in bed."

"That sounds nice," Mariana sounded almost relieved. "This might sound weird, but thank you for worrying. I… I know I'm not the most popular in Slytherin. Friendly with everyone, but no real friends in the house."

"Well you have me now," Val said determinedly as they started up the stairs. "And I'm pretty hard to get rid of."

Mariana's giggle drifted back down the stairs, but the rest of the conversation was too soft to make out from the common room. Checking the time, Orion and Abraxas agreed that it was late enough to retire to their own room as well. A pleasant escape from the oppressive sense of impending explosion in the common room.

"So Miss Ledbury is pretty?"

A pillow thumped against the wall.

"Shut up Orion."